by Elena May
“A movement at the docks caught my attention. An African merchant had disembarked from one of the ships and was now instructing his slaves as they loaded wooden chests onto a few horse carts parked along the dock road. A curly-haired man came out of one of the carts, and the merchant opened a chest to show him his goods—pale ivory, dark green tortoise shell, gold and emeralds. Erniké would have loved seeing that.
“I should have never come to Constantinople. Too many things here made me think of Erniké. She had wanted so much to live here. What if I had sent her here for tutoring? What if she had been away when the disaster had happened?
“I looked back at the merchant and the ship he had come from. It bore a flag with a sigil I had seen only in books—a horizontal crescent with a disk on top. The Kingdom of Aksum. His land had converted to Christianity over five centuries earlier. I remembered Callisto’s words—this was the inevitable future for everyone.
“I cut a piece of my calamari and brought it to my mouth, prepared for the familiar taste of ashes. But then, my hand froze midair. There, out of the strange, slender ship I had spotted earlier, four very tall men had emerged, pulling a chain of about twenty slaves. The slaves were a mix—Moorish, Berber, northern and southern Europeans. But I barely paid them any attention. It was the four captors that took my breath away.
“The first man had his head shaven, and strange tattoos covered his entire scalp and face. His blond beard was divided into three long braids that reached below his waist. He carried a spear and a round shield.
“The second one had long red hair, which was loose behind his back, safe for two slender braids on each side of his face. His red beard was styled similarly—loose, with two thin braids on the sides. His blue eyes were outlined with thick black paint, and a sword hung at his belt.
“The third had long yellow hair, braided into numerous tiny snakelike braids, all tied together behind his back. His beard was short and neat, and he carried a bow and a quiver.
“The forth carried an axe and a round shield and kept his long blond hair in two braids. He seemed to be the youngest of the four and had no beard. But then, the strange company came closer, and I gasped and lowered my piece of calamari back to my plate.
“The fourth man… was a woman. She walked, taller than any man I had known, with the axe at her hip and the shield in her arm, with the black-and-red war paint decorating her chiseled face, with her golden hair proudly displayed under the pale torchlight.
“A grin spread across my face, and I realized that I was smiling for the first time since I had become a vampire. She was absolutely glorious. And she was certainly no Christian woman. But where had these people come from? Was there a place in the world untouched by this plague?
“Distractedly, I brought the piece of calamari to my mouth, expecting to taste the ash. And then I gasped, as an explosion of tastes overtook all my senses.
“Lemons, grown in the sun. In my mind’s eye, I could sense the villagers who had picked them up—I saw their smiles and heard their songs. Onions that had soaked in all the goodness of this fertile earth. And the calamari themselves, caught in the open seas by brave sailors who had conquered the storm. Never had I perceived the taste of food in such a way as a human. But what was happening to me?
“I had a purpose once again. And as I observed these four wondrous humans, I realized that there were still so many reasons to live in this world and experience it to the fullest.
“I watched them silently as I continued with my food and wine. They conversed with one of the cart drivers and with the African merchant. The red-haired man opened one of the chests and examined the tortoise shells.
“I finished my food and left a few coins on the table. The sun was almost up, and the sky was clear. I should have started looking for shelter already, but I could not possibly leave. I had to learn who these people were and where they came from.
“The four strangers walked away from the docks, leading the chained slaves behind them. I stood up from my table and followed at some distance. They walked deeper and deeper into the city, taking streets I couldn’t always recognize. Now that dawn was approaching, the streets were even busier, and I had to make my way through endless crowds. The scent of pulsing, living blood surrounded me from all sides.
“The sun would be upon us in minutes, and the strangers had not yet reached their destination. I followed them with my eyes, trying to guess which way they were headed. I couldn’t lose them. I needed them. They were my gateway to a new world, a world alive and exciting that I ached to explore.
