Byzantium

75

When the Logothete of the Treasury arrived at midday the next day, he found a somewhat groggy King Harald surrounded by a ragged band of bleary barbarians, the splintered remains of six wine casks, and an assortment of scattered bones and broken dishes. Upon presentation of the imperial official, the jarl revived wonderfully well and, after graciously offering the logothete a haunch of congealed pork-which the courtier declined with equal grace-the two sat down to reckon accounts.

Naturally, I was required to sit with them so as to translate for Harald. As on similar occasions, I was very soon moved to a kind of awe at the wily Dane's ability to exploit the latent opportunities of any situation. Armed with a modest array of weapons, he nevertheless used them with impressive skill: now wheedling, now cajoling, then pouting, coaxing, or demanding; he could shout, shaking the rooftrees with anger, yet never lose his temper; he could cozen with a convincing display of good-natured ignorance one moment, and the next perform the most intricate calculations with bewildering speed and accuracy.

By the time the logothete departed, he seemed a dazed and broken man. And why not? Harald had triumphed utterly, conceding a few minor battles along the way, while sweeping the field and winning the war. The imperial coffers were lightened by more than sixty thousand silver denarii, making Harald and the few surviving Sea Wolves wealthy men one and all.

When, later in the day, the payment arrived-half in silver denarii, and the other half in gold solidi, contained in five stout iron-bound sea boxes, as agreed-I helped Jarl Harald make his mark on the vellum scroll the courtier produced to record the Danes' receipt of the payment.

When the official and his men had gone, Harald offered me a share of the wealth. "Take it, Aeddan," he urged. "If not for you, none of us would be alive to enjoy our good fortune. Yours is a debt of gratitude we cannot easily repay, but it would cheer me greatly to see you accept it."

"Nay, Jarl Harald," I told him. "The losses represented by that treasure were yours alone. Give it to the widows and orphans of the men who will not be coming home."

"I will provide for them, never fear," the king said. "But there is more than enough. Please, take something."

Again, I declined, but Harald prevailed on me to take a generous measure of gold solidi to assist myself and the other monks on our return journey. The suggestion made sense, and I accepted the coins, whereupon the Sea King departed saying he would find another way to repay me. He then declared another feast-this one to celebrate their new wealth. The festivities occupied them the rest of the day and far into the night. When the revelry reached a fine, expansive mood, the Danes fell to boasting recklessly of all they would do with the riches they carried home with them. Gunnar and Hnefi took it upon themselves to surpass one another.

"When I get home," declared Hnefi loudly, "I will have a ship trimmed in gold!"

"One ship only?" wondered Gunnar. "I myself will have a whole fleet of ships, each larger than the last, with mast and oars of gold."

"Well and good," continued Hnefi grandly, "but I will also have a drinking hall larger than Odin's-with a hundred vats of ol to slake the thirst of all my karlar, of which I shall have a thousand."

"Well, that may do for you," conceded Gunnar loftily, "but such a mean hut would never do for me, for I will have ten-thousand karlar, each with his own ol vat."

Hnefi laughed scornfully. "You would need a hall far larger than Valhalla to hold them all!"

"Well then," Gunnar smiled at the ease with which he had trapped Hnefi, "I shall have such a hall-larger than Valhalla, so that each of my noblemen will have a place at table to feast with me. And a hundred skalds to sing my praise by day and night."

And so it went, each striving to better the other in outrageous displays of greed made glorious by dint of evermore-extravagant boasts. Those looking on called encouragement to the two contenders, laughing loudly, and praising each new height of imagined excess.

I sat listening, bone-aching exhaustion stealing over me as I looked from one beaming Sea Wolf face to the next. They were so like children, so simple and uncomplicated in their pleasures and desires, unaware of anything save the present moment, to which they gave their unstinting attention. I gazed at them and wished I could return to that quality of innocence. Then, weary with the weight of all that had happened in the last two days, I crept away to my bed.

Despite their late-night revelry, the Danes rose early the next morning and hastened to the wharf at Psamathia where the ships were moored. As Constantinople resumed its normal busy pace, the other gates were opened once more and Harald brought the three longships around to the small harbour which served the great houses along the Golden Horn-the better, he said, to keep an eye on the provisioning for the voyage home.

