I might have discovered more about the source of this glorious music, but I had eyes only for the throne and the man sitting in it. For, occupying one side of the wide throne and regarding us openly, was Emperor Basil, robed in deepest purple that glistened and shimmered in the light.

The splendour of the room and the opulence of all around me combined to make me suddenly conscious of my own appearance. Glancing down, I noticed to my embarrassment that my once-fine cloak was stained and torn; my mantle was filthy and ragged at the edges. Raising a hand to my head, I felt that my hair had grown and my tonsure needed renewing, and my beard was matted and unkempt; an iron collar hung about my throat. In short, I looked more like one of the beggars that swarmed the walls of the Great Palace, than an emissary of the Irish church. But I was not an emissary. In truth, I was what I appeared: a slave.

So this is how I came to the emperor: not dressed in the white robe and cloak of the peregrini, but in travel-worn rags and a slave collar; not surrounded by my brother monks, but in the company of rough barbarians; not led by the blessed Bishop Cadoc, but beside a pagan Danish king; not bearing a priceless gift, but bargaining for a hostage.

Ah, vanity! God, who has no use for pride, had seen to it that I remained humble before his Vice-Regent on Earth.

Raising my eyes once more, I found myself looking into the face of the most powerful man in all the world, and it was the face of a clever monkey. Before I could properly take in the sight, the magister sacrum raised his rod and cracked it down hard on the floor.

At the same instant, the golden throne began to rise in the air. So help me Michael Valiant, I tell the truth! The throne, which looked like a Roman camp chair, save larger and made of gold, simply lifted itself into the air to hover before us-as if raised by the superb melody issuing from that golden organ, as they called it.

Before I could grasp the contrivance of this wonder, the white-robed magister struck the floor with his rod again and made a flattening motion with the palm of his hand. Justin sank to his knees and stretched himself facedown, flat on the floor. I followed the guard's example, but the barbarians beside me remained standing, oblivious to the insult they provoked. The music swelled, and then stopped. I held my breath-I do not know why.

The next voice I heard was that of the emperor himself. "Who disturbs the serenity of these proceedings with such unseemly clatter?" he inquired; his voice was even and deep, and came from a place high above us.

To my alarm, Justin whispered, "Here is your chance, Aidan. Tell him who you are."

Climbing quickly to my feet, I squared my shoulders, swallowed hard and replied, "Lord and emperor, you see before you Jarl Harald Bull-Roar, King of the Danes of Skania, together with his slave and two of his many warriors."

A faint twitter of laughter greeted my salutation, but it quickly died when the emperor muttered, "Silence!"

"Basileus, they seem to have gained their way by guile," said the magister sacrum, anxious to absolve himself without seeming irresponsible.

"So it does appear." Scanning the barbarians, the emperor said, "The king may approach. We will speak to him face to face."

The official gave a crack of his rod and motioned for the king to answer the summons. I moved to Harald's side. "He would speak to you," I told him, and together we stepped forward.

The floating throne descended slowly to its base, and before us sat Emperor Basil, a small, bald-headed man; olive-skinned like his Macedonian countrymen, he possessed the short limbs and compact frame of a horse soldier. His eyes were dark and quick, and his hands-resting on the arms of the throne, fingers drooping from the weight of his patriarchal rings-were small and neat.

"In the name of Christ, Sovereign of Heaven, we greet you, Lord of the Danes," he said, offering a bejewelled hand to Harald, who bore himself with regal dignity.

Justin touched my shoulder, indicating that I should convey the emperor's words to the king, which I did, and added, "He means for you to kiss his hand. It is a sign of friendship."

"Nay!" replied Harald. "I will not." He then told me to ask the emperor whether he would ransom the life of his thieving servant now, or see his headless corpse thrown into the harbour.

"What does he say?" asked the emperor of me. "You may speak for him."

"Sovereign lord and emperor," I replied quickly, "Harald Bull-Roar, Jarl of the Danmark and Skania says that he regrets he cannot observe friendship with you until he has presented the purpose of his mission."

"So be it," replied Basil, taking up the matter at once. He spoke cordially, but his manner gave me to know that there were to be no further pleasantries wasted on the rude barbarians. "What is the nature of his concern?"

"He demands to know your business here," I said to Harald.

"Then tell him," ordered the king angrily. "Tell him we offer him a chance to redeem the life of his thieving harbour master."

"Emperor and lord," I began, "the king says that he would like it known that he has made hostages of Quaestor Antonius and his men, and now awaits your offer of ransom for their lives." This I said and told how, upon arrival in Constantinople, we had immediately been cheated by the quaestor. "My lord Harald captured the harbour master and would have taken the man's head, along with those of his men," I explained, "but the quaestor told us that the emperor would certainly pay a great reward for the sparing of his life. Thus, my lord Harald, Jarl of the Danes of Skania, seeks the emperor's ransom."

Basil made no reply; to be sure, his face betrayed nothing of his mind, so I gestured to Gunnar to bring forth the bundle once again. I placed it on the floor, unknotted it, and spread the red cloak. There, for all to see, was the quaestor's helmet, rod of office, and official ring. The emperor leaned forward slightly, squinted at the display, and then leaned back with a puff of agitation.

"Where is Quaestor Antonius?"

"He waits aboard Lord Harald's longship, basileus, with his men as well."

Turning his head slightly, Basil called for the prefect to join the proceedings. The magister hastened to summon the prefect, who approached the throne. Speaking to me, the emperor said, "Tell the king that I am sending this man to bring the quaestor. He must release him to the prefect, so that we may resolve this matter." He then directed Justin to accompany the prefect.

Upon relaying the emperor's words, Harald protested. "Nay!" he bellowed. "The emperor must pay the ransom if he desires the release of his man. This is everywhere understood," he added.

So, I explained to the basileus that Harald's men would not release their captive until they received word from their jarl that the ransom had been paid. Sure, I spoke more bravely than I felt, and stepped back to see what would happen next.

Far from showing his displeasure, however, the basileus merely nodded and instructed the prefect to bring him a bowl from one of the tables. This the official did, fetching a handsome golden bowl which he placed before the throne. "Give it to the king," Basil said, whereupon the prefect delivered the bowl into the barbarian lord's hands.

Well pleased with the weight and craft of the bowl, Harald granted his assent. Calling Hnefi to him, he charged him to attend the prefect and bring back the quaestor. "Tell the karlar the ransom has been paid," Harald said, then whispered, "but do not release the thief's men-this bowl does not buy their lives." The three left at once, whereupon the magister returned us to the anteroom to wait with the others detained at the emperor's pleasure.

While we were waiting, Titus appeared with the four barbarians Harald had sent to bring the surety. The newcomers were full of admiration for all the wealth they had seen along the way and wanted to know how much the emperor was giving for the quaestor's life. "It is difficult to say," Harald allowed ruefully, his golden treasure hidden beneath his cloak. "In this place, nothing is simple, I think."