The voukaloi again droned their chants and the servants brought the first course: miniature olives in silver bowls; boiled artichokes; eggs, cooked and shelled, and cradled in shells of blue enamel set on individual silver trays and served with a long silver spoon. Haraldr thought better of tackling the egg and instead scooped fish roe from a silver bowl onto a biscuit.
‘Anna Dalassena.’ Haraldr was surprised at the civility of Attalietes’s address; somewhat condescending but spoken as if the girl were human. ‘Your father is well?’
Anna blushed. ‘Oh, yes, very well, thank you, Strategus.’
‘Yes,’ said Zoe, pausing to press one of the miniature olives to her erotically puckered lips, as if kissing the tiny morsel. Gregory quickly poised himself to translate, as Haraldr had asked him to do whenever she spoke. ‘The Grand Domestic has to be magnificently . . . robust. He has so many masters to serve that his errands are endless, and it is a pity that those for whom he so diligently labours are never satisfied. I pray for him often, don’t I, Anna dear?’
Attalietes dabbed his mouth with his lace linen napkin. ‘I am certain that is a comfort to the girl. I know how devoutly you prayed for the health of your late husband. May Christ the King--’
‘Strategus, your tongue is not so glib that I could not have it removed.’ Zoe’s voice was a dagger in each heart within hearing. Haraldr could scarcely believe her screaming eyes; this was an Empress who could daunt any king he had ever known. He almost flinched as she gestured towards him. ‘You have met the homes of my guard, have you not, Strategus? He has hewn suffer stuff than your neck.’ Zoe fixed Attalietes for a moment, then turned and with absolutely deft fingers selected another tiny olive. Her eyes wandered again, to Attalietes. ‘Strategus, I suddenly realize that naughty Symeon must have failed to communicate to you the proper attire for our dining. Symeon, you must make amends. Take our Strategus to the kitchen and find him a garment in a more . . . harmonious hue.’
Symeon came up behind Attalietes; the Strategus coloured like a maiden but his haughty eyes were unrepentant. The wrinkles at the corners of Zoe’s eyes twitched slightly.
Haraldr quickly rose and stepped over his couch. One of the eunuchs handed him his single-bladed axe. Haraldr slammed the blade flat against his chest with a resonant thud.
Attalietes’s jaw quivered with astonishment and anger. He rose reluctantly and Haraldr stepped closer. Attalietes turned to the urging of Symeon’s withered hand on his arm. Haraldr wheeled to follow.
‘No, Komes Haraldr,’ said the Empress. ‘I assure you Symeon has the strength to provide a suitable escort for our Strategus. Besides, you would leave my darlings bereft of company. Resume your place.’
Haraldr returned his axe to the eunuch and settled back onto his couch. He knew he had made an enemy but he had realized an inescapable truth. He was at the Empress’s beck and call, and like her husband, no matter what rumours one heard of her, she was more than capable of that command. Whoever was her enemy was his. A truth, he reflected, that brought him little comfort.
The second course was a large poached fish smothered in the oily, tart sauce called garos and topped with more tiny fish eggs. Haraldr was pleased with how he had handled the thin, two-pronged silver fork, particularly since he was still rattled by the incident with Attalietes.
Zoe spoke with Anna for a while; the girl seemed to have taken the outburst with aplomb. Haraldr found this attractive; she seemed so young and blushing, yet she had a woman’s grace. When he had finished his fish, he kept glancing at her until he caught her eye. She looked at him and cocked her head slightly. ‘Komes?’
Odin. No, Homer. Gregory had set him upon the study of the famous ancient Greek skald, saying that it reflected well on one to recite his verse. Haraldr frantically reviewed some remembered passages. ‘ “Laodike, loveliest … of all … the daughters . . .” ‘
Constantine’s fork clattered on his silver plate. He stared as if he had heard a dog speak. Even Zoe’s jaw sagged slightly. Anna blushed furiously and fluttered her lashes. Then her eyes widened and her teeth flashed as she spoke.’ “Tall Hektor of the shining helm . . .” ‘ Haraldr understood immediately; Hektor was the hero of Homer’s seemingly endless lay called The Iliad. But wasn’t Hektor killed at the end of this lay?
Zoe leaned forward, her eyes sweeping from Haraldr to Anna. ‘I have certainly heard many far more subtly . . . allusive citations of the Bard,’ she said, ’but none quite as . . . extraordinary.’ Zoe looked at Maria – Haraldr would not turn to see Maria’s reaction – and then back at him. ‘I had no notion that your . . . inclinations extended to verse.’
‘I hope that your Imperial Majesty and this estimable lady do not consider it an indignity. In my own tongue, which has not the grace of the Greek but is not without its own beauties, I have composed verses of my own. And I have three men in my company who record in verse the valour of the Varangians as we serve your Majesty. It is customary for a Norse king never to be far from his poets. We call them skalds.’
‘But you are not a king.’
Haraldr concentrated on not lowering his eyes. ‘No,’ he answered firmly. ‘But then no Norse King has had the privilege to stand next to your throne. Perhaps I imagine myself above them, though I am just the servant at your feet.’
‘Anna,’ said Zoe, turning to the rapt girl, ‘I believe you have found a gallant. If he can celebrate your beauty in our tongue, think what glories he might ascribe to you in his own.’
Haraldr only wished Halldor could hear this. He turned and glanced quickly past Maria, as if he were checking on the eunuch who held his axe. Hah! She was looking at him.
The second course was a whole goat stuffed with delicate miniature onions and other tiny vegetables. Haraldr was grateful for the distraction, as he realized that Halldor’s first lesson had not included all he needed to know. If he lingered by Anna’s booth too long, pointing and jabbering, then certainly Anna would demand a price he could not meet, or else shoo him away. It was endless.
Fortunately a dance with men and women in sheer gauzy costumes gyrating madly to wild, ringing, circular music followed the dinner. Haraldr watched the Empress for a moment; her eyes seemed to fill with the music and sinuous movements as if they gulped the pleasure of love. She devoured with those eyes, the dancers, Kalaphates. The Strategus Meletius Attalietes, now wearing white, was readmitted to the table. Maria began to converse animatedly with him.
When the dancers were finished, Haraldr drank deeply and met Anna across the table. He desired her now; he felt she desired him, and there seemed to be no caveats against a woman of the court freely enjoying a man, even a barbaros. She raised her goblet to him, he to her. They remained locked, sipping, their eyes like stroking fingers, their tongues darting over silver. Haraldr’s head dizzied; they no longer mixed the wine with water. He signalled the eunuch and told him that Ulfr should assume command of the Varangians for the rest of the night.
Zoe rose and drank toasts, and the voukaloi chanted. First to Constantine, then to Kalaphates. Shockingly Kalaphates came beside her. He sat on the couch next to her. ‘Nephew,’ she said, and she pressed her wine-dark lips to his forehead and touched his hair. Haraldr felt the seduction around him like a great, hot, yet fragrant wind, sweeping, sucking. It was their perfumed scent, the vague outline of nipples beneath silk, perhaps the air of this place. He desired.
The voukaloi celebrated the pastries and fruits. Haraldr took a fig. Someone was on the rope high above again. Anna nodded, eyes heavy with desire. She bared her teeth, she . . . Kristr! Anna’s head bobbed and then plunged to the table, nearly crushing a silver-wreathed pastry. She raised her head again, but the eunuchs were around her like white spume and whisked her away like a white cloud riding the wind. The Empress had not even noticed. Haraldr steadied himself. Halldor, he lamented dizzily, now there is only one booth open.