Byzantium

26

The Black Sea, so far as I could tell, was no darker than any other I had seen, and when the sun shone the surface of the water gleamed like polished jade. But the sun was a rare visitor, for the days were often grey and the dawn mist which lay thick on the water now remained well past midday. Still, the air was warmer than I would have imagined; and if it grew chill at night, when the sun shone it grew almost pleasant.

By what I could see from the longship's rail, I reckoned we had come to a land of tight-clustered hills. The hills, rising dull brown beyond the cragged shore were not high, but they were dense with small, shrubby trees and thorny bushes. Sometimes I glimpsed bony sheep picking their way among the prickly branches, searching for food, but I did not see any people.

Harald, considering his fleet more than a match for any foe, proceeded boldly, sailing by day and coving at night. One evening the wood gatherers returned to camp with some of the peculiar sheep: tall, rangy, thin-haunched, long-necked, with mottled fleeces of brown and grey-more goat than sheep, to look at them. We slaughtered the beasts and put them to roast on spits over the campfires. The meat was strong and tough, and the burning tallow made our eyes water. None of the men could stomach the fare. Even Hrothgar gave up after a while, saying his belt would be more tender, and would no doubt taste better. After that miserable meal, no one troubled the sheep any more.

The experience put me in mind of Christ's parable. It could be no easy task to separate those sheep from goats; it would take a shepherd who knew his flock and could call them by name. Sure, it would take a good shepherd.

Several times, early in the morning, we saw fishing boats; small craft, carrying only two or three men who plied the water with long oars, they presented no interest to the Sea Wolves, who sailed by without molesting them. When, after sailing three days, we came in sight of our first settlement, Harald gave orders that no one should turn aside to plunder. With the prospect of unlimited wealth now almost within reach, he did not care to waste his efforts on such small pickings.

"They can have nothing worth taking," he said, frowning with disdain. "Besides, we can always sack them on the way home."

Over the next days, the settlements grew more numerous. Feeling that we must be getting near to Miklagard, the king exercised greater caution in his approach. Accordingly, we sheltered in coves during the day, emerging at dusk to sail the misty waters until dawn. I took my place beside Thorkel at the tiller, watching the sky. Though the sea lay deep-misted and obscure beneath a mantle white and dense as wool, the sky shone bright with stars beyond measure.

All night long we watched the dazzling sky, ablaze with unfamiliar stars. Contemplating this wonder, Dugal's words came back to me: the very stars in the sky are strange.

Oh, Dugal, if you could only see them, I thought. I would give anything for you to stand on this deck beside me with your eyes straining heavenward and the starlight on your handsome face.

"We are near," Thorkel said, pointing out over the rail to the west.

I looked and saw the lights of a fair-sized settlement, the glow of hearthfire, candle, and rushlight from a hundred or more dwellings-some huddled low, near the shore, and others scattered higher in the hills.

I did not see why this should mean that we were any nearer our destination. "Do you know this place?" I wondered.

No, Thorkel said; he had never seen it before. So, I asked him how it was that he thought a settlement on the sea betokened nearness to Miklagard.

"For a Sea Wolf, you have much to learn," Thorkel replied. "People do not build a settlement on the water unless they are secure behind the defences of a wall."

Squinting my eyes, I searched the shoreline, stark in the silver of bright starlight. "You are mistaken, Thorkel. I see no wall."

The tall pilot smiled. "Miklagard," he said, "is their wall."

He spoke the truth, for the next night we passed between two close headlands and entered a narrow steep-sided strait. As daylight broke in a milky haze in the east, the great city itself stood revealed. We all gathered at the rail to gaze upon this awesome sight. I looked out across the dawn-misted sea to a settlement of vast extent, flung upon the humped backs of seven hills: great domes of palaces pushing head and shoulders over tight-clustered white dwellings-like the rounded crests of mountains soaring above the clouds-all gleaming in the dawnlight like stars sown upon the earthly firmament.

A strange feeling of recognition came over me as I stared out across the water. Dull dread began pulsing through me with the quickening beat of my heart.

Turning to Thorkel, I said, "This is never Miklagard."

"How not?" he replied. "There are not two such cities in all the world."

