Though his face remained frozen, a flush started to creep into the Scribe’s cheeks. He turned his head slowly to look at Grakk. ‘You could ask your own slave. He would be able to furnish the answer.’
Brann glanced at Grakk but the wiry tribesman was impassive.
‘I have no slaves. He is a free man.’ Before he could control himself, the Scribe’s eyes widened in surprise before settling quickly back to his frozen mask. Einarr continued, his voice as reasonable as if he were discussing the sailing conditions for a pleasure cruise. ‘Unlike you. And I asked you. Could I make it clearer, or do I have to interrupt my journey to the palace with a visit to the Guild of Slavers to enquire about the etiquette of a conversation between a free man and a slave? And the consequences of breaching the etiquette? I am curious as to your name. The one your mother bestowed upon you.’
The man hesitated a long moment, his head bowed and his jaw clenching and moving as he fought to maintain control. He lifted his eyes to meet Einarr’s once more, and said coldly, ‘Narut.’
Einarr smiled. ‘Thank you, Narut. Now let us go find this transport of yours.’
He strode past the Scribe and the others followed. As Hakon passed, he clapped the Scribe heartily on the shoulder. ‘Well done, Narut. I knew you could do it. Now we can all be friends.’ Beaming, he patted the man’s shoulder again with enthusiasm. ‘I’m proud of you.’
By the time the startled Scribe had regained his composure, the group was waiting further up the dock. Einarr cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrows. Brann stifled a giggle. ‘Narut?’ Einarr’s tone was concerned.
‘Of course, noble sir.’ The man hurried to lead them to a wide boulevard leading directly away from the dockside where two wheel-less carriages sat, with large slaves waiting unmoving beside them.
Grakk moved beside Brann. ‘Try not to look so confused, young fellow. They will interpret it as weakness. These carriages have people for wheels. We enter, they lift and carry, they set down, we alight. It is how people of wealth and rank travel about this city.’
Brann frowned. ‘Why don’t they just walk? Can’t they?’
‘When people choose not to do something that they could do and most people must do, some interpret that as power.’
‘I interpret it as stupidity. I’d rather walk.’
‘You may be right, but there are many things done by people in all societies to impress each other that could be interpreted as such. On this occasion, however, walking when transport has been provided by the highest of the high would be deemed an insult. And also, to speak on equal terms with the rulers, Lord Einarr must act as they would expect a noble to act.’
Konall frowned. ‘Insult or not, should we not be making all haste to reach the Emperor with our news? It is the reason we have travelled here, cousin, and to be carried by ambling slaves would not befit the urgency of our mission.’
Einarr wiped his sleeve across his glistening brow and laid a reassuring hand on the younger man’s shoulder. ‘We are seeking audience with the most powerful man alive, and I have seen kings kick their heels for a week or more while they await that privilege. The Emperor does not know the importance of our message, or we would not need to bring it. To be admitted to his court the day we arrive may, I can only guess, stem from his curiosity or may just be our good fortune but, whatever the reason, we must fret not at the pace of our final approach but be thankful for the day it is taking place.’ He smiled. ‘And, believe me, these slaves do not amble.’
He stopped his party. ‘I’ll take my cousin and my page with me.’ He turned to the Scribe. ‘Narut, will you be travelling with us?’
He coloured at the use of his name in front of the carriage bearers, but his tone was as haughty as ever. ‘I shall lead the way afoot. A mere slave does not raise his station above that of other slaves.’
Hakon snorted. ‘If he actually believes that, I’m a mermaid.’
‘Good,’ said Einarr. ‘That leaves room for my local expert.’ He looked over to Hakon and the two guards. ‘You three can spread yourselves about the second one, but given the size of you, it’s probably for the best.’
They approached what was effectively a wooden box – albeit an ornately crafted wooden box – filled with cushions and with long handles protruding fore and aft to enable it to be lifted. A slender pole at each corner supported a canopy that afforded them protection from the sun’s glare if not from its heat, and a slave moved to open a door in the side. Einarr waved him away with a smile and instead stepped over the low side and seated himself facing forward. Konall took his place beside him, leaving the opposite space for the other two. The others were already lounging in the other carriage, grinning like small boys. Brann could understand Einarr’s choice in the two warriors he had brought: Magnus, wiry and quick, and tall Torstein were as skilled with their weapons as any of the other Northmen, but both were also considered enough of thought to carry themselves appropriately in any company. And, no mean accomplishment, they were almost as relentless in their good cheer as Hakon, so while the news they bore was grim, the mood in the party was lifted. Typical of his people, Einarr was practical in his outlook, and it achieved nothing to look constantly at the world through eyes fogged by the gloom of foreboding.
At a nod from the Scribe, the slaves hoisted them aloft, resting the handles on their broad shoulders. Smooth as the action was, Brann grabbed at the side, clearly uncomfortable and disconcerted.
Konall almost smiled. ‘Try not to fall out. It would probably cost a slave his life.’
Brann wasn’t amused. ‘I wouldn’t put it past you to push me, just for the entertainment.’
The tall boy pushed his sweat-soaked hair away from his brow as the slaves set off at a fast trot. ‘Talking of entertainment, cousin, I couldn’t help but notice you enjoying yourself baiting that Scribe.’
His elbow resting on the broad wooden rail at the side of the carriage, Einarr shrugged slightly. ‘I hate pompous arseholes. He is just the first of many we will meet. Unfortunately, I am denied by diplomatic necessity the chance to bait the rest of them, so I take the chance when I can.’
‘Some would call that bullying, cousin.’
‘Given his attitude, others would call it a moral obligation.’
Konall looked thoughtful. ‘I suppose he does repress his emotions, somewhat. To a ridiculous extent, in fact.’
Grakk coughed and Einarr looked across just in time to stop Brann’s words with a stare. ‘Anyway, what is more important is what Grakk can tell us.’
Grakk grew serious. ‘You will see that the buildings here are several stories high and closely built, from the necessity of the area. The city started as a small port but the large and deep natural harbour attracted trade enough for it to grow quickly. With residential accommodation surrounding the original dock buildings and roadways wide to facilitate large amounts of traffic from warehouse to docks and docks to the great selling halls, there was little room to expand further inland, so once they had spread right across the harbour edge they built upwards instead. As we progress, we will enter more and more affluent areas, where the houses become bigger and with more space around them, and subsequently where the houses become villas and the space around becomes space within, for they are built to enclose central areas where nature is brought into the stone of the city.
‘This is not a city planned for defence, such as in your land, Lord, nor is it,’ he nodded at Brann, ‘a random arrangement that has grown according to opportunity and fancy, as often is the case where you were born. This is a city planned by wealth, prosperity, trade and social standing. Everything here is meticulous: the colour of the buildings to reflect the heat of the sun, the width of each road for its purpose, the area where each class lives according to purpose and logical placement for that purpose. For example, bakers near to the grain-storage houses, tanners near the beast pens and leatherworkers near to them. They love thinking everything