The ground rose gently, as the emperor's palace was situated astride the crown of a hill overlooking the Sea of Marmora, shimmering dull blue to the south. Led by Justin, our motley assembly-consisting now of eight barbarians, nine guards, Justin, Titus, and myself-trooped up the path towards another wall in which was set a gate large enough for horsemen to ride four abreast; what is more, an entire house had been constructed above this enormous portal where guards and watchmen lived.

Passing through this portal we entered another garden with several more tree-lined marble walkways. There were clusters of buildings scattered haphazardly around this inner compound: kitchens, stores, dwellings of various kinds, and several large chapels. The buildings were mostly of stone-fine coloured marble from the quarries of lands throughout the empire-and most had wide windholes covered with clear glass, and not only this, but also coloured tiles of blue and green affixed to their upper portions, so that the slanting sunlight made the heights of these habitations gleam like gems.

There were six handsome black horses grazing in the grassy places, untethered and unwatched. When I remarked on this, Justin merely replied that the emperor, a former stableboy, liked his horses.

Sure, Heaven itself has touched this place with its glory, I thought. The magnificence of these grounds was the envy of the world, and I could scarce believe I was walking in them.

Within this inner precinct were no fewer than four palaces and three additional chapels. As we walked along, Justin told me which they were. "That is the Octagon," he said, pointing to one of the structures, "the emperor's private quarters. And over there," he pointed to another imposing palace, "is the Pantheon-where the empress and the court ladies stay. And there is the Daphne Palace, and the one beside it is Saint Stephen's church."

"What is that one?" I asked, pointing to a large stone building with a high triple-domed roof of red clay tiles which rose above the tops of the trees.

"The Triconchus Palace," replied the guard. "It is the new state throne-room; Theophilus built it. But the emperor prefers the old throne-room in the hall of the Chrysotriclinium." He indicated yet another enormous building of yellow stone. "We are going to the old throne-room."

"And what is beyond that high wall over there?" I wondered, pointing behind the throne hall.

Justin smiled, "That, my friend, is the Hippodrome. If you survive this day, you may see some races there. The emperor is fond of horses, as I say, and so of racing."

Jarl Harald, growing wary of the talk between us, growled at me and demanded that I either translate, or keep silent. I told him that Justin was telling me about the emperor's liking for horse racing. He snorted at this, saying, "Horses are costly and they eat too much."

The array of fine buildings and gardens was staggering. The inner precinct alone was many times larger than the whole of the abbey at Kells and, confronted with so many walls and buildings, I quickly lost any sense of direction. On and on we walked, passing through gates and doorways-one after another, beyond counting-and I began to be aware of a detail that had earlier escaped my notice; the Great Palace, beneath the lustre, was decaying.

Despite the richness, the precinct wore an air of weariness-as if, beneath the patina of opulence, the buildings were old and tired and sad; the bright fire of their first splendour was faded now to only a glow. The path beneath our feet was white marble, but the expensive stone was discoloured and cracked; tufts of grass grew up through the cracks. The bronze crosses atop the chapels were dull green, not gold, and the colourful facades were missing many of their tiles. Several trees along the pathway were dead.

Here and there, as if to counter the decrepit appearance, masons were busy at work atop wooden scaffolding, restoring damaged sections of some buildings, and renewing the facades and roofs of others. Indeed, when I listened, the principal sound to meet my ear was that of hammer on chisel.

The marble walk ended at a large square building of pale yellow stone which supported a huge dome flanked by two smaller domes. Two trees grew on either side of an arched doorway, casting pale blue shadows in the thin autumn light across a paved foreyard. There was a stone water trough shaped like a bowl directly before the door, and here we halted.

"Tell your king that he may choose two men to come with us," Titus said, and indicated that the rest were to wait at the entrance with the soldiers. "When the others arrive with the surety, one of my men will alert us."

I conveyed these instructions to the king and he chose Hnefi and Gunnar to accompany him, giving instructions to the rest to attack and burn down the palace if the war cry sounded. This they vowed to do and then stretched themselves out on the grass to wait.

Justin, looking on, said, "Are you certain you wish to proceed? You have much to lose by continuing."

I glanced at King Harald, who had quickly mastered his amazement. It would not be long before he was again calculating the extent of his grievance in blood. "We have much to gain, also," I said. "We will follow wherever the path leads."

"It leads through here," he replied, indicating the massive central doorway deep beneath high stone arches. "Beyond this door beats the heart of the empire."

Stepping into the doorway, Titus rapped on the door with his bronze rod. In a moment, a smaller door opened within the larger and a gateman peered out. "Scholarae Titus, Chief Guard of the Bucoleon Gate," he said. "I am bringing emissaries to the emperor."

The gateman regarded the barbarians, then shrugged and opened the door; Titus motioned for us to follow and we were admitted into a stone-paved yard bounded by high walls on all four sides. Thick vines grew on the walls, the leaves of which had coloured and were beginning to fall. The breeze swirled in the square, sending dry leaves rattling across the stone-flagged yard. The sound made the place seem desolate and empty.

The gateman secured the door behind us and then led us to yet another in one of the walls. This door was also wood, but tightly bound in thick iron bands as wide as a man's hand and studded with large bronze nails. Blue-cloaked guards with long-bladed lances stood on either side of the door, regarding us with bored curiosity. The gateman took hold of an iron ring and pushed one of the great panels open; stepping aside, he indicated that we should proceed.

Having done what he promised, Titus left us to our fate. "I will return to the gate and send the surety when it arrives," he told Justin and departed.

The room we entered was immense. Light came in through four round windholes above, illuminating four large paintings: one of Saint Peter, one of Saint Paul, and the other two of royal persons-judging by their purple robes-one male, the other female: an emperor and empress, I supposed, though I could not say who they might have been. The walls were pale red in colour, and the floors white marble.

Save for low benches which lined the north and south wall, the room was bare of furniture-but not empty, for a goodly number of men in various kinds of dress stood about, some of them talking quietly to one another, others simply looking on. They watched us enter, their glances sharp and unwelcoming. Some had the wan, desperate appearance of men who had spent long years in captivity; others seemed sly and calculating, appraising our potential value. The sight of three barbarians and a travel-worn monk with a guardsman in tow did not excite them, however, and they quickly turned back to their own affairs.

The room, for all its size, was close, the air heavy and stale, and slightly sour. If ambition has a scent, I thought, then I am smelling it now.