Nor did I know what to make of Justin's suggestion that word of my brother monks might be forthcoming. For if they had reached Constantinople, the emperor certainly would have known. Even without the gift of the book, they would have sought audience with him. Reason suggested the pilgrimage had not succeeded, but hope argued otherwise.

And then there was the emperor's secret. What was I to make of that?

"We have now a chance for peace with the Muhammedans of the Abbasid," the emperor had told me once we were alone together. Although peace is always a laudable aim, and worthy to be pursued at all times, who or what these Muhammedans might be, I did not know. But this was why the emperor wished me to attend the embassy to Trebizond: "We require an impartial witness, canny priest," the emperor said. "We require someone who will watch and remember all that passes there-someone who will not be suspected, someone unknown."

The basileus had then gone on to imply that if I agreed to report the proceedings of the meeting between his emissaries and those of this caliph, I would be freed from my captivity to Harald. Sure, I was sore tempted. What man would choose to remain even a moment in slavery if granted the opportunity to end it at a word?

Oh, but I was also cautious. Try as I might, I could in no way discern the emperor's motive in this. Perhaps he only meant to help me-to reward me with my freedom, let us say, for bringing the thieving quaestor to justice. Although, if that were in his mind, he could have done it then and there.

I pondered the emperor's words, turning them over in my mind. And I paid special heed to all that passed between Harald and the fleet overseer, hoping for a hint, however small, of what or who the emperor feared that he should take such illicit precautions. I learned much, but nothing to betoken any apprehension; nor anything that would answer the most vexing question: why had the emperor chosen me?

Perhaps, as he had intimated, the emperor could not spare any of his trusted men for this errand, and since, as Harald's slave, I was bound to go with the ships anyway, he merely decided that I might perform a useful service. Still, I asked myself: was it really so difficult to find loyal men?

Likely, it was an act of impulse and nothing more. This I told myself, but could not help thinking that something more sinister lay behind it. No doubt, I was over-influenced by Justin's vile gossip-I confess it did disturb me greatly. Sure, it had been most careless of him to speak so. Had I been a better priest, I should have imposed a penance on him so that he would refrain from repeating gossip, were he to be so tempted in the future.

These thoughts circled in my restless mind, never alighting, never settling. In the end, however, it came to this: the Holy Emperor himself had commanded my service. As a priest of the church, I was forsworn to obey.

Suspicion, Justin said, is the knife in your sleeve and the shield at your back. I forced the thought from me. But the guardsman's words kept coming back to me: Where great wealth and power reside, there suspicion runs rampant.

Such were my thoughts, swarming in my brain like wasps. In the end, I gave up trying to order them, and simply poured out my heart to God. I prayed for a goodly time, but received no solace, so stopped after a while and sat quietly, listening to the talk of the men around me. After a time, I rose and busied myself with other things.

The next day the fleet overseer sent a man with a map showing our destination and the route by which we would go. Both king and pilot studied the map and, with me as interpreter, questioned the man closely and at length. The map was much more detailed and accurate than any Thorkel had ever seen, and revealed much of the southern seas, heretofore unknown to the Danes. When they had learned all they could, Harald dismissed the man and no sooner had his feet left the planks than the king ordered me to make a copy of the map for him. Despite using the most primitive tools-a seabird's feather for a pen!-I persevered, and even found the labour enjoyable. I could not resist the urge to embellish the new map with a few triscs and a band of knotwork down one side. The quill, though crude, served well enough, and I found myself enjoying the practice of my former craft so much that I drew, over the empty Southern Sea, a wild goose, symbol of the Holy Spirit-a blessing to all who should behold the map in years to come. My work occupied me the rest of the day, and took my mind off wanting to go ashore.

The following morning, the ships were moved to the Harbour of Theodosius, which served the emperor's fleet, being nearer the imperial storehouses and granaries. All through the dreary, rain-dashed morning, I watched as the wagons trundled onto the quay and sacks and baskets of provisions were bundled into the waiting ships. I watched, looking for any opportunity to leave the ship; despite Harald's orders I still hoped for a brief word with Justin. After a while the rain stopped and a dull, hazy sun appeared. Sea gulls wheeled in the air, diving for garbage in the harbour. As midday approached, I began to fear that Harald would keep his decision, and I would not have another chance to go into the city.

Happily, as the last of the sacks were being stowed, Gunnar came to me. "Heya, Aeddan," he said by way of greeting. "Jarl Harald says Hnefi and I must go and collect our share of bread." He passed me a small square of parchment on which was written a number; the parchment bore an imperial seal. "The king says you are to go with us in the event we are questioned by those in authority over the loaves."

This was the chance for which I had been hoping. Tucking the parchment into my belt, I said, "When the jarl commands, we must obey. Come, let us hurry."

"Heya," agreed Gunnar, regarding me dubiously.

Summoning two from the score of small boats working the harbour, we departed with a party of ten to fetch bread for all four ships. One of the small privileges of serving in the imperial forces was this allowance of bread which could be obtained from any of several imperial bakeries in the city. Even though all four of Harald's ships were full-laden with provisions, the king was intent on receiving everything due him. Bread had been granted in his bargain with the Overseer of the Fleet and if the emperor decreed free bread for his servants, then Harald wanted each and every loaf.

Despite the fact that we were now in the emperor's employ, we were still barbarians, and so continued to use the Magnaura Gate. This meant returning to Hormisdas Harbour, but the boatmen did not mind for it meant a greater fee for them. We arrived and I wasted no time making for the gate. Leaving Gunnar and Hnefi with the gate prefect to purchase entry disci for the others, I ran over to where the guardsmen stood at their post. Justin was not among them, nor was he anywhere to be seen.

"Where is Scholarae Justin?" I asked, speaking to the nearest soldier.

Glaring, the man appraised me with contempt. "Move off," he growled.

"Please," I said, "it is important. I was meant to see him here. I must know where he has gone."

"It is none of your concern," the guard said, and was on the point of moving me along by force, when one of the others interceded.

"Tell him what he wants to know, Lucca," the other said. "It will do no harm."

"You tell him," replied the first. He blew his nose at me and turned away.

"If you know where he is," I said, appealing to the second soldier, "I would be grateful of your help."

"Scholarae Justin has been reassigned," said the soldier. Regarding me more closely, he asked, "Are you the priest called Aidan?"

"I am."

The soldier nodded. "He said to tell you he could be found at the Great Palace."

"But where?" My heart sank at the prospect of trying to locate him in that warren of walls, halls, residences, and offices-assuming I could even gain entrance. "Which part of the palace?"