Constantine pressed his lips to a thin pout but complied, touching something unseen on the arm of the throne. Slowly the immense chair began to descend. The lions and birds quieted as the throne poised above the steps.
Constantine’s smile returned. “Mitera, Mother, we visited the cheetahs. Ailinn was greatly surprised that we use them to hunt bears. But she was most surprised of all by our giraffes from Affrike. I think they frightened her.”
“Very well, Constantine. Mayhap you will wish to escort Ailinn further about the palace grounds, but later. And with a guard,” Zoë added gently but firmly. “Now, ‘tis time to take our meal in the Pearl Palace, as you requested earlier.”
Constantine brightened and turned to Ailinn. “You will enjoy the Pearl Palace. ‘Tis one of the most beauti — ”
He broke off his words at the sight of the Eparch, Sergius Bardanes, hastening into the throne room.
After prostrating himself the required times, the Eparch rose and turned to the empress, Zoë, and to the Domesticus and the Drungarius who flanked her.
“Majesty, I bear news of the greatest urgency.” He turned and leveled a finger directly at Lyting. “There be evidence that this Atlison is a thief and a liar and not to be trusted. He speaks of scorpions and spiders, yet ‘tis he, himself, who is a threat to the crown. I challenge whether he is even the man whom he claims to be.”
Zoë’s gaze leapt to Lyting while the guards immediately surrounded him, training the points of their spears at his chest.
A small cry slipped from Ailinn’s lips. She trusted them not at all and feared they would run Lyting through.
Lyting lifted his crystal-blue eyes to hers and with a slight shake of his head indicated for her not to move. At the same time Ariana interpreted for Ailinn the exchange that had taken place below.
Zoë’s coal-black eyes settled on the Eparch. “What evidence do you hold?” she asked, her voice cool and even.
“Majesty, outside awaits Nikas Aristakes, our newly appointed Minister of Trade. He has long overseen the city’s silk production and dealt with the Norse traders who seek its export. One such trader has come forth this season to press a complaint. ‘Twould seem he sailed from the West in the company of a certain man, a man who robbed him of his goods and slave and left him to die.”
The Eparch turned and targeted his game.
“The man he names is Lyting Atlison.”
Hushed gasps and utterances sounded among the ladies-in-waiting and guardsmen, while the Eparch signaled the guard at the door. He, in turn, gestured to someone without. Two men entered immediately, one following the other. First came a corpulent man, dressed in jewels and fine silks, bald but full-bearded and having a nervous tick at the corner of one eye. Behind him strode Hakon.
Ailinn gasped audibly from her perch, drawing the attention of both men to herself. She shrank back against the throne as their eyes fastened on her.
Just as quickly their gazes dropped away, and the men sank to the floor in accordance with court formalities. Hakon followed the minister’s lead as they prostrated themselves. After the third time they rose once more.
Nikas’s gaze returned to Ailinn, swiftly measuring her, while Hakon’s eyes slashed boldly over Lyting, his look triumphant. Hakon’s gaze then shifted toward the great Throne of Solomon which still hovered a man’s height above its marble platform.
Studying Nikas, Lyting guessed him to be the man with whom Skallagrim had conducted his dealings in the silk trade — the man with the collection of concubines and for whom Ailinn had been originally destined. His ire rose at the thought of this man’s hands — or any man’s hands — moving over Ailinn.
Nikas assessed Ailinn with hungry, greedy eyes as though he expected to have her still. Obviously, Hakon had revealed Ailinn to be the maid Skallagrim intended for him and promised her still for Nikas’s intervention.
But Hakon. would never release Ailinn, Lyting knew. ‘Twas assuredly a ruse, baiting the minister to gain the necessary audience and make his accusations. To that end, Hakon’s intent would be to see Lyting arrested and to reclaim Ailinn. Lyting wondered what plans Hakon harbored for Nikas once the deed was done.
Nikas turned on Lyting then, his animosity manifest.
“Is it not true that you encountered the chieftain, Skallagrim, in Hedeby and also first saw there his beautiful slave and sought her purchase?”
“Já,” Lyting responded, his inner defenses rising.
