weapons before we realized we weren’t under attack. We thought you’d taken an arrow in a tender spot.”
“I spent five years fighting and that was the worst injury I suffered. The pistachio family has compensated me many times over for my pain. Unfortunately, I will never have my smile back. There are things that can’t be fixed. But tell me, John, how did you come to live at the Great Palace in Constantinople? The last I knew you were going to Egypt.”
A haughty looking youth in a bright green cloak strode in from the street and demanded a jug of wine. He set his drink on a table and headed for the lavatory.
John’s gaze settled on the newcomer with automatic wariness. His thoughts were elsewhere. “Haik, there’s something I should probably tell you. If you stay at the palace, before long, you will hear me referred to by another name.”
“I’m not surprised. There are too many Johns around to keep track. What exactly do—”
“Behind my back I’m called John the Eunuch.”
“How dare they insult you!”
“It’s not an insult.”
Haik simply stared at John. Then seemed to realize he was staring and looked away. “My old friend, I’m sorry.”
“It happened a long time ago. I was captured by some of those Persians we are at peace with now.”
Haik began to speak. An enraged shout cut him short. The Blue they had seen seated at a table earlier stumbled backwards out of the lavatory followed by the Green who had recently come in. Vomit stains down the front of the Blue’s tunic revealed the reason for his lengthy stay.
“You set them on my brother, didn’t you?” bellowed the Green. “Three against one, and all older too. That’s what a Blue considers a fair fight!”
The Green swung his sword and caught the Blue on the side of the head.
No, John realized. It wasn’t a sword but the sponge on a stick that lavatory patrons used to clean themselves when they visited the room for a major need.
The noisome weapon did no damage to the Blue but sent a spray of filth over John’s head, spattering the famous charioteer in the mosaic.
The tavern keeper came out from behind the counter as the Green struck again. The Green strode forward. His foot hit some of the filth sprayed by his weapon. He slipped, fell and rolled into John’s legs. The Green lay there senseless.
The reeling Blue stumbled backwards, placed his hand on the table in front of Haik, balancing himself as he pulled a long blade from his belt.
He looked down at the prostrate Green, started to lift the blade, then screamed. He lurched awkwardly to the side and shrieked again. The blade fell from his hand. The Blue looked around dumbly, confused, flecks of vomit dripping down his chin.
John saw what it was. Haik’s dinner knife protruded from the back of the young man’s hand, pinning it to the table.
The tavern keeper loomed over them. He brandished an enormous meat cleaver. “Sirs, please, please accept my apologies. And accept your refreshment for free. And please, come back tomorrow. I shall be happy to serve you my best wine, for free. And sausages. One can hardly enjoy a meal under such disgraceful circumstances.”
The man’s bald pate had turned as red as his big hands. He looked as if he’d be wringing his hands if it weren’t for the heavy cleaver he carried.
Haik yanked the knife out of the Blue’s hand. The ruffian squealed like a dying rat and crumpled onto the straw-covered floor in a faint.
He glanced down at the two unconscious faction members and then at John. “There’s a Green family in the city who owes you more than they realize, my friend.” He set the knife beside his plate, wiped his fingers on his cloak, and picked up the remaining sausage. “Excellent sausage. I will be sure to recommend your establishment to all my friends at the palace,” he told the tavern keeper.
He popped the sausage into his mouth.
By now the spicy odor of the food was mixing with the coppery smell of
“I spent five years fighting and that was the worst injury I suffered. The pistachio family has compensated me many times over for my pain. Unfortunately, I will never have my smile back. There are things that can’t be fixed. But tell me, John, how did you come to live at the Great Palace in Constantinople? The last I knew you were going to Egypt.”
A haughty looking youth in a bright green cloak strode in from the street and demanded a jug of wine. He set his drink on a table and headed for the lavatory.
John’s gaze settled on the newcomer with automatic wariness. His thoughts were elsewhere. “Haik, there’s something I should probably tell you. If you stay at the palace, before long, you will hear me referred to by another name.”
“I’m not surprised. There are too many Johns around to keep track. What exactly do—”
“Behind my back I’m called John the Eunuch.”
“How dare they insult you!”
“It’s not an insult.”
Haik simply stared at John. Then seemed to realize he was staring and looked away. “My old friend, I’m sorry.”
“It happened a long time ago. I was captured by some of those Persians we are at peace with now.”
Haik began to speak. An enraged shout cut him short. The Blue they had seen seated at a table earlier stumbled backwards out of the lavatory followed by the Green who had recently come in. Vomit stains down the front of the Blue’s tunic revealed the reason for his lengthy stay.
“You set them on my brother, didn’t you?” bellowed the Green. “Three against one, and all older too. That’s what a Blue considers a fair fight!”
The Green swung his sword and caught the Blue on the side of the head.
No, John realized. It wasn’t a sword but the sponge on a stick that lavatory patrons used to clean themselves when they visited the room for a major need.
The noisome weapon did no damage to the Blue but sent a spray of filth over John’s head, spattering the famous charioteer in the mosaic.
The tavern keeper came out from behind the counter as the Green struck again. The Green strode forward. His foot hit some of the filth sprayed by his weapon. He slipped, fell and rolled into John’s legs. The Green lay there senseless.
The reeling Blue stumbled backwards, placed his hand on the table in front of Haik, balancing himself as he pulled a long blade from his belt.
He looked down at the prostrate Green, started to lift the blade, then screamed. He lurched awkwardly to the side and shrieked again. The blade fell from his hand. The Blue looked around dumbly, confused, flecks of vomit dripping down his chin.
John saw what it was. Haik’s dinner knife protruded from the back of the young man’s hand, pinning it to the table.
The tavern keeper loomed over them. He brandished an enormous meat cleaver. “Sirs, please, please accept my apologies. And accept your refreshment for free. And please, come back tomorrow. I shall be happy to serve you my best wine, for free. And sausages. One can hardly enjoy a meal under such disgraceful circumstances.”
The man’s bald pate had turned as red as his big hands. He looked as if he’d be wringing his hands if it weren’t for the heavy cleaver he carried.
Haik yanked the knife out of the Blue’s hand. The ruffian squealed like a dying rat and crumpled onto the straw-covered floor in a faint.
He glanced down at the two unconscious faction members and then at John. “There’s a Green family in the city who owes you more than they realize, my friend.” He set the knife beside his plate, wiped his fingers on his cloak, and picked up the remaining sausage. “Excellent sausage. I will be sure to recommend your establishment to all my friends at the palace,” he told the tavern keeper.
He popped the sausage into his mouth.
By now the spicy odor of the food was mixing with the coppery smell of
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