Byzantium

calves in water. He realized they were losing their first battle of the long journey back. He shouted for the men in the hold to go ahead with the drill. The chests were now pushed frantically forward along the greased planks. As the weight of the cargo was shifted, the hull protested with a deep, almost animate keen. The stern began to lift.

The ship slowly levelled, until for an instant it was perfectly balanced on top of the log fulcrum. Timbers screeched and the ropes that kept the hull from yawing over hummed with the strain as the ship tilted first to one side and then the other. And then the descent began; after a moment the bow slapped reassuringly into the water on the other side of the boom. The bow oars dipped and wood shrieked as the ship began to slip off the boom. They were free in the Bosporus.

‘You are luckier than Odin!’ crowed Ulfr. ‘We . . .’ Ulfr’s joy vanished in the thunderclap that came from the left. Every head turned. Only fifty ells away, the second ship was poised at the critical balance point atop the log. Within a heartbeat the ship fractured in two, as if it had been dropped against the log barrier from some great height.

‘Cut the lines and make ready to pick them up!’ shouted Haraldr. His ship scraped free from the boom, and he looked to his right to see how the third galley had fared. It, too, had dipped its bow and was sliding off the boom. Still farther to the right, the lights of the dhromons moved on the water.

The rescue was orderly; Haraldr praised the gods that Norsemen did not panic when plunged into a dark sea. Most of the Varangians had evacuated their gear bags and clung calmly to the shattered hull of their galley. The surviving galleys divided the crew of the wreck; the extra men were quickly distributed on the benches. The next time there will be fire on the water, thought Haraldr. And none of us will be so calm.

Haraldr looked south. Apparently the harbour boom had been partially towed away at the Constantinople end, and the dhromons were coming through along the coastline. He turned to Ulfr. ‘This was my fault. I should have known that at least one of the keels would fail and fitted an extra ship. Now our two ousiai are so heavily loaded that we no longer have the advantage of speed.’ He paused and counted the dhromons as they passed the boom and began to turn to the north. Eight. ‘Before we lost that galley, this pursuit was not a contest for us. But we are in a race now.’

‘It is strange how an entire life must suddenly become a memory.’ Maria looked off the stern and wrapped her fur cape up to her chin. A night wind had come up from the north and the galley pitched rhythmically through the rising seas. The lights of the city were now a golden haze on the southern horizon. The lanterns on the masts of the dhromons were distinct stars against this luminous band, gently lifting and falling with the motion of the waves.

Haraldr snugged Maria’s cape around her shoulders and held her; he was unable to banish entirely the great city to his own memories. ‘If I had known the choice I was forcing on you … it is still hard to believe.’ He paused for a long while. ‘I will go back with you. I would not be some helpless consort. Perhaps I could never be crowned, but then Joannes did not need a crown. I would rule.’

‘You would rule a dying empire, and in your own fashion you would become a Joannes. You did not grow up next to the heart of Rome. I did. And I know that Rome is dying. And everyone close to that heart is corrupted and dies in emptiness and darkness, no matter how long their span and how glorious the honours heaped upon them by the sycophants at court. Their souls are stolen when they ascend that golden throne, and at that moment they die, alone and empty.’

‘But you would have the love of your people.’

‘These people I would somehow reach out to from the prison of the Imperial Palace? These people who would perish in a civil war if my true identity were even known? Those who want to restore the Macedonian line would fight to seat me on the throne so that my young loins could bring forth the next Macedonian, and those factions whose interests lay elsewhere would raise their swords on protests of my illegitimacy.’ Maria turned to Haraldr. ‘It is so strange. Zoe and Theodora knew what I am telling you now, and yet in their secret hearts I guess they always dreamed that I could follow them. The shadow of their uncle the Bulgar-Slayer is still over Rome. And because Rome cannot escape a dead man’s legacy, Rome will soon join him in death.’

