The Emperor's Elephant(75)

‘If the crowds had seen ice bears, they would have been more impressed,’ said Protis boldly. I suspected that the wine had gone to his head.

‘But they did,’ answered Paul mildly. ‘I’ve come across a description of how the arena of the Colosseum was flooded to make an artificial lake complete with small islands. Ice bears and seals were introduced so the crowds could watch how the bears hunted the seals. Remarkable.’

A thought occurred to me. ‘Did your ancestors leave any clues as to how they managed to keep their captive ice bears alive?’

The Nomenculator was quick to follow my reasoning. ‘Tomorrow I’ll have a clerk start looking through the archives to see if anything is written about that.’

‘I’d be grateful – the information would help Walo. He’ll also have to keep them cool in the summer heat on the way to Baghdad.’

There was a lull in the conversation and Paul took the opportunity to whisper a quiet instruction to a servant and hand him a small set of keys. The man left the room and came back some moments later carrying a folded cloth which he laid on the table in front of the Nomenculator, and returned the keys to his master.

The rest of us watched, intrigued, as Paul unfolded the cloth and revealed a short twig, pale brown and a few inches long. He picked it up and handed it to me. ‘What do you think this is?’

The twig felt very light, almost crumbly, as if it had been dried. On closer inspection it could have been a strip of bark, tightly rolled.

‘Try smelling it,’ suggested Paul.

I raised it to my nose and sniffed. There was a subtle, slightly oily, pleasant perfume. A moment later I recognized it as the flavour of the sweetened milk desserts we had just eaten.

‘From my kitchen,’ said Paul. ‘It’s very expensive, so my cook keeps it under lock and key.’

‘What is it?’ I asked, inhaling the intriguing scent once again.

‘I presume that your Book of Beasts has a section on the more notable birds,’ said Paul, twitching as he smiled.

I nodded. ‘Gyrfalcons, among them. Ours are very special because they are white.’

‘What other birds?’

‘As I recall, cranes, eagles and a small black and white bird that can foretell the death of kings.’

‘Anything about a bird and its nest?’

‘The phoenix. Its nest catches fire in the rays of the sun and it deliberately burns itself to death. From the ashes emerges the next phoenix chick.’

The Nomenculator chuckled. ‘You’ve overlooked a bird much more useful than the phoenix. Otherwise you wouldn’t be holding the twig from its nest.’

Belatedly I remembered. ‘Of course . . . the cinnamon bird!’

Paul smiled. ‘Unlike the phoenix, the cinnamon birds are not unique, though where they live is uncertain. They gather the twigs from a certain fragrant plant to build their nests. The spice traders send their servants to throw stones to knock down the nests and gather up the twigs, later to be sold in the spice markets.’

He looked around the table, scanning our faces. ‘We cannot deny the evidence of our own senses of taste and smell. Cinnamon exists and it flavours the food we enjoy. If you see living cinnamon birds on your travels – or any of the other rare creatures in Carolus’s bestiary – I want you to tell me about them on your way back from Baghdad. That will be ample reward for any help I can give you during your stay.’

It was a gracious hint that our supper was at an end. We rose from the table and, as the others filed from the room, Paul drew me to one side. ‘A word in your ear, Sigwulf,’ he said in a low voice that held no hint of playfulness. ‘From what you related about your journey, your embassy has met more than its fair share of setbacks and dangers. Are you familiar with the proverbs of Plautus?’

I shook my head.

‘He’s among Rome’s finest ancient playwrights. It was Plautus who wrote: “frequently the greatest talents lie hidden”.’

The Nomenculator gave one of his convulsive winks. ‘It’s not only the greatest talent that lies hidden, so too does a clever enemy.’

As I hurried to rejoin the others, I wondered if Paul’s suspicion was justified, or whether he had lived too long in a city full of intrigue and conspiracy.





Chapter Twelve




THE NOMENCULATOR was efficient. Forty-eight hours later his messenger arrived at our lodgings in the Colosseum with a list of the different foods that the ice bears could be given safely. I had not expected it to include cabbages, lettuce, apples and even turnips and beans. Research in the archives had revealed that the Colosseum’s animal keepers had kept their bears healthy by giving them vegetables and fruit with their fish and meat. Paul had added a note to say that if I would let him know what quantity of foodstuffs was required his staff would arrange a daily delivery. The messenger also brought me a document with a large crimson wax seal with the imprint of two crossed keys. It was from the papal secretariat: I was invited, with one companion, to attend the celebration of Mass in St Peter’s Basilica. I read through the document, mystified, until I noticed the date. The invitation was for late December – on Christmas Day.