They raised these tents on the banks of the river which passed beside the city, and there they remained for three days without stirring from the camp. And then, early in the morning on the fourth day, a messenger from the camp appeared at the door of the eparch's palace bearing a small blue-enamelled box.

As it chanced, Nikos was in the city and the eparch was breaking fast in the courtyard; the first people the messenger encountered were the ten barbarians Nikos insisted stand guard every moment of the day and night. Not knowing anything else to do, they called me to speak to the man. Since Constantinople, the Sea Wolves had come to value me as a mediator between them and the Greek-speakers, who they thought spoke gibberish. As they could not make themselves known to anyone else, the bodyguard at the door came to me. "A man has come, Aeddan," said the Dane named Sig.

I went outside to meet an Arab on a pale, sand-coloured horse. Seeing that I was but a slave, he dispensed with the formal salutation, and said simply, "May the peace of Allah be upon you. I bring greetings in the name of my master the amir." The messenger spoke in precise, unhesitating Greek and asked if the time were convenient to speak to the eparch.

"If you would come with me," I replied, "I will take you to him."

Sliding from the saddle, he followed me, walking a pace behind and to the right. I brought him to the courtyard where he greeted the eparch more formally, apologized for disturbing his meal, and placed the blue box in the eparch's hands, saying, "A gift from Lord Sadiq, who will be pleased to receive the eparch tomorrow at the hour he finds most felicitous."

"Please tell your master that I would be delighted to attend him. I will come at midday."

"As you will." Raising his hands shoulder high, palm outwards, the messenger bowed once, and departed without another word.

The eparch was in the habit of eating his first meal of the day alone at a small table in the courtyard; sometimes a brazier was placed beside the table to take the chill from the morning air. Though the sunlight was thin and the days were not warm, with or without the brazier's fire he preferred the open air of the courtyard to any other room. When the messenger departed, I turned to leave him in peace. Putting out a hand to me, he said, "Stay, Aidan. We will see what the amir has sent me."

I took my accustomed place beside his chair and asked, "What is this 'hour' of which he spoke?"

Eparch Nicephorus turned in his seat and addressed me as a teacher might an esteemed pupil. "Ah!" he said, extending his forefinger to the sky above. "The Arabs conceive of the day as divided into twelve courses-a wheel of twelve spokes, you see-each corresponding to one of the zodiacal phases. It is their belief that the sun passes through these twelve phases as it moves through the day. They hold each division to contain the aspect most favourable for various activities, and do nothing without first consulting the heavens in order to determine the best course for any action they contemplate."

The Arabs then were extending the same courtesy to the eparch which they themselves expected. The eparch understood this, and he appreciated the nobility behind it. Laying aside his plate, he took up the enamelled box and opened it; inside was a single diamond the size of a wren's egg lying in a nest of red silk. Removing the gem, he held it before him, turning it in the morning sun. It glittered hard fire in the yet dim light of the courtyard.

Nikos appeared at that moment, saw us talking, and stiffened. His smile was once more in place by the time he reached the table. "I see the greeting has come at last," he said, indicating the blue box with its costly gem.

"The amir will receive us tomorrow," the eparch said. "We will go to him at midday, I think. They consider that propitious."

"With all respect, eparch," replied Nikos stiffly, "would it not be better to summon them to attend us here-and at a time of our choosing? We should not be seen to obey their summons."

"It is a fine point you raise," allowed the eparch, "but inappropriate to the particular circumstance."

"On the contrary," said Nikos, "it is most pertinent. With respect, eparch, I would not like our leniency to be misconstrued as vacillation or weakness. We should command them to attend us-not the other way around."

"It is never weakness to show good will toward those one hopes to persuade," replied Nicephorus gently. "The amir will recognize the generosity of our acceptance, and consider it accordingly." The eparch raised an admonitory finger. "These Arabs are a proud race; they do not willingly allow themselves to remain in debt or obligation to anyone. You would do well to remember this."

"Of course, eparch." Nikos inclined his head in a stiff bow and withdrew. I did not see him again until the next day when we assembled the party that was to greet Amir Sadiq-and then I saw why: Nikos had arranged, at considerable pains, for a number of horse-drawn chariots to take us to the Arab camp.

Eparch Nicephorus emerged from the house, took one look at the long line of chariots awaiting us in the street, and said, "Send them away, Nikos. Send them away! We will walk to the amir's camp."

Blinking in disbelief, the komes said, "Walk? With all respect, eparch, we cannot be seen to walk."

"Why not?" asked the eparch lightly. "People walk here and there about the earth, their business to perform. This I have seen myself, and, try as I might, find no shame in it."

"But the magister and the officials-they will deem it improper and undignified to walk."

"I was not aware that we were trying to impress the magister and his minions with our exalted position."

"Eparch, please, I would not have expected you to adopt this tone. Believe me, I care as little as you for the opinion of the magister. But it is the amir's opinion we must consider now."

"Then let me reassure you," said Nicephorus, "it is my sole consideration."

"No less than mine, eparch-"

"Is it?" The eparch's voice became firm, and his eye keen. "I do wonder, Nikos." Dismissing the matter, he said, "But never mind. The amir is waiting; let us depart. Bring the gifts."

Nicephorus started off down the street alone. Nikos watched him for a moment, and I saw the rage welling up within him; he all but shook with fury. Then, as quickly as it had flared, he forced the anger down again. Turning quickly, he signalled Harald to send the bodyguard ahead.

The magister, waiting a little distance apart with a group of city officials, came forward then. "I see the eparch has changed his mind," he said, watching the lanky old man striding down the street.

"Unfortunately, yes," agreed Nikos with seeming reluctance. "I fear we must accustom ourselves to his unpredictable humours."

That was all he said, but the doubt sown with those few words would quickly grow to a sizeable crop.

By the time our party reached Trebizond's eastern gate, Nikos had arranged us in well-ordered ranks, reclaiming some semblance of the pomp he had hoped to inspire. Passing through the gate, we crossed the ditch bridge and proceeded in procession towards the camp. Seeing that we approached on foot, Amir Sadiq mounted a welcome party and met us on the way.

I will never forget the sight of him, sitting on his fine grey horse, dressed all in white, dazzling in the pale winter sunlight. He reined in his mount, slipped from the saddle in a single, fluid motion, and advanced open-handed to greet the eparch. The caliph's envoy was not a big man, but he exuded an air of such dignity and dominion that he seemed to tower over all around him. He was lithe, rather than muscled, and moved with the grace and subtlety of a cat.

Though they had never met before, the amir strode directly to Nicephorus and bowed. He said something in Arabic which sounded like, Al il'allah, and then, without the least hesitation said, "Greetings in the name of the Great al'Mutamid, by All Wise Allah, Khalifa of the Abbasids. I am J'Amal Sadiq, Amir of the Abbasid Sarazens, and I welcome you to my camp."