Haraldr wrapped his arms more tightly around Maria and nuzzled her ear. ‘As King of Norway I will find no better counsel than in my own marriage bed. I, too, have smelled that fetor of death. In the Studion. Among the corpses of a thematic army ill prepared and even more poorly led. And most strongly within that glittering circle at court, that splendid, scented illusion that masks a power that has decayed at its very core. The foundations of Rome are crumbling, but its caretakers have chosen to re-gild the exterior rather than shore up the columns that actually support the edifice.’ Haraldr looked out at the wavering constellation of the pursuing dhromons; the lights were now strung out in single file. ‘The great beast is dying from within. But its teeth are still deadly.’

‘Will we outpace them?’

‘We have pulled away slightly. This north wind holds them back more than it does us because their hulls are higher. But the dhromons can slip in behind one another, and the crews at the back can save their energy until it is their turn to challenge the wind. See, that is how they have formed up. As I said, the teeth are still sharp. And I must take my spell at the oars.’ He kissed her and let her go.

‘I wish I could row,’ said Maria.

Haraldr looked up at the sky. The stars were fading beneath a rapidly thickening haze, and the scent of an approaching storm was on the wind. He pointed to a bucket. ‘Well, you have already proved yourself a good bailer.’ he said. ‘I think you will have an opportunity to practise your skill again before the night is over.’

‘Khelandia,’ said Halldor flatly. ‘And there are ten dhromons instead of eight.’

‘I can’t see them,’ said Ulfr. ‘I can’t see--’ Ulfr stopped and squinted at the line of lights trailing behind them. Except for an occasional light or two on the shoreline, the rest of the horizon was black and featureless. The Great City was a memory. Even the stars had vanished entirely. ‘I can . . . Skita! Where did they come from?’

‘They had been hanging back and running without lanterns. Very clever. Put bells on the oxen and let us exhaust ourselves racing against them, then silently bring up the horses.’ Halldor turned and studied the bowing backs of the Varangians and shook his head. ‘They are at their limit right now.’ He looked back at Maria, still vigilant at the stern, her fur cape bound tightly around her. ‘Have Haraldr spelled,’ he told Ulfr. ‘We are going to have to decide what to do when they catch us.’

Haraldr came to the stern, sweat beaded on his forehead. He listened to Halldor, squinted past the dhromons, and his ruddy complexion faded as he verified the observation. He looked quickly at Maria and she smiled at him. He beckoned her with his hand. ‘She will want to know,’ he said softly.

Maria looked up at the three Norsemen, her eyes the only bright surface on the entire galley. Haraldr pointed to the south. ‘They have sent out more ships than we thought. Khelandia. The fastest fire-ships. I think they are waiting for some sign of our weakening before they unleash them.’ Haraldr looked quickly over his shoulder at the swaying oarsmen. ‘And that will be soon.’

Maria’s lips parted silently, and she inhaled quickly before she spoke. ‘This race is ended, then.’ Her voice was resolute. She looked at Haraldr. ‘You have a dinghy. Set me in it and give me a lantern. I am the prize, not your lives. When they have collected me, they will turn back.’ Haraldr immediately shook his head and Maria grabbed his arms. ‘Listen to me!’ she commanded. ‘This is not the end. I will find some way to come to you. Rome will never hold me again. But what prison would I escape from if you were not free to welcome me? This is the only way now. For your people. For us.’ Haraldr stared into her steady blue eyes, her unimpeachable logic ripping at his heart. He shook his head again. ‘What other way is there?’ protested Maria.

‘Very well,’ said Haraldr. ‘We will lower the dinghy. But I will be the captain of that vessel.’

‘No! Zoe might . . . who knows what she might . . . She has gone mad.’

‘I am not afraid of Zoe,’ said Haraldr. ‘And I do not intend to see Zoe. I intend to bribe the Droungarios in command of those dhromons.’

‘You should know by now that even all your chests of gold cannot purchase the fate of a purple-born.’

‘It suddenly occurs to me that the Droungarios almost unquestionably does not know why his Empress so