Byzantium

24

Set on the broad bank of the Dnieper, Kiev had grown from a small Danish trading outpost into a large market town carved out of a forest of birch, beech, and oak, surmounted by a hill on which was erected a large timber fortress where, it was said, the masters of Kiev stowed all the silver they took in trade. Furs of mink, marten, beaver, and black fox, silk cloth from the east, swords and knives, glassware and beads, leather, amber, ivory in walrus tusks and horn of elk and reindeer-all this and more passed up and down the river, and the trading lords of Kiev took their toll in silver denarii and gold solidi.

There were seven ships moored along the riverbank when we arrived, and two more joined us soon after; these had come up from the south where their crews had spent the summer trading with the Slavs and Bulghars. They were Danemen-some of them were from Sjalland, and others were from Jutland-keen traders all. Indeed, it was Danes from Skania who had settled Kiev to begin with, and most still spoke the Danish tongue, albeit with a strange embellishment.

King Harald ordered his four ships to be roped together and ten men to stay behind to guard each one, as he did not trust the other Danes to leave his boats in peace. Not until he was satisfied with these precautions did he allow anyone to go ashore, and then not until everyone had sworn a solemn blood oath not to breathe a word of our destination, lest any of the other Sea Wolves took it into their heads to raid the City of Gold and ruin our chance of taking the citizens by surprise.

Then the king gathered his karlar around him and made his way into the market. The first thing he did was buy a goat, a sheep, and four chickens, which he took directly to a place in the centre of the market surrounded by a half-circle of tall poles. The ground underfoot was damp, and the place stank of blood and rot; the skulls of various animals lay scattered about the open ring of posts.

Harald advanced to the centre of the ring. There, before an upright post carved with the likeness of a man, the king threw himself down upon his face. "Jarl Odin," he cried aloud to make certain everyone heard him, "I have come from afar with four longships and many good men. We have come seeking good trade and much plunder. And now I have brought you this fine offering!"

So saying, he raised himself up, drew his knife and promptly slit the throats of the animals which his karlar held for him. Beginning with the goat and the sheep, he slaughtered the poor beasts and collected some of the blood in a wooden bowl as it gushed onto the ground; this blood he smeared on the post and flung onto the surrounding poles. The chickens he beheaded and threw into the air so that the blood could spatter all around, on the post and also the poles, which were Lord Odin's wives and children. When the animals were dead, the king divided up the carcasses, leaving choice pieces for the god and sending the rest back to the ship for his supper.

This commotion was, I think, performed more for the purpose of impressing the Kievan merchants than any desire on Harald's part to honour Odin, Thor, and Freya. But despite the bawling and thrashing of the animals and the king's loud proclamations, the bloody sacrifice failed to elicit even fleeting interest from Kiev's populace. No doubt the tired spectacle bored them.

The rite observed, King Harald strode confidently into the marketplace and arranged for water, grain, and salt pork to be supplied to his ships. The men, meanwhile, took it in hand to discover the other, less overt-but by no means less prominent-trade of Kiev. There were large dwellings at one end of the market square below the fortress before which were long benches, and on these benches were assembled a number of young women who, like everything else in Kiev, were for sale. One could purchase them outright for a price, and many men found suitable wives this way. For a lesser price, however, one might purchase a small measure of wifely companionship.

It was this companionship which appealed most to the Sea Wolves. Harald had forbidden anyone to bring a woman aboard his ships, and anyway most of the men had wives at home. The king had less prurient concerns on his mind, however.

He was not seeking trade or companionship, but information. Thorkel had heard it said-and so his map seemed to indicate-that south of Kiev lay enormous whirlpools and cataracts which could smash even the strongest ships. Harald wished to know how these dangers might best be avoided; he hoped, if possible, to find a guide, or at least to learn what other traders knew of the river further south.