"When will you leave?" I asked him. We were standing on the quay at the place called the Venetian Quarter, watching some of the Danes load sacks of grain into the longships.

He squinted at the sky and looked out at the sea, then called something to Thorkel, who was ordering the storage of the supplies as they arrived. Receiving a grunted reply, Harald turned back to me, and answered, "Tomorrow. It is a long time we have been away from Skania-a very long time, and the men are eager to return to their wives and kinfolk. The weather is good. We will leave tomorrow."

"I understand," I said, unsettled by the suddenness of the departure. "Sure, I will come down and see you away."

"Yes," Harald said, clapping a big hand to my shoulder, "you do that, Aeddan."

He moved off then, but I watched him as he walked along the wharf, looking at the ships; occasionally he hailed someone on board, or paused to put his hands on the keel, or thump the side with his fist. I left the wharf after a while, as Harald and Thorkel were waving their arms at a small man aboard a sleek little merchant vessel with yellow sails.

Later, when some of the Sea Wolves returned from their various errands in the city, Gunnar and Tolar came to me, bearing a large bag between them. "Jarl Harald says we must be leaving tomorrow," Gunnar said simply. "We will miss you, Aeddan."

"I will miss you, too," I replied. "But you have Karin and Ulf to think about. And Tolar has his kinfolk. They will all be glad to see the both of you again."

"Heya," Gunnar allowed, "and I will be glad to see them. I tell you the truth, Aeddan, when I get home I will never go a-viking again. Tolar and I have discussed this, and we both agree we are getting too old for these adventures." Tolar nodded emphatically.

"A wise decision," I told them.

"We brought you a gift to remember our friendship," Gunnar said. Reaching into the bag, he brought out a small pottery bowl, and placed it in my hands. The bowl was shallow, but finely made; the inside had been decorated in blue and white with the image of a man wearing a crown and holding a spear in one hand and a cross in the other. Below the man, who seemed to be standing atop Saint Sophia's dome, was the word Leo.

"It is a splendid bowl, Gunnar. But I cannot take it. Karin would be delighted with a bowl like this. You must give it to her instead."

"Nay, nay," he said. "That one is for you, Aeddan. We have six more just like it."

We parted then, and I promised to come down to the ship to see them away. "Sit at table with us tonight," Gunnar invited. "We will drink together one last time."

"Tonight then," I agreed.

But I did not sit with them that night. Everywhere around me, the life I had known was ending; all were going their own way now, and I could not prevent that, nor would I have wished to-far from it! I was relieved that the tribulation was over. Still, I could not find it in me to sit with them and raise cups in honour of a friendship that was, like everything else around me, dying.

The next morning, Jarl Harald bade Lord Sadiq and Faysal farewell. "If you should come north to Skania," Harald said, speaking through me, "you will be welcome in my hall. We will sit together and feast like kings."

"And should you ever venture south again," the amir replied, "you have but to speak my name to anyone, and you will be brought at once to my palace where you will be welcomed as a noble friend."

They embraced one another then, and Harald took his leave. I walked with the Danes down the steep narrow streets to the wharf; Dugal came as well, but kept to himself and said nothing along the way. Since our talk in the courtyard, he and the others had not had much to say to me. I did not know if they were shunning me, or if they were merely uncertain about how things stood and did not wish to make matters worse between us.

In their eagerness to go home, the Danes made for the ships and scrambled aboard the moment we reached the harbour. Some paused long enough to call a parting word-even Hnefi bade me a breezy farewell.

A fair few, toiling under the weight of newly-acquired treasures, required the aid of their comrades to get aboard, but all three ships were ready to up sails in a surprisingly short time.

Thorkel was first to take his leave. He called from his place at the tiller, saying, "Perhaps we meet again one day, Aeddan, heya?"

"Farewell, Thorkel! See that you keep a steady course now."

"Never fear! I have my map!" he replied with a wave, then turned his attention to the sail.

Gunnar and Tolar came to where Dugal and I stood watching. "You are a good fellow," Gunnar told me. Tolar echoed the sentiment: "Heya," he said.

"I owe you a great debt, Aeddan," Gunnar continued, regarding me with sad eyes. "I shall be very sorry if I do not find a way to make good my reckoning." To which Tolar added, "Indeed."