"But I know this place," I insisted, the recognition strong in me now.

"That could be," the pilot allowed sagely, "for it goes by many names." He lifted a hand to the city-spread hills. "This is the renowned City of Gold, Constan's City-"

"Constantinople," I said, growing numb from crown to sole.

"Heya," Thorkel agreed amiably.

"Byzantium." The word was a whisper of disbelief on my fear-numbed lips.

"That is a word I do not know," the helmsman said. "For the Danes it is always Miklagard."

I passed a trembling hand over my face. I was a doomed man, sure; and a stupid man also. Thinking I had escaped the dire consequence of my dream, I had instead sailed straight to it.

But there was no time for ruing my fate. Harald, seeing the nearness of his prize, ordered the warriors to ready the attack. His bull voice bawled a dizzy stream of commands which were repeated on the other ships. Within moments, barbarians were dashing about the decks of all four ships pulling on armour and dressing themselves for battle. The clatter of the commotion was horrendous.

I saw Gunnar darting amidst the confusion and called to him. "Aeddan!" he cried. "Today we fill our troves with treasure, heya!"

Yes, and today I die, I thought. Death awaits me in Byzantium. To Gunnar, I said, "But the king cannot expect to attack the city now. Would it not be better to wait until dark?"

"Nay," he answered, jerking tight the lacings of his mail shirt. "We would get lost in a city so big after dark. How would we find the treasure houses? Better to attack now while the city still sleeps."

"But the guards will see us." My voice sounded shrill and frantic in my ears.

"And the sight of us will frighten them so they will throw wide the gates of the city."

"At the sight of you, Gunnar Warhammer," said a nearby barbarian, "they will certainly bring out the treasure by the wagon load."

The warriors fell to arguing about who would carry away the most plunder in the day's looting, who was the bravest and who the most timid, who would achieve renown and who earn disgrace, and which weighed more, an iron battlehelm or a sceptre of gold. This banter was accompanied by loud shouts and outrageous boasting. They were, I noticed, growing more and more excited all the while; and it came to me that they were rousing themselves to battle heat. By the time we reached the shore, they would be slavering Sea Wolves.

I retreated to my place by the mast and hunkered down. I did not know what else to do. Of course, I would not fight, nor take part in the looting. If I had any thought at all it was to stay aboard the ship and keep out of sight. Perhaps if I did not set foot on Byzantine soil, I would not die.

Even that bare hope was taken from me, however, when King Harald, magnificent in his battledress, emerged from his tented platform and saw me crouching at the mast. "You!" he shouted. "Aeddan! Come here."

I rose and went to him. Oh, the king was splendid: his hair was bound beneath a leather cap; iron bands encircled his arms, and his shirt was fine-ringed mail; on his hip he wore both a sword and a long knife; from his belt hung an iron war axe; he carried a short, thrusting spear in one hand, and a warhelm in the other.

"I want you beside me," he said gruffly. "For when I seize the ruler of Miklagard, I will need you to translate his surrender for me."

My heart sank in the sick feeling spreading through me. Not only would I set foot in Byzantium, I would be in the first rank. What is more, alone of all the attackers, I would have no weapons and no shield with which to defend myself.

This is how I will be killed, I thought. I will be cut down in the forefront of the attack. When the spears and arrows of the defenders began whistling around our heads, I would be among the first to fall.

Harald glanced at the sky. "It is a fine day for a fight," he announced, placing the warhelm upon his head. "Come men," he cried, stepping to the mast. "To oars! To oars! Let the weak tremble in their beds and curse their day of birth! Let the strong make ready their graves! Let all men fear the Sea Wolves' cry!"

The gold-lust was on them now; they leapt to the oars and began rowing toward the shore. I crouched beside the mast, leaning against the solid oak for strength, praying the Kyrie over and over under my breath. "Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy! Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy!.."

All around me, men, gleaming hard in their war array, bent themselves over the oars, driving the ships to the rhythm of our swift-beating hearts. With every dip and pull of the oars, the hills of Byzantium drew nearer.

