The Walls of Byzantium (20 page)

‘Where’s Nikolas?’ she asked. The smell of fish was all around her.

‘I sent him to the Jew Barnabus,’ replied Luke. ‘He’ll give you something for seasickness. The wind’s getting up again.’

Anna looked up at the sky. The wind was rising and the sky was darkening, with black clouds blowing in from the mainland. Two dogs appeared in front of them, scavenging on the rocks, and began to bark. Luke threw a stone, hitting one, and with a yelp it skulked away. Far out at sea Anna could see a fishing boat, its sail billowing as it was hauled down. The boat’s lantern came and went behind the waves.

‘Is it safe to go out in this weather?’

Luke stopped and looked out to sea. Then he turned to her and squeezed her hand. ‘It’s a strong boat, Anna,’ he said. ‘Besides, we don’t have any choice. They’re searching the whole island tonight.’

‘But why go back into the town? Can’t we take a boat from somewhere outside?’

Luke shook his head. ‘There’s nowhere else to launch it; the island is all rocks. It’s either the jetty at the sea gate or the wharves at the bridge to the mainland and we daren’t go there. They’re crawling with Mamonas men. The portello is the only way off the island.’

They moved on and soon reached the monastery wall and
then the road. Anna pulled the hood over her head as they began the walk up to the city. The way was busy since it was the hour when people finished work, and no one paid any attention to the tall figure and his smaller companion who held their cloaks close to them against the wind.

At the cemetery gates, Nikolas was waiting for them and grinned when he saw Anna. ‘Does it smell too badly?’ he asked, peering into the hood.

‘Just don’t expect to marry, Nikolas,’ she replied.

The three of them crept behind the wall and knelt around the two bundles.

‘We need to make just one bundle,’ said Luke. He brought out the little crossbow. ‘You can’t take this, Anna.’

‘No, I must take it,’ said Anna quietly. ‘You gave it to me. Now, show me how to use it again.’

Luke looked at her for a moment and then smiled. He showed her how to load it using the single stirrup. He was about to remove the bolt when she stopped him.

‘Leave it in.’ She slipped it beneath her cloak.

Nikolas stood. ‘See you both later,’ he said, ‘at the church.’

Luke and Anna moved off towards the gate, pulling the cloaks around them and looking for a group to fall in with. As predicted, people entering the city were being waved through and Luke saw that they were given barely a glance. Then, when they were nearly at the city gate, and too late to turn back, Luke nearly collided with an officer who was leading his men out.

‘Watch where you’re going, oaf,’ shouted the man.

Damian
.

Luke’s hood was almost entirely covering his face. Anna had walked on, head down, and was passing the troop of soldiers Damian had been leading through the gate. Luke saw one of
them laugh and nudge his companion as the smell of fish reached their nostrils.

He dared not turn around.

He could feel Damian’s presence behind him, could sense that he’d stopped and was watching him. His heart was beating to a tempo that made him giddy and the hand that was keeping his sword rigid beneath the cloak was suddenly clammy with sweat. He moved it from pommel to hilt, ready to draw.

But there was no shout, no restraining hand on his arm. Luke walked on, every footstep a marathon, and eventually caught up with Anna. The soldiers had left the city.

He smiled at her. ‘That was close.’

They moved off together along the
mesi odos
, turning down a narrow side street that wound its way to the church where they’d agreed to meet the others. When they got there, Matthew was standing at the door and he ushered them in quickly. Arcadius and Nikolas grinned when they saw them. Beside them stood a large box with its lid removed. Inside was a tangle of nets.

‘When do you usually leave?’ Luke asked his friends.

Arcadius looked out though a church window. Two saints stood either side of it, their garments holed where the fresco’s paint had fallen away. The church was in need of a patron.

‘We could let it get darker, and it’ll help if the rain comes back,’ he answered. ‘We should leave within the hour.’

Luke went over to Anna. ‘I’m going out to check our route. I want you to stay here and keep these fools quiet.’ Then he looked round his friends. ‘You’d better hide the box for now and do some praying. That’s what churches are for.’

Outside the church, he looked around the little square. It
was true that he wanted to check their route to the portello but he also wanted to make sure that they hadn’t been followed. The encounter with Damian was still fresh in his mind.

And there was something else as well. He wanted to see the city for what might be the last time. Something deep inside told him that he might not return to Monemvasia.

As he wandered through the darkening maze of cobbled alleys, he thought that this was as much a city of sounds as of buildings. The voices of life – the cry of a baby born, the cry as another was made – rolled through these narrow, chamfered streets like a gentle wind, insinuating itself through window and chimney and connecting all these people one to another. He loved this island city for all its smells and petty squabbles, for all its grudges and long, long vendettas. He loved its walls, its jumble of houses, its churches and squares, all echoing to the vast and limitless rhythm of the encircling sea.

The street in front of him was suddenly dark and Luke looked up at the sky to see a cloud bully its way in front of the crescent moon and the first spit of rain hit his brow. They could wait no longer. He turned and ran back through the streets to the church where Nikolas was keeping watch. Inside, the other three were seated in a pew, whispering.

‘We should leave now,’ said Luke.

At the portello, huddled under its arch against the rain, two guards watched Luke round the corner of the steps, followed by Matthew and Nikolas who were carrying the usual box.

‘Going with them tonight, Luke?’ grinned one of the soldiers as they got up to let him pass. ‘You must be mad. It’s blowing a gale out there and it’s getting worse!’

‘Nikko here says it’s the best time to fish,’ laughed Luke as he walked between them, looking behind to make sure that his two friends had enough room to get through. He glanced through the gate.

‘On second thoughts, you might be right.’ He turned. ‘Nikolas, have you seen what it’s like out there?’