“And is it not also true that you subsequently arranged passage with the chieftain and his nephew, to sail in their company and that of the girl, eastward to Constantinople?”
“Satt. True. But his was the only vessel departing — ”
“Is it not the custom of those merchants who sail together in convoy, in the same ship, to also share equally in the profit of the goods they transport and protect?”
“Já.”
“Yet, you brought no goods. Indeed, you paid for the privilege of transport, traveling as an emissary, and did not rightfully have claim to any of their goods.”
Lyting did not respond, a muscle leaping along his jaw.
“Mayhap you would recount for us the perils your convoy endured in the land of the Rus,” Nikas said with overweening confidence. “Tell us of the attack of the tribesmen — those lost in battle, and those purposely left behind to perish.”
Romanus vented an impatient breath. “What is your point, Nikas?”
The minister impaled Lyting with his dark, gleaming eyes. “When the chieftain, Skallagrim, was killed in the clash of arms, Hakon rightfully inherited all that was his uncle’s. But Atlison preyed upon him, desiring the wealth of furs and coveting the girl for himself. He would have us believe he is to be trusted, yet Atlison left this man, Hakon, to die in the Steppes and proceeded to steal his goods, including Hakon’s sole remaining slave.”
Nikas gestured to Ailinn where she sat, her ear bent to Ariana as the girl interpreted the minister’s accusations. Ailinn paled with each new pronouncement. Frantically, her gaze sought Lyting’s.
Hakon stepped forth then, and with Nikas’s aid in translation, corroborated all that had been said, imparting the tale of the attack of the tribesmen which left his uncle dead and himself to claim right to all that was the chieftain’s. He then twisted the facts surrounding the encounter in the rapids. Now he asked retribution — Lyting’s imprisonment and the restoration of all that was his, most especially the slavewoman Ailinn.
“As you can see for yourself, she is a great beauty and would bring a considerable price,” Nikas concluded.
“From men like you?” Leo Phocas challenged, arching a brow in obvious distaste for the minister of trade, apparently knowing something of him.
“And you, Domesticus,” Nikas returned smoothly, bringing a narrow look from Zoë. “But it remains, the maid is a slave and rightfully belongs to Hakon.”
All eyes turned to Ailinn, where she sat with Constantine and Ariana. The young emperor, not liking any of what he heard and fearing they would try to take Ailinn from him, pressed on the arm of the chair. Immediately it rose, ascending toward the ceiling. The lions began to roar and the birds issued a cacophony of sounds. Constantine looked down on them, presenting his most imperious mien.
Nikas gazed anxiously after them, seeing his prize lift out of reach. Hakon’s eyes grew hard, calculating, as he studied the throne, as though he would find the source of its magic and disassemble its secrets to reach Ailinn.
Hastily the minister of trade appealed to the empress and her advisers once more, pressing Hakon’s claim and sullying Lyting’s name.
“What do we know of him?” Nikas gestured openhanded to Lyting. “If he would abandon a kinsmen and steal his goods for greed and lust, then how can we trust his word or anything he tells us? Certainly, we cannot in matters that concern the safety of our emperor.”
Zoë turned to Lyting, her great black eyes searching the depths of his.
“Do you respond to these charg
es?” she asked, the tone of her voice unreadable.
Lyting cast a long, sharp glance at both his accusers, then returned his gaze to Zoë.
“I am who I claim to be, brother to Rurik Atlison. I bore you his token — the cloth of purple and coin of gold.”
“Mayhap he stole that, too!” Nikas interjected bringing scowls from Zoë’s general and admiral.
Lyting held Zoë’s gaze. “If the token is not proof enough, Rurik’s image is stamped upon my face. You know this to be true, Majesty. Also, do not forget the parchment from Dyrrachium, or the armband of Askel the Red. Five of your Dragons are dead, while I have already endured one attack, mistaken for the sixth Dragon, my brother. Helena, like Thengil and Vegeir, lies poisoned in her tomb. The ‘scorpion’ is real, as is the ‘spider,’ and they will destroy the throne of the Macedonians provided the chance.”
His words brought reactions from those gathered, but he could not read their looks all at once.
“And is the maid, Ailinn, rightfully this man’s slave?” asked the Domesticus.
