Bound to the Barbarian

by Carol Townend

  ‘My father never returned home,’ he said, when the tale was finally done.

  She was leaning towards him, her veil was a silken swirl in the wind, and those beautiful brown eyes were still fastened intently on his.

  The Princess…her eyes, they were so large…

  ‘Your father was killed in the battle with the Franks?’

  ‘We assume so.’ Ash cleared his throat. ‘My mother waited and waited, but no news came until the summons for her to ride to Lewes for her remarriage. To a Norman.’

  ‘What were your parents called?’

  ‘My father was Aiken, Thane Aiken of Ringmer. My mother’s name is, if she is still alive, Mildryth.’

  ‘Did your mother love your father?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Poor woman. When did this take place, sir?’

  ‘1066.’

  Her persistent questioning struck him as strange, but perhaps it could be explained; Normans had invaded England, and now they were eyeing up her uncle’s western territories.

  ‘And what happened then? After the Franks had come and their King was crowned?’

  A series of images paraded through Ashfirth’s memory, as vivid as freshly painted icons. There was his mother, red-eyed with weeping as she was forced to dress for her second wedding; there was his brother’s body, floating in the mill-pond with not a mark on it; there was the stick his stepfather had used whenever Ash had ‘misbehaved’. And the last, darkest image, in which his mother handed him a bundle containing one of his father’s arm-rings as she thrust him out of the hall…

  He swallowed. ‘I was sent away.’

  She gave a swift intake of breath. ‘Why?’

  ‘My mother feared for my life.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘Ten.’

  Those sympathetic eyes held his for a moment before she glanced at the approaching city walls. She had lost colour and her hands were white on the guardrail. She sighed. ‘Your early life was harsh, like m—’ she bit her lip ‘—like many. But you have done well since then, I think.’

  Ashfirth shrugged. ‘I survived.’

  ‘You did more than that.’ Her gaze had sharpened, she was frowning at the lighthouse tower in the Palace grounds. ‘Your Captain Brand, he came with you from England?’

  ‘Yes, he’s from my village, but how did you…?’

  Her mouth relaxed. ‘At St Mary’s, I observed the way you spoke to one another. There is an ease between you that speaks of long friendship.’

  Her perceptiveness startled him, perhaps it should not, but what was even more startling was the ease with which she had led him to unburden himself of his most painful memories. As a princess, Theodora would have been trained to put men at their ease, to draw them out and observe them. From childhood, she would have been expected to win a man’s confidence, and after so many years at the Rascian court, gaining the confidence of a barbarian must be second nature to her.

  But it is not my nature to unburden myself to a woman. The fact that he had done so was unsettling. Notwithstanding the differences in their station, the Princess had qualities that drew him. Qualities in addition to the obvious physical ones that usually attracted a man to a woman.

  She tore her gaze from the lighthouse and her smile was warm. ‘I am glad you have found your place here.’

  Ash nodded. ‘I am sure you will understand the lure of Constantinople—there is nowhere like it. You must have missed it.’

  ‘I…yes.’

  Ashfirth Saxon had a strong profile. As his dark hair lifted in the breeze, Katerina found herself studying him, wondering what he had been like as a boy when his mother had told him to leave England. He had a smooth brow, it was high and unlined. His nose had a slight bump in it, but the bump in no way detracted from his looks. And he had eyelashes long enough and dark enough for a woman to envy—one might almost believe he had been using the Princess’s cosmetics! Her surreptitious glances—Katerina did not want him to notice her looking at him—reminded her of what she already knew. His mouth was finely shaped, attractive. His whole person was attractive. She did not need to look at him to know this, she knew it already, but she liked looking at him.

  There was a strength in Ashfirth Saxon that went far beyond those wide warrior’s shoulders, that assured Commander’s stance. She could not define it precisely, but there was…

  His head turned, and in a heartbeat Katerina’s eyes had fastened on the gleaming golden column in the approaching city. ‘I was young when I left, my memories have faded,’ she said, thankful that the wind was cooling her cheeks.

