Byzantium

60

I should never have let them go off by themselves," I muttered irritably. I could see the gleaming hope of freedom, so close as to hear the whir of its golden wings, beginning to recede. There was nothing to do but wait; lowering the bundle of bones to the ground, we stood in the blazing sun, shifting the powdery dust with our feet. The slave guard, already deeply suspicious, held himself a little to one side, watching every move.

"Those men are Danes," observed Brynach.

"That they are," I sighed.

"The same that took you away that night?"

"Near enough as makes no difference," I replied, hoping to save myself a lengthy explanation.

But Brynach only nodded thoughtfully. "The Arabs with you," he continued, "they were here the day Cadoc was killed. They took you away."

"True." I glanced at the British monk, hand to forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun; he seemed unconcerned that his only hope of freedom dwindled with every drop of sweat that rolled down his neck.

"Who are they?" he asked. "And who are you, that they should have saved you?"

I looked away, not wishing to offend, but unwilling to relate that too-lengthy tale just now. "It is not told in words of a moment," I replied. "Perhaps later, when I can properly explain."

He accepted this with good grace. "Truly, God moves in mysterious ways, and the musings of his heart are beyond discovery," he declared. "And that is a fact."

Then God must surely be an Arab, I thought. Or the Emperor of Byzantium's elder brother.

Brynach, having found his voice, was apparently keen to use it. "The Danes," he said, "where did they go?"

I was saved from having to make up an answer by a sound not unlike that of pigs being slaughtered. It seemed to come from up the hill in the direction of the mines. We all three turned as one towards the sound. "Whatever can it be?" wondered Brynach.

The sound increased, and into view came a column of Sea Wolves, marching in a ragged double rank. Between each pair was slung a weighty bundle, similar to that which contained the bishop's bones, only larger, and clearly much heavier. They were struggling down from the mines, dragging their heavy burdens, and they sang as they marched.

"Did you have to listen to that?" Brynach asked.

"Not often."

"Thank God."

"Heya!" cried Harald limping to where we stood. The column halted and the men all but collapsed upon their bundles. "We are ready to leave now," he said, gasping for breath from his exertion, "and we will not be looking back."

Brynach stared at me as I answered in Harald's tongue. "I had no idea there would be so much, or I would not have agreed," I said without enthusiasm. Any hope that we might leave unmolested had deserted me. The chief overseer would certainly not let us go when he saw how much the Sea Wolves intended to take away with them. And, as we could not avoid crossing the yard, there was nothing for it but to brazen the thing through. "If you are ready, then follow me."

Brynach and I took up our bundle and an odd procession fell in line behind us as we made our slow way back down the slope to the yard where the others stood waiting.

The overseer, who had by this time overcome his fear of the caliph's decree, came flying out of his house as we entered the yard. "What is this? What is this?" he cried, waving his arms.

"I have already told you," I replied icily. "We bear away the bones of Bishop Cadoc."

His squint-eyes narrowed to mere slits as he counted all the bundles on the ground. "So many bones?" he whined. "It is not possible."

Faysal, Nadr, Bara, and Musa took up places behind me. The gathered slaves looked on, growing excited once again. "What is he saying?" hissed Brynach anxiously.

By way of reply, I bent down and unknotted the bundle Brynach and I carried. Withdrawing the skull, I stood and thrust it before his face. "Look upon the visage of one who died by your hand," I told him. "Look long, Oppressor, and remember. His blood shall cry witness against you on Judgement Day."

The overseer blenched at this, so I continued my bluff. Putting out a hand to the Sea Wolves' bundles, I declared, "And likewise the blood of all those who suffered under the lash and died at your pleasure-all these shall rise up on the last day and condemn you before Allah, the Righteous Judge."

The slave master made bold to protest, but I stopped him before he could say a word. "Detain us now and you will surely never see Paradise."

"Be gone with you!" he shouted, angry now. Summoning a few of the guards to him, he said, "The sight of them offends me. See that they leave at once!"

I suppose he took on this guise to preserve what little dignity remained him, but he need not have worried that we would overstay our welcome. No man was more impatient to be gone than the one standing before him at that moment.

Replacing the skull, I carefully retied the bundle and gestured for Dugal to come and carry it, and instructed that Ddewi, and some of the others should be mounted on the five horses along with as many of the bundles as they could hold. Then, turning on my heel, I led my bedraggled band of Vikings and monks from the yard like the Prophet Moses escorting the Chosen out of Egypt. Realizing that we were leaving, the watching slaves began to clamour; just as we reached the street leading to the gate, they surged after us, begging-demanding-to be included in our number. All at once the overseer and his guards were fighting to keep from being trampled in the rush.

Making what haste we could, we proceeded down the single narrow street of the settlement to the gate, arriving just ahead of the oncoming mob. Behind us, I could hear the voice of the overseer crying orders for the gate to be closed at once.

"Faysal!" I yelled, shouting above the rising commotion. He raced to my side. "Run ahead and hold the gate. If they close it now we will never get free. Hurry!"

Off he ran, taking two warriors with him; the others remained behind to guard our retreat if they could. I called to Harald and Dugal. "Make for the gate, men! Hurry!"

"We are hurrying as fast as we can," Dugal answered, lumbering past; he all but dragged poor Brynach, who appeared to have scant appreciation for our predicament.

"God help us!" said Brynach, invoking divine aid and intervention on our behalf.

"Save your breath," I snarled. "God is done with us. It is we who must be saving ourselves!"