Hakon cut off Lyting’s response, utilizing his own limited knowledge of Greek. “ ‘Twas I who first seized her on raid.”
A half-truth, Lyting knew.
“And where did this raid occur?” Zoë asked calmly, her eyes lifting to Ailinn’s dark red hair.
When Hakon and the minister remained silent, she pulled her gaze to them.
“Where?” she demanded.
“Ireland, Majesty,” Hakon replied.
The minister suddenly looked pinched and withdrew a pace.
A storm gathered about the empress, fire kindling to life in the depths of her coal black eyes. Zoë fixed her gaze on Hakon, searing him with her look.
“Ireland is a Christian land,” she said tightly.
“Já . . .” Hakon replied, his words light and dispassionate, but his confidence visibly waned.
Anger sharpened in Zoë eyes.
“ ‘Tis illegal to transport Christian slaves through Christian lands. As a trader, you know this well. ‘Tis why the Rus bring us Slavs. Yet, you dare come before me and make this bold admittance before the crown itself?” Her indignation resonated throughout the room.
Hakon groped for words while Nikas shot him infuriated looks for revealing this information, his embarrassment acute and his anxiety over the girl plain.
Zoë turned once more to Lyting. “I do not doubt that you are who you say. Your brother, Rurik, ever served us fearlessly, honestly, and nobly. Now I would hear of the journey from the West and its events from your own lips.”
Lyting recognized he must put an end to the matter in its entirety, not only Hakon’s charges. He had seen others in the court hunger after Ailinn. Their appetites were as great and recognizable as those of his kinsman on the voyage. Since meeting the Imperials and court, he had yet to establish his relationship to Ailinn. He would do so now and place her safely beyond their hope-filled fantasies.
“Majesty, I did not steal but freed Ailinn from the chains of her bondage — those of the chieftain, Skallagrim, who first enslaved her in Clonmel, then Hakon’s after he attacked me aboard our boat and sought to kill me in the rapids of Leanti. We fought in the waters, and they carried him off into the mists while, by God’s might, I clung to the vessel as Ailinn and I rode the rapids. The members of the convoy searched for Hakon, but none found a trace of him. We thought him to be dead and finally sailed on.”
Lyting took a breath, then forestalled the Drungarius who was about to speak. “There is more.”
A ripple of warmth purled through Ailinn as Lyting lifted his crystal-blue gaze to her.
“Ailinn and I pledged ourselves to each other on Saint Gregory’s Island before all and espoused ourselves according to the traditions of the Norse. She is my kona. My wife. Hakon may verify this for himself by asking any member of the convoy. Ailinn and I are wed.”
As Ariana made the translation, Ailinn’s mouth dropped open, her eyes rounding. For a moment she feared she would slip right off the throne, so stunned was she.
“Why did you not mention this when we separated you and Ailinn into different pavilions?” Zoë asked.
Lyting’s thoughts skipped rapidly. “Majesty, ours was a Norse ceremony. Both Ailinn and I embrace the Lord Christ. We have agreed not to consummate our vows until we can repeat them in a Christian ceremony, thus gaining the blessings of the Lord and enjoying a true marriage.”
The light softened in Zoë’s eyes, and she, too, smiled, greatly pleased by his answer.
Ailinn’s mouth remained open as Ariana continued to translate. The young emperor, who had been listening attentively, came suddenly to life and grinned widely.
“We can see you wed! Can’t we, Mother?” His bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and he looked from his mother to Lyting and then to Ailinn.
“I regret I cannot ask you to wait for me, Ailinn. But ‘twould be wrong to take you from Lyting, and I like him very much. He will make a fine husband for you.”
Zoë looked up at her son in great surprise, but next to her Romanus voiced his support.
“An excellent idea, Majesty. And having waited so long, they would wish to wed at once. We can afford them a resplendent ceremony in any one of the churches of Constantinople. As you wish, of course, my emperor.”
Ailinn’s mouth dropped open even further as she looked to Lyting. He, too, appeared speechless at the suggestion.
Hakon and the minister looked utterly astonished and about to object when Constantine made another imperious proclamation.
“Rurik Atlison preserved the throne of my father and, in doing so, mine as well. Now Lyting has returned to preserve it once more.”
