Two more servants silently appeared at my elbow. One held a basin, the other a ewer from which he poured scented water over my hands, before offering me a towel. The moment he withdrew, another servant brought forward a silver tray on which a small drinking bowl stood, eggshell thin and patterned blue and white. Yet another servant leaned forward with a matching jug and poured a pale gold liquid. I picked up the bowl and the cool surface on the palm of my hand told me that the drink had been chilled with ice from the mountains. I took a sip. It was a mix of exotic fruit juices slightly fizzy on my tongue.
Our host waited until we had sampled the food set before us – I tasted pickled fish, both sweet and sour, and chicken marinated in different sauces that, apart from orange and ginger, were impossible to identify. Among the sweeter dishes the flavour of cinnamon brought back a vivid memory of the meal we had shared in Rome with the Nomenculator.
‘I’m on tenterhooks to hear about your journey, Sigwulf,’ said Jaffar courteously, looking at me.
‘Your Excellency, it would take far too long to recount everything that happened,’ I answered, wondering just how much the nadim already knew. He had used my name though I had not formally introduced myself. It was a reminder, probably deliberate, that this man, so full of charm, was also head of the caliph’s intelligence department.
‘The evening is young, and tales of travel are never dull,’ he replied. ‘Tell me how your journey began.’
So I started with the day I had been summoned to Alcuin’s study and seen an aurochs’ horn, and how Carolus himself had instructed me to go into the Northlands and obtain the white animals that dwelt there. I said nothing about the unexplained attack on me in Kaupang, nor the strange events that followed in Rome and on the Mediterranean. As for the death of the aurochs, I explained that the creature had escaped and been eaten by lions, and made no mention that it had been set free deliberately. I wished to avoid distracting the nadim from the purpose of my mission – that the animals I had brought to Baghdad were a gesture of friendship from Carolus to the caliph.
Jaffar listened attentively, his head tilted slightly to one side. He interrupted only twice: firstly to ask me to describe Carolus’s physical appearance and what he thought of the presents that he had received from Baghdad; then secondly to enquire about Alcuin and his role as an advisor.
‘You and your companions are to be congratulated,’ observed the nadim when I had finished my recital. ‘It was a magnificent achievement to have transported those animals for such a great distance and kept them alive, except for that giant ox.’
Something in his voice made me wonder if there had been a hidden reason for wanting to hear my tale. His next words confirmed my unease.
‘To return for a moment to the beginning of your story . . .’ the nadim’s manner was as soothing and courteous as ever. ‘You say that King Carolus sent you to the Northlands to obtain white animals because these creatures would be rarities, previously unknown in Baghdad.’
‘That is correct, Your Excellency,’ I replied. ‘King Carolus showed me a book, a bestiary, and pointed out the white animals I was to search for.’
‘A book?’
‘I have brought a copy with me, Your Excellency. It is another of Carolus’s gifts to the Commander of the Faithful. Unfortunately, I did not think to bring it with me this evening.’
‘There was no need,’ said the nadim, with a graceful, dismissive wave of his hand. ‘This evening is private and informal. I am sure that the Emir of the Believers will enjoy looking into this book. It will reassure him . . . and me.’
He must have noted my look of incomprehension for he added, ‘The colour your King Carolus chose for the animals he sent us is surprising.’
‘I’m sorry, Your Excellency, I do not understand,’ I stammered. I was beginning to fear that something had gone very wrong.
For a brief moment Jaffar looked at me, judging my reaction. ‘Some might say that the gift of white animals was provocative.’
It felt as though the pit of my stomach had fallen away. With a terrible certainty I knew that the nadim’s jet-black clothes had special significance. ‘But King Carolus was advised that white is the royal colour of the caliphate, that all must wear white when they enter the Round City . . .’ I said shakily.
‘The latter is correct,’ Jaffar acknowledged. ‘White is worn in the Round City so that no one can draw undue attention to themselves with costly garments or flamboyant colours. But anyone who enters the caliph’s presence must dress entirely in black. It is the colour of the turban worn by Allah’s Messenger – may Allah honour him and grant him peace – when he preached from the pulpit. Our caliph follows the true path. He wears the prophet’s cloak and carries his staffs – may Allah honour him and grant him peace – and the colour of his house is black.