Northern Byzantium, 1042
The sun had barely broken across the eastern sky when Andreas came out of the stable, yawned, stretched and shuffled over to the watering trough. A stagnant dribble settled on the bottom of the roughly hewn trough. He couldn"t remember when the rain had last fallen and the brown scum on the surface made him hesitate. Sighing, he skimmed the dirt away with his hand and threw what water he could over his face, keeping his eyes and mouth firmly closed.
He took up the hem of his tunic and dried his face before turning and tramping through the extensive stable yard to the villa, its glaring walls reflecting the rapidly ascending sun. Already the heat played at the back of his neck as he walked and he knew the journey would be a long and arduous one in such ferocious h
