Lord of Slaughter (12 page)

‘I’d be grateful.’

They had stopped and the man faced Loys directly. He had the appearance of being made of something more solid than flesh, some weighty marble, maybe.

‘The Varangians. It doesn’t take a great scholar to work it out. A clear blue day – no problems. The Varangians march in – the sky darkens. So work back. The rebel Phokas is struck dead by magic. Who was there? The Varangians. The emperor fought three battles without them and the outcome was decided by sword and shield. This one by sorcery. Their arrival is heralded by a comet.’

‘That wouldn’t explain the emperor’s ongoing illness.’

‘The emperor has an illness?’

‘No, I—’

‘Dear, dear, you need to control your tongue, scholar. That is treason, did you know that?’

‘I said nothing.’

The man glanced around him.

‘Indeed not. But you are a northern oaf and may well make such a mistake again one day, and in front of witnesses, at which point you will need friends. I could be one of those friends. Let me give you a word of advice. The Varangians are to blame for this. No question. Make them the focus of your investigation. Limit the deaths this causes.’

‘What deaths?’

‘Well, for a start we’ll be purging the street magicians as soon as we receive an edict from the emperor.’

‘You said the Varangians were to blame.’

‘And so I believe. But this is a serious situation. The Varangians are six thousand armed fighters, and it will take time to undermine them, isolate their leaders and bring them to task for their crimes. The sky is boiling and the mob is restless. The street magicians are but two hundred jabbering men and wild women. God is angry with them. What else could this sky mean?’

‘But you know they’re innocent.’

‘I suspect they’re innocent of this, but who knows what other guilts they hide? They are enemies of Christ, and in times such as these we need only the Saviour’s friends around us. The chamberlain has opposed this action before but now he will sanction it, I’m sure.’

‘I’ll see to it that he doesn’t.’

The man smiled. ‘Don’t make me your enemy, scholar Loys.’

‘That is not my intention.’

‘Our intentions matter little in life. It is what we do that counts. Just by being here you are a threat to the authority of some of the great offices of state. When people find out you are conducting this investigation – which many already have – they will think those in charge don’t trust those offices, and if those offices do not have the emperor’s confidence then they are a little less respected, a little less feared. Killing the soothsayers has a practical benefit. It restores the fear.’

‘At the cost to your immortal soul.’

‘These people consort with devils. If Christ came back today he would be the first to shed their blood. Now excuse me. What you’re looking for is within.’

He tapped the door then walked back the way they had come.

‘I will oppose you,’ said Loys to his retreating back. The man stopped and turned.

‘You could stop me immediately if you chose.’

‘How?’

‘Resign.’

‘That would be my death.’

The man tilted his head, a sarcastic smile on his face. ‘So there’s a limit to your compassion and love for the low people, I see.’

‘I am not a martyr,’ said Loys.

‘Not yet,’ said the man. ‘If you need to leave this city in a hurry, stain your left-hand thumb and small finger with ink. My men will contact you. You may need us. You and your wife.’

‘Who are you?’ Loys felt the blood leave his face at the mention of Beatrice.

But the man walked away, disappearing around a corner.

Loys watched him go with the certainty that his destination, should he take up the man’s offer, would be the next world and his mode of conveyance a dagger to the back.

Loys knocked at the door. After a few moments it was opened a crack by a eunuch, tall and old. ‘Come in, master.’

He opened the door wide to a vision. Beatrice sat in a long dress of deep and lustrous blue. At her neck was a collar in cloth of gold and behind her a maidservant combed out her golden hair. Next to her was a table and on it a silver goblet and a plate of grapes.

‘Loys! You’ve been so long; they said you’d come immediately. Look at you. You’re soaked and you’re covered in dirt. Have you been attacked?’

‘No, gosh, no. You know me. No one crosses me and gets away with it.’ He put up his fists and gave a little growl, trying to be light, trying to reassure her.

‘Oh, Loys, come here and hug me.’

He did, and as he put his arms around her felt a huge need to protect her.

‘Did you see the sky?’ he said.

‘What about the sky?’

‘They brought you here before it happened?’

‘What happened?’

‘Never mind. Just bad weather.’

‘It was a fine day when I arrived.’

‘Who brought you?’

‘Men from the chamberlain’s office. I was afraid of them at first, but they were finely dressed and bore seals so I went with them.’

‘I was worried about you.’

‘They said you’d know I’d come.’

‘No matter. You seem to have settled in.’

‘I should say so! Isn’t it wonderful in here? It’s so lovely. The floor’s as warm as a kitten and look, they’ve laid out clothes for you. Even my father has never dreamed of luxury like this. My clever, clever, husband. I knew they’d reward you one day!’

Beatrice gestured towards a couch. Loys too had been given a rich robe of blue, though without a collar. That was only allowed to those of royal status. He was pleased Beatrice’s rank had been recognised. There were undergarments of linen, slippers too, in fine blue silk decorated with gold brocade.

‘What are these?’ said Loys to the eunuch.

‘A badge of office, sir, the mark of the chamberlain’s men.’

‘You can bathe,’ Beatrice said. ‘Down the corridor there’s a wonderful heated bath. You should try it, Loys.’

‘I will. I’ve heard about such things but I’ve never seen one.’

He studied the robe. Picked out in fine embroidery on its back was a picture of Christ casting out demons and sending them into a herd of swine. The message from the chamberlain about what was required was clear enough.

‘Can you get a message to the chamberlain?’ he said to his servant.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Can you tell him I need to see him at his earliest convenience?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Your mind is always on your labours, Loys,’ said Beatrice. ‘Look at all this lovely stuff. Think how lucky we’ve been, how clever you are to bring us all this.’

