None of this was a new revelation. I’d been putting it forward for years in the councils of an arrogant, if increasingly down-at-heel, Empire. But, sitting here, watching those bearded faces shine with joy at a recitation that had nothing Greek in its substance or content, was a chill reminder that the victories in the East of Alexander and the Caesars were already one with those of the Assyrians and the Persians.
The story finished with a great burst of cheering, and the boy ran about the room, collecting the silver shaken out from some very large purses. There was an encore of flute playing from the boy while he danced about, followed by more silver. At last, he and his master went to the back of the room, where food would be set out for them, and we all settled back for the next round of courses.
‘Is it true that al-Inkus was buried alive after communicating his secret to the Emperor?’ someone asked behind me.
I perked and twisted round to see who was speaking. It was the Admiral Abbas. For the first time, I noticed that his left arm hung lifeless at his side. Another victim in the catastrophic defeat I’d seen from the walls of Constantinople? Perhaps.
‘Callinicus was a man of great abilities,’ I said, trying not to sound guarded. ‘I believe he was an architect from Heliopolis – whether in Egypt or in Syria, the accounts differ. There is also some dispute over the manner of his achievement. Did he learn from an ancient manuscript, as some declare? Or did he make an original discovery? Since the man disappeared immediately after delivering his secret into the hands of the Emperor, no one can say. The manner of his death – if, indeed, he is dead – must ever stay a mystery.’
Abbas might have asked more. Just then, however, Meekal sat upright on his couch and looked straight at the pair of us.
‘Can you smell fire?’ he asked. I dropped my own proposed question whether the fried river fish now being brought round had the bones left in, and sniffed the air.
‘Surely, my dear, it’s the lamps,’ I said, looking vaguely upwards. My sense of smell hadn’t been that good in years. Now he mentioned it, though, there was a faint smell of burning. More to the point, others in the hall had noticed. Several men were off their couches and running over to the door to give instructions to the attendants. Then, far over to the left, there was a panicky shout of ‘Fire!’. There was a mass scraping of couches and a clatter of dishes. Someone came up and whispered in Meekal’s ear. With a roar of anger, he was on his feet.
‘Get up!’ he shouted at me. ‘Keep hold of me while we get out. The fucking Empire’s set fire to us.’
Chapter 41
Panic abolishes most distinctions of rank, and Meekal had to use his right fist to get us across that shouting mob to the door. As we got there, we were nearly knocked over by a sudden reverse in the tide of escaping humanity. With Meekal to hold me upright, I stood a moment in the doorway and looked out into the darkness of the great garden in the palace. It was only a moment. But that was enough to see a bright ball of fire coming at us through the air. The earthenware jar shattered about three yards from us, sending up splashes of burning liquid to cling to anything it touched. I felt something catch the shoulder of my robe. It spun me round, and I nearly went over. As Meekal caught me and covered me with his own body, I saw a man go down. He landed a foot or so away, writhing and choking, an arrow in his throat.
Out of the darkness came a cheer of triumph and a shouted ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth!’
Back inside the hall, Meekal pushed me into the arms of Karim and bawled an order that I was too busy looking about me to follow. It was a desperate, furious stream of instructions. I caught one look of his face. It had about it the cold ghastliness of the dead. Then he turned to put some kind of order into the dinner guests.
‘Get that gate shut!’ he shouted above the cries of confusion and of fear. ‘Line up, men, line up,’ he now bellowed. ‘Swords at the ready.’ There was a martial sound from the trumpet, and the familiar commands gradually brought order into the hall.
‘I must get you out of here, My Lord,’ Karim shouted into my bad ear. Fighting a sudden fit of the trembles, he clutched at me to stay upright. ‘I am charged on my own life to keep you safe.’ He shivered again, and nearly had me on the floor.
I shook my head. We were in a building of solid stone. It couldn’t be burned down. If Abbas had been anywhere close in that chaotic hall, I’d have tried for a witticism about the use of fire in battle. But, if Meekal was bringing order out of chaos, it was hard to say that chaos didn’t still have the upper hand. Whatever the case, running away with a jittery Karim didn’t sound at all a wise choice. It would be safest to press against the wall to avoid being knocked over by the crush of men. But even as I thought how to explain this, there was a smash of glass, and more of those burning pots came flying through one of the high windows. These weren’t hand-held projectiles. Somehow or other, the Angels of the Lord had not only got within the palace grounds – they’d also brought in some kind of artillery. There was a regular hail of fire into the hall. Men screamed and ran about as the burning oil stuck to clothes and flesh. Already, I could see that a couple of the men who’d taken direct hits would soon be dead if no one thought to put out the fires all over them. One of the tapestries was already on fire. It or the fuel that had carried the fire was giving off clouds of smoke that would finish someone like me off in no time at all.
But Karim was recovered from his fit. He had me up on his back and was carrying me through the increasingly orderly crowds towards the little door at the back of the hall used by the serving men. He rattled the door, then shouted a command at the trembling slave to get it open. We passed through into the sudden chill and silence of the darkness, and I heard the bolts drawn hard shut behind me. I felt the crunch of gravel under Karim’s feet as he ran away from the building, and then the softer pad of his feet on grass as he dodged to avoid the men I could hear shouting and rejoicing somewhere close by. He put me down against a wall, and stood gasping smoke out of his lungs. I looked uselessly around. I knew the Tower of Heavenly Peace was on the far side of the palace. But there must be buildings nearby that would be guarded. If only there was a single light burning in the upper windows to let us see where these were. If only I could see anything other than a dark blur. Even the moon was out of sight.