To this end, Harald wandered the marketplace, pretending to admire the wares and engaging the various traders in conversation. At the king's behest, Thorkel and I accompanied him on his sojourn among the merchants in the event our skills were required. Most of the merchants, as I say, spoke Danish, or could at least make themselves understood in that tongue. Even so, we learned little for our efforts, as the merchants were interested only in dealing and trade and kept steering any inquiries towards the value and quality of their particular wares. On all other subjects they were reticent to the point of rudeness.

"I am thirsty," Harald declared at last. We had walked the length and breadth of the market, enduring shrugs, silence, and insults for our trouble. "Some ol, I think, will help us decide what to do."

Crossing the market square, we directed ourselves to one of the larger houses, distinguished by the small mountain of ale casks stacked haphazardly outside. Several women were sitting on the bench, watching the activity of the market and enjoying the thin sun. At our approach, they began preening for us, to show their virtues to better advantage, I suppose. They were odd-looking women: black, black hair as fine as spider wisp, and deep dark eyes lightly aslant in full-cheeked faces round as moons, firm-fleshed short limbs with skin the colour of almonds.

The king paused to observe them, but found little to his liking and walked on into the house, which had been constructed on the order of a drinking hall, but with an upper gallery where, from sleeping places like stalls, people could look down on the proceedings below. Long benches lined the walls, with boards and trestles set up around a large square central hearth. A few men sat at the tables eating and drinking; more sat on the benches with jars in their hands. The huge room was loud and murky and dim, for there was neither windhole in the wall, nor smokehole in the roof, and everyone seemed bent on shouting at one another. One step into the room and I felt the gorge rise in my throat from the stink of vomit, dung, and urine. Filthy straw covered the floor, and skinny dogs slunk along the walls and cringed in the far corners.

Harald Bull-Roar had no difficulty in making his presence known. He strode boldly into the room and cried, "Heya! Bring me ol!" The whole house shook with the force of this demand, and three dishevelled men scrambled to serve him-each with a jar of ale and several large cups. They sloshed the rich dark beer into cups and thrust them into our hands. I got one, but Thorkel and Harald got two each, which they guzzled down greedily-to the ardent encouragement of the jar-bearers, who vied with one another to keep our cups supplied.

I drank my first bowl at once, and then sipped the second slowly and looked around. There were men from many different tribes and races, most of them new to me: big, burly, fair-haired men dressed in pelts; short swarthy men with quick slender hands and hooded eyes above noses like hawk beaks; long-limbed, slender pale-skinned men in long, loose-fitting clothes and soft boots of dyed leather; and others whose appearance made me think of arid desert places. The only tribes I recognized were either men from our own ships, or other Danes. There were no Britons or Irish at all.

As the king and Thorkel drank, they let their feet take them where they would. The king's boldness and conspicuous good will drew other northmen to him, and he soon had assembled an amiable group of sailors and river traders. From these he began coaxing the information he sought. "You must be brave men indeed," the king observed, "if you have been in the south. For it is said that only the bravest boatmen dare face the rapids south of Kiev."

"Oh, they are not so bad," boasted one great shaggy Dane who smelled of beargrease. "I have twice been as far as the Black Sea this summer."

"Ah, Snorri!" chortled his companion. "Twice, to be sure, but once was on the back of a horse!"

"The other time was with a ship." The big man bristled. "And difficult it is to say which is the more dangerous."

"They say," continued Harald, directing more ale into the cups, "there are ten cataracts, each larger than the last, and each big enough to swallow ships whole."

"It is true," said Snorri solemnly.

"Nay," said the small man with him, "there are not so many as that-four perhaps."

"Seven at least," amended Snorri.

"Maybe five," put in someone else. "But only three are large enough to swamp a ship."

"What do you know of this, Gutrik?" big Snorri challenged. "You stayed all summer in Novgorod with toothache."

"I went there seven summers ago," Gutrik said. "There were but four cataracts then and I do not think the river has changed so much."

"If only your memory was as reliable as the river," taunted another man lightly. "I myself have seen six."

"Of course, six," sneered an increasingly belligerent Snorri, "if you count the little ones as well. I myself took no notice of them at all."

