The Bloody Crown

by James Wilde

  ‘Take care.’ Anna leaned in and whispered so that no one could overhear. ‘In the two weeks you were gone, Constantinople has changed.’

  Before she could say more, the emperor said, ‘Step forward. Let me lay eyes upon these heroes.’

  Hereward frowned. Nikephoros had formed the last word as if he had a mouthful of pebbles.

  ‘Word reached us that you were dead,’ the emperor said, when they approached.

  ‘Many tried to make that true,’ Alexios replied with a bow. Hereward heard the deference his young ally had put into his voice. ‘But we stood firm. Though we lost many good men, we split the Norman army and drove what was left into the sea. Robert Guiscard will not be attacking Constantinople soon.’

  Nikephoros seemed pleased. ‘He knows our power, then.’

  ‘He knows it well.’

  A ripple of relief ran among the gathered aristocrats.

  ‘That is good news,’ the emperor continued. ‘But the word that reached us said you were surrounded. You were about to be crushed. How did you survive? Did God aid you?’

  Choosing his words, Alexios replied, ‘Aye, God has smiled upon us. But we bring grim news. A trap was set for us, a trap made here in Constantinople.’ He let his voice rise above the sudden worried whispers that rustled through the court.

  ‘A trap, you say.’

  ‘Another war-band attacked us from behind while we fought the Normans. Many men fell to their axes. We were lucky to escape with our lives.’

  Nikephoros leaned forward in his throne. ‘And you accuse a Roman of this treachery?’

  ‘The treachery is theirs!’

  Hereward spun round. Ragener was pushing his way through the crowd, throwing off his hood. In his scarred face, his milky eye all but glowed, and he was wheezing through the holes where his nose had been. The men and women nearby reeled back from the sight of him.

  Alexios bristled, reaching for his sword. ‘You. Faithless dog.’

  As the young Roman began to draw his weapon, Hereward grabbed his arm and held him back. Leaning in, the Mercian whispered, ‘Do nothing that will make them think any worse of us.’

  With reluctance, Alexios let his blade slip back into its sheath. Glowering at the sea wolf from under heavy brows, he relaxed his shoulders and stepped back.

  ‘Let him speak,’ the emperor ordered.

  Hereward was puzzled. A cur like Ragener to be allowed to command the floor in the throne room?

  Ragener seemed to find new courage in the emperor’s approval. Looking around the chamber to gauge his audience, he thrust another man forward. ‘They lie. Here is one of our scouts, just returned from the west. Whatever they might say, he knows the truth of how these necks were saved.’

  Hereward snorted in disgust. Now he understood. Karas Verinus had acted faster than he had expected. The general would not tolerate word getting out of his involvement in this traitorous attack. Nor could he allow his enemies time to lick their wounds now that he had revealed how far he was prepared to go to destroy all who stood in his way.

  ‘We have heard from our own good men that these warriors were surrounded by greater numbers. Only death awaited them. And yet here they are,’ Ragener went on. ‘There can be only one answer. They have betrayed the emperor. They offered up aid and succour to the Normans to buy their lives.’

  ‘Is this true?’ Nikephoros asked. Hereward heard no surprise in the emperor’s voice. Karas had already presented this news. This was a show for the court, nothing more. And perhaps, too, it was the emperor’s own revenge for his cuckolding. If so, he had chosen his time well.

  The scout nodded, but his darting eyes showed his unease. ‘I saw them talking to the Normans, to Robert Guiscard. And then they were allowed to ride free.’

  ‘He lies,’ Alexios shouted, furious. ‘Call for Tiberius Grabas. Call for any of our brothers.’

  ‘Even their own brothers do not know the truth,’ Ragener yelled over him. ‘These two went behind their backs to save their own necks. Are they now conspiring with our enemies? Are they sending messages of our army’s weaknesses? Will we find the gates left open one night when the Normans ride to our walls?’

  Hereward felt all eyes turn towards him. It mattered not that these were lies. In the seething cauldron that was Constantinople, suspicion was often enough to destroy.

