The door in the north-west apse suddenly flew open and a palace guard marched in, his steps clicking briskly on the marble surface. He wasted no time presenting himself to the emperor. As Leo began interrogating him Katāros glided over to her.

‘The audience is at an end, my lady.’

‘What happened?’ she said.

‘It seems an envoy from the Arab Prince Maslama is here. The emperor must see him at once.’ He touched her elbow and turned her to the massive double doors. ‘Be patient, Queen Lilla.

If you seek this man, I can take you to Arbasdos.’

‘When?’

‘Soon,’ he said, already ushering her from the golden hall. ‘Soon.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

When the Sveär queen was gone, Katāros returned to his post beside the emperor. Leo had meanwhile dismissed all but two of the excubitors – the so-called ‘sentinels’ who guarded the imperial palace. Even these he posted outside the hall. It seemed the emperor trusted no one but him – poor fool – and wanted no other ears to overhear his conversation with Prince Maslama’s envoy.

When he was presently shown in, the man introduced himself as Abdullah Abu Yahya al-Antaqi al-Battal.

‘An honourable name for a young man,’ replied the emperor in Arabic. It was the language of his childhood, Katāros knew, and he spoke it like a native. ‘I hope you don’t expect me to use it each time I address you.’

‘Abdal-Battal will suffice, Majesty,’ said the envoy stiffly. He was young but Leo would not make the mistake of underestimating him for that. If Maslama thought the man capable of representing him, then no doubt he was. Either that or else wealth had secured him this honour since he was clearly rich. His dark green tunic and armour were expensive, his black beard oiled to a sharp point and his long black hair pushed back with a band of scarlet silk.

‘You bear a message from your prince,’ said Leo.

The envoy’s light brown eyes narrowed. ‘Prince Maslama offers you his highest regards. And he wishes to remind Your Majesty of the agreement struck before your rise to the imperial throne.’

Katāros’s ears pricked at this. An agreement? The first he had heard of this.

‘Go on,’ said Leo.

‘The time to honour your pledge has come. Throw open your gates. Hand over the city, and Allah will be merciful to you.’

‘The terms of our agreement were specific. Did he tell you? Maslama guaranteed the life and property of all in the Imperial City.’

‘My lord is happy to repeat his assurance. Open the gates and all shall be—’

‘He also promised he would support me in retaining my position over the city and its provinces, if I were to accept the suzerainty of his brother, the Caliph Sulayman.’

‘So I understand. And do you, Majesty?’ The barb in the envoy’s question was unmistakable.

‘How can I if your prince insists on undermining my standing?’