The emperor stiffened at their demand for a promise, but then he looked to the patriarch and said, “I give my oath afore God.”
That was good enough for Sidroc. When Finn started to say something, Sidroc stepped on his foot.
Specific details were given to them then as they all scanned the map of the region in question. Forget about horses or camels, they would probably need goats to climb that mountainous area. Or at the least, mules. How humbling was that for a Viking? Gods, I need to be back on a longship again. Thinking of that, he decided to send word to his men serving under him here in Byzantium to make ready his longship and bring it to Miklagard forthwith. It had been beached near a harbor outside the city gates these past five years.
Now that the meeting was over, the eparch looked at Sidroc and said, “What will your mistress, the pretty jewelry maker, do when you resign?”
The pretty jewelry maker? Flags of warning went up in Sidroc’s head. “She will work as usual.”
“She will not be leaving with you?”
Sidroc shook his head, warily. Mylonas’s interest in Ianthe alarmed him. There was so much he could do to thwart her business and personal life, if he so chose. “Does Ianthe have reason to be concerned? Are her trade permits not in order? Is she behind in her taxes?”
“No. I was just asking.”
He and Finn exchanged glances. Sidroc would definitely need to hire a guard or two for her, aside from the daytime shop guard. In fact, she might be better off living outside the city, making her jewelry there, and hiring someone to manage her shop.
He sighed. One more problem to resolve before he left the city that was beginning to feel not so golden to him.
But then he had still another problem to deal with.
“I believe I will be meeting one of your countrywomen shortly,” the emperor said as his chancellor of the bedchamber helped him into formal robes. “A Norse princess.”
“An Arab,” Sclerus said scornfully. If there was anything the Greeks hated more than Arabs, Sidroc did not know what it was.
“An Arab? In the palace?” Mylonas’s ears perked up with interest.
And the patriarch spat out, “A pagan? Is she a Moslem?” The priest’s eyes were practically bug-eyed with outrage.
“Nay, nay, nay! Drifa is a Norse princess. Viking to the bone. Her father is the powerful King Thorvald of Stoneheim.” Sidroc could not believe he was defending the traitorous baggage ... the woman who might very well prove to be the mother of his secret child. “Really, she has only a speck of Arab blood from her mother’s side.”
All three men gave Sidroc dubious assessments, as if to say, We shall see.
“In any case, ’tis time for me to hold audience,” the emperor said, and all three men left the room.
“Holy Valkyries!” Finn said.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Dost think we should follow and see what Princess Drifa faces?”
Sidroc sighed deeply. ’Twould seem a Viking’s work is never done.
Chapter Eleven
And then the other shoe dropped ...
Drifa had thought she’d seen every marvel in the world in her two days in Miklagard, but it was nothing compared to what she witnessed in the Hrysotriklinos, or Golden Hall, where visiting envoys and delegations were formally presented to the emperor and empress.
The long room that resembled a cathedral in its grandeur had marble and colorful mosaic floors. Like paintings, they were. Even the ceilings were adorned with frescoes, mostly biblical scenes. Off to the side were columns, between and behind which court visitors stood. In fact, everyone—at least two hundred people—stood. Only the emperor and empress sat during the lengthy court rituals. Now that the delegation from the Rus lands and some nuns from a mountainous convent in Crete had been heard, it was her turn.
The logothete, or chief minister, led Drifa and her contingent of four hersirs forward, each carrying gifts for the royal heads of state.
They proceeded down what felt like a gauntlet of visitors, as well as court officials and their assistants, many of whom were eunuchs. In a conversation her father had been engaged in one time with Rafn, he’d referred to eunuchs as the third sex of Byzantium. There were so many of them because they were considered trustworthy, without high ambitions.
Some members of the governing body known as a senate were there as well. And the empress had apparently brought with her numerous ladies-in-waiting, all dressed in finery to rival queens in other countries.
Drifa noticed Sidroc and Finn off to one side as she walked a center path through the long reception hall. Both were in uniforms but apparently not on duty. Finn winked at her, but Sidroc stared at her, grim-faced. What has his braies in a twist now? she thought, tired of the ups and downs of the brute’s moods. First he railed at her, then he teased. No sooner did he smile her way than he was glaring. He made playful jests, then threatened her with vast bouts of sexplay. She would ponder those contradictions later.