to stick to his disguise, to avoid needless explanations.
‘I don’t know you, friend,’ said a voice, ‘but any employment we can find we will take.’
Loys brought the lamp up to the man’s face.
‘I’m looking for a tracker,’ he said. ‘Do you know where I can find a man called Ragnar, who fought for the boy Snake in the Eye?’
‘I do,’ said the man at the fire. ‘That is a fellow whose fame is great among us. Wait until morning and I will lead you to him.’
‘I need him now.’
‘What will you give?’
Loys caught the threat in the man’s voice. Suddenly the realisation of just how vulnerable he was came over him. It was one thing to travel as a poor scholar seeming to offer more reward as an employer than a victim, another to come as an imperial bureaucrat. The silks the chamberlain had given him alone would be enough to spur many men to murder.
‘My thanks and that of my friends. Vandrad is one of them,’ said Loys.
The man laughed. ‘No need to be afraid, scholar. We need all the friends we can get in your city. Come, share our fire. I’ll send my boy for Vandrad and for Ragnar. They are warlike men you seek, and no mistake.’
‘Have you seen Snake in the Eye?’
The man glanced down momentarily. ‘I have not.’
Loys sat down by the fire, arranging his cloak under him to stop his robes getting wet. He was among wild people but they were potentially friendlier than those in the palace. The Norsemen didn’t conspire and plot behind a man’s back. If they disliked him, they’d just cut his throat openly and honestly.
‘You sent for me.’
Loys had drifted off, numb with the shock of the day’s events and with tiredness.
A man was at his side, his white hair cut short in the brutal Norman style, though he was no Norman. This man addressed him in Norse, had tattoos of dragons and wolves curling around his arms and neck and bore himself like a Viking. There was no courtesy in his demeanour, no hint of courtly manners. Loys had seen his sort enough in Rouen to know their rough ways should not always be mistaken for unfriendliness. His father had been such a man until, by effort and practice, he had shaped himself into a Norman merchant rather than a Norse pirate.
Vandrad and the three others approached through the firelight.
‘Michael!’ said Vandrad. ‘Michael who is soft-spoken but can act like a man when he chooses.’
‘Too long to be a nickname,’ said another.
‘Give me time — I’m working on it,’ said Vandrad.
Loys acknowledged the men, feeling safer for their presence.
‘I have heard of you, Ragnar,’ said Loys in his slow and careful Norse, ‘and I hear you are a hunter.’
‘I am.’
‘I need you to find someone for me.’
‘I have work already,’ said Mauger.
‘I can pay you.’
‘My pay is honour,’ said Mauger, ‘and the service of my lord.’
‘I am an official of the chamberlain of Constantinople, a quaestor charged with investigating the cause of this black sky and the deaths that grip this city.’
‘A title means nothing. How do they measure your worth?’
‘Look at my fine robes. Know I have the ear of the chamberlain himself. Know I dwell in fine rooms in the palace. In there I live better than barbarian kings. I have a scroll of office and the gates of the city open at my command. Men fear me.’
Loys was aware he was speaking to a barbarian so he couched his worth in ways the man could understand — gold, accommodation, the right to move freely.
Mauger looked hard at Loys. ‘You could get me into the palace?’
‘Yes. Why would you want to go?’
The big Viking thought for a couple of seconds.
‘They say they have metal trees there and that golden birds sit in their branches.’
‘This is true.’
‘I would see the marvels of the inmost palace,’ said Mauger.
‘I could arrange it if you help me find the man I seek.’ Loys couldn’t believe this man’s simplicity. However, hadn’t he himself thrilled to see the fountains and the singing trees? He had to remind himself he was only separated by a generation from men exactly like Ragnar.
‘Where shall I seek him?’
‘He is in the dungeons of the city. He has gone to the caves beneath.’
‘He is an escaped prisoner?’
‘Of a sort.’
Mauger tapped the hilt of his sword. ‘And your Greeks cannot find him?’
‘Or don’t want to.’ Loys was surprised at the words that came out of his mouth. Had the chamberlain really sought the wolfman? Or had he sent his men in there to die?
‘Is the mission dangerous?’ said Vandrad.
‘Yes. The man has killed several Greeks.’
‘Then fame could come of it,’ said Vandrad.
‘I believe the emperor would be grateful,’ said Loys.
‘We need to impress him,’ said Vandrad. ‘He’s kept us sat here freezing our arses to the mud for too long. He needs a reminder of our worth.’
‘I can find your man,’ said Mauger, ‘if you can get me into the palace safely. They may not welcome a northern man there.’
‘No one will dare move against you under my protection,’ said Loys.
Mauger said that was good enough for him. ‘But one thing, friend. How do you know of my fame? And how do you know our tongue?’
‘I am a scholar and know many languages. As for you, the emperor’s translator Snake in the Eye mentioned you,’ said Loys. ‘He said you were a useful man.’
‘I am that,’ said Mauger. ‘Give me a second to collect a water skin and some food and I will be with you.’
‘Be quick,’ said Loys. ‘Strange things are happening in the city, and the longer we wait the worse they will be. And here,’ he gave him a coin, ‘buy some food for me.’
At least Beatrice was in the palace, though he knew she would be worried for him. He would send a message with a boy when he got into the city, he decided. If the messenger wasn’t allowed in, that would be a good sign. She would be safe behind the spears of the Hetaereia. There was no indication the deaths were going to come to the palace. What could he do to protect her anyway? Press on, on his present course, try to find the answers the chamberlain — or the emperor — demanded.
The walls of the city were almost invisible in the wet air. Lamps hung on them, and it would have been easy to imagine them floating spirits or avenging angels. He would find the wolfman and stop the madness. If anyone was up to the job, these hardy northerners were. He would take whatever reward was going and retire to live among the olive groves on the rich earth of an island, where he and Beatrice would be safe from the predations of the world. He imagined the bright blue light on the ocean, the dark soil of the land. But before light, darkness. He squeezed the hilt of his knife and readied himself for the caves of the Numera.
37
The city was falling to anarchy. The chamberlain looked out from a high tower of the palace. To the north-
