TLV - 01 - The Golden Horn (21 page)

"Kyrios Maniakes," said Harald, astonished, "I believed we were friends."

"The story is you, too, are buzzing around a Skleraina. You may go."

Harald snapped his teeth together. He would have stalked out less wrathfully had he known he would never see Georgios again.

On a rainy night, alone in a commandeered cottage, he tried to write a letter to go back with the dispatches. His lamp sputtered and smoked in the dank air. Slowly, his fingertips straining on the quill, he traced out the Greek signs:

"Harald Sigurdhars
on, King of Norway and Spatharo
kandidatos, to Maria Skleraina in Constantinople, greeting.

"I hope this finds you well. Our war goes forward. There is no stiffness in the Italians, but the Normans give trouble. We have had much rain of late. Soon we shall march to the next enemy town."

(Olaf cast it to Hell! This was not what he wanted to say. He was a skald; in the Norse tongue he could have made a verse, the ring of arms and the neigh of horses, sharp axes and shining helmets . . . only that was not the truth. The truth was tramping through mud that lay on the boots heavy as sorrow, it was searching for fleas and gulping moldy bread, it was Hvitserk with a lance in his breast, staring and plucking at it, seeking a brave word to die with but only slobbering blood. It was a loneliness that naught but sleep could hide, and men sinking into sleep like beasts, now and again they fell asleep on their feet and lay in the road with the brown rainwater gurgling around them.)

"
Word is that we may have finished before Christmas. My horse went lame and I cannot get another big enough. The peasants are surly, they like not the Empire. But we are having good success."

(Starved faces in the doorways of hovels, watching with animal eyes their masters stumbling by. A rotted corpse in a ditch. A raped girl, perhaps twelve years old, swollen and sick with child. The ashes of a homestead, and charred bones among them.)

"We have won little booty. But I have hopes of getting somewhat from the Normans. You will need gold when you are queen of Norway
."

Ah, better! Harald heard a knock on the door. He worked his fingers to get the stiffness out of them and reached carefully for his ax.

"Enter," he said.

Ulf came in. Rain puddled around his feet and soaked his hair and bristled beard. He grinned wildly. "We've just got tidings," he said. "A special courier. Another rebellion is afoot."

"How's that?" Harald stood up. The lamp threw his misshapen shadow across the walls.

"It seems the latest ship from home bore private news to our good Archestrategos. His old acquaintance Romanus Skleros has seized the land they quarreled about and seduced Gyrgi's wife to boot. I hear Gyrgi is like one crazed. He's going to proclaim himself Emperor and revolt."

Harald stood still. Rain hissed on the thatch overhead.

"Well," said Ulf, "whose side are we on?" "I know not." Harald stared before him. "If he should win, his friends may look for reward." "But he may lose."

"Yes. Also, Maria is in Miklagardh
now."
Harald shook himself. "We'll stand by the throne."

"Were things otherwise," said Ulf, "I'd liefer march with Gyrgi."

"So would I," said Harald.

He held himself aloof, wrote back and asked for orders. Georgios did not approach him, but worked hard to make allies of the Normans.

Winter came, and at last Constantine's army. Harald, some distance off, could not join that host before Georgios routed it. Thereafter the rebel and his men took ship across the Adriatic Sea to Dyrrachium.

Whether for lack of trust or good reasons of war, Harald was commanded to remain in Italy to keep it from being rallied against the Emperor. This was not overly difficult, and he chafed many weeks in idleness. No longer able to rein in his flesh, he took an Italian concubine and felt himself the worst of men.

A second army under the command of Stephen, a eunuch of Zoe's, hurried from Constantinople to meet the advancing foe. Near Ostrovos, the rebel made his scornful charge. He had nearly shattered the Imperialists when an arrow went through his heart. His followers gave way at once, and the eunuch rode into Constantinople with the head of Georgios Maniakes on a lance. The night that story reached them, Harald, Ulf and Halldor got monstrously drunk and made a long memorial verse for Gyrgi.

Still the weeks dragged. A few times Harald received a letter from Maria. Her kinswoman, ruling the Emperor in everything else, could make no headway against Zoe's will; Constantine would not cross his benefactress for the sake of a friend of the Russians.

With summer came news that lit fire in Harald. Early in the year it had chanced that a Russian noble had been slain during a tumult at Constantinople. Jaroslav, now lord of all his folk, deemed this a ripe time to fall on the Empire. An expedition under his son Vladimir crossed the Black Sea. Suddenly Constantine Monomachos had his back to the wall and a sword at his throat. He had every resident Russian arrested and sent to remote themes. But Harald was commanded to hasten back.

Under the mild Italian heaven, the Norseman raised a boy's shout. He did not then care that he might have to fight his mentor; he did not think until hours afterward that he might himself face arrest. He was returning to Maria!

3

By the time the Varangian galleys had toiled into the Sea of Marmora, the war was past.

In hard battles, the Russian ships and troops had been defeated, experi
encing heavy losses. As they
retreated, a storm finished the work. Byzantium was not yet too old to defend herself.

That victory was very new, and the danger of a fresh attack must still be reckoned with. At night the great chain lay across the Golden Horn. But bells were singing when Harald came ashore.

He was quickly brought before the Emperor and prostrated himself, knowing he was suspect. The wine-flushed countenance regard
ed him sternly. "Rise, Spatharo
kandidatos," said Constantine. "You came too late to aid us."

"We came as fast as God allowed, Your Sacred Majesty." Harald kept his eyes respectfully on the floor.

