The steward swung the door open. It moved silently, on well-greased hinges. "Here is Krispos, your Highness."
"Good." The Sevastokrator turned to the man sitting across a small table from him. "Well, nephew, I suppose the argument can wait a few minutes before we pick it up again. You wanted to see the fellow who overthrew the famous Beshev and sent Gleb back to Kubrat less high and mighty than he came here. This is Krispos."
Petronas' nephew! Krispos bowed low before the younger man, then went to his knees and down flat on his belly. "Your Majesty," he whispered.
"Up, up! How can I shake your hand when you're lying there?" Anthimos III, Avtokrator of the Videssians, waited impatiently while Krispos scrambled to his feet. Then he did as he'd said, giving Krispos' hand several enthusiastic pumps. Nothing could be more boring than listening to the Kubratoi going on about how wonderful they are. Thanks to you, we don't have to for a while. I am in your debt, which means, of course, that all Videssos is in your debt." He cocked his head and grinned at Krispos.
Krispos found himself grinning back; Anthimos' slightly lopsided smile was infectious. "Thank you, your Majesty," he said. For the moment, he was an awestruck peasant again. No matter what Tanilis might have foreseen, a big part of him had never really imagined he would feel the Emperor's flesh pressing his own, be close enough to smell wine on the Emperor's breath.
"Nephew, you might want to present Krispos with some tangible token of your gratitude," Petronas said smoothly.
"What? Oh. Yes, so I might. Here you are, Krispos." He chuckled as he pulled a golden chain from around his neck and put it over Krispos' head. "I do apologize. Having the imperial treasury to play with, I'm apt to forget that other people don't."
"You're very generous, your Majesty," Krispos said, feeling the weight of the metal on his shoulders. "A poor man could feed himself and his family for a long time with so much gold."
"Could he? Well, I hope you're not a poor man, Krispos, and that my uncle is doing a satisfactory job of feeding you."
"Krispos is making a valued place for himself here as chief groom," Petronas said. "He might have treated the post as a sinecure, and the same gratitude you feel toward him, nephew, would have compelled me to let him retain it all the same. But he has plunged in, instead; indeed, his working with such diligence is the chief reason I have not been able to present him to you before—I seldom find him away from the stables."
"Good for him," Anthimos said. "A spot of work never hurt anyone."
Krispos wondered what Anthimos knew about work—by the look of him, not much. Though his features proclaimed him Petronas' close kin, they lacked the hard purpose that informed the Sevastokrator's face. That was not just youth, either; had Anthimos been Petronas' age rather than Krispos', he still would have looked indolent. Krispos could not decide what to make of him. He'd never known anyone who could afford the luxury of indolence except Tanilis and Petronas, and they did not indulge it.
Petronas said, "Wine, Krispos?"
"Yes, thank you."
The Sevastokrator poured for him. "For me once more, as well, please," Anthimos said. Petronas handed him a cup, as well. He tossed the wine down and held out the cup for a refill. Petronas poured again, and then again a moment later. He took occasional sips from his own cup, as did Krispos. They did not come close to emptying theirs.
The next time the Avtokrator held out his cup to his uncle, wine slopped over the rim and down onto his fingers when he pulled it back. He licked them off. "Sorry," he said with a slightly unfocused smile.
"No matter, your Majesty," his uncle answered. "Now, if we may pick up the discussion in which we were engaged when Krispos came in, I still respectfully urge you to set your signature to the order I sent you last week for the construction of two new fortresses in the far southwest."
"I don't know that I want to sign it." Anthimos stuck out his lower lip. "Skombros says they probably won't ever be needed, because the southwest is a very quiet frontier."
"Skombros!" Petronas lost some of the air of urbanity Krispos had always seen from him before. He did not try to hide his contempt as he went on, "Frankly, I can't imagine why you even think of listening to your vestiarios on these matters. What a eunuch chamberlain knows of the proper placement of fortresses would fit into the ballocks he does not have. By the good god, nephew, you'd be better advised asking Krispos here what he thinks of the whole business. At least he's seen more of the world than the inside of the palaces."
"All right, I will," Anthimos said. "What do you think of the whole business, Krispos?"
"Me?" Krispos almost spilled his own wine. Drinking with the Sevastokrator and Avtokrator made him feel proud and important. Getting into the middle of their argument was something else again, something terrifying. He was all too conscious of Petronas' gaze on him as he picked his words with the greatest of care. "In matters of war, I think I would sooner rely on a warrior's judgment."
"Do you recognize plain truth when you hear it, Anthimos?" Petronas demanded.
The Avtokrator rubbed his chin. The tip of his beard was waxed to a point. Sounding faintly surprised, he said, "Yes, that is sensible, isn't it? Very well, Uncle, I'll sign your precious order."
"You will? Excellent!" Petronas sprang to his feet and slapped Krispos on the back hard enough to stagger him. "There's another present you'll have from me, Krispos, and another one you've earned, too."
"Your Highness is very kind," Krispos said. "I reward good service," Petronas said. "Don't forget that, I also reward the other kind, as it deserves. Don't forget that, either. Now run along, why don't you? You'll just be bored if you hang about longer."
"Good to meet you, Krispos," Anthimos said as Krispos bowed his way out. Even half sozzled, the Avtokrator had a charming smile.
Petronas' voice came clearly through the door Krispos closed behind him: "There, you see, Anthimos? That groom has a better notion of what needs doing than your precious vestiarios." The Sevastokrator paused. His voice turned musing. "By Phos, so he does—"
"Here, I'll show you out," Eroulos said. Krispos jumped. He hadn't heard the steward come up behind him.
"The Emperor. You didn't tell me you were taking me to see the Emperor," Krispos said accusingly as Eroulos took him past the guards.
"I was told not to. The Sevastokrator wanted to see how you would react." Eroulos started up the stairs with Krispos. "Truly, though, you should not have been surprised. Petronas once ruled for the Avtokrator, and still rules—with him."
Krispos caught the tiny pause. Through him, Eroulos had started to say. But a man discreet enough to be the Sevastokrator's steward was too discreet to say such things aloud.
Something else turned Krispos' thoughts aside. "Why did he want to see how I'd react?"
"I do not presume to speak for his Imperial Highness," Eroulos answered discreetly. "Would you not think it wise, though, to learn what you can of the quality of men who serve you, not least those you appoint to responsible posts on brief acquaintance?"
That means me, Krispos realized. By then, he and Eroulos were at his door. He nodded thoughtfully as he went inside. Tanilis would have done the same sort of thing. And if Petronas thought like Tanilis—Krispos could find no higher compliment to pay the Sevastokrator's wits.
Tanilis would never have forgotten a promised reward. Nor did Petronas. More, he gave it to Krispos publicly, coming to the stables to present him with a dagger whose hilt was lavishly chased with rubies. "For your quick thinking the other night," he said in a voice that carried.
Krispos bowed low. "You honor me, Highness." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Onorios suddenly become very busy with his scissors as he trimmed a horse's mane. Krispos smiled to himself.