‘Well,’ he said, coming over to Beatrice and picking a grape, ‘let’s hope I can live up to it.’ He smiled for her benefit.

‘You can. I know you can, Loys,’ said Beatrice. She looked so alive, so relieved to be out of that stinking woodpile by the water. He kissed her, careless of the servant in the room.

‘For you,’ he said, ‘I will make sure that I do.’

11
A Fight for Snake in the Eye

Snake in the Eye felt strong and powerful in his Armenian armour, with his Greek sword at his side and his horse archer’s shield proudly on his back. He’d scarcely taken the armour off since he won it. The emperor had spent nearly no time at all in Constantinople and departed for Bithynia in the east almost as soon as he had finished his triumphal march. His attentions had shifted from the rebel to the threat from the Arabs.

Arabic translators were now in greater demand than Norse ones, and Snake in the Eye found himself left with the bulk of the Varangian force, camped outside the walls, waiting for the emperor’s instructions when the great man had made an appraisal of where the Vikings might be needed. At first Snake in the Eye enjoyed his privileged status as a go-between, running from Bollason and his men to the various offices of the city to strike deals on food and supplies. The problem was that Bollason’s army was large, restless and feeling short-changed. They had been promised the gleaming streets of Constantinople, an earthly Asgard, a home fit for gods, let alone men. Instead they were camped out on a freezing shore under a black sky.

Snake in the Eye soon found that his position – having the ear of the emperor and of Bollason – brought its own problems. Men overestimated his influence and asked him why they had not been allowed into the city, why wine was in short supply and so on. One even told him he should insist on a prettier sort of whore for the brave victors of Abydos and offered to accompany the boy to ensure he made the right choice.

And then the rain had come in, another violent downpour like the one that had swept the field at Abydos. Warriors who had only grumbled before now began to complain bitterly, to blame even. By the time the rain passed, the campsite had turned into a mire. Snake in the Eye had been both lucky and unlucky. He was in the city securing a supply of pork for the Varangians when the flood descended. He couldn’t see five paces in the deluge and he had stayed there, a merchant allowing him to bed down in a storeroom.

So he returned to the camp the next morning dry and clean. He made his way to the tent next to which his father had set up his small forge – no more, really, than a hole in the ground. A big Viking waited while the head of his axe was sharpened. Next to him stood his son – Snake in the Eye’s age but already with a wispy beard, an axe of his own at his side and a cut to his ear that suggested he knew what it was to be in a battle.

‘You look dry enough,’ said his father.

‘I got caught in Miklagard. A merchant let me bed down in his store.’

The big Viking snorted. Snake in the Eye caught his disapproval.

‘You think I should have sat out in the rain?’

The man said nothing.

Snake in the Eye put his hand to his sword.

‘That is a foolish way to proceed,’ said the big Viking.

‘It’s a fool who looks down his nose and is too cowardly to say what he thinks!’

‘Cowardly’ fell loud from his lips. Its effect was like a magic spell. Around him the sounds of the camp faded. Men stopped their talk. People who had been walking past stopped to stare. A woman who had been beating out a carpet let it fall to her knees and stared at him.

‘The bigger fool is he that calls a man a coward for no more than a glance. You go to your Greek masters; you take luxuries that are denied to your fellows, shelter when your kin freeze and soak under Hel’s own skies. I will say nothing. Call me a coward and that moves me to correct you.’

Snake in the Eye drew his sword. Now the man’s son had his axe free, though the Viking himself just laughed at Snake in the Eye.

‘You are a boy and so some foolishness is allowed. Apologise now and I will take only the compensation of free service from your smith father here. Otherwise you will die.’

‘An apology is in order,’ said the smith.

‘I will not apologise!’ said Snake in the Eye. ‘Come on, both of you, and I’ll make this a sad day for the whore you married to beget him.’

The big Viking lunged at him. His movements seemed slow to Snake in the Eye, and it would have been easy to strike him down with his sword. But, yet again, his arm failed him; his will to fight was not there. A fist smashed into Snake in the Eye’s jaw, snapping his head sideways and putting him down.

Snake in the Eye tried to stand and took a good kick to the chin. He recalled nothing after that until he was pulled up to sitting, a blond Viking staring into his face. Someone shouted, ‘I will kill him! I will kill him! Let me free!’

‘What have you done?’

Snake in the Eye’s father lay dead on the ground, the boy with the axe too, the right side of his head caved in. Snake in the Eye’s father had clearly hit him with his smith’s hammer but had paid the price. A scrum of men held the big Viking back.

‘Get up, get up!’ A blond Viking he had never seen before shook Snake in the Eye by the tunic.

‘I want vengeance! He called me a coward and his father killed my son. He provokes a fight and backs down from it. I want vengeance!’

The hullaballoo had the whole camp straining to see what was happening. Through the press of people a huge figure dressed all in red pushed his way forward. It was Bollason.

Snake in the Eye felt for his sword, determined to prove himself, but the blond-haired man snatched it away.

Bollason pointed at the corpses. ‘Explain.’

The big Viking shouted that he had been insulted and denied justice, that his son was dead and he was owed revenge.

‘Calm yourself, Arnulf,’ said Bollason. ‘Justice will be done, you have my word. You, boy, what have you got to say for yourself?’

‘I want to fight him,’ said Snake in the Eye. He got to his feet, shaky.

‘Come to me then, you snivelling little bastard, and I’ll cut your throat,’ said Arnulf.

Bollason stood in front of Snake in the Eye. ‘I hear reports of you,’ he said. ‘I hear you’re trouble. If it wasn’t for your usefulness with the emperor I’d let Arnulf here pin you to this shitty shore with his spear.’