He broke off, staring at me. I pushed him on. "Go! Go! Do not stand there gawking, man. Run!"

The Danes needed no coaxing. Lugging their bundles, they slewed on through the dust, heads down, sweating and grunting with the effort. I urged them on, shouting, pointing ahead to the gate, where Faysal gestured wildly. I looked and saw the great timbers swinging slowly shut.

The opening was a hundred paces or more from where I stood. Whirling around, I looked to where the last of the Sea Wolves toiled toward freedom. We would never make it!

"Throw down your burdens," I cried. "Run! Save yourselves!"

No one paid the slightest heed. The stubborn Danes lowered their heads and laboured on. Unless the gate was held, they would be cut off; once closed, I had little hope that it would be opened again-not for me, or the amir, or anyone else.

I dashed to where Faysal was contending with the guards. "We cannot hold it any longer!" he cried.

The great timbers continued to close. Darting forward, I pushed against one of the huge cross-members with all my might, but could not so much as discourage its inevitable progress. "Help me!" I shouted. Bara and Musa leapt to my aid, and we desperately strove to slow the closure, while Faysal renewed his protestations with the gatemen. Meanwhile, the gate, groaning under its own weight, ground ahead regardless.

Dugal was first to reach the opening; bearing the bundle of bones, he hastened through pulling Brynach with him. Meanwhile, Faysal, seeing his efforts were wasted with the gatemen, ran to join us, adding his strength to ours. Even so, it was no use; our feet slid in the dust. The gate ground ahead, more slowly, but just as relentlessly as before.

We could not stop it.

A few of the first Sea Wolves hastened empty-handed through the ever-narrowing portal. They were free!

But one glance over my shoulder, and my heart fell. Harald and the remaining Danes, striving heroically with the weight of their bundles, were still too, too far away. What is more, the mad rush of slaves, despite the shackles and leg chains, was gaining on them from behind.

"Throw down the sacks!" I cried. "Save yourselves!"

The Sea Wolves responded to this, not by releasing their burdens, but by striving still harder. I saw one of them stumble and fall, pulling his partner down with him, and tripping up the two behind. Those following on were somehow able to avoid tumbling into the heap, but the accident slowed them all.

I looked to the gate and saw that the gap was now merely two men wide. And the first of the run-amok slaves had almost reached the last pair of straggling Danes.

"The gate is closing!" I called again and again. "Run for it!"

As before, my pleas met with no greater heed.

I heard a voice beside me and looked to see Dugal leaning into the gate. He had left his burden on the other side, and returned to lend his hand to halting the gate.

"Dugal!" I shouted. "Get you free, man! Go on! Go!"

He merely grimaced and bent his strength to the hopeless task.

Will no one do what I tell them? I wondered. "Go, Dugal! Save yourself!"

The gap was now but wide enough for one man to slip through. Very soon, it would close completely, and the first of the Danes was still fifty paces or more from reaching the gate.

Kyrie eleison! I muttered through clenched teeth. God help us!

More curse than prayer, I confess; it was merely the last gasp of a drowning man, as it were. But, lo and behold! the groaning timbers abruptly jolted to a halt.

I looked and saw Amir Sadiq on horseback, just beyond the opening, a rope from his saddle tied to a cross-timber of the gate. The horse was rearing, the rope taut.

Harald Bull-Roar appeared, sweat pouring down him like rain. Throwing down his bundle, he cried encouragement to his men, all but pushing them to freedom.

The gate groaned and shuddered, the top of its tall timbers quivering.

We held the great door while Harald muscled his men through the gap. The first of the fleeing slaves had reached the last of the Sea Wolves and had overtaken them. Heedless of all else, they threw themselves headlong at the door, jamming the opening and blocking the escape.

With a roar, Harald waded into them, seizing slaves and shoving them right and left. He cleared the pinched passage even as he pushed his own men through to freedom.

"Ya'Allah!" cried Faysal, the sinews in his neck and arms standing out like cords of rope. "We cannot hold it much longer!"

"Heya!" bellowed Harald. "We are free! Hurry!"

I looked and saw Harald and two other Danes, arms stretched wide holding the gate for us. The oncoming mob raced nearer.

Turning to Faysal and the others, I cried, "It is done! They are free!"

I had to repeat this in Irish for Dugal, but no one needed a second prod. In an instant, we were all of us diving for the slender opening. Faysal, Bara, and Musa squeezed past the Sea Wolves and out. But just as Dugal and I reached the opening, the gate gave out a grating sigh and juddered ahead. The Danes, unable to hold it any longer, fell back.

The timbers slammed shut with a heart-stopping crash.

Before we could even halt our steps, the enormous gate rebounded on itself and gaped open again. Shoving Dugal ahead of me, I flung myself through. I landed, sprawling on my face in the dust on the other side. Behind me, the gate banged closed once more.

Sadiq, his mount still straining at the rope, called a warning. I heard a crack like that of a whip and looked up in time to see the rope recoiling through the air. Sadiq's horse, unbalanced by the sudden snap of the rope, toppled over backwards. The amir, unable to quit the saddle, was pressed to the ground as the horse rolled over him.

My feet scarcely touched the ground as I flew to him. I snagged the reins and jerked with all my might-raising the wild-eyed, flailing animal by strength of will alone. The horse got its feet under it and, with a lurching spring, stood, shaking its head and mane.

"Amir!" I shouted, throwing aside the reins. I leaped to his side, but Sadiq did not move.