“Reinmar, Reinmar.” Scharley looked at him pityingly. “Constantinople! Don’t you get it? A glorious world, a glorious culture. A splendid life, a splendid place to live. You’re a doctor. We’d buy you an iatreion near the hippodrome and you’d soon be a famous specialist in women’s complaints. We’d wangle Samson into the Basileus’s guard. I, by virtue of my sensitive nature and dislike of effort, wouldn’t do any work at all… aside from meditation, gambling and the occasional petty swindle. In the afternoons, we’ll walk to Hagia Sophia to pray for greater profits, stroll around the Mesa and enjoy the sight of sails on the Sea of Marmara. We’ll eat lamb pilau and fried octopus washed down with spiced wine in one of the taverns on the Golden Horn. Heaven on Earth! To Constantinople, lads, to Byzantium. Let’s leave Europe behind us, gentlemen, the ignorance and the barbarians. Let’s shake that loathsome dust from our sandals. Let’s go where it’s warm, abundant and blissful, where there’s culture and civilisation. To Byzantium! To Constantinople, the city of cities!”

“To foreign lands?” Reynevan knew that the penitent was joking but played the game. “Abandon the land of our fathers and grandfathers? Scharley! What about patriotism?”

“This is what I think about patriotism.” Scharley made an obscene gesture. “Patria mea totus hic mundus est.”

“In other words,” continued Reynevan, “ubi patria, ubi bene. That’s a philosophy for vagabonds and Gypsies. You have a fatherland, for you had a father. Didn’t you take anything from your family home? No lessons?”

“But naturally.” Scharley feigned indignation. “Plenty. About life and other subjects. All sorts of wise maxims that help me live a dignified life today. To this very day,” he said, wiping a tear away theatrically, “I can recall my father’s virtuous words. I’ll never forget his noble teachings, which I remember and which still guide me through life. For example: put on thick hose after Saint Scholastica’s Day. Or: you can’t squeeze blood out of a stone. Or: a beer in the morning sets you up for the day. Or—”

Samson snorted. Reynevan sighed. Water dripped from the icicles.