was forced to wear the veil continually, and though I could see her eyes, I could not discern the thought behind her words.
'That it is,' I replied, and reflected how different this arrival seemed from the first. Then I had approached the city in fear and trembling, with dread in my bones, convinced that death awaited me the moment I set foot on the quay. Oh, but that was a different man from the one that looked out over the rail. The eyes that now beheld Byzantium belonged to a harder Aidan, stronger and more wise.
'I thought,' Kazimain said, 'it would be a bigger place.'
Glancing to where the amir stood talking quietly to Faysal, I said, 'Lord Sadiq seems very well. It is good to see him hale once more.' Turning back to the glistering white of the city, we watched in silence for a time, my thoughts drifting inevitably towards events to come. After awhile, I said, 'We are close now, Kazimain. Truly, I can feel it-justice lies within my grasp.'
'You are so confident, my love.'
'We have but to present ourselves to the emperor and reveal the plot against him, and our enemies will be destroyed.'
'Allah alone shapes the future,' Kazimain chided gently, moving away. 'Only Allah may say what will be.'
How wrong you are, my love, I thought, the future belongs to those who dare seize it for themselves.
I did not know whether Nikos employed spies, and if so whether they worked the harbours of Byzantium, but I considered it likely. In any event, the sudden appearance of three Viking longships would no doubt arouse some small interest, even among the jaded denizens of Constantinople. And while I did not care to warn our enemies unnecessarily, I could think of no way to avoid it; ships must come to port, and men must disembark.
Once again, I deemed speed our surest hope. If we could reach the emperor shortly after making port, we might strike before the foe knew we had landed; failing that, we could at least forestall any but the most hastily mounted opposition.
Still, it was a risk. After all we had endured, I reckoned it a poor exchange that we must trust fate and fortune to such uncertainty. As we drew nearer and the city loomed ever larger, its crowded harbours lining the stout walls, its famed seven hills rising above all, the thought occurred to me to change our approach.
'Jarl Harald!' I cried from the rail. 'Make for Hormisdas Harbour!'
He regarded me with surprise but gave the command. As the ship swung around unexpectedly, the amir demanded to know why we had suddenly altered course.
I explained that since, so far as I knew, Harald's were the only longships in the emperor's employ, our arrival in the imperial harbour could but warn Nikos that we had returned. 'We will attract the least notice passing among the foreign vessels of Hormisdas Harbour, and our arrival will not be marked if we use the Barbarians' Gate.'
The amir grimaced at the term, but accepted my suggestion with good grace. 'No doubt it is but a gate like any other,' he remarked. 'Humility also has its benefits.'
We proceeded slowly into the crowded port, steeling ourselves for the impending confrontation. Alas, deeds taking place in Byzantium's black and twisted heart had long since rendered our small subterfuge a meaningless gesture.
Closer, we saw that the bay was heavily crowded-ships from every part of the world rode at anchor before us, thick on the water.
'I think something is wrong here.' Harald scanned the clutter of masts cramming the quayside ahead-a veritable forest. 'It is not as it was before.'
At first I did not comprehend his meaning. The quayside appeared exactly as I remembered it. However, Dugal, standing beside me at the rail, confirmed Harald's observation when he said, 'I did not think this place ever knew a moment's peace.'
'Jarl Harald was just saying he thinks something is wrong, but I cannot-'
And then I saw it: the harbour was strangely becalmed. None of the sea-going vessels were moving. The lack of activity on the part of the larger craft had escaped my notice because the usual number of small boats still plied the clogged waters, busily ferrying passengers to and fro. These, however, accounted for the only movement in the harbour. All the big ships-and there were hundreds-remained motionless. I saw ships sitting low in the water, fully laden, but none were making for the docks to unload their goods.
What is more, the wharf appeared more than usually crowded; all along its length, people were thronged in dense knots, and swarmed around the gates, but the crowds, like the ships, were motionless, and I saw no one carrying cargo.
Turning back to the rail, I hailed the nearest boatman and, as soon as he had drawn near, inquired why none of the ships were docking or unloading. 'The harbour is closed,' the boatman answered. 'And the gates.'
Harald joined me and demanded to know what I had learned. Upon receiving my reply, the king said, 'Ask him why this has happened.'
Turning once again to the boatman, I asked, and was appalled at the answer I received. The sun in the sky seemed to dim, and I felt the same awful impotent frustration I had felt the day Bishop Cadoc was murdered.
'What does he say?' asked Harald impatiently. Brynach and Faysal needed no translation, and both at once besieged the boatman with questions. Faysal then hastened to rouse the amir with the tidings.
Gripping the rail between my hands, I turned to King Harald who was awaiting my reply. 'He says-' I replied, my voice hollow in my ears, '-the emperor is dead.'
Unable to credit the words, I said them again, 'The emperor is dead. They have closed the harbours and gates to all foreigners.' Looking past Harald along the line of those crowding the rail, I said, 'I must tell the amir.'
'The amir has heard,' said a tired voice behind me. 'We have come too late.'
Sadiq stepped to the rail, Faysal beside him; the amir nodded to Faysal, who called down to the boatman. The two talked for a moment, whereupon Faysal turned and said, 'He says the Golden Gate remains open.'
Upon further questioning, and payment of a silver coin, the boatman went on to explain that in times of great import-such as an imperial birth, wedding, or death-the various entrances to the city were closed to allow the soldiery to assume other duties. The Golden Gate, however, was never shut, save in time of war; but owing to the crush of people, gaining entry into the city would be very difficult.
This I relayed to Harald, whereupon the jarl called the men to oars, and soon we were sliding slowly along the city's great southern wall towards the district known as Psamathia. Although we found no proper harbour there, the water proved deep enough for secure anchorage-indeed many ships were already berthed there, prow to shore, while waiting to take on goods or provisions, or to make repairs before undertaking voyages.
Thorkel quickly found a place to drop anchor, and commanded the ships to be lashed together. We then formed a landing party.
Harald reckoned he should be the first to go ashore; he had it in mind to proceed directly to the palace and settle accounts with whoever the new emperor might be.
'You are a striking figure, Jarl Harald. What if someone were to recognize you?' I argued. 'We cannot risk warning Nikos unnecessarily. If he escapes us now, all we have endured will be for nothing. We cannot allow that to happen.'
Jarl Harald did not like it, but in the end was persuaded to wait, at least until we could see how matters stood at court. It was agreed that Brynach and myself should go, along with Dugal to act as bodyguard. We hailed a small boat and Harald gave us each a handful of silver coins; he also gave Dugal a sword. The incident put me in mind of the day the monks of Kells first set off, when Lord Aengus offered him a blade, which Bishop Cadoc refused. This time, however, Dugal took it.
As Faysal arranged with the boatman to take us to shore, the amir called me to him. 'You must be very careful, Aidan,' he advised, stroking his beard thoughtfully. 'Our enemies are men without souls.' Then, raising his dark eyes to mine, he warned: 'Do not become one of them.' He stood for a time gazing at me, then left, saying, 'Bring me word when you return.'
'Of course, Lord Sadiq,' I replied, and watched him stoop like an old man as he entered his tented chamber.
A moment later, Faysal called that the boat was waiting. Brynach and Dugal were already boarded. Before sliding over the rail to join them, I glanced at the tented platform and saw Kazimain watching, her veil to one side. She was frowning because of the sun in her eyes, but it seemed in that moment an expression of utter disapproval