"You owe me nothing," I replied lightly. "Go home to your wife and son. And if you think of me at all, remember also your promise not to go a-viking anymore. It would please me to think of you enjoying your wealth-instead of skinning poor pilgrims for plunder."

Gunnar became contrite. "We are done with that, by Odin." Tolar nodded and spat.

"Then I am glad."

Gunnar gathered me in an enormous, bone-cracking embrace. "Farewell, Aeddan…" he whispered, and then turned away quickly.

Tolar, against all nature, also embraced me, then stepped away with a smile. "You are not so bad, I think," he said meaningfully.

"You are not so bad, either," I told him, and watched him redden with embarrassment. "Go in peace, Tolar-and see you keep an eye on Gunnar."

"That will not be hard, for I am buying a holding next to his that we might be wealthy farmers together," he said, speaking more words than I had ever heard him utter in a single breath.

King Harald was the last to take his leave. He came to where I stood, and presented the small man I had seen him speaking with the previous day. "This man is master of the Venetian ship," he told me, pointing to the yellow-sailed vessel. "He has agreed to take you and your brother priests home to Irlandia. I have paid him to do this, and he has promised to make an easy sailing for you, and to feed you well."

Harald indicated the man, and made a presenting motion with his hands. The fellow glanced at the big Dane uncertainly, and then turned to me and said, "I give you good greeting, my friends. I am Pietro. You are, I believe, to accompany me on my return voyage. That, at least, is my understanding." He spoke fine Latin with a refined, yet easy intonation.

"So it would appear," I confirmed. "Forgive me if I seem doubtful, but I knew nothing about this until now."

"Worry for nothing," Pietro said. "My ship I place at your service." Glancing once more at Harald, who stood beaming at the both of us, he said, "I leave you to your farewells, but come to me when you are finished and we will make our plans."

So saying, the elegant little fellow bowed himself away. Harald smiled with satisfaction. "I brought you here, so it is only right that I should see you home again," he explained. "I searched for the best ship, and his is almost as good as my own. He has sailed from here many times, and I think he is a good pilot. But I told him that if ever word should come to me that you were ill treated, I shall come and slit him throat to belly like a fish."

"Do you suppose he understood you?" I wondered.

Harald's smile broadened. "Who can say?" He clapped me on the back then, and said, "I leave you now, Aeddan Truth-Sayer. You were a good slave, I shall be sorry to see you no more."

"You were a splendid master, Jarl Harald," I told him. We embraced like brothers, and he turned and hurried to the ship.

Within moments of Harald's climbing aboard, the Sea Wolves took up the oars and pushed away from the wharf. As the ship glided out into the channel, I saw Gunnar standing at the dragonhead prow, waving to me. I waved back, and then came the command in Harald's loud voice to man the oars, and Gunnar disappeared.

I felt a presence, and noticed that Dugal, who had kept himself apart, had rejoined me. "That is that," he said, and I sensed some relief in his tone.

"Yes," I said. "That is that."

I watched until the longships had passed from sight down the Golden Horn, then led Dugal to where the Venetian ship lay at anchor, explaining how Harald had arranged for our journey home.

"The Sea Wolf did that for us?" wondered Dugal, much impressed.

The ship's master met us as we approached. He bade us board and satisfy ourselves that his was, indeed, in every way, a splendid vessel. "We have been many days awaiting the last of our trade goods-silk cloth and pepper, and bowls of glass and silver," he said. "We should have left six days ago, but the emperor's funeral caused a small delay. God willing, the ship will be loaded by this evening and we shall be ready to sail this time tomorrow."

"So soon?" I said, and then thought, Why not? There is nothing to hold us here any longer.

Pietro hesitated. "The season grows late, and we should not look upon the good weather as a gift that will last forever. However, we could wait a day or two longer, if you prefer."

I thanked him for the offer. "That will not be necessary," I replied, and wondered just how much Harald had paid him. "We will be ready tomorrow."

"Very well," Pietro said, inclining his head as if acquiescing to my wishes. "I will send a man to collect your things in the morning."

Returning to the villa, I informed Brynach and Ddewi of the arrangements Harald had made for us, and our imminent departure. "So soon?" Bryn wondered aloud.

