I stretched open hands towards him and simpered like a eunuch. ‘Would I be here had I found Emperor’s gold to be earned?’ I asked in return. My sword was out of sight. But I had a knife up my left sleeve that I could probably get straight in his throat. Still on the ground, Rado was no longer pretending to whimper but was looking steadily at the larger of the two footmen. We could take them out, I was sure. We should do it sooner rather than later — for how long would it be just the three of them? Ideally, though, we needed that man off his horse.
The mounted man sat back, his mouth turned down in disgust too severe to be genuine. He looked again at Eboric, who’d made sure to fail in his hopping pirouette and was struggling to get up again. He turned to the companion who wasn’t rubbing himself off and who now whispered harder from behind both hands. They spoke back and forth, with much sniggering and nudging at each other and endless gloating looks at the three of us. I knew what was coming but made sure to continue looking scared and uncertain.
I was right. The mounted man finished his whispered conversation. They had time, I’d heard him agree. Biting his lip, he stared at me. ‘How much?’ he asked.
I spread my arms wide and smiled in a manner that suggested my teeth weren’t up to viewing in daylight. ‘For you, My Lord, three silver dirhams — five if you want the boy to take off his clothing.’
The mounted man looked into my face. ‘I don’t care for boys,’ he said. ‘I want you!’ Both companions burst into a high whining snigger. They ended with more fluttering of tongues.
All very flattering, I suppose — though my flesh crawled at the thought of touching any of them. That poor diving boy in Constantinople might not have had worse teeth than this lot — and his face hadn’t been covered in sores that glistened red in the continuing drizzle. But I broadened my smile. I bowed and touched my forehead. ‘If it is hips or lips My Lord is desiring,’ I smarmed, ‘I shall not be found wanting. But I can also divert, if My Lord so commands, with the masculine office.’ I flexed my hips and tried to look wanton through burnt twig and a seventeen-day growth of stubble.
‘Lips only,’ he breathed in an ecstasy of lust long unsatisfied. He checked himself and looked once more at the horses. ‘I’ll pay you by letting you go.’ He pointed at a large boulder. ‘Take your clothes off,’ he groaned. ‘Do it to me naked.’ He closed his eyes and shuddered. He opened them again and looked at Eboric. ‘I want to watch the boy piss on you afterwards.’ He pointed at Rado. ‘Kill him if he moves,’ he said to his companions.
One of the footmen got his sword out and poked Rado in the chest. He made a cry of inarticulate triumph and got his free hand under his leather breastplate to scratch one of his nipples. Rado played along, dropping on all fours and starting a terrified plea in Slavic. Looking both suspicious and lustful for his own turn with me, the other companion squatted on his haunches and clutched hard on his spear. Their leader was too far gone to do other than retire out of sight and wait for me. With more sniggering, and clutching of weapons, these two watched me undress. Don’t ask how a man with my physique managed to look submissive out of his clothes. No doubt, the rain helped. I’d been wet through all day. Now, I was cold as well.
Chapter 56
You can be sure I didn’t stay submissive. The foul-smelling pig was no sooner lying beneath me, gasping and running his hands up and down the muscles on my back, when I snapped his neck, and Eboric sat on his legs to stop them from kicking any stones loose. I didn’t even have to kiss those putrid lips. By the time I looked out, shivering in the rain, Rado was casually sitting on a rock with his feet raised in the air. One of the footmen was curled in a ball and dead. The other was choking his last with my steel knife in his throat.
‘Good lad!’ I said, slapping Rado on the back. He really had been wasted as a dancing boy. Eboric too. I kissed him on the cheek. What better sons could any man desire? I looked down the incline. There was no one coming. Rado shook his head and smiled happily. I stretched my arms and looked up at the sky. Now I was used to the cold, I felt deliciously sensual in the rain.
But I pulled myself back to the matter in hand. ‘We’d better get rid of the bodies,’ I said. I thought about the boulder. My own kill was already there. We could dump the other two on top. I thought again. I looked at Eboric. ‘If you can strip them, we’ll cover the bodies with stones.’ He nodded eagerly and vanished behind the boulder. The wolves would have them out soon enough. By then, though, there’d be no one about to make a fuss. Just in case, we’d hide the clothes separately.
I sat on a stone and reached for my trousers. I noticed an ingrowing hair on my right thigh and picked at it. Rado put his legs down and turned his head slightly. I’d heard it already. ‘I shouldn’t worry about the noise,’ I said.
‘What does it mean?’ he asked. The dying man had stopped twitching. He reached forward and recovered my knife.
‘Do keep the knife,’ I said. ‘You’ve earned it.’ He perked up at once. It was a lovely object. He’d been admiring the thing since Trebizond. He cleaned it on the dead man’s jacket and balanced it in his hand. More of the faint but massive roaring drifted up from the pass. ‘Singing eunuchs,’ I explained. ‘The Great King keeps a choir of a thousand. If memory serves me right, that’s one of the audience anthems they’re practising.’ I stretched both legs out and wiggled my toes. I suddenly realised that Rado had been copying me. I smiled. ‘Eunuchs have a tendency of melancholia that needs to be carefully managed,’ I explained further. It was one explanation — one among several. A gust of wind caught my upper back. I put my trousers down and reached for my undershirt. Everything was soaked through. I twisted the linen until water splashed over my knees.
I glanced at the dead man. ‘It would have been useful to question him,’ I said.
Rado stood up. ‘Why?’ he asked sharply. He twisted in the direction of the singing eunuchs. ‘What is there to learn?’ He looked at me, suspicion on his face.
Eboric came from behind the boulder. He turned the dead man’s leggings inside out and held them up for inspection. ‘He lost a lot of mess in these,’ he said.
‘It’s often the case when you break a neck,’ I said. ‘I believe it’s the same with garrotting.’ I looked at my own stiffy. I got up and stretched again. Eboric smiled expectantly but I shook my head. This wasn’t the time or the place. Besides, I was thinking very hard. Rado had said seven days, going direct, from here to Trebizond. How long would it take a fast horseman — not able to make use of the postal stations — along the road from wherever Shahin had put in on the Black Sea coast to here? I could suppose a few days longer than we’d taken. Then again, Shahin had set out a day earlier than we had and must have landed a couple of days ahead of us. A direct messenger could do it. But why do it? There was no reason to suppose Shahin had known about the invasion. Why send anyone ahead, only to make contact with a small escort that might easily be missed? Why risk even one man who might be better employed on protecting Shahin and his precious cargo? Correction — why do without a man who might be better employed keeping Shahin’s skin intact?
I noticed that Rado was still staring at me. ‘Why not give the crotch a rinse in that little puddle there?’ I asked Eboric. ‘And let’s have a look at his other clothes.’
You do get used, after a while, to wearing someone else’s dirty clothes — even when you’ve just caused him to die in them — though it never gets easier once you’ve known better. The dead man had been smaller than me in every dimension. But Persian uniforms were made to be a baggy fit. So long as I didn’t try for any sudden or ambitious movement, this would do.