  Fighting the urge to respond, the Mercian instead leaned in to Alexios and whispered. The Roman nodded and said loudly, ‘Our brothers know full well what happened – we never left their sides. Ask Tiberius Grabas. Or any of the Athanatoi, or the loyal Varangian Guard. Or do you think those great heroes of the empire are traitors too?’ he added, baring his teeth at Ragener.

  For a moment the emperor hesitated. ‘Two stories. Both ring true. But who should be believed? I must think on this, and listen to wise words. Send for Falkon Cephalas.’

  Alexios’ shoulders slumped, but he kept his chin high. Hereward watched Nikephoros’ eyes move from Alexios to Maria and back. His wrath at the humiliation he suspected had left him open to Karas’ snake-tongue.

  Hereward walked tall out of the Chrysotriklinos with the young Roman at his side, but he could feel the weight of the eyes on his back. Once outside, the two men hurried to a tavern by the harbour of Theodosius, where they would not be recognized.

  Now Hereward understood the true nature of those armed men he had seen in the fora. Karas Verinus had already started to move his force into the city. The general would not sit back and wait for Hereward and Alexios to argue their innocence. They had already lost the protection of the emperor. He, Alexios, Anna and the rest of the Comnenoi, all of them were in danger.

  The shadows cloaked them. In a corner at the rear, they perched on their stools, cupping their goblets, heads bowed but eyes always flickering towards the door.

  ‘What next for us?’ Alexios asked in a low voice. ‘Falkon Cephalas will not be our champion, of that we can be sure.’

  ‘Keep faith. Nothing is certain. Power shifts here like the swell upon the whale road.’

  ‘I cannot be so sanguine. You heard my mother – everything changed in Constantinople while we were fighting in the west. Karas seized his moment, when his greatest rivals were looking away.’

  Hereward nodded. ‘Aye, it is only a matter of time. Karas has the emperor’s ear now. There is little you can say . . .’ Hereward caught himself. Alexios’ shoulders were already hunched from the burden of his worries. Nothing could be gained from telling him his love for Maria had only made things worse. ‘But still, we must not give up hope.’

  ‘We should never have left.’

  ‘We had no choice, you know that.’

  Alexios shook his head, the strain carving lines in his forehead. ‘Karas will persuade the emperor to execute us for treason. It matters not what Tiberius Grabas or any of the others say. The matter has surely been decided. Or he will send his army of cut-throats to slay us while we sleep, or walk with friends. Our only hope is to flee.’

  ‘And go where? I have had seasons of running and I am sick of it. My spear-brothers . . .’ Hereward choked down his rising anger. He would not risk seeing this taint spreading to Guthrinc and Kraki and the others. Karas Verinus would be prepared to end the days of anyone who dared walk with the men he despised most. ‘Your fellow nobles think us nothing more than barbarians, less than the dirt beneath their feet. But our place has been earned here, by sweat and blood. We will not give up.’

  ‘Then you would stand, and die?’

  ‘If need be.’

  Alexios poured wine into his cup. ‘We had grown too confident. Once the Comnenoi returned to Constantinople . . . once my mother was accepted back at the court and I became commander of the western armies . . . we thought our struggle was over. But our enemies were more cunning. Karas Verinus watched and waited for his moment and then he took it.’ Abruptly, Alexios hurled his cup across the tavern in a rage. The Mercian saw the sudden glances that flashed their way. They would do well not t
o draw more attention.

  ‘We are not yet dead,’ Hereward said, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘We must find a way out of this trap. The emperor has not made his decision. For now, there are only accusations, only whispers.’

  ‘Whispers grow louder as they leap from tongue to tongue. And soon enough, they become axes. This is how Constantinople works. You must know that by now.’ Alexios wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of a trembling hand. On the field of battle, no braver warrior fought. But the young Roman knew full well his enemies here were more brutal than any honourable fighting men. Hereward could not disagree. For all their learning, their silk tunics and marble statues, the Romans could be the true barbarians.

  ‘Then we have only one road left open to us,’ he said quietly.

  Alexios frowned at him.

  ‘We must ask that God judge us.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CANDLES FLICKERED THROUGHOUT the Nea Ekklesia. That constellation of lights, seemingly greater than in the heavens above, burnished the gold on every wall and every surface so that all of the New Church was ablaze.