"Pietro said he would wait until we were ready," I explained. "But I could see nothing to hold us here. I know it is not much time," I allowed; "if I had thought you wanted to stay on-"

"No," Brynach said quickly, "no-you are right. There is nothing more for us here." He paused, looking thoughtful. "And is it still your plan to return with us? I thought-"

"Where else would I go?" I said, then added quickly, "So, then, you have one last day in Byzantium. There must be something you wish to do in the city before we leave."

"I was always hoping to pray in the Church of the Holy Wisdom," Brynach replied; Ddewi and Dugal nodded their agreement. "I would like that. The brothers at Christ Pantocrator were going to take us, but then…well, it makes no matter."

"Go," I urged. "All three of you-go now. There are guides aplenty eager to show you the wonders of Constantinople for the price of a loaf." I gave him one of Harald's gold solidii. They protested such extravagance, but I had nothing smaller to give them and suggested it was little enough payment for their pains and bade them to enjoy the day.

They held quick council between them and decided to do it without delay. "Will you not come with us, Aidan?" inquired Dugal, regarding me with concern.

"There is nothing more I care to see or do in this city," I answered. "Besides, I would only steal your joy. Go and say your prayers, Dugal, and never fear-I will be here when you return."

No sooner had they left, than Faysal appeared to say that Lord Sadiq desired to speak with me. I had been expecting a summons of some kind, and now that it had come, I found I was unready to face him. Guilt about how Kazimain and I had parted was, I suppose, making me dread a confrontation.

As I expected, he was not happy. After a simple, if somewhat austere greeting, he bade me sit down, and said, "Kazimain has told me that you two are not to be married. While I doubt neither her word nor her honour, I would hear it from your lips also."

"It is true," I replied. "I have broken my vow, and we have parted."

Sharp disapproval pursed the amir's lips into a frown. "That is not how Kazimain put it," he informed me, "but as this is a matter between a man and a woman, I will not interfere if your mind is made up. As to that, I offered to persuade you to change your mind, but Kazimain does not wish it." He paused, trying to read my thought from the expression on my face.

When he spoke again, he said, "There is a place for you in my court. I have need of a man of your considerable abilities. Stay with me, Aidan, and I will see that you rise to your rightful estate." He paused. "You need not marry my kinswoman to gain my favour, you have earned my highest esteem many times over with your exemplary deeds and character."

"I fear you flatter me too highly, Lord Sadiq," I said. "And your offer is tempting, but I cannot accept it."

The amir nodded silently, accepting my decision gracefully. "What will you do?"

"Return to Eire," I answered. I would complete the pilgrimage, see it through. That, at least, I could do.

"Forgive me for saying so, but though you return to your home a thousand times, you will not be happy there anymore," the amir warned. "You have seen too much of the world and its ways to hide away in your monastery."

"You may be right," I conceded. "Still, it is my home."

Sadiq gazed at me, and seemed to soften. "I wish you well, my friend." He rose, signalling an end to our talk. "Still, if you should ever come again to Samarra, you will find me ready to receive you and resume our friendship."

"I am grateful, Lord Sadiq. But my heart is hungry, and will not be satisfied until I have seen Eire again."

"Go in peace, Aidan," said the amir, raising his hands in blessing. "May Allah, Wise and Merciful, make straight your path and protect you from Satan's wiles, and may the Lord of Hosts grant you peace in his celestial palaces forever." Placing his fingertips to his forehead, he then touched his heart, saying, "Sala'am, Aidan, and farewell."

We ate together for the last time that night; the amir insisted on providing a feast to send us on our way. The rafiq and the monks attended and the talk was light and pleasant-Faysal and I were kept busy translating for everyone. All through the meal, I looked for Kazimain to join us, but the evening ended and she did not appear.

Nor did I see her the next morning when Pietro's man collected our few bundled belongings and we left the villa for the waiting ship. Though we had made our farewells the night before, Faysal insisted on accompanying us to the wharf. He said it was to make certain that we did not get lost and fall into misfortune. Just before I climbed aboard, I offered Faysal the Qadi as a parting gift, but he refused, saying that if I ever returned to Byzantium again, I would certainly need a good knife. Crossing his hands over his chest, he bowed, and bespoke the peace of Allah for our voyage. He then stood on the quayside watching us until we passed from sight.

That was the last I saw of any of them.