The Bloody Crown

by James Wilde

  Anna Dalassene’s face lit up in a smile and she clasped her hands together. Beside her, Maria wiped away a tear.

  And then the congregation cried out ‘Holy!’ and the church echoed with the thrum of prayers and the new emperor’s communion, but by then the Mercian’s thoughts had already fled that place, to the shores of England where his plot had first flickered into life, through all the hardships and deceits, the sacrifices and the guile, and into the fog of days yet to come. There had been battles aplenty along the way, but the war had been won. And now a new war was waiting to be fought, one to keep secure all that had been earned.

  But that was the warrior’s lot.

  Hereward emerged from the Hagia Sophia into the night. He felt the congregation push past him and stream into the dark. Their faces looked dazed as they struggled to comprehend the monumental happenings of that day. In the square in front of the great church, his spear-brothers had gathered in the torchlight. Hereward strode down the steps to join them, feeling gratitude for their loyalty on the long road. Alric was there. Their victory had done him some good, it seemed. In his face, the Mercian could see no sign of the suffering that he must have endured during his period of captivity.

  ‘We have a new emperor, then,’ Kraki grunted. ‘Let us hope this one differs from all the other bastards.’

  ‘We have fought alongside this one,’ Sighard said. ‘We know he is a good man. But I would not take his place for all the gold in Constantinople.’

  ‘Aye,’ Guthrinc agreed with a nod. ‘Winning a crown is one thing. Keeping it is another.’

  ‘Still your tongues,’ Hiroc the Three-fingered mumbled sourly, lowering his eyes.

  Hereward turned to see Anna and Maria walking towards the palace, arms linked, flanked by their bodyguards. He watched Falkon Cephalas leave them and walk over.

  ‘Do not fear Falkon,’ he laughed. ‘He is a friend.’

  For a moment, Kraki stared incredulously, and then he shook his fist. ‘That dog too? I curse you and the ground you walk on.’

  ‘Falkon serves power, not men. He knew Nikephoros’ rule was ending,’ Hereward said in a low voice. ‘He took little persuading to play his part with Karas Verinus, and then the Nepotes, and then return to tell all he had learned from them.’ He paused and shrugged. ‘Perhaps a little persuading. A prick from the dagger of Salih ibn Ziyad.’

  As he neared them, the man bowed. ‘Anna Dalassene requests your attendance at the palace. There is much to discuss.’

  Hereward turned back to the spear-brothers. ‘You have been patient. If you would wait only a little while longer all will be made plain. I will meet you in the hall beneath the Boukoleon palace and tell you what lies ahead for us.’ As he walked away, he raised his hand towards a large figure waiting in the shadows. Varin nodded in reply and slipped away into the night.

  Hereward and Falkon walked back to the chamber adjoining the emperor’s quarters. The bodies of the guardsmen and Karas Verinus had been removed and all signs of bloodshed had disappeared. Slaves brought flat bread, cheese, olives and wine to the few who had gathered there, ravenous in relief that they had survived the night. Hereward saw the Caesar, John Doukas, standing in one corner with his granddaughter Irene. The old man was beaming, no doubt pleased that now Nikephoros had been deposed the Doukai once again had a foothold upon power. As an ally of the new emperor he could expect to be well rewarded.

  Falkon guided the Mercian over to Anna Dalassene, who threw her arms wide, spilling wine from her goblet. ‘My son is emperor.’ Her words began to slur. ‘All is well.’ A slave hurried over with more wine.

  ‘Now that the Comnenoi have power, what will you do with it?’ Hereward asked.

  ‘First, we will show that the new emperor is merciful. Nikephoros will be allowed to keep his life, and his eyes. He will live out his days in peace at the monastery at the church of St Mary Peribleptos. And then . . .’ When she paused to take a sip, Hereward saw her eyes spark over the rim. Let her enjoy her moment, he thought. She has fought hard and suffered greatly to reach this point.

  There was a sudden commotion outside. Hereward turned to see Alexios enter, accompanied by fawning greybeards. The business of the empire never stopped, and the Mercian thought that the new emperor already looked weary. He was still wearing the symbols of his coronation, the jewelled loros and the chlamys. But when his gaze fell on Maria, Hereward saw his face brighten. She smiled back, the love they shared clear. Now that Nikephoros was no longer a burden, Hereward felt certain that they would soon wed.

  It was then that he felt a hand upon his forearm. Anna leaned in and whispered in his ear, ‘I need your aid.’ He could smell the wine sour on her breath.

  He raised an eyebrow at her, puzzled. ‘What would you have me do?’