“The golden rays crept on the ground, slowly illuminating the shadows. I threw my mysterious saviors one last glance and took a turn into a smaller, less busy street.
“My eyes scanned my surroundings for shelter. A cart stood on the sidewalk, with no horses or donkeys tied to it. It was risky—the owner could return at any time and move it, but it was my only option. I lunged underneath.
“A sharp pain consumed my hand and spread through my entire body. I looked at my hand in wonder. It was bright red and covered in white blisters. The sun had briefly caught it before I had jumped into the shade. The pain cut straight through my heart, like a knife, and a grin spread across my face. I had never felt more alive.
“I wished I could say that I was myself again, but the truth was, I was someone different. Someone new. Someone better.
“I could not allow myself to sleep even for a minute that day. I had to remain watchful in case the cart’s owner arrived, always moving, avoiding the deadly sunrays that were creeping underneath the edges. But I had never had more energy. I could barely wait for darkness to fall before I sprang out from underneath the cart and ran back to the docks.
“The ship was gone. My heart broke. That strange slender ship that had borne those wondrous people was nowhere to be seen. They had left, and I had no idea where to find them. How could I even start looking? And where had they gone last morning? Deeper into the city, dragging a chain of slaves…
“Realization dawned on me, and I smiled. There was only one logical destination—the Valley of the Lamentations. The slave market.
“I rushed back, taking different routes from the ones the strangers had followed, but ones that I knew led there. I nearly laughed when I saw the large crowd around the high wooden platform, illuminated by numerous torches. The market was still open.
“The trader stood in the middle of the raised platform, scanning the crowd with his fast, lively eyes. He was a short man, dressed in white, his black curly hair cut into a bowl shape with bangs and sideburns extending halfway down each cheek. A golden ring encircled his head.
“Two burly men, dressed in bright red tunics, stood behind him. They turned around, opened the door of a large wooden structure behind the platform, and dragged out a chained boy. The slave looked so young, with his golden curls framing his milky face, and his large blue eyes wide and scared.
“The trader pointed at him. ‘A boy of ten,’ he called. His voice was deep and pleasant, inviting trust. ‘Healthy, fast, and hardworking. He can help you with any kitchen work.’
“‘Three numismata,’ a man from the front row shouted.
“The trader spat. ‘Three? For a healthy boy? My dear sir, this is a joke.’
“‘Five!’ a woman called.
“‘Eight,’ cried another.
“‘Nine,’ said an old man.
“Silence fell. The trader’s eyes moved through the crowd. When his dark eyes fell on me, goose bumps rose along my arms. I felt as if he could read my very soul. ‘Would no one offer more than nine?’ he called. ‘Sold for nine numismata!’
“One of the burly men led the boy off the platform and to the buyer. A wide grin spread across the trader’s face. ‘And now, my dear ladies and gentlemen, I have something very special for you.’
“He nodded at the other burly man, who opened the door of the wooden structure and led out a slave. A few gasps sounded, and my eyes narrowed as I scanned the
tall young man, trying to find out what was so peculiar about him. I had to admit his looks were unusual—he was skinny and towering above the slaver and his henchmen, his arms and legs were very long, and he had high shoulders and protruding joints. His face was disproportionately large and smooth as a woman’s. His long black hair fell behind his back in a single braid.
“‘A eunuch,’ a man from the crowd cried.
“The trader grinned. ‘Indeed. He comes from the Emirate of Crete to grace our fair city. He was castrated at a young age and never developed anything masculine. He is versed in arithmetics and can read and write in Greek, Arabic, Latin, and Frankish. He can manage any household with unmatched skills.’
“‘Forty numismata,’ said the man who had cried before.
“‘Fifty-five!’ called a woman in a large blue dress. I looked at her, and she caught my eyes, the tight ringlets of her dark hair shaking as she turned around to face me. She raised a thin eyebrow, as if challenging me to beat her offer.
