It had been a bloody day. That oaf Marcellos had been whipped to within an inch of his life for his oversight. Silanos understood he probably wouldn’t live out the day, which was a shame. The man had claimed he had no memory at all of the night before. But that was exactly the problem. He’d been found dead drunk with the key on his belt, the door of the Northman’s cell flung wide with no explanation. Silanos had always said too much wine will kill a man. Marcellos was about to prove his point.

‘Bring the knife,’ Arbasdos snapped. ‘We’ll geld the scum, then flog him to death. Let him be a lesson to the others.’

‘Of course, we need to make an example of him, my lord – but you mean to keep him, surely?’

‘Do I?’

‘One doesn’t destroy a wild horse for throwing its rider. Patience is the key. It takes time to break even the finest stallion.’

‘Cut his balls off,’ said Davit, the general’s ham-fisted spatharios who was also in attendance, regrettably. ‘That’ll calm the son of a bitch down.’

A singularly unhelpful interjection. ‘The fiercest hunting dogs are left intact, my lord. This man will be no use to you as a house pet.’ If this continued, he would soon run out of analogies.

‘His nose then,’ suggested Davit. ‘An ugly warrior is right enough to purpose, eh?’

‘In your case, undoubtedly.’ Arbasdos chuckled at this. Thank God. Silanos had never been able to abide the sight of those kind of mutilations. Split noses, severed ears, plucked eyeballs. He found all of that revolting.

‘Very well,’ said the general, leaning back in his chair. ‘What do you suggest?’

‘Ten lashes with the scourge is more than most men can bear. But I suspect he is equal to it. It will inject the right degree of fear into the other slaves. And the Northman will not forget the lesson.’

Arbasdos’s temper had cooled a little which was all to the good. He peered at Silanos for a few moments over steepled fingers. ‘So be it. Davit – you can administer the strokes. I know you’re itching to.’

The Armenian gave a rueful snigger. ‘Thank you, Strategos.’ Silanos was mighty glad that he wouldn’t be under this man’s lash. Although he could easily have been. Arbasdos’s rage had been directed mainly at him when he learned that Erlan had been released from the ‘hole’. That was until Marcellos’s incompetence had been established. That had been a lucky turn and Silanos’s luck was holding. For now.

‘One other thing, my lord.’ He was aware that he was on borrowed time. ‘The Northman was armed with this.’ He produced the bone-handled dagger from his robe and handed it over to the general. ‘I’ve never seen it before. Marcellos claimed he knew nothing of it so. . . well, there we are.’