‘Yes. And no. The Bulgars are ruled by a king they call a khan. A man named Tervel. But it was his son the prince, Kormesy, who agreed this alliance with Theodosios. His son is the real power behind their host. His son has energy while Khan Tervel grows fat on horse-meat. Kormesy took it as a personal insult that the emperor, who was his ally, was kicked off the throne. To wound a Bulgar’s honour and then ask him for a favour. . . Phah! You would have more luck telling the tide to turn back.’ Erlan’s heart sank. ‘No,’ continued Leo. ‘The most we can hope for from them is what they are doing already. Their night raids serve us. They make the Arabs bleed.’

‘Wolves bite and bleed their prey to death,’ said Erlan. ‘The lion goes for the kill. Your name, Leo. It means lion, does it not? Which has the greater honour?’

‘And yet for the wolves, the prey does die,’ smiled Leo. ‘I’m sorry, my friend. Your service must go on a little longer. Here, another drink. And then I must get back to work.’

Erlan was still weighing his disappointment when the next guard came to relieve his watch. Night had long fallen. The oil-lamps burned low and steady in the hall. As they exchanged duty, Leo said he would rest a while on his couch before continuing with his work. ‘You can wait outside the door,’ he told the new sentry. Erlan, meanwhile, stalked away, ruminating on what he was going to tell Lilla. He had gone the full length of the hallway and down a flight of stairs before he noticed the lightness on his hip.

He cursed his absent-mindedness; Wrathling was still there, propped against the pillar by the emperor’s balcony. He hurried back, not wishing to be parted from his sword for even a night, and hoping the emperor would not mind the interruption.

He explained himself quickly to the other guard who hesitated, but Erlan went ahead and knocked on the latticed door. He listened for the emperor’s answer. Nothing came. Erlan cursed softly.

‘He must be asleep already,’ said the other. ‘I’ll bring it—’