Her movements were exact. The tinkle of her little bells, the gleam of the shifting metal, mingled in his mind with the strains of the musician’s song, the cadence building and building till she was whirling around, trance-like, the sword indistinguishable from her body. With a sudden flick of her head her hair shook loose, whipping around her shoulders as the drums built to a maddening frenzy until, suddenly, she fell as though struck dead to the floor, her hair fanned over her outstretched arms. Only the sword was visible, a sweep of bright metal pointing straight at the emperor.

There was a long moment of quiet.

The only sound in the room was the girl’s panting, the only movement the heave of her back as she lay flat against the marble. Slowly, she drew herself up until she stood, poised on her toes, then bowed low to her emperor and her master. The guests broke into limp applause until a brittle voice silenced them.

‘Behold, Salome!’ The eyes were bulging out of the old patriarch’s skull. ‘My lord, did you bring us here to make Herods of us all?’

‘Herods?’ snorted Arbasdos. ‘What are you talking about, old man?’

‘The enemies of God are on the march this very moment. The destiny of our city rests on the Almighty’s favour – yet you would allow such a thing! And before your emperor, before Christ’s envoy on Earth!’ He cast a mottled hand at the dancing girl who, Katāros noted, retained her poise despite the old man’s tirade. ‘I should not have come.’ Germanus struggled to his feet. ‘I am insulted. God is mocked.’

‘Calm yourself, old friend. Sit. Please!’ insisted the emperor. ‘The woman is beautiful, to be sure. But is her beauty not a gift of God? What harm is a little dancing?’

‘It is an abomination, Majesty. It stirs up lust. Her dance is worship to other gods.’

‘I’m sorry my hospitality is not to your liking,’ said Arbasdos, his face dark with suppressed rage. ‘Or to that of our Lord.’

‘You know I only speak the truth, even if you do not wish to hear it.’

The company fell silent, soured by this exchange. Katāros noticed a look between Arbasdos and the girl. She stood composed, her breathing calm now, but in that look he’d seen an understanding that went far beyond that of master and slave. Silanos clapped his hands. At once the girl tipped the sword onto her shoulder and ran out, her footsteps a soft patter under the sound of her jangling bells.

At the doorway, she glanced up at Katāros for an instant and in her kohl-ringed eyes he saw mirth, pride, mischief, and then she was gone, leaving only her scent to linger in their senses.

‘What think you of our Lucia?’ Silanos said in a murmur when the conversation had begun to pick up.