Constantine directed his brilliant blue gaze at Lyting.
“We could not fully reward your brother, as my father had wished. But we can reward you, Lyting Atlison. And ‘tis well deserved. Not only do you serve the house of the Macedonians, but you have saved Ailinn from a dark fate.”
Constantine’s gaze fell harshly upon Hakon. “Guards! Take this man from my presence and expel him from the gates of the city. Take the minister, Nikas, also from my sight.”
The guards began to roughly remove the two men from the throne room. Nikas affected shallow, hasty bows, back-stepping out the door. Venom sliced Hakon’s features. He darted a poisonous glare at Lyting as the guards forced him from the room.
Like the cat that ever found its way back, Hakon would seek his way, too, Lyting held certain. ‘Twould be foolish to think otherwise, and fatal to underestimate him.
As Constantine pressed on the throne’s arm and it began to descend, he addressed the Eparch, Sergius. “I would know more of our Minister of Trade. I do not like him. I believe he knew Ailinn was a Christian slave and would not have urged Hakon to free her.”
“As you wish, Majesty.” Sergius bowed, not meeting the emperor’s eyes, covering his own embarrassment.
“You might also visit Nikas’s home,” Lyting suggested to the Eparch. “I believe you will find his residence filled with exotic concubines — beautiful slavewomen he accepts as gifts for ministerial favors. Skallagrim intended Ailinn as such a gift. ‘Tis likely why Hakon knew to approach him for aid and why Nikas supported him.”
This brought many a raised brow. Sergius flushed red.
As the throne settled on the marble platform, Constantine rose and aided Ariana down the steps.
Ailinn pressed slowly to her feet, suddenly feeling shivery and self-conscious as Lyting approached. Their eyes met, and she suddenly found herself short of breath.
“Ailinn, I will aright this,” he promised softly as he took her hand and drew her down the steps.
She wondered what he wished to aright, still dazed by the shock of Hakon’s return, the horrid accusations and her fears for Lyting, followed by his startling revelation. She tipped her face up to his.
“You married me at Saint Gregory’s Island?”
“Ailinn, I realize it must displease
you to find yourself espoused to a Norseman. Bear with these things for now. ‘Twas never my wish to mislead you, only to place you unquestionably under my protection from those who would harm you. Now, ‘twould seem necessary to do so and in like manner once more, to place you beyond the reach of such men as Hakon and Nikas and whomever else.” A smile tugged at the side of his mouth. “Besides, the emperor is intent on seeing us wed, and we cannot easily say him nay.”
His smile faded. “Have no fear, though. I will not press my `husbandly rights.’ The marriage will be in name only, and once performed, I will request passage home from the emperor.”
Lyting compressed his lips and looked away. “When I return you to your people, you can initiate an annulment. It should not prevent you from making a good and desirous marriage someday.”
Ailinn started to speak, her emotions knotting. But as she opened her mouth, Xenia moved apart from the other ladies-in-waiting and came to greet them.
Xenia’s eyes pierced Ailinn’s, a dark, indefinable look that she transferred to Lyting as she addressed him in Greek.
“Congratulations,” she breathed. “You are so like your brother.” Her gaze trailed over his features, then to Ailinn. Her lips curved upward. “The Atlisons ever have an eye for a beautiful woman.”
Ailinn suppressed a sudden shiver as Xenia withdrew, and wondered if Lyting sensed something unsettling about the woman as well.
Constantine’s voice drew her back.
“The emperor is enumerating for the servants the many arrangements required for your wedding,” Ariana said happily as she joined Lyting and Ailinn. “He loves court ceremonials and will see that you have a magnificent wedding.”
Ailinn looked to Constantine. Though the details would be in a child’s hands, she was certain the wedding would be grander than even those celebrated by the kings of Tara.
Lyting moved off and stood speaking with the empress for several moments, then returned to Ailinn’s side.
“Zoë wishes to convene her Council, and I must attend. Ariana and the empress’s ladies-in-waiting appear eager to attend to you, my bride.” He could not help but smile at that thought. “Go with them now. I will come for you later.”
Kathleen Kirkwood & Anita Gordon - Heart series Page 32