TLV - 01 - The Golden Horn (22 page)

Harald felt his belly muscles tighten. "You have some scheme?" he asked most softly.

"Well, no, but I have taken steps. Whether or not they lead anywhere lies with the Norns." The dice danced across the clay floor. "When they came to arrest me, I begged leave to send a message to my good friend, the noble lord Stauracius Danielis, to inform him of my plight, that he might plead my case. The name was impressive, and when I added gold it was overwhelming. So they let me give word in their presence to a little blackamoor I own."

"The great lord Stauracius would scarce be an oath brother to you," said Harald dryly.

"Oh, he knows naught of me. But I must needs use his name, d'you see. My thrall understood well enough it was Danielis' fair wife I meant. Now Anna has brains, and she's high among the ladies at court. If anyone can find out why we've been locked away and what's to be done about it, she will. Harald, how often have I told you that this one-woman virtue you've striven so much for can lead to no good?"

The chief laughed. Even Halldor smiled. So small a hope was like wine in this place.

They diced most of the day, against promises of payment. Ulf won so heavily that Harald was not sure there was no skill used. Once the guards brought them bread and water, otherwise nothing happened. Toward evening, they went to sleep.

Harald had a dream. He stood on endless snow, and snow whirled out of a sightless sky, hissing as it fell, driven by a shrill and bitter wind. From afar he heard the noise of glaciers, marching down off the mountains, grinding fells and towns and all fair valleys to ruin. A raven flew by, screaming. And he knew with a shudder that this was the Fimbul Winter.

Groping forward through the drifts, teeth clapping in his jaws, he saw something that shone. As he neared, it became the byrnie of Olaf. The king was seated on a throne of rock, and ice had sheathed him thickly; he was pale, and the three wounds lay red across him. But as Harald approached, he opened his eyes and his helmet flamed with swift sunlight. Even as the world shattered in the wreck of the gods, Olaf sat on his throne, wearing his helmet that was the sun.

Harald woke gasping. The narrow foulness of his prison closed in. He felt cold and afraid. Surely this had been a vision, but whether for good or ill, he could not say.

"Hallow Olaf," he whispered into the night's blindness. "I fought for you once. Watch over Maria."

2

Lying there, he grew suddenly aware of a noise. Horror gripped his throat, thought of draugs and devils crawling from the earth. He told himself it was only a mouse but he knew it was not. The noise stopped, began again, the softest scratching. And it was from above.

Harald leaped to his feet. He stared upward. The sky rolled back and became a ragged patch of stars.

Olaf!

He knelt, groped his way to Ulf's snores and laid a hand on the mouth. The beard tickled his palm. Ulf started alert, drew one shaken breath and gripped
Harald's shoulder. They roused Halldor. A shadow leaned over the hole cut in the roof. Barely enough starlight fell into the tower to show a rope snaking down.

"I'll go first," muttered Harald. "This may be some scheme to murder us without the Emperor being blamed, but
..."
He tugged at the rope. It held firm. He swarmed up.

Two men, hardly visible in the deeper blackness outside, stood on the battlements. The knife which had slit the canvas shone under a splendid sky. The other man held the rope, belayed about a merlon. Harald sprawled flat on the verge and peered downward. A sentry tramped around the courtyard, emitting a faint metal shimmer, but he had not heard
...
he had not heard.

Ulf and Halldor joined them on the roof. Whereupon the strangers stealthily led them over a ladder to the roof of the house across the street, where another ladder was propped and a third man waited. Harald could now see that they were Saracens, either slaves or bribed visitors. When he felt the pavement under his shoes, a wave of dizziness went through him, he stumbled and knew not what to do. "Olaf," he breathed. "Olaf, King."

Within moments his wits returned; his nerves were steady but keyed for action. There was much work yet. But before God, he was free, and ready to fight the whole damned Empire!

The guides led them through a twist of alleys to another courtyard. Blank walls rose on every side. In the center stood a litter, surrounded by its porters and a couple of stave-bearing guards.

A white figure came running and sobbing to Ulf's arms.

"Anna!" the Icelander choked. "You did this?"

"Oh, my darling, my darling, my darling!" She clawed herself to him. "It might have been death for you. . . . The Empress was so angry!"

"There, there, I'm still alive, sweet." Ulf chucked her under the chin. Her tears gleamed in the starlight. "Tell me how it stands."

"I had to bribe . . . and blackmail, and promise, and . . . Th-th-the praefect's officer told me the most." Anna caught her breath on a hiccough. "Araltes was to be charged with . . . stealing funds and goods entrusted to him in the wars . . . and you were to be his ac-accomplices. I learned where you were. Your fate had not yet be-been decided, but they thought
...
it to be
harsh. I made an excuse to leave the house, and promised . . . those three slaves their freedom if
...
It will be hard to explain. But I love you so!"

Ulf glanced at his fellows with some shame. "Give me a few minutes," he said in Norse. "I must make sure of her." He led her into an alley.

Harald drew Halldor aside. "Can we flee tonight?" he asked.

"Yes. We'd better! Ulf knows how. He's marked a couple of Russian ships we can steal, little watched now when their owners have been sent away. And he's laid provisions and treasure in a warehouse nearby, he says. But the cursed chain—I know not how to get past that. Maybe we can wait in the harbor till morning, hoping we aren't noticed, and then row faster than ever men rowed erenow."

"We'd never escape thus. But I think I know a way."

Ulf came back. "Let's go," he said shortly. "I like not so using a woman."

"St. Olaf did this," Harald answered. "He worked through her. But come quickly!"

