She regarded me with the harsh, unyielding eyes of a judge, and must have decided I was telling her the truth. "Come with me," she said, stepping further into the shadowed row of columns. I followed, growing more excited with every step. We passed three or four other prostitutes-none as fair as the one who led me, however-and continued on until we came to a place well out of sight of the street. I thought she was going to have pity on me, but in this I was disappointed.
The young woman halted and turned towards me. "There," she said, pointing into a dark-shadowed recess, "Delilah will have you."
Peering into the shadows, I saw a human form huddled against the stone. "Delilah," called the young prostitute, "I have brought you a fine young man." She turned and started away, laughing. "Farewell, ten denarii!"
The figure in the shadows rose and lurched forward. A face emerged from the darkness. Little more than a mass of ratty hair and wrinkles, the ageing prostitute looked at me with sly approval. "Ten denarii," she said, and opened her mouth to show me that she had no teeth. Delilah then gave me a toothless smile and said, "Like a baby," she cooed. "Only ten denarii."
She hobbled closer. I became aware of a rank, sickly smell. Disgust, more than the stench, drove me back. The ageing whore followed, clutching at my clothes. "Do whatever you want," she screeched. "Only ten denarii."
Sickened at the thought of coupling with such a creature, I edged backwards, desperate now to get away. She shambled after me, grasping at my clothes. Turning from her, I fled, running back along the columns and the waiting women. They laughed, and called scorn upon me as I ran past, looking neither right nor left.
My face burning with shame, I stumbled into the street once more. I could hear the mocking laughter of the prostitutes ringing in my ears long after they were out of sight, though this was no doubt all my imagining. Hoping for nothing more than to lose myself in the market crowd, I walked aimlessly for a time, until my composure returned.
Sure, I felt humiliated, and deeply disgusted with myself for even thinking to behave in such a shameful manner. Abhorrence claimed me, and I abandoned myself to a wallow of loathing, berating myself for my ignorance and stupidity, as well as for the folly of my disgraceful actions.
Curiously, however, this feeling did not last. It was not long before I began to think that, as the thing stood, nothing had happened and no one had been hurt. As for myself, I had suffered nothing worse than embarrassment. Thinking this, some small part of my self-respect revived. What is more, I still had my silver coin.
Thus, much chagrined, I resumed my inspection of the market stalls. Alas, it was hopeless. Try as I might, I could not think of anything I would enjoy doing with the money. At last, I chanced upon the thought of procuring a meal at a taberna-like the one Justin had bought for me. But to enjoy it, I would need a friend to share the feast, and I had none. I thought of buying wine and taking it to the quay to drink with Gunnar and Thorkel and Tolar. If Gunnar were here, I thought, he would know what to do.
For a moment, I considered going to find Gunnar, but the more I thought about it, the more offensive the idea became. Had I become so devoid of creative volition that I required a master's aid and approval for even so small a thing as spending a coin? Had I embraced slavery so completely that I could no longer decide for myself?
Chastised by these thoughts, I determined to purchase a meal, as that had been the last thing I had truly enjoyed for its own sake alone. The forum was not the best place for this, so I went in search of the taberna I had seen when first entering Trebizond. I found the central street and began walking along it in the direction of the harbour. The narrow way was crowded as midday approached, and the street merchants were at their busiest. It was all I could do to find the place, and when I at last pushed my way to the door, I found it closed and locked. No one answered my knock, but when I persisted, a boy put his head out of a windhole above the street and told me to come back in the evening and the master would be happy to serve me.
Discouraged, I moved off down the street where I found a man selling bread, and another selling roast birds, chops of pork, and such like. I bought two fine loaves and a roast fowl, and continued on until I came to a woman selling wine. I bought a jar of sweet red Anatolian wine and, with the last of the money purchased some olives. As I was then very close to the harbour, I continued on towards the seafront, where I thought I might find a place to sit down and eat in peace.
Indeed, I reached the harbour and settled down on a large coil of rope and a heap of fishing nets at the water's edge. Carefully placing the wine jar on the quay so that I would not spill it, I untied the roast fowl and began to eat. It seemed odd to me, sitting there alone, but as I ate and watched the ships come and go in the harbour, I began to take pleasure in my simple meal. The food was good, the day was fine; I could look across the harbour to where the Danish longships were docked, and almost make out individuals among the figures moving around on the wharf.
Very soon, the sun and wine, and a stomach full of bread and roast chicken, united to make me sleepy. My eyelids grew so heavy I could not keep them open, so I lay back in my nest of rope and netting to sleep.
It was late when I awoke; the sun was well down, flaming the western sea and tinting the sky deep yellow. I rose with an aching head and made my way back through shadowed streets to the governor's house, and slipped in quietly, hoping no one had cause to remark upon my absence. Aside from a fleeting twinge of guilt over my small transgression, I reflected that I had enjoyed myself after all.
But then I wondered what Amet had seen that inspired him to exhort me to a day of pleasure. Was it really the last day of peace and happiness I would know?
42
Negotiations between the eparch and the amir concluded when all parties agreed to honour the safety of travellers, especially merchants and the like who habitually traversed disputed borders. The routes themselves might remain under contention, but all recognized that it was best for everyone if trade continued unhindered. What is more, both emperor and caliph vowed-through their emissaries-to take whatever steps necessary to halt the pirating and raiding on both sides.
Furthermore, they agreed that these simple measures, if strictly upheld, could lay a solid foundation for increased cooperation, perhaps even reconciliation in the future. Towards this end, they proposed to meet again the following year to plan a council at which the emperor and the caliph could meet face to face and exchange tokens and treaties of peace.
Spring, early in this part of the world, was soon upon us and that meant the beginning of the trading year. Hence, Nicephorus was eager to return to the emperor with word of the envoy's success, for the sooner word of the peace accord could reach Constantinople, the sooner the merchants could resume trading with full confidence-and the sooner imperial coffers would begin enjoying fresh infusions of tax money, foreign and domestic.
"If you will pardon me, eparch," said Nikos the day after Amir Sadiq had departed. There had been a great farewell feast to celebrate the successful conclusion of the council, and the amir had been sent off with gifts of assurance and good will-the treasure the Sea Wolves had guarded, in fact. The eparch was preparing to sail the next day.
"Yes, yes, what is it, komes?" replied Nicephorus impatiently. He was sitting at the small table in the courtyard, looking at various documents having to do with the business just concluded.
"I see you are busy. Therefore, I will speak plainly."
"By all means."
"I think it a mistake to return to Constantinople at once." Nikos was so intent on making his point that he failed to notice me standing just inside the door. I had brought the eparch his cloak; the day had turned cloudy, and he asked me to fetch it for him.