The sea was much bigger than Luke had expected it to be, the waves driving up the rocks as if to sweep the city away and the boats moored either side of the long jetty dancing up and down like puppets. Luke looked out to sea to see whether any other craft were out there.

It was empty.

One of the guards had left the gate to stand next to Luke while Matthew and Nikolas hurried down the stone gangway to the jetty.

‘I don’t like the look of that,’ muttered the guard. ‘I should leave it tonight, Luke. Go tomorrow.’

Luke pretended to consider this.

‘Well, let me talk to the others,’ said Luke. ‘I’ll see how keen they are. You’d better get back under that arch.’

The soldier nodded and turned away. Luke watched him disappear through the gate and then hurried down the gangway. He was grinning. This was going to work.

His two friends were waiting for him at the end of the jetty but they hadn’t yet put the box into the boat.

Why weren’t they moving?

Luke called to them but they weren’t looking at him. They were looking behind him and horror was etched on to their faces. Then one of them pointed.

Luke stopped and looked around.

Coming towards him down the jetty were ten soldiers,
Mamonas men. They were holding long halberds pointed before them.

Above them, sitting on a rock, was Damian.

Damian
.

For a moment, Luke stood there, stunned and disbelieving, his mind racing. He turned and ran to his friends, then wrenched open the lid of the box and pulled out his sword. Anna was looking up at him, pale and questioning.

‘Damian’s here. But we can still get away.’

He turned to his two friends. Nikolas had grabbed a boathook while Matthew held a fending pole and one of the nets. They looked like gladiators.

‘This is not your fight!’ Luke shouted through the rain, looking from one to the other. ‘Give yourselves up! They won’t harm you!’

Neither of them moved.

‘Luke, we’re Varangians,’ said Matthew. ‘We don’t surrender, you should know that. We’ll hold them off while you get away.’

Flanked by Matthew and Nikolas, Luke waited for the soldiers who were moving quickly towards them down the jetty. It was only wide enough for them to advance three abreast but the guards wore long hauberks of mail, with helmets and aventails, and all of them had swords at their sides. The boys wore woollen smocks and only Luke held a sword. It was an uneven match.

The soldier in their middle, facing Luke, seemed to be in charge and was mumbling something to his companions on either side, who were nodding. Luke didn’t like this. Why were they holding halberds when they had swords? It didn’t make sense.

Then it did.

When the guards were ten paces away, their leader gave a
shout and the soldiers either side of him rushed forward, pointing their halberds straight at Luke. Luke stepped back to parry the lunge while Matthew and Nikolas turned to defend him, ready to chop at the long weapons from the sides. But at the last moment, the guards swung the pikes away from Luke, hitting the Varangians in their midriffs and sending them plunging into the sea.

Luke was alone. It was ten against one.

Now the men in front of him dropped their halberds and drew their swords, the sound of steel harsh above the patter of rain on wood. Luke looked at the three blades in the first rank and wondered whether the years of training had readied him for so unequal a fight.

Behind the soldiers, Damian had risen from his rock.

‘Give yourself up, Luke,’ he shouted. ‘You can’t beat these odds. Just give me back my wife.’

‘Let me go to him.’ Anna was standing beside the box behind him and had the little crossbow tucked in her belt. She stepped forward.

‘No. Get back. We’re going to leave this place as I said we would.’

Then, as Anna stepped away, the charge came. With a roar, the three guards ran at him, their swords thrust forward like spears, and Luke skipped backward and to the side, parrying one attack and ducking low to avoid another. As the third soldier swung towards him, Luke lifted his blade and the two swords locked for a minute until he threw his weight to one side and kicked the man’s back to send him into the sea.

Luke knew he would have to rely on speed and agility with these odds and, above all, not lose his sword.

A fourth guard now sprang forward, his sword raised above
his head, and Luke just had time to parry the blow, inches from his head, when, from the corner of his eye, he saw his first attacker charge from his left. He thrust his sword hilt into the face of the man to his front and brought his knee up to his groin, pushing him into the path of the other as he doubled up in pain. Then he kicked out savagely so that one man crashed into the other and, arms flailing, they both toppled off the jetty.

Three down. This was good, but the odds were still bad.

He swung back to face the remaining soldiers. They seemed reluctant to charge and Luke welcomed the respite. He was breathing hard and needed to judge how best to resist the next attack. He rocked slowly from side to side on the balls of his feet, testing his balance against the slippery surface of the jetty and raking the line of his adversaries with the tip of his sword.

Come on, you bastards!

Then his heart stopped. In the second rank, one of the soldiers had sheathed his sword and was raising a crossbow to rest on the shoulder of the man in front. The man was taking aim.

There was a roar from the portello.

Standing there, lit by the rain-spattered flames of the torches either side of the gate, was the giant figure of Joseph. He was dressed in full Varangian armour and was holding his huge two-handed axe. A dead soldier lay at his feet.

Luke saw his chance. He flung himself forward towards the man with the crossbow.

But too late. The bolt slammed into him and he was lifted off his feet by the force. He felt searing pain in his shoulder as he fell on to the jetty, his sword spinning through the air to land, miraculously, by his side.

Luke looked down at the bolt. It was buried deep but hadn’t hit any bone. He reached up and, with a grunt, wrenched it free. Blood pumped from the open wound, matting his hair and running between the wooden slats below.

Anna tore the cloth belt from her waist, the little crossbow clattering to the jetty beside her, and crushed the cotton into a ball to hold to the wound.

Damian was on his feet. ‘Kill him and get back to the portello!’

In front of them, the soldier was reloading his weapon as his companions hurried past him down the jetty.