They loped through streets which were tunnels of night. Once they hid in a doorway while a patrol went by, otherwise it was run and run and run with burning lungs and bursting heart, until they were at the palace gates and bespoke a Varangian on guard who let them in. When they had entered the barracks, it was like waking from fever dreams.

Darkness was not yet old. Most of the Varangians were still awake, benched in the central hall. Lamplight splashed hard, bearded faces, beakers clinked and voices surfed. When Harald stepped in, they rose with a yell.

"Where've you three been? What the Devil's the matter?"

Harald rais
ed his arms
for silence. Huge, in the doorway he stood, questioning them about what they knew. The accusation of theft to be laid against him had been shrewdly chosen. The Varangians would not have stirred, however unhappy they were, until they could be sure he was honest. They knew him to be in need of gold and would not besmirch their own names by following a thief. In a few sharp words he told them the truth. Their outcry shivered the walls.

"No, easy there, stay calm. Satan take you all, be still!" Harald roared them down. "We cannot rise against the whole city. Ulf has long ago sounded out those men who'll be willing to escape with me. Let them now take their arms and come. The rest can do naught but stay here, and when you're later asked what happened, you must say you know nothing. Serve out your terms; there's no reason to cause yourselves loss. I lay one command on you, that you watch over Nicephorus Skleros. Let it be known that any harm done him is harm to you. And those who come home through my hall in Norway shall have good guesting!"

Slowly the band grumbled itself back toward coolness. A hundred busked themselves to go, men of long service, the hardiest and most loyal to Harald. Looking at their scarred faces, he felt a leap of joy. He himself took helmet and sword and slung a small shield on his back, but left off the noisy mail coat. Ten others he told to do likewise.

"Now, Ulf," he said, "where are those ships you know of?"

The Icelander gave directions. "We shall have to bind and gag a few harbor guards, or kill them, but I've spied out their rounds and it should be simple. Then we must very quietly load." His gaze grew thoughtful. "Harald, you are going after Maria, are you not?"

"Yes. I'll join you at the dock."

"The streets are full of death tonight, and you have a kingdom waiting. Is the girl worth that much?"

Harald nodded curtly. "If I'm not there by the time you're ready, sail without me and raise a runestone in my memory at home. But I think St. Olaf is with us."

"Well, I hope so." Ulf grinned crookedly and wrung his hand.

The Varangian exit was noticed in the palace grounds, of course, but none challenged them. Doubtless every Greek officer thought that someone else had ordered a hundred guardsmen out. When he left the main body with his ten, Harald told them to shoulder axes and march in formation. He himself went at their head. Each time he passed a patrol he was saluted. Being so discreetly arrested had its merits.

When he saw the dim whiteness of Nicephorus' garden wall, the blood thudded within him. He pointed to a gloomy side street.

"Wait there," he ordered. "This will surely have to be done by stealth."

Reaching, he caught the top of the wall and lifted himself over. His shield rattled as he dropped to the other side. He crouched with his scalp aprickle. About him lay only a sleepy fragrance of roses—no sound save the rustling of trees and the chirping of crickets. The house stood before him.

Noiseless, he made his way around those well-remembered corners. Maria's window glowed with light. It was unglazed and the shutters stood open. He looked in. The light came from a single candle before an ikon of the Virgin, all else was dark. It sheened on a small bronze Hermes, a thousand years old or more, who danced like Harald's own heart. He hitched himself to the sill and squeezed his shoulders through. Slowly he moved to the bed.

Maria slept with her hair spilling night-black around her, hps parted, lashes smoky below the thin blue-veined lids. One arm was thrown across the blanket, fingers closed on the thumb, like a child that has wept itself to sleep. Harald leaned over and put his hand on her mouth. It was the first time he had touched her in two years.

She started awake. "Be still!" he hissed. "It's death if we're heard."

He let her go. She soared from the bed to him. The sight of her young unclad body brought back his dizziness, he gripped her and was drowned.

"Harald, Harald, Harald!" She clung to him, shaking, her dear fingers biting into his flesh. "Harald, you cannot, we must not, oh, God forgive me, come to me!"

He shook his head. She saw how teeth gleamed in the gaunt jut-nosed face. "Not yet, my dearest. Have you not heard? I'm a hunted man."

She nodded, blind with tears. He told her what had happened. She drew a long breath and said thinly:

"I understand. Surely we are cursed. But go. Fast, before they come. I will wait. I know you can find a way to return for me. Or if not, you will at least be alive. Go!"

"I came not to tell you goodbye," he said. "Get some clothes and we'll be off."

She was suddenly aware of her nakedness. He was moved to see how the blush ran over her body. He should have turned his back as she scrambled into gown and slippers, but he could not.

"Now we're on our way." Laughter brimmed in him. "Come."

She met his gaze with a despair he could not fathom. "I cannot," she said.

"What?"

"My family . . ."

"They'll know how it is. Come along By God, we've no time to spill!"

He caught her wrist. She tried to pull free. "I cannot!" she said in a near scream.

Stabbed, he answered bleakly, "If you make that much noise, you'll bring the city guards."

"But . . ."

"Are you afraid?"

"Not for myself," she said, frantic. "But my father, mother, brothers . . ."

"I have put them under the ward of the Varangians." Harald picked her up. For a moment she struggled. Her litheness filled his world. Then she lay still.

"If you do not come with me, I will not leave at all," he told her. "I'll wait here and slay enough of the guardsmen who arrive to force them to kill me."

"I will come," she said, so low he could barely hear.