been more surprising if I had not heard.' He paused, and licked his lips. Ddewi, alert to his needs, instantly produced a cup of water; the amir waved it aside. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, but his gaze direct. 'The attack-when will it come?'
'The Danes do not think the raiders will try to take us at night,' I replied. 'It is likely they will wait until tomorrow.'
'That, I fear, is too soon for me,' the amir said with a slight, dry smile. The skin stretched across his cheekbones was pale as parchment and very thin. 'Tell these pirates they must wait a little longer if they wish to fight the Lion of Samarra.'
'Of course, Lord Sadiq, I shall tell them at first opportunity. In any case, Harald thinks it will be a disappointing battle. He is confident that two ships of raiders cannot defeat four longships of Sea Wolves.'
'Tell your King Harald that overconfidence is a pernicious enemy,' the amir advised. 'The raiders know themselves outnumbered, and still they come. Does this not speak a word of caution to you?'
Kazimain leaned forward, placing her hand on Sadiq's shoulder. 'Uncle, speak no more. Rest now.'
'Well,' I said lightly, 'if the wind holds good we may outrun them after all.' Rising to leave, I promised to come and see him again soon.
'Tell King Harald what I said,' the amir urged as I withdrew.
'I will tell him.'
Kazimain followed me out, and we made our way to the prow where we could speak more easily without being overheard. 'He is getting better,' she said, quiet insistence giving her a determined air. 'Ddewi hopes he will be ready to walk again soon.' She paused, looking out at the flat milk-blue horizon. Her brow furrowed, but whether in thought or worry, I could not tell, so waited for her to speak again. In a moment, she turned to me and said, 'What will happen when we reach Byzantium?'
'I fear we will have more than enough trouble just getting there,' I indicated the double set of red sails, still coursing off to the west, closer now, 'without worrying what comes after.'
'What do you want to happen?' she persisted.
'I want everything to be like it was,' I began. 'I want-'
I was cut off by Harald's sudden cry. 'Down sail!' he bellowed. 'To oars!'
Sure, his roar shook the very mast to its quivering top. Suddenly, everyone was scrambling to the rowing benches. Glancing seaward, I saw what had alarmed Harald: the red ships had abruptly changed course and were now charging straight at us.
I ran to Harald's side where he stood gripping the rail as if it was a spear. 'The waiting is over,' he said. 'Now the fighting begins.'
68
Slamming the oaken oar into the slot, I leapt onto the bench, recalling the last time I had tried my hand at rowing. It was in Ban Gwydd; we were fleeing the Sea Wolves, and I had never held an oar before. It was with a peculiar regret that I perceived I was no better oarsman now. The long timber was unwieldy in my hands, and cursedly awkward. I found myself alternately plunging the blade too deep, or merely swiping up a spray.
Gunnar, seeing my difficulty, took his place on the bench before me. 'See here, Aeddan, man!' he called over his shoulder. 'Just you do what I do, and all will be well.'
I ceased my frenzied thrashing and watched him perform a few strokes: he pushed the oar forward and dipped it slightly before dragging it back, taking the strain in his shoulders and letting the blade glide through the water. Imitating his example, the oar became slightly less cumbersome, and the rowing easier.
Dugal and Brynach also settled nearby, and I told them to follow Gunnar's lead, which they did, very quickly acquiring the skill-especially Dugal, who with his strength could easily match the best of the Danes.
'We must be calling him Dugal Bull-Rower from now on,' called Hnefi from his bench opposite Dugal's.
Those nearby laughed at his small jest, and I translated the joke for Dugal, saying, 'This is praise indeed, coming from Hnefi.'
'Tell him I will match him stroke for stroke and we will see who tires first,' replied Dugal.
Soon every available hand on every ship was wielding an oar. Alas, now was the extent of the Sea King's losses cruelly apparent: of those who had sailed from Bjorvika with Harald, barely one in four survived; more than one hundred and seventy had begun the journey, and only forty-four remained alive. Thus, despite the aid of the Greek fishermen, the rowing benches were not crowded, and even with the help of the Arab rafiq-who were no seamen-the ships fared but little faster.
I soon realized, however, that Harald's aim was not to outrun the raiders, but simply to turn the longships into the wind and hope the raiders could not close on us. If we succeeded in holding them off long enough, there was always a chance we might achieve enough distance to allow us to catch a favourable wind and sail out of danger.
At first, the strategy appeared to work-and wonderfully well. As the longships swung onto their new course, the red ships turned to follow and we saw the sails fall slack. Moments later, the red ships slowed; having no oars, the raiders foundered in the water.
The Sea Wolves saw it and cheered. But then the raiders hauled the sails tight, and began pegging back and forth at long angles to the wind-a tactic which brought groans from the Danes.
'They know something of sailing, these raiders,' Gunnar said. 'They cannot catch us, but neither will we lose them. We must keep rowing and hope the wind falls.'
Row we did, watching the red ships coursing relentlessly back and forth over our wake as the sun slowly arced across the empty blue vault of heaven. As the day grew long and muscles tired, dark oaths took the place of the easy laughter. The Greeks complained that they had been hired on as seamen, not slaves; and upon learning their complaint, Harald told them they could either row or swim, the choice was theirs-although rowers could hope for additional reward upon reaching our destination.
Others may have grumbled, but I relished my long toil on the hard bench, considering that each stroke of the oars drove us closer to Byzantium and Nikos's day of reckoning.
Sitting on my rough bench, I imagined how it would be:
We would sail into Theodosius Harbour, swarm through the gate, and make our way to the imperial palace, where, in a blaze of righteous fury, we would confront the astonished Nikos with his treasons and treacheries. Upon hearing the confession from the wretch's lips, the grateful emperor would deliver him into our hands for execution- which would be duly effected, but only after a particularly excruciating period of torture specially prepared by the Sea Wolves. The emperor, whose life we had so narrowly saved, would reward us fabulously, of course, and we would leave that accursed place forever.
The dream, pleasant as it was, came to an end when, early the next morning, the wind changed quarter, gusting smartly from the southeast. The red ships were keen to the change. Even as the Danes raced to raise sails, the raiders were swinging effortlessly back onto course.
'Up sail!' cried Harald, as Thorkel hauled at the steering oar, sending the ships onto a new course. Sea Wolves shipped oars and scrambled to the ropes to raise the sail. There came a groan and a crack as the mast took the weight and the great square sail snapped full. I felt the ship hesitate as the prow bit into the waves, only to spring ahead as the dragonhead came bounding up once more. In the space of three heartbeats the longships were flying before the wind like low-swooping gulls.
Oh, but the red ships were faster still. With each swell and surge of the waves, they came the closer, ever narrowing the distance between us. Soon we could see the hulls above the water, and only a little while later, we could make out figures aboard the raiding vessels. The Sea Wolves fell to counting them in an effort to reckon the number of the enemy, arguing over the estimates, and counting again.
It seemed there were at least thirty raiders aboard each of the red ships, while we had only a hundred and twenty-four men in all-Greeks, Irish, Danes, and Sarazens together. Also, we were four ships to their two, and even if we were outmanoeuvred, each raider ship would, as Gunnar had pointed out, find boarding two longships at once a most difficult chore.
But the raiders had something very different in mind, as we quickly learned to our deep and utter