Harald Bull-Roar stood on his platform, feet wide, swinging his war axe over his head and calling cadence to the rowers. Deep voice booming like a drum, he bellowed, banking his warriors' courage high, inflaming their blood-lust with crude exhortations:

"Cold strake cuts wave!" he cried. "Axe-Wielder swiftly glides! Curved hull pushes wave! Sword-Striker hastens to the weapon storm!

"Doomed skulls roll! Severed limbs twitch! Hungry death delights in the battle banquet!

"Come, wolf! Come, raven! The meat-feast awaits! Drink deep of the red cup in the Worm King's hall!"

Raving like a madman, the king roared, whipping himself and his men into a battle frenzy.

"Gold-Giver, Ale-Pourer, Rich Provider, I am Jarl Harald Bull-Roar! Attend me Corpse-Makers, Hewers of Men, for I will deliver wealth into your hands. I will cause rivers of gold to flow over the Champion's feet, and showers of silver to fall from the skies!

"Steel-Clashers! Sword-Breakers! Widow-Makers! Hasten now to glory. Follow your Wealth-Thrower to the Hero's Hearth where cool gold quenches battle heat. Fly! Fly! Fly!"

Faster and faster we flew, the knife-edge dragon prow slicing through the calm water. Did ever a man hasten so to his death?

Constantinople, unsuspecting in the milky dawn, drew ever closer-as if it were the city flying towards us rather than the other way. I seemed to see death sweeping nearer with every oar-stroke, and yet I could not take my eyes from that place. The closer we came, the larger it grew: a colossus, a seven-humped wonder on its vast splayed thumb of a peninsula thrust into the sea. Soon I could see the dark seams of streets like tangled cords winding among the masses of square white dwellings. A filthy pall hung over the heights-smoke from hearthfires beyond counting, drifting, coiling, gathering in a thick brown pall of billows.

We drove swiftly on, making directly for the nearest landfall. Even from the sea, however, we could see the city's high protecting wall rising straight from the water. Harald was not dismayed; he directed the ships onward for a closer look. But what he saw dashed cold water on his overheated scheme. For, rising up like a sheer red cliff-face from the water's edge, stretching out of sight to either hand, encircling the entire city stood a thick curtain of brick and stone ten men high. On the water below, small tenders ferried tradestuff to and fro along the waterfront.

One look at the size and extent of Byzantium's wall, and the Sea Wolves faltered. I could feel the shock of discovery course through the ship like the tremor of an unexpected wave. Harald bawled for the longships to halt, and suddenly rowers were dragging their oars in a desperate attempt to slow our forward flight. The last vessel did not receive Harald's command until too late, causing it to collide with the one just ahead. A dozen oars on both boats were snapped and broken, and rowers cursed and writhed in pain, clutching injured limbs. The resulting confusion brought howls of outrage.

Ignoring the fuss, Harald, standing high on his platform, scanned the wall. Some of the small tenders, seeing our sudden approach, hastened to draw near, jostling among themselves to be the first to reach us-thinking, I suppose, that we had trade goods to unload. Each would be the first to provide this service.

As the tenders drew closer, the men aboard hailed us in Greek. It had been long since I had heard this language spoken aloud, and it sounded strange in my ears. Still, I was able to pick out a few words and phrases from the thick gabble of voices.

Suddenly, angrily, Harald called out to me. "What are they saying?" he demanded.

"They are offering to unload our ships," I replied, moving to the rail. "They say they will do this for fifty nomismi."

"Unload our ships!" the king cried. "What is this nomismi?"

"I do not know-money, I think."

"Tell them who we are!" the king commanded. "Tell them we have come to sack the city. Tell them we are after wealth and plunder."

Leaning over the rail, I called to the nearest boat in which two men with white woollen caps stood beseeching us loudly. I told the men that these ships belonged to Lord Harald, who was a fierce warrior, and that we had come from Daneland in search of wealth. The boatmen laughed at this, and called to some of their friends in other craft, who also laughed. I heard the word barbari relayed from boat to boat. They then told me how matters stood in the emperor's harbour.

"What do they say?" asked Harald gruffly, his patience wearing thin.

"They say everyone comes to Byzantium seeking wealth," I answered. "They say there are no more berths in the harbour, and you dare go no further unless you are prepared to meet the guards of the harbour master."