“No one made a higher bid, and the trader concluded the sale. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘we have a grown man, and a strong worker, a Berber from the Emirate of Córdoba.’
“I rose on my tiptoes to have a better look as the trader’s henchman brought the next slave. The man was short and rather skinny, so I was unsure how good of a worker he would indeed be. But something else caught my attention.
“He was one of the slaves those strange, astounding people had brought the previous night. I remembered him walking chained behind them. And now, I needed to find out who his captors were.
“‘Fifteen!’ the woman in the blue dress called.
“‘Seventeen,’ I said. I would have paid many times more, but I did not wish to seem overly eager and make the others think there was something secret and valuable about this slave. His only value was to me alone.
“‘Nineteen,’ the woman said.
“‘Twenty-two,’ I called. This game was becoming dangerous. The market price of a grown man was twenty numismata. If I went far above that, the other buyers would suspect something.
“Thankfully, no one wished to beat my offer, and the trader finalized my sale. My hands almost shook as his henchman gave me the end of the slave’s chain, and I handed him the coins in return.
“I took the chain and walked off toward the docks, leaving the market behind me. ‘I know you are probably scared,’ I told my slave once we were away from the crowd, ‘but I have no need of a servant. I am willing to set you free, if you tell me everything you know about the people who captured you.’
“He gave me a blank stare and responded in a long string of strange words. I sighed. ‘You don’t understand Greek?’ I tried Slavonic and whatever few words I knew in Latin, but the success was the same. If Erniké was here, she could have tried the tongue of Francia. I pushed the thought aside.
“He tried speaking to me, but I couldn’t comprehend a single word. I couldn’t even distinguish if he spoke Berber or Arabic.
“I had not foreseen this. Perhaps I should have bought the eunuch as well, so he could translate. Perhaps I would find a way to communicate with him with gestures. But would gestures be precise enough to learn all I needed to know?
“I felt eyes on me and turned around to meet them. I frowned as I saw a Christian priest, but my annoyance quickly turned to curiosity. Dressed in a rough brown robe, a few sandy curls spilling out from underneath his hood, with a golden cross around his neck and a long sword at his hip, he was no Greek priest or a monk. A warrior priest, but from where?
“His eyes moved from me to my slave, who was still speaking in his strange tongue. The priest replied something I could not understand, and the slave’s eyes widened and his speech grew faster.
“‘You speak his tongue?’ I asked in Greek.
“‘I do,’ the priest replied. ‘I have spent years in Spain and Sicily and have learned the languages of the Berbers and the Moors.’
“His Greek was fluent, although I had never heard such an accent before. ‘May I ask where you come from, friend?’ I said.
“‘I come from the Kingdom of Wessex,’ he said, ‘but I have wandered a lot in the past decades.’
“I had heard of Wessex, but only briefly. My initial annoyance had disappeared completely, and I realized that in my personal tragedy, I had forgotten what my ancestors had believed for centuries—that every person deserved respect, no matter their faith.
“And this priest was becoming intriguing. A man from far away, who spoke Greek and the tongue of the Berbers, and who had traveled many lands? ‘Could I ask you for a favor?’ I said. ‘Could you ask my slave what his name is, and who the men who captured him are?’
“The priest said something in the strange tongue, and the slave replied. The priest turned back to me. ‘His name is Idir. He speaks of savage men and women coming on longships from the north,’ he said and paused to scratch his shaven cheek. ‘I assume he means the Vikings.’”
Chapter Forty
Three Last Tasks
“‘The Vikings?’ I repeated the new word, committing it to memory. ‘You know of these people?’
“He nodded. ‘They have raided my homeland, and I myself have spent time in their lands.’
“My lips curled in what I hoped was a pleasant smile. ‘My friend, I have a great interest in faraway lands, and I see that you do as well. The night is still young. If you have no other business, I would treat you to a goblet of wine and listen to your tales.’