  ‘He has no father, and where he will not heed his mother he will listen to a friend like you, a man he looks up to.’

  She paused, and the Mercian watched as Alexios waved his advisers away and made his way to his private quarters. Anna hurried after him, beckoning Hereward to follow.

  In his chamber, Alexios threw off his heavy cloak. He poured himself a cup of wine and threw it back. When he looked up, he saw his mother and Hereward waiting there. ‘You have what you always wanted,’ he said to her, no doubt more harshly than he intended.

  ‘We have it,’ Anna corrected. ‘This is not power for power’s sake, you know that. With you on the throne, this empire can be great again.’

  ‘I am ready for the fight.’ Alexios nodded to Hereward. ‘Are you ready, my friend?’

  ‘I am.’ Hereward thought of all the struggles that lay ahead. But he would enjoy this one night. It had been a long time coming.

  ‘Good. We will seal our long-standing agreement this night.’

  ‘There is one other matter,’ Anna said, glancing at Hereward.

  ‘What is wrong?’ Alexios narrowed his eyes at his mother. He knew her too well.

  ‘You cannot wed Maria.’

  The new emperor waved a dismissive hand. ‘Not now, not so soon. But when Nikephoros is safely sealed away in his monastery—’

  ‘Never.’ Anna shook her head firmly.

  Alexios looked to Hereward. ‘You know of this?’ The confusion in his voice was thick, but the Mercian heard a note of fear there too.

  ‘No more than you.’ The Mercian felt a pang of pity for his friend. Anna never stopped plotting. She would do whatever she had to do to secure her son’s place upon the throne.

  ‘Tell me,’ Alexios demanded.

  ‘You know full well the Patriarch Cosmas is loyal to the Doukai—’

  ‘And he will soon be gone and we will have our own man ruling church business.’ Alexios poured himself another goblet of wine.

  Anna circled him, not meeting his gaze. ‘We could not have won the throne without John Doukas’ assistance. He bribed the guard to let your forces into the city.’ Her voice was soothing, that of a mother explaining something difficult to a child.

  The new emperor’s knuckles whitened around the goblet. ‘What price did you agree for that assistance?’ His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  ‘The price,’ Anna began, licking her lips. She paused, choosing her words carefully. ‘The price for the removal of Cosmas . . . the price we must pay to keep all we have gained . . . Irene must be crowned empress.’

  Hereward nodded. Now he understood. With the Caesar’s granddaughter beside the throne, the alliance between the Doukai and the Comnenoi would be sealed. If this agreement were not made flesh, John Doukas would find some way to undermine Alexios. Power would ebb away quickly. There would be more plotting, bloodshed, and death. Hereward felt hollow. Would these manipulations never end?

  Alexios turned to Hereward. Sadness coloured the young man’s face. ‘What say you?’ he asked, his voice breaking.

  ‘There may be a way for you to see Maria . . .’

  ‘Yes,’ Anna leapt in, ‘there may be.’

  But Alexios must have known it
was a slender hope. For a moment his head sagged, and then he hurled his goblet at the wall.

  Anna nodded. She had betrayed her son, and Maria as well. Alexios had been left with no choice but to sacrifice his love for the responsibility that came with the crown.

  Hereward could only stand there, looking at the other man. ‘Loss makes a warrior fight harder. Though you feel this pain now, it will make you stronger. The empire will finally have the ruler it needs.’

  ‘I will need your wise counsel in days to come,’ he said, his voice flat.

  Anna looked towards Hereward and smiled her thanks. As he turned to leave the chamber, he looked back at the young warrior. Alexios’ head was bowed, the burden of ruling an empire already heavy on his shoulders.

  Now there was only one more thing to do.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  IN THAT HOUR before dawn, on the edge of the Marmara Sea, the Boukoleon palace was still. Hereward strode through the corridors, his footsteps echoing behind him.

  At the entrance to the hall, Ricbert raised a hand in greeting. ‘He waits within,’ he said, a knowing smile spreading across his ratlike face.

  ‘What does he know?’

  ‘Nothing. Yet.’

  Inside, Wulfrun stood like a statue beside the hearth, his Dane-axe upright by his side. He was holding his helm as if he were ready for battle at any moment. Hereward studied the man who had loathed him for so long, who blamed him for the death of his father yet had still come to his aid in the name of honour.

  ‘What do you want?’ the commander of the Varangian Guard demanded.

  Hereward sat on a stool by a table and took a moment to compose himself. He looked up at Wulfrun. It was a time to speak plainly, he knew. He owed that much to this man who had made such a great sacrifice.

