‘So you’re then untainted by the ungodly heresies of Arianism, the Monophysites or even, our good Lord forbid, the Nestorians?’
‘Majesty, we have stayed by the teachings of our blessed Saint Agnes to this day.’ He crossed himself devoutly.
‘I see. Your fellow brother – has he anything to say for himself?’
‘Oh, no, sire! He remains under a vow of silence made on our miraculous return. Seventy-eight days, one for each of the years granted unto our Lady Agnes.’
‘Most proper in you, Brother. Then I must hear your tale from yourself only. Do go on.’
It came out easily; modest in delivery, compelling in what it implied and it held Justinian’s rapt attention.
‘I wonder why I have not heard of these wanderings – most travellers are only too eager to prate on about their exploits.’
‘Sire, we’re only humble holy men, unversed in the literary arts; we are newly returned, anxious to impart our secret most urgently to Your Clemency before others steal it.’
‘A worthy object. And it was in Serica you saw the silk trees?’
‘We did, Resplendency. Such a picture in a warm dusk, when the ladies of the village gather with their combs and panniers waiting for the moon. They sing strange but beautiful songs and no man may join them, for only the agility of the female hand is sufficient to garner the harvest of silk from high up on the topmost leaves.’
‘And… the seeds?’
‘The silk tree requires particular care, the soil well watered and animals kept away until they be of a stature to stand alone. The seeds are small, many would fill a common purse but these are well guarded, for it is feared that the Scythians to the north might well plant their own and be seen abroad in all manner of rich silks, to the despising of their industry.’
‘Hmm. I can quite see that – silk is not for the common people, still less barbarians.’
Nicander tensed as the Emperor’s face hardened.
‘Now you propose to return with these same seeds of the silk tree. How is it you can feel able to return the kindness of the King of the Seres by robbing him of his secret in this way?’
‘In the eyes of God, all creation is gifted to all men – it is so written. Is it right therefore to withhold the fruits of creation from others so?’
A wintry smile came and vanished quickly. ‘Very well, shall we now hear something of your plans?’
‘Yes, Excellency. It is a long and arduous journey across desert and mountains to Serica, through uncountable Hunnish tribes and vile kingdoms – the worst of these are the Persians. Nevertheless, we who have experienced so much know that there is another way. We mean to embark in a ship and sail to the fabled isle of Taprobane, which lies at a distance into the Erythraean Sea far from any Persian or barbarian. There with our precious decree of protection we will induce a trader of Seres to take us on to his country.’
‘A wise and well-thought plan. I had feared you would present a scheme requiring me to mount an expedition of size to cross Persia, which would undoubtedly mean war.’
‘Thank you, Majesty. It was always our intent to keep costs and gross outlay to a minimum by setting aside ambassadors and an official delegation, leaving merely ourselves to support.’
‘I see. Nevertheless, an enterprise as you propose will still require funding at a significant level. Travel at an unknown distance, subsistence, additional attire to meet a variety of conditions…’
‘Still far less than a military-led expedition, sire.’
‘True. Then for the sake of example, should we hazard, say, funding in the amount of five hundred gold solidi? Would this be too generous, do you believe?’
‘It is in our thinking, that to cross lands beyond the protection of the King of the Seres will require a different course. It is the usual practice to hire unemployed soldiery for guards, which we feel a reasonable expense. And there are always unenlightened rulers who will levy exactions on travellers under penalty of refusing to allow them passage. In fact, there are many such traps for the unwary and it were folly to hazard the success of the venture for want of proper funding. Excellent Majesty, the Persians are exacting fifteen solidi a pound for raw silk.’
‘It’s more than that, but I’ll let it go.’
‘At seventy grains weight for each solidus, seventy-two in a pound, then each pound of silk is two, three ounces of pure gold. Thus, to import a single ton of silk the Persians must receive no less than four hundred pounds weight of gold. To satisfy an empire will therefore take in the measure of some tons’ weight of gold every year – all pouring into the treasury of the King of the Persians and no revenues you may call upon to offset this outflow.’
Justinian’s eyes narrowed. ‘For a holy man it seems to me you’re worldly beyond your station, Brother Paul.’
‘Clemency, I knew you would require detail and considered thought, so I made it my business to have the facts at hand.’
‘Go on.’
‘Sire, I merely wished to point out that when in possession of the seeds this drain will cease. No more tons of gold to your bitter enemy – perhaps even a net inflow when you begin exporting your crop to others. Surely this is worth an investment of, say, four thousand…?’
‘You present a compelling argument. Just for my curiosity, pray, what reward do you seek for your services? A fee against-’
‘Sire!’ Nicander blurted, shocked. ‘This is not the way of one in the fellowship of the holy Saint Agnes!’
He allowed a beatific smile to settle. ‘If it pleases, Your Effulgence, it would gratify my king were you to establish a church to Saint Agnes and provide us with such monks as are necessary to teach our people the true way of the Lord in these parlous modern times.’
‘A church? I would think that possible. And clerics – you shall have them both. Provided you are successful in bringing back to me the seeds of the silk tree.’
‘Then…?’
‘It does seem you have a case, Brother Paul. I’m minded to assist. If you’re going forth to cross the earth at great personal hazard, why should we not risk our own paltry three thousands?’
‘Sire, four.’
‘Hmm, four. Now let me help you, Brother. The tribute convoy to Persia leaves shortly. You will have escort and rations all the way to the shores of the Erythraean.’
‘Thank you, Majesty,’ Nicander managed.
‘Further, I would not have it on my conscience if I allowed men of God to go into the world without they have attendants. You shall have two of my finest compulsors to look after you. To carry your bags, as it were, and assist in bringing safely back my seeds.’
‘This won’t be necessary, Your Resplendency, we-’
‘You will be provided with a holy relic to present to your king. Perhaps the finger bone of Saint Anthony?’
‘You are most generous, Divine Majesty.’
‘And holy scriptures, of course. You have no objection to the writings of the sainted Athanasius?
‘So now there is little more for you to concern yourselves with. Return to your cell with our blessing, to fast and prepare yourselves spiritually for the journey. Rest easy, holy brothers – you will be guarded day and night, have no fear. Your attendants will take care of the chest of funds when they have been assembled. You are to be relieved of responsibility and anxiety for all profane existence.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They spoke in whispers – the guards posted were only paces away outside their cell.
‘You think… he knows?’ Nicander said, his voice unsteady.
Marius grunted, lying on his back on the simple wicker bed and staring up at the dark ceiling. ‘So why let us go?’
‘We’re trapped in this cell. Peter Barsymes won’t go near us now, John the Cappadocian is no use – he’ll deny us anyway – Lady Antonina dare not show herself at this level. We’re on our own, Marius – do you hear what I’m saying?’
‘That’s good – we don’t need anybody now.’
‘Are you mad? We’re caught up in a crazy scheme that’ll see us on a boat to nowhere or the edge of the world, and you say we don’t need anybody?’