  ‘And if God says we are guilty?’ Alexios hissed, his eyes darting askance.

  ‘You doubt God?’ Hereward looked up at the great dome above, the one dedicated to the Christ. Four more domes surrounded it, each one belonging to a saint. ‘There is nothing like this in England,’ he murmured to himself. ‘Gold buys even a new road to heaven.’

  Alexios scowled at him. ‘Have your wits fled? Our heads could be in the dust before one of these candles burns out.’

  The Mercian shrugged, to the other man’s annoyance. ‘It is out of our hands now.’

  Bowing their heads to God’s Table, they crossed themselves. Hereward felt calm. No anger burned in his breast at the injustices that had been heaped upon them, the lies, the betrayals. He was ready.

  At their backs in the belly of the church, Constantinople’s nobles waited. No doubt they held their breath, hoping for a greater thrill than anything they might have found in the hippodrome that night. The Nepotes were there. Four slaves had carried Kalamdios on his chair and set him at the front, where he could mewl and drool and enjoy the hatred in his black heart. Simonis stood at his side, stately, smiling, one hand draped across her husband’s shoulder. Juliana watched intently, the sunlight to Wulfrun’s shadow beside her. Was the Guard commander praying for vengeance, the Mercian wondered? The youth, Leo, was there too, sullen and distracted.

  And on the other side of the church, Karas Verinus brooded. He would not have expected this plea, they were sure. Hereward allowed himself a grin at the discomfort he had caused his tormentor by disrupting his plans.

  The reedy chant of the eunuch announcing the emperor’s arrival echoed through the church. The doors swung open and Nikephoros stepped in, a white insect creeping across the flagstones. Boril and Germanos flanked him, hands resting on their sword-hilts.

  Once the ruler had taken his place at the front of the congregation, the small door behind the altar opened and the prophet shambled in. Alric walked close at his heels, resting his one hand supportively on the feeble old man’s shoulder.

  A hush fell across the church, as if everyone there was in the presence of the Lord himself.

  Hereward locked eyes with the monk. If he could have found a way to speak to his friend he would have, but Alric spent all day and night locked away with Megistus, an honour and a burden in equal measure. The monk’s features looked drawn, his eyes red-rimmed with weariness. Hereward felt a pang of pity. But his friend still forced a smile and nodded.

  Footsteps approached from the rear of the church and a small figure passed the Mercian’s left side and rounded the altar. Falkon Cephalas looked back across the congregation and said, ‘You bear witness today upon this judgement. These two, Alexios Comnenos and Hereward of the English, have thrown themselves upon God’s mercy. They will abide by the pronouncement we hear this day.’

  Beside him, Hereward sensed Alexios plucking uneasily at his tunic. The Mercian jabbed his elbow into the other man’s ribs.

  Falkon turned to the prophet. ‘Has God moved you to speak?’

  ‘He has,’ Megistus said. He took a shaky step forward and peered through rheumy eyes at Hereward and Alexios. ‘These two? Yes, yes, I see it now.’

  ‘They have been accused of betraying the empire . . . of conspiring with our enemy. How does God judge them?’

  ‘God brought me back from my grave to warn all here of doom, for Constantinople, for the empire,’ Megistus croaked. The candles lit two lamps in his eyes as he looked around the church. ‘Doom has been turned away from Constantinople . . . for now.’

  Relief rushed through the court. Someone cried out in thanks.

  ‘Silence,’ Falkon commanded.

  ‘Doom has been turned away . . . by these two men.’ Megistus’ voice rose and he pointed a trembling finger at the two accused. ‘Ruin may return . . . the streets may yet run with blood . . . if all care is not taken. But for now these two men have heeded God’s warning. Their swords have cleaved one enemy in two. Wounds must be licked before that army marches again.’

  Alexios sucked in a deep, juddering breath of relief.

  ‘Then how did they escape?’ Falkon pressed. ‘We have heard they were surrounded on all sides by enemies, too many to fight.’

  Megistus hesitated, swaying. His eyes rolled shut and his mouth worked but no words came out. Then, in a small voice, ‘It was God’s will.’