  ‘They will return once you are ashore, despoina, the layout of the Palace will not have changed that much.’

  ‘So Anna assures me.’

  With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Katerina continued to study the city rising from the waters. There was so much of it! Anna’s description had not prepared her for the reality, she must be crazed to think that she, Katerina, could carry this off!

  As the white walls grew ever nearer, ever larger, Katerina found herself feverishly attempting to identify the various landmarks, trying to work out which building was which.

  Hagia Sophia—the great dome made that one easy. And that break in the walls—could that be the entrance to the Palace Harbour? Yes, that must be the harbour, because that monumental building behind it could only be the Boukoleon Palace. But that… Katerina’s brow wrinkled as she stared at a tower to one side of the Boukoleon. What on earth is that tower? I ought to know.

  ‘Are you all right, my lady? You look concerned.’ A warm hand touched her elbow.

  One small question cannot hurt. ‘That tower, sir, is it manned?’

  ‘The lighthouse? Yes, of course. Surely you remember the lighthouse?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I remember it.’ She swallowed. Anna had made no mention of a lighthouse! She gave him a lofty look. ‘I was meaning, is it manned during the day?’

  ‘My men use it as a watch point in the day.’

  She nodded. Yes, that break in the walls had to be the entrance to the Boukoleon Harbour. It was flanked by towers, with sentries on top. There were seven flags on the Palace roof, the large one in the centre was instantly recognisable—it was the Imperial standard with the double-headed eagle.

  Her heart began to thud.

  I am expected. They think I am the Princess.

  She began to pray. Dear Lord, please do not let the Emperor and his wife come to greet me. Let me creep in quietly and find somewhere to hide. Dear Lord…

  The sail was furled, several men took up oars. Their ship glided slowly, inexorably, between the two towers and entered the Imperial harbour.

  They had arrived at the Great Palace, and her true test was about to begin.

  Chapter Seven

  Katerina’s wits had frozen along with the rest of her, she did not think that she could move. It was as though she had turned into a mosaic figure on a church wall. Dimly, she became aware of the Commander speaking.

  ‘Despoina, you will remember the lions, I am sure,’ he was saying, smiling.

  ‘L-lions?’ With an effort, she blinked and came back to herself. The quays were marble—marble!—and lined with statues of fearsome beasts, he was gesturing at a lion. There was an ox, then another lion, and another…they looked as though they were waiting to pounce.

  ‘How could one forget the lions, Commander?’ Katerina forced a smile. Her heart bumped, her cheeks burned. She couldn’t meet his gaze.

  The windows of the Boukoleon Palace looked down on them like eyes, so many eyes. At the top of the building, a row of steel helmets winked in the sun; there must be a walkway high on the roof—a guard post. Nearer to hand, dozens of battle-axes flashed, the marble quays were under the watchful gaze of a contingent of Varangians, like the Commander, they were in red dress uniforms. More eyes.

  The sentries had done their duty, word had spread of her arrival. The wharves were thronged with courtiers and ladies-in-wait
ing. The entire Palace, or so it seemed, was looking at their ship.

  Katerina’s fingers dug into the handrail. I cannot do this! So many people are watching! Her slightest false step would be noticed, someone would surely denounce her as an impostor…

  ‘My lady? Are you well?’

  She kept her voice steady. ‘I confess it, Commander, I feel slightly…apprehensive. It has been so long…I am no longer accustomed to great ceremony, there was much less formality in the Rascian Court.’

  The urge to hide was overpowering. She had to get away! Was this what life at the Palace was going to be like? I simply cannot bear it. All those eyes!

  Katerina looked at Commander Ashfirth, but he would not help her; of all the eyes that were fixed on her, his blue ones seemed especially watchful. A moment more and she would betray herself utterly. She put a hand to her forehead, rubbing it as though it were paining her. If only the wretched man would go away.

