Thus, the eparch was just sitting down when Nikos returned. "A matter of urgency has arisen," he said, striding quickly into the courtyard. "It requires your attention."
The eparch's expression of anger gave way to bewil-derment when the magister and another man appeared in the doorway behind Nikos. The eparch rose to his feet and bade the men to enter.
"Forgive my intrusion, eparch," the magister said quickly. "I am glad to have arrived before it was too late."
"Too late?" wondered Nicephorus.
"Ah," said the magister, glancing at Nikos, "too late to prevent the komes from leaving."
The eparch frowned. "Why should that cause you concern, I wonder?"
"I will explain," offered the magister.
"It would be a kindness," allowed the eparch.
"Consul Psellon," he indicated the man beside him, "has just come from the governor with a message for you."
"I see. May I have it, please?" Nicephorus held out his hand.
Magister Sergius nudged the man, who put his hand into a fold of his cloak, and withdrew a thick square of parchment tied with a black silk band and sealed with a red spot of wax. "It is the exarch's seal, you see," volunteered Sergius.
"Thank you for that observation, magister," intoned the eparch. "No doubt I would have failed to appreciate that detail. I am, as always, indebted to you."
Sergius coloured and made to further his explanation, but Nikos cut him off, saying, "Thank you, magister. I think we are fully capable of assessing the importance of this document without your assistance."
"Of course." The magister subsided gratefully.
Eyeing the magister and consul in turn, the eparch took up the bundle, untied it, broke the seal, unfolded the heavy parchment and began to read, his lips moving over the words as he scanned the document. "This is most interesting," he observed upon finishing. "Most interesting, indeed."
Without waiting to be asked, Nikos snatched up the parchment and began to read. "It is from the governor," he observed, still reading.
"So it would appear," mused Nicephorus, staring at the magister and consul with an expression of rank scepticism.
"He is asking us to join him in Sebastea," Nikos continued. "He says there is word of-" he broke off abruptly, glancing at the eparch. "It is a matter of extreme urgency," he finished lamely.
"Apparently," conceded the eparch, still staring at the two before him. "When did this message arrive?" he asked.
"Just this morning," declared the magister. "I came directly to you the moment Psellon arrived."
"I see." The eparch's eyes narrowed. "So you knew the contents of this message, did you?"
"By no means, eparch!" The magister all but shrieked at the implication. "But I knew it to be important-Psellon told me that much."
Consul Psellon nodded vigorously. "It has come directly from the governor's own hand," he confirmed.
"Oh, most certainly it has," agreed the eparch sourly. "Yet, knowing nothing of the message-save its importance-you travelled night and day to bring it to me."
"Of course, eparch," Psellon replied.
"How many travelled with you?"
Psellon hesitated; his eyes shifted to the magister, who stared straight ahead.
"Come!" said the eparch sharply. "The question is perfectly simple. How many travelled with you?"
"Four others," answered Psellon uncertainly.
"I see. You may go, both of you." Nicephorus dismissed Sergius and Psellon with a disdainful gesture, and watched them until they left the room. "What have you to say of this?" inquired the eparch of Nikos when they had gone.
"I think it fortunate that I was detained," the komes replied. "Since I am ready, very little additional provision need be made. We can leave the city by midday. I will make the arrangements."
"I take your answer to mean that you believe this communication to be genuine?"
"Certainly," said Nikos, "I think it safe to say Exarch Honorius seeks only the good of the empire."
"Of that I have no doubt," agreed the eparch, "no doubt whatever-if Honorius wrote it."
"I see no cause to question the veracity of the document," said the komes mildly. "It is in the governor's hand, and carries his seal after all."
"Yes, it does. I see that it does." The eparch, his expression one of doubt and bafflement, sat down slowly in his chair.
"Now, then, if you will excuse me, I will make the necessary arrangements. I assume we will want the Danes to accompany us?"
"Yes, yes," replied Nicephorus, his gaze vacant; his mind was clearly on other matters. "Make the arrangements by all means."
In three strides Nikos was gone, and with not so much as a glance in my direction, though he must have known I was there the whole time. The eparch sat in his chair staring at the half-folded parchment as if it were an object he had never seen before. As no one else was near, I went to him.
"Eparch? Can I help you in any way?"
"Honorius sends word of betrayal," he announced absently. "He says we must come to him."
As the eparch was deeply distracted, I plucked up my courage and asked, "May I see the message?"
"If you wish," he said. He made no move to hand it to me, but he watched me while I read.
The message was terse and stilted, indicating that the caliph planned to use the completion of the peace council to renew hostilities between the Arabs and Byzantium. As details of this treachery were too sensitive to impart by messenger, the governor requested the eparch to join him in Sebastea at once, and suggested travelling with a body-guard.
"You are a man with some experience of the written word," Nicephorus said when I finished. "Can you tell me anything of the man who wrote this?"
The script was Greek, and written in a bold, confident hand; each letter was neatly formed and orderly, if slightly small. "I would say the man was a scribe," I ventured, "a monk, perhaps. He writes distinctly-his words are well-chosen. Is it truly the governor's hand?"
"Yes, it is," answered Nicephorus. "And that is what worries me most."
"Then I do not understand, eparch."
"I know Honorius, you see. We served together in Gaul, and again, briefly, in Ephesus long ago." he confided. "I do not think Nikos or anyone else in Trebizond knows this, and I have told no one since coming here. But I will cut out my own tongue before I confess he wrote that letter.
"Look at it!" he said, with mounting agitation. "The greeting is wrong. We are old friends, Honorius and I. He knew I was coming-knew I would be staying in his house. Yet, he sends the message, not to me, but by way of the magister. What is more, he addresses me not as a man he has known for forty years, but by title only, as if I were a mere functionary of the emperor he had never met."
I began to see what concerned the eparch now, and agreed that it did seem strange. The wording of the letter was stiffly formal-precise, yet distant. "Do you suspect forgery?"
He shook his head. "No; he wrote it. But I cannot believe he wrote it to me."
"Perhaps he did not wish to betray your friendship-should the letter go astray."
"Perhaps." The eparch's tone suggested he thought otherwise. "That letter betrays precious little, it seems to me."