  Hereward could feel the weight of eyes at his back, not least those of the emperor. The court had been denied their blood, but they could not deny the prophet’s judgement.

  Falkon Cephalas bowed his head, folding his hands together across his belly. He let silence reign for a moment before announcing, ‘Then it is agreed. These men are innocent.’

  ‘Hold,’ Megistus cried, lurching around the altar. ‘There was treachery, aye, but not by these two. Another here betrayed the empire.’

  Alexios glanced at Hereward, his eyes wide, and then he turned and stared at Karas Verinus. The general’s face was like stone.

  ‘He speaks truth.’ Karas raised one hand to command attention away from the prophet. ‘And this will be my shame until my dying day.’

  The court erupted in confused chatter. The emperor stared, baffled. ‘You, Karas?’ he called.

  ‘Not I, but the dog in my employ. I sent him west, with gold, to buy more men upon the road. If needed, they would march in support of the Athanatoi and the Varangian Guard.’

  Karas looked around until his gaze fell upon a hooded figure at the rear of the church. Hereward smiled coldly. Ragener the Hawk was receiving full payment for his loyalty to his cruel master.

  The general pointed at the sea wolf. ‘He is the traitor. He took my gold, and then he took more from the Duke of Apulia to try to turn the tide of the battle. Roman blood was spilled because of him.’ Karas boomed the last sentence with such force that the congregation spun round as one. Faces twisted with rage. Voices roared for the ruined man’s death.

  Hereward could see Ragener waving his hand and shouting in protest, but his words were drowned out by the congregation’s fury. His features crumpled and the Mercian thought he saw bitter realization there: a man so ruined, one who was little more than a beggar, could have no voice among the most powerful people in Constantinople. And Karas knew that too.

  Wrenching open the door, Ragener bolted from the church. The court surged after him in a frenzy of furious yelling.

  Hereward felt no pity for the sea wolf. He had brought this upon his own head the moment he had chosen to ally himself with a man who cared for nothing but his own lust for power. His days would soon be ended, and God would be his judge for all the torment he had inflicted on good men and women.

  The Mercian looked back across the altar, hoping to see that Alric found some peace in the sea wolf’s fate. But Falkon Cephalas was already ushering the monk and Megistus out of the small door a
nd away.

  Alexios sagged with relief. ‘You are a man of great faith to stay so calm.’

  ‘Aye, I have faith,’ Hereward replied with a taut smile. He searched the church for Karas Verinus, but the general was already gone. ‘Do not think this business is over. All we have done is save our necks from the executioner’s axe at dawn. No, our doom may be even closer. Nikephoros still suspects us. Not even if the Lord himself raised us up on the wings of angels would he look on us kindly again.’

  Alexios lowered his eyes, understanding the meaning of Hereward’s words.

  ‘And do you think Karas Verinus will walk away now? He has shown his true face here, attacking us from the front, and he has suffered another blow. Now he will come for us from the shadows. Today. Tomorrow. A week hence. But he will come, have no doubt of that. We can never rest easy again.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  IN THE LAMPLIGHT, the black eyes of the three men glittered with cold glee. Each wind-leathered face was a patchwork of scars. One was missing an eye. Another had lost four teeth, turning his grin into a grimace. Their tunics and breeches were little more than rags, reeking of human filth. But the levelled swords, they were sharp enough.

  Hereward looked from one face to the other. His own blade was still sheathed, and they would be upon him before he had the chance to draw it. The streets on the edge of the Vlanga were deserted at this time of night. There was little point in calling for aid.

  ‘Karas Verinus did not wait long to quench his lust for my blood,’ he said. Scant hours had passed since the Lord had judged him innocent of treachery. Since then it seemed that all the city had been convulsed in the search for Ragener the sea wolf.

  ‘You will not be mourned,’ the one-eyed man grunted.

  ‘No,’ Hereward agreed. ‘I am not a good man. I have the devil in me. But what I lack in God’s spirit, I more than make up for with cunning.’

  The one-eyed man snorted. Barely had the sound left his lips before his throat opened up. The crimson rush glimmered in the lamplight as he pawed at the wound.