  ‘Commander, have you seen Lady Anna?’

  He waved down the deck. ‘I believe she is overseeing the offloading of your belongings.’

  ‘Would you be so good as to send her to me?’

  He leaned closer, a slight crease between his eyebrows. He was so close she could see the dark stubble of his growing beard and the length of his eyelashes. ‘My lady, you have lost colour.’

  ‘I feel a little dizzy,’ she admitted, gripping the handrail. ‘And since I cannot be getting sea-sick at this late stage in the voyage, it must be all those courtiers staring at me…’

  ‘You had better get used to it.’ His tone was sharp. ‘There is nowhere like Miklagard, but there will be…expectations of you here and if you do not meet them, well, gossip flies around Miklagard as well as any city.’

  ‘M-miklagard?’ His eyes were searching, far too searching. If only she could get rid of him, she might manage to compose herself.

  ‘Princess, you must recall. Miklagard is the Norse name for Constantinople, it is seen as a mythical city, full of many wonders and great riches.’

  ‘It had…slipped my mind.’

  ‘My lady, you will have to accustom yourself to being the centre of attention. Your arrival has been long looked for, people are bound to be curious.’ A smile took the edge off his words and he touched her sleeve in a fleeting gesture of support.

  His fingers were long, and his touch, light though it was, seemed to release her from some of her fear. She became aware of a small glow in her belly. His nails were clean and cut straight across. A scar running across his thumb and forefinger said this was a warrior’s hand, but other than that it had the shapely elegance of a courtier’s. She lifted her eyes to his. Does he suspect?

  He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and lifted his hand away. ‘It is understandable you are anxious, despoina. Even though you belong here, I can appreciate all this—’ he indicated the marble wharves and the courtiers and soldiers that filled them ‘—must be overwhelming after Rascia.’

  Ashfirth Saxon would not take the hint.

  Katerina had hoped that he would leave her in peace once he had summoned Anna, but he did no such thing. He brought Anna to her and then hovered at her elbow, with a solicitous air that did nothing to calm her mind. Does he suspect?

  She tried ignoring him. ‘Anna, look at that tower, I had forgotten how tall it is.’

  ‘The lighthouse? Yes, my lady, it soars into the sky.’ Anna launched into a commentary about the Palace and the people on the quays. ‘Look, my lady, the Empress has sent her ladies to greet you! There is Lady Pulcheria and Lady Maria and…’

  Anna, bless her, was doing her best to let her know the lie of the land.

  Why did the Commander not go away? He must suspect…

  ‘You will enjoy being back in civilisation, Princess,’ Anna burbled on. ‘We shall hear Mass in Hagia Sophia. And I can’t wait to see the horses in the Palace stables. If you recall, the Hippodrome lies just beyond the Palace, it must be slightly to the left of where we are now, while the Senate and Palace Gardens will be on the right.’

  A crease formed on Commander Ashfirth’s brow. He must suspect. And if he did not, Anna’s well-meaning recitation of the layout of the Great Palace was certainly giving him pause.

  Distract him.

  ‘Thank you, Anna.’ Katerina turned towards the Commander. ‘Sir, there is something I have been meaning to ask you.’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘It is about those Norman ships we sighted off Apulia.’

  Ashfirth looked down at her. The little Princess was clearly troubled, and he wanted to help her. She was white as a sheet. Still pretty, of course, she would always be pretty, but her expression could only be described as terrified. Far too terrified for someone who was returning home. He had been aware of her reluctance to return, but once he had got her safely on board he had dismissed it, telling himself that it was perfectly understandable. As he understood it, she had grown fond of her Rascian prince, but she would know her duty as well as he knew his.

  This abrupt mention of the Norman fleet had his skin prickling. ‘Norman ships, my lady?’