"To hel with their harbour master," growled Harald. Whirling away, he ordered the rowers to proceed up the channel along the northern shore.

We continued on our way, more slowly this time, and accompanied by a score of small craft, each with boatmen shouting and hailing us in shrill voices. Numerous vessels, large and small, thronged the way and it was all Thorkel could do to steer us through the obstruction without colliding with one or another of them. Hence, we proceeded with much shouting and cursing and waving of arms, using the oars as much for shoving other craft out of the way as for rowing. The commotion accompanying our tedious progress was deafening, the upset complete.

The ships had not travelled very far, however, when we came upon an enormous iron chain. Fixed to gargantuan rings set in the wall, the chain-each link as big as an ox! — stretched across the entire channel from one bank to the other, closing the waterway to all larger craft. Small boats could pass easily under this chain, but the longships of the Sea Wolves were halted within sight of many fine houses and several palaces.

Perplexed, frustrated, Harald Bull-Roar, King of the Danes, gaped at the chain in disbelief. Not knowing anything else to do, he ordered some of the warriors to destroy it. Leaning from the rails, the barbarians began chopping at the nearest links with their axes. The attack made no impression on the ponderous barrier, and the men soon gave up altogether. Even prodding it with oars, they could not so much as make the great chain swing.

King Harald commanded his pilot to turn the ships and follow the shoreline south, thinking to find some weakness in the city's defences the other way. The rowers renewed their labour, although with somewhat less zeal than before, for the inner waters were far more crowded with ships and boats. Pushing through them all was a torturous tactic, but the Sea Wolves persevered, and eventually rounded the peninsula to find a busy port with not one but three or more harbours, and the largest of these was, like the rest of the city, protected by high walls.

Harald ordered Thorkel to make for the first of the harbours, and we soon came within sight of the quay, but could go no further for the number of ships and small craft jamming the harbour entrance. The king was still puzzling what to do next when a large, square-hulled boat approached. This boat contained ten or more men dressed in fine red cloaks, and carrying spears and small round shields; they wore ornate helmets of burnished bronze on their heads, and short red breeches which ended just above the tops of their tall leather shoes.

The foremost man of the group was a short man who made himself appear taller by way of a high horsetail crest on his helmet; he stood at the prow of their boat holding a rod with a bronze ball on the end. This fellow began hailing us and gesticulating with the rod; those with him called out in loud angry voices.

Some of the Sea Wolves laughed at the presumption of these men; thinking they had come to fight us, the Danes began taunting them, shouting, "Is this the mighty warhost of Miklagard?" and "Who are these maidens we see before us? Have they come with kisses to greet us?"

Squinting with suspicion, Jarl Harald glared at the men in the boat. "Find out what they are saying," he demanded, shoving me roughly towards the rail.

I hailed the leader of the men in Greek, and he made a reasonable reply. I thanked him for speaking simply and slowly, for my tongue was not accustomed to such speech, and told him I would convey his words to the king.

"I am the quaestor of Hormisdas Harbour," the man said importantly, and told me simply and directly what to tell the king.

"Well?" rumbled Harald impatiently. Sweat was running down his face and neck, for the sun had climbed past mid-morning and now shone as a hot, dirty disk in a grey-white sky.

"The man says you must pay the harbour tax," I said, and explained that the men in the boat were part of the harbour guard charged with collecting money and keeping order.

"But did you tell them who I am?" growled Harald.

"I told them. They say it makes no difference, you must pay the harbour tax like everyone else."

"To hel with their harbour tax!" roared Harald, giving vent to his frustration at last. "We will lay siege to the city and starve them into submission!"

This sentiment brought grunts and growls of approval from barbarians looking on. They, like their lord, were frustrated and anxious. The size of the city dismayed them, and they sought release for their consternation in familiar, if foolish, action.

"A siege is a fine thing, of course," observed Thorkel mildly. "But it is such a large city, Jarl Harald, and we have only a hundred and sixty men with us. Even if we had ten times as many, I fear we would be hard-pressed to surround it."