“He smiled back. ‘Always a pleasure to share my tales.’
“We sat in a tavern and ordered three goblets of wine—for me, the priest and Idir, but Idir pushed his aside, shaking his head. The priest and I talked and talked into the night as we ordered more rounds. I lost myself in his stories of faraway lands. To my surprise, I realized that I admired him. He was a Christian priest, but he was also an intelligent and insightful man. I could have talked to him for hours.
“‘The Vikings are fierce and wild,’ he was telling me. ‘They worship strange gods in horrific heathen rituals. They swarm upon innocent shores like waves of darkness, and they even allow their women to join the raids.’
“Idir murmured something, his voice soft and insecure, and his eyes moved from the priest to myself. ‘What did he say?’ I asked.
“The priest took a long sip and put down his goblet on the table. ‘He begs that you allow him to wash and pray. He needs to be clean when he presents himself to his god.’
“‘Then I suppose I should allow it,’ I said.
“The priest smiled. ‘Why? His god is false—it will make no difference.’
“A strange coldness crept through my heart, and I forced myself to smile back. ‘Tell me something, my friend,’ I said. ‘You have spent time with the Vikings. Did you undertake such a dangerous journey simply to learn more about these people?’
“‘Learning in itself is a good reason to take risks. But the main reason I journeyed into this heathen land was to spread the word of Christ. I was successful, and many of the pagans have converted.’
“I froze. When I had seen the Vikings, they had seemed to me an island of independence among this sea devouring all. Was there truly no escape? I imagined these remarkable men I had seen at the docks, cutting off their fierce braids, hiding their tattoos and washing off the beautiful war paint. I imagined that determined woman putting aside her round shield and covering her golden braids with a veil.
“I kept smiling at the priest as I talked to him, slowly extracting all the information I needed. And when we left the tavern, I led him to a dark alley and drank him to the last drop.
“His blood tasted of wine and sin. I had killed one, but so many were left. Idir had seen me, and so I drank him too.
“A surge of strength ran through me. I was ready to be on my way to these strange lands where my hopes and dream lay. But I had three tasks to finish first, and so I left the city behind and continued northwest, trying to cover as much distance as I coul
d in the few hours of darkness left.”
“Less than an hour into the second night, I neared the city of Preslav. The new capital of what had now become the Bulgarian Empire, and the seat of Simeon, Boris’s son and heir. He had earned the title of Tsar—the Slavic equivalent of an emperor. But I couldn’t care less about him or his rule. What I was interested in was a simple monastery on the city’s outskirts.
“Most monks had retired after the evening prayer, but the night prayer was still to come. I sneaked in, unseen. I stood in the shadows, watching and listening, until I learned where I could find the monk I was looking for.
“I crept along dark passageways and reached an old wooden door. I stood before it and took a deep breath. A part of me wished to run away and leave this behind, but then I would always regret it. I took the handle and pressed it down.
“Before me was a small, windowless cell, illuminated by a single candle. On the low cot sat a simple monk, with a book in his hand, dressed in a rough brown robe. A monk who had once ruled the world I had known. A monk who had once been Khan Boris, and later, Knyaz Michael.
“He looked up from his book, meeting my gaze. ‘Are you a demon?’ he asked, and his voice was calm and even.
“His calm unsettled me. ‘You never believed in angels or demons,’ I said, trying to match his even tone although I wished to scream. ‘You never believed in anything.’
“‘And yet, here you are,’ he said and snapped his book closed. ‘A man I ordered executed decades ago, who now lives and hasn’t aged a day. Are you a monster?’
“‘There is a monster in this cell,’ I said. ‘But it is not I.’
“‘You’ve come to kill me, then?’
“Could I kill him? I had sworn a blood oath, but the rule was I couldn’t hurt leaders of men. He was a simple monk now. His death would be of no consequence to the course of history. ‘You seem at peace,’ I said. ‘Do the dead never haunt you?’