"You did not fall on Maniakes either, when first he committed his treason in Italy."

"Despotes, his men outnumbered mine. Furthermore, there were unrestful natives to keep obedient to Your Sacred Majesty. The first Imperial army sent against him was broken before I could effect a juncture."

"Indeed, indeed." Constantine tapped the arm of his throne. "We have heard, however, that you would leave us."

Harald's palms were cold and wet. "Despotes, I have served the Empire for nine years. My nation awaits its rightful king. I wish to make a lady of this realm its queen. Most humbly do I beg Your Sacred Majesty to let these things come to pass."

"
It must be thought of, Spatharo
kandidatos. You may go."

Harald left with a numbness in him. He had been refused.

At the Brazen House, he summoned Ulf to a private room. The Icelander looked grim on hearing his news. "Leaving Zoe aside, your friendship with Jaroslav is a heavy burden today," he said. "This city came too near death. I think indeed I had best make sure of our old arrangements for escape—though that'll be no easy trick, with the Horn closed at night and the watch doubled."

"Have you word of Maria?" asked Harald through his own pulsebeat.

"Yes, she is well, though grown very quiet this past year. She is on duty at the palace today but will be free tomorrow. I'll see what I can do about another meeting for you and her."

"How do you know so much?"

Ulf chuckled. "While you were seeing the Emperor, I was seeing Lady Anna. She's at court too, you remember. Ah, what a homecoming I've just had!"

Harald went back to his work. Getting the Varangians barracked after so lengthy a stay abroad was a knotty task. He welcomed that—a means to forget for a while that he and Maria were still walled from each other. Not until late at night did he return to his own house. He drank several cups of wine and presently slept.

Thundering at the door awoke him before sunrise. Then he heard clashing metal and the terrified squeak of a slave. He started up as a score of praefectural guardsmen entered his bedchamber. They grounded their spears with a doomsday noise. Their chief trod forward and raised a paper he held.

"Spa
thato
kandidatos, I have here an order for your arrest. Dress and come with us. In the name of His Sacred Majesty!"

XII

Of Maria Skleraina

1

Walking between his guards through the stirrings of a dawn-gray city, Harald felt his head clear. The first stunned "No!" had been said; now he had to be cold and watchful however hard his heart galloped.

Clearly he was being hurried off in secret. If he could knock his way past these spears, dash to the Brazen House and raise the Varangians . . .No. There would be no time to ready them, and the city was full of Imperial troops recently returned from fighting in Russia. The Northmen would be cut down for no gain and Maria would face Zoe alone.

"Where are we bound?" he asked.

"Be still, prisoner," said the captain.

That insolence told how steeply Harald had toppled from the Imperial favor. He controlled his anger and watched the way he was taken.

They ended in the Phanar quarter, at an old fortress lost among warehouses and sleazy tenements. His friends would not easily learn where he was. The building was a block of stone with a cobbled courtyard at the rear. On this side it rose in a round tower whose battlements were only a few yards above the
flat main roof. An iron-bound door, newly carpentered, opened at the base of the tower. Harald was waved through. The door clashed behind him. He heard bolts go down and the lock snap shut.

Cursing, he looked about. He was in a large single room. It filled the whole tower, but it was dank and bare save for a few straw pallets. The walls were sooty; charred beams showed where upper floors had been. Now even the ceiling was gone. This must be one of the prisons devastated by the rioters two years ago. A piece of sailcloth stretched across the remaining beams made a roof of sorts; daylight filtered through it, thick and yellowish. Otherwise only some arrow slits admitted any sun. Ancient sweat and dirt, as well as the latrine hole, made a stench that would choke a hog.

His very prison was an insult.

Slumping down, suddenly bone-tired, Harald fought his own sense of defeat.

In a little while, the door was opened again and Halldor thrust inside. They stared at each other.

"You, also," said Harald at length. "Why?"

"I could not guess until I saw you here," answered Halldor. "Now I can tell. We may look for Ulf to join us."

Slowly, Harald nodded. "Of course. You two are known as my nearest friends. The only ones who would keep striving and prying to learn what had happened to me. You could rally the Varangians to make a threat on my behalf. Without some such leadership, lack of sure knowledge will hold them still. I know those lads."

"So does Zoe." Halldor spat.

Harald arched his brows. ‘
Then, you have heard?"

"Who has not, in that damned sniggering court? Though I suppose the Russian trouble was what thrust you over the edge. Ulf told me you were thinking of flight. I was going to come too." Halldor shook his head. In this light, his skin had a grisly color. "And I left Iceland meaning to wax rich and famous. Here I left my youth and here I'll leave my bones."

Harald wondered how much the other man blamed him. He could never quite understand Halldor. "This is no time for waitings," he said. "What's our outlook for escape? Belike we could climb up those beam stumps, and the roof is only sailcloth."

"Which isn't easy to tear," Halldor said. "Maybe you've that much strength, but it would still be too noisy. There are men barracked in the main house. We'd gain naught but fetters."

"Yes." Harald sat down again. Somewhere a mouse scuttled away. Oh, Maria, Maria, what will become of you?

A while later, Ulf joined them. He looked at the others, grinned, and fished in his pouch. "What a pair of faces!" he said. "Were they an inch longer, you'd trip over your own chins. Here, I have some dice."

"Rattle them around in that hollow head of yours," Halldor growled, "but leave me alone."

"Haw!" Ulf squatted on the floor and began idly rolling the dice. "Will you not give me a chance to fill my purse again? It's empty because my head this morning was so full."