Harald, glaring hard, made to dismiss his pilot, but one of the king's house karlar spoke up. "Perhaps it would go better with us," he suggested gently, "if we were to pay this tax and seek entry into the treasure houses some other way."

"I am a king!" bellowed Harald. "I receive tribute from jarls and free men. I pay tribute to no one."

Nodding sympathetically, Thorkel stepped near his lord. "Nay, jarl," he suggested, "do not say it is tribute. Think of it as casting a little grain to fatten the goose for the feast."

Harald looked at the enormous walls, and cast an eye over the wide sweep of the busy bay. There then came the sound of something heavy knocking against the hull of the ship. I peered over the rail to see the harbour guard striking the side of our ship with his ball-tipped rod.

"We cannot stay here all day," he said. "Pay the tax or I will summon the guard ship."

I replied that we were discussing how best to make this payment, and asked for a few moments in which to make our decision. To the king I said, "They are demanding an answer, Jarl Harald. What will you do?"

He stood paralysed by indecision, gazing up at the city walls which seemed to loom over us like a high range of mountains barring our destination. After a few moments, the guard resumed his assault on the hull of the longship.

He shouted words to the effect that we were rousing the wrath of the emperor, and stood in danger of increasing the tax by our refusal to pay. This, I told to the king.

"Agh!" cried the king in frustration. "A man cannot think with all this din. How much?" he shouted. "How much to send them away?"

Leaning over the rail once more, I asked how much was required. "Four hundred and fifty nomismi," answered the guard. "One hundred for each of the small ships, and one hundred and fifty for the large."

Harald agreed reluctantly, and gave me a silver coin which he pulled from his belt. "Ask him its worth," the king ordered, and summoned one of his karlar to bring a purse from his trove box.

I stepped to the rail and held up the coin. "We are ready to pay the tax now," I said. "Please, tell me how much this silver coin is worth."

The quaestor rolled his eyes elaborately and replied, "I will come aboard your ship." So saying, he and two of his men, assisted by others in the boat, climbed to the rail and were soon standing before the barbarian king.

"The coin," demanded the tax collector, thrusting out his hand, "give it to me."

Placing the coin in his outstretched hand, I said, "The man you see before you is Harald, King of the Danes of Skania. He has come to pay his respects to the emperor.

The harbour guard made a sound through his nose as if this information meant nothing to him. "He may pay what he likes to the emperor," replied the man, examining the silver in his hand, "but first he must pay the quaestor." Holding up the coin, he said, "This silver denarius is worth ten nomismi."

I counted out the twenty coins Harald had given me, and then turned to the king. "We have paid two hundred," I told him, "we must pay two hundred and fifty more."

Harald, frowning mightily, emptied the remaining coins into his hand, counted them, and ordered another purse to be brought; from this he extracted seven more coins and gave them to me also. The Sea Wolves looked on, amazed and aghast that their king should be giving silver to this upstart of a fellow.

When I had counted twenty-five additional denarii into the tax man's hand, he said, "Two more."

"Two more?" I wondered. "Have I miscounted them?"

"No, you have counted correctly." Reaching into my hand he took up a coin. "This," he said, "is for keeping me waiting." Then, taking another coin: "And this is for causing a disturbance in the harbour."

"I most heartily apologize," I answered. "We were unaware of the customs of this place."

"Now you know," replied the quaestor, tucking the coins into his purse. Then, reaching into a pouch at his belt, he withdrew a thin copper disk. "Nail this to the prow," he instructed. "It shows that you have paid the tax."

With a flick of his hand, he turned and, aided by his two men, began lowering himself over the rail. Glancing at the disk, on which was embossed the image of a ship under sail, I asked, "Please, I would know when we must pay again."

"You are free to come and go in the harbour until year's end," the tax man replied without looking back. "Should you return to Constantinople after that, you must pay again."

Upon offering this information to the king, Harald scowled fiercely and declared that by year's end he intended to be back in his own hall enjoying the wealth he had taken in the plunder of Miklagard. This plundering, he vowed, would commence without further delay.

Seizing me by the arm, the king put his sweaty face near mine. "And you, Shaven One," he growled, his voice thick with threat, "will lead us to the nearest treasure house."