Thorkel, though still holding cups in both hands, drank from neither, but listened to each man intently, trying to patch a whole truth from the various scraps each man contributed. "I am beginning to think that none of them have been down the river at all," he whispered to Harald at last.

"Then that is what we must discover," replied the king. Turning to the men, who now numbered seven or so, he said, "You all speak like men of considerable experience. But, aside from Snorri, who has been down the river this very summer?"

Each one looked to the other and, when they found no answer, gazed into their cups. Then the man called Gutrik spoke up. "Njord has been downriver," he declared. "He has just returned with the ships this very day."

"Heya," they all agreed, "Njord is the very man for you."

"Find Njord," Gutrik assured us, "and you will learn all there is to know about the Dnieper. No man knows it better."

"A piece of silver for the first man to bring this Njord to me," said the king, withdrawing a small silver coin from his belt. "And another if that be soon."

Three of the men disappeared at once, and we settled back to wait. Thorkel and the king continued to talk to the rest, but I grew curious and looked around. It soon became apparent that the house had much more to offer than food and drink. From time to time, one of the women from the bench outside would enter, towing a seafarer behind her. Sometimes they would go up to the gallery to one of the sleeping stalls and lie down together; more often they would simply find a seat on one of the benches along the wall and copulate in full sight of anyone who cared to look.

This happened so casually, and occasioned so little notice from anyone that it might have been pigs or dogs in heat, rather than human beings. I saw a man enter the house and go directly to his friend who was engaged in such intercourse. The two exchanged greetings and spoke for a few moments, then the first man sat down on the bench beside the amorous couple while his friend continued the sexual act to its consummation, whereupon the two men then changed places and the second man took up where the first man had left off.

The iniquity of it was breathtaking. I could only shake my head in despair. But they were barbarians, after all. It did me good to remember this from time to time.

As it happened, Njord was similarly occupied in another house nearby. When he had finished his drink and his woman, he came along with Gutrik, who claimed his silver by presenting the pilot to King Harald saying, "The best helmsman from the White Sea to the Black stands before you. I give you Njord the Deep-Minded."

The man who stood before the king could not have been less impressive. A wizened stick demands greater consideration. Njord was a hump-shouldered, long-boned, jug-eared Dane with skin creased and tanned to leather from the wind and sea salt; like Thorkel, he was squint-eyed, and his long moustache all but covered his mouth. His hands were rough from the ropes and tiller, and his stance splay-footed from maintaining his balance on the slanted boards of a heaving hull. The hair on his head had been blasted to a mere grizzled wisp of sun-faded grey. He looked like a gristle-bone the dogs had gnawed clean and discarded.

"Greetings, friend," bawled the king. "We have been hearing of your skill and knowledge from your friends. They speak most highly of your shipwise abilities."

"If they do me honour, my thanks to them," replied the pilot with a small bow of his round, grizzled head. "If they do me insult, my curse on them. I am Njord, Jarl Harald, and my best greetings to you."

"Friend," said the king expansively, "it would cheer me to have you drink with me. Cup bearers, be about your work! More ol! Our bowls are empty and our throats are dry!" Turning to Njord, he said, "All this talk has made me hungry, too. Let us sit down and eat together, and you can tell me of your journeys."

"A man must be careful when sitting down with kings," observed Njord narrowly, "for it is a costly business paid out in life and limb."

I understood then why he was called Deep-Minded, for it soon became apparent that he believed himself a philosopher with a gift for expressing his insights in witty aphorisms.

The men around him stared, but the king threw back his head and laughed. "Too true, I fear," Harald conceded happily. "But let us hazard health and fortune, heya? Who can say but it may prove worth the risk."

Thorkel and I found a place for the king and his strange new friend. Gutrik, Snorri and the rest joined us, shoving aside others in order to remain near enough to reach the meat and ale that soon began appearing on the board. So we settled down for a meal that stretched all the way to dusk, and ended with the king and Njord exchanging solemn, if drunken, vows: the pilot to guide us past the treacherous cataracts, and the king to reward him handsomely out of the proceeds of his business venture. The precise nature of this venture, I noticed, Harald failed to articulate.