  She is trying to distract me—there is some other matter at the heart of this, something other than her reluctance to return home…

  She smiled up at him, but he was learning her expressions—the smile was forced. ‘Commander, as soon as we disembark, I assume you will be seeking an audience with my uncle. You will want to report to him about the fleet we saw gathering off Apulia.’ Reaching for the tail of her girdle, she began playing with the fringe. ‘And there were those men in Dyrrachion, too, the Franks you suspected, the spies—he will want to know about all these things.’

  ‘Naturally I shall seek an audience with the Emperor, but not until you are settled in your new quarters.’

  Ashfirth tamped down a flare of irritation. He did not need the Princess to remind him that it was his duty to make a full report as quickly as possible. In normal circumstances, once he had dismissed his men, delivering his report would have been his first priority, but in this case he was glad to have a legitimate excuse to delay it. It had been some months since he had last been in the City and there were questions he wanted answering before he saw the Emperor. He would find the answers in the barracks.

  Was the City still in a state of unrest? Was it true that the army had acclaimed General Alexios emperor? Where was General Alexios, and how much support could he call upon?

  And last, but by no means least, had the current Emperor shown any sign that he could command his body-servants, let alone an empire? Or was he, as Ashfirth suspected, sliding into senility?

  ‘I know my duty, my lady…’ Unfortunately, Ash knew it too well. In his heart he might wish that Alexios Komnenos was already wearing the Imperial purple. Alexios Komnenos outranked this woman’s uncle in almost every respect, he was a better leader; a better general; a better diplomat…the list ran on. He smothered a sigh. Such disloyal thoughts could never be uttered, and particularly not to the Princess. ‘But I am not at liberty to discuss the details of a confidential report with you, my lady,’ he finished stiffly.

  Her forehead cleared and something flickered at the back of her eyes. Ashfirth did not think it was anger because he had rebuffed her—how odd, for an instant, it looked like relief.

  A trumpet blared from one of the towers. The Guard were taking up positions on the quays; their dress uniforms immaculate, their axes polished till they shone like crescent moons. The Empress’s ladies were streaming on to the landing stage, brighter even than the Princess’s entourage in Dyrrachion; they were certainly louder, they were squawking like magpies.

  The ship bumped gently against the dock, mooring lines snaked through the air, and moments later the merchantman was alongside and the gangplank was dragged into place.

  ‘Despoina—’ Ashfirth gestured at the quay ‘—it is time for you to disembark.’ Her throat convulsed, those brown eyes stretched wide—she looked as though she was on the point of making a run for it. �
�My lady, you are ready?’

  ‘Yes, Commander, I am ready. Anna?’

  ‘Here, my lady.’

  The Princess lifted her skirts and took in a deep breath.

  She looks as though she is going to her execution. She looks exactly as I must have done on the eve of my first battle.

  ‘My lady?’

  He had taken her arm before he had realised it, and when she turned to him, Ashfirth understood that despite the gulf between them he had come to care about this woman. If he could spare her this ordeal, he would.

  ‘Commander?’

  ‘The Empress is not among those ladies. If you are…fatigued, I can see to it that the others do not delay us.’

  She looked doubtfully at the noble ladies clustered around the columns on the Imperial landing stage. ‘You can do that without causing offence?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  This smile was genuine, it lit her whole face. ‘Thank you, Commander, I would appreciate that.’

  Ashfirth Saxon was as good as his word. In no time, Katerina had stepped off the ship and had been escorted past his red-uniformed Guard with their gleaming battleaxes, past the stone lions and oxen, and the smiling, staring ladies. He led her up some steps to a pair of double doors that were at twice as large as any she had seen in her whole life.

  The Boukoleon Palace seemed to have been built entirely from marble.

  As Katerina entered the portico she struggled to look as though she walked through palaces like this every day of her life. It wasn’t easy. So much marble! There was a wide staircase with a marble handrail and carved balusters, and a marble colonnade with a view of the sea. She nodded at several more ladies, she smiled until her face ached. She accepted a spray of spring flowers from a servant girl…