The small matter of Njord's obligation to lead his own jarl's ships on their homeward voyage was quickly overcome when Harald offered to repay the pilot's share of the summer's spoils as compensation for the loss of his services. The ship's master was summoned and quickly agreed; the bargain was struck on the spot.

Having obtained all he came for and more, the king was now eager to depart. Up he rose from the table, and hastened for the door, trailing a considerable body of serving men, each demanding payment and shouting at the top of his lungs to make himself heard above the others. The king's progress was halted at the door; he turned and reached into his belt and brought out a handful of silver. This he delivered to the foremost server, saying, "Share this out among yourselves as you deem best."

The serving men gaped in astonishment at the paltry reward and shouted all the more loudly. "This is our reward?" they shrieked incredulously. "A whole day's food and drink, for this?"

But the king merely raised his hand in admonishment as he stepped through the door. "Nay, I will hear no word of thanks. For the pleasure was mine alone. Farewell, my friends."

Njord nodded his head in admiration of Harald's aplomb. "There breathes a king indeed," he muttered.

Even though it meant exchanging one stench for another, it was good to be quit of the drinking hall, I thought, as we passed the wooden post of Odin with its rancid gifts. A whole day weltering in the sun had made the putrefying sacrifices most pungent. Yet, on the whole, the stink of rotting meat was preferable to the noisome stew of smoke, sweat, faeces, sour beer and vomit dished up in the drinking hall.

There was no one aboard ship but the guards-not the same ten who had been left behind to watch the vessels, for these had been replaced earlier in the day by kinsmen who had sated themselves on both cup and copulation, and who were now fast asleep on deck. The sleeping men were roused and commanded to retrieve their fellow shipmates.

Separating the Sea Wolves from the delights of Kiev proved far more difficult than anyone could have foreseen. The pleasure houses were large and contained many rooms-some of which were completely enclosed, for those seeking more private expression of the carnal arts-and each house and room had to be searched and the seafarer led or, more often, carried back to the waiting ships.

The moon had risen and gained its peak by the time all Harald's raiders were assembled once more and the ships pushed away from the bank. Fortunately, rowing was not required; the southward flow of the river carried us along. Thus, no one was forced to grapple an oar and disaster was held at bay.

The next day, however, we were not so fortunate. Below Kiev the Dnieper passed through ragged hills that squeezed the river into a swift-running stream carving its way through high stone banks barely wide enough to admit the ships. Sure, an oar held either side would have been scraped to splinters. It was all Thorkel could do to keep the keels centred in the deepest part of the channel. All day long he wore a brow-furrowed haunted look, as if he expected calamity to overtake us at any moment. Njord, on the other hand, spent the day with his head under his cloak, sleeping off the revel of the night before.

When he finally emerged, the worst of the passage was behind us and the water had grown placid once more. "Ah, you see now," he declared, looking around, "this is splendid. I think you are a true helmsman, friend Thorkel. Your skill is equal to mine in every respect save one." He declined to say what the singular lack might be, but went on to pronounce upon the seaworthiness of the ship instead. "Oh, but it is a fine ship, heya? I think so. Stout-masted, but easy on the tiller-a fine longship all in all."

"We have always thought as much," replied Thorkel a little stiffly. "But I am glad to hear you say it."

"In three days the contest begins, however," Njord continued. "The first cataracts are not so bad-little more than rapids. We shall go through four of them very easily, for the water is not so swift this time of year. When the spring rains flood the valleys, it is an entirely different matter. We have good reason to thank our stars it is not spring."

"What of the remaining cataracts?" wondered Thorkel.

"Every man acquires debts," answered Njord cryptically, "but only a fool borrows trouble." He walked away, running his hands over the smooth rail.

"I did not care to borrow it so much as to merely catch a far-off glimpse," muttered the pilot.

The Lord Christ himself said that each day's cares are sufficient to the day and that tomorrow's worries are best left for the morrow. This I told Thorkel, who only blew his nose at the notion and would not speak to me the rest of the day.