  ‘You are an honourable man,’ he began. ‘I am in your debt. If you had not come to me when the Nepotes demanded your betrayal, all might well have been lost.’

  Wulfrun nodded, seemingly uncaring, but in his eyes Hereward glimpsed a deep well of despair.

  ‘I know the cost you bore.’

  ‘There is no need to speak of these things. What is done is done.’

  ‘There is need. I wronged you, in days long gone when we were both raw. You have borne the burden of that time, and though you may not believe it, I have too. I would make amends.’

  Wulfrun snorted. ‘You think there is some way to right those wrongs?’

  ‘I do.’ Hereward turned his head and called, ‘Here. Now.’

  The door opened and Varin stepped in. He was not alone.

  Wulfrun stumbled back. Her cheeks wet with tears, Juliana ran across the room and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Her voice but a whisper, she said, ‘Can you forgive me? I am filled with sorrow for the harm I have caused you.’

  His mouth wide with incredulity, Wulfrun looked to Hereward. He seemed to be struggling to find the words to express his thoughts.

  ‘Leave,’ the Mercian said. ‘Leave now. And take this woman with you.’

  ‘My . . . my oath . . .’ Wulfrun began.

  ‘You have not sworn an oath to this emperor. And he no longer has need of you. Your life is your own.’

  Wulfrun stuttered, still at a loss for words. Juliana raised her face to him, smiling. ‘Do as he says. There is nothing for us here any more.’

  ‘No more games.’ Wulfrun voice was hoarse.

  ‘I am done with games,’ she replied. ‘I am sick of deceit, and I . . . and my kin . . . have paid a terrible price for it.’ Hereward watched a shudder of grief run through her. Her voice became a whisper once more. ‘Now I only wish to make amends for how I have treated you.’

  Hereward was still unsure how far he could trust this woman. But for now she seemed honest, he thought, and the brightness in Wulfrun’s face was clear. Here, for once this night, there was hope.

  A look of gratitude broke through Wulfrun’s confusion and he held Hereward’s gaze. ‘Your debt has been paid.’ The Mercian saw his face soften. He looked like a different man. ‘I have lived the life of the axe for as long as I remember. I found honour, and comfort, in my service to the emperor. But I am ready for this.’ His eyes shone with a faraway look. ‘A new life . . .?’

  Juliana took his hand and squeezed it. ‘I am ready too,’ she said in a small voice, which did not yet sound as confident as his.

  Hereward stood and walked out with Varin. The Blood Eagle’s face was unreadable. With a sly smile, Ricbert nodded as they passed. The Mercian led the way towards the steps down to the dark underground chamber where every Varangian guardsman underwent the ritual of joining. Where every warrior was forced to look death in the eye.

  ‘You thought you had passed your crossroads, but you had not. Now you have a chance to choose another path,’ he said as they walked.

  Varin’s voice rumbled back. ‘You placed your trust in me. I will not forget that.’

  ‘There was no other I could trust to do the work you did. All in the Guard told me you lived by honour, and I needed a man who was honourable, who had the courage of a warrior and could kill like a warrior, but a man the Nepotes would never suspect. And those dogs would have suspected any other man in Constantinople.’

  ‘You risked much to find me. And you bested me in the wilds to the east. How could I refuse you? Now . . .’

  ‘Now you have a place with us. You have earned it.’

  They came to a halt at the top of a flight of stone steps and eyed each other. Hereward felt the Blood Eagle’s cold, unsettling gaze on him. ‘Return to the Guard?’

  ‘Return to the Guard. Stand shoulder to shoulder with my spear-brothers. We will have need of a man like you for what is to come.’

  Varin nodded. ‘Let me think on this.’

  As he descended into the dark, Hereward looked back. The giant of a man was waiting there, a statue of stone.

  In the long, low-ceilinged chamber only one candle flickered. Hereward looked around the suffocating space. Their lives had changed when they underwent the Varangian ritual here. It was only right they gathered in this place one more time to learn what was to come.

  Alric sat against the wall in the circle of wavering light. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, the Mercian made out the spectral outlines of the spear-brothers sprawled around. Kraki, Guthrinc, Sighard, Hiroc, Derman, Hengist, Herrig the Rat. They had undergone so much together. He felt the warmth of their camaraderie.

  In the hunch of their shoulders, he sensed their exhaustion, from the years of battles since they had come together, the seemingly never-ending night. He heard that weariness in their muttered greetings. Soon they could rest. But not yet.

  ‘Now, for the first time, we have an ally . . . a friend . . . seated upon the throne.’ With each word, he felt the weight that had been resting upon him for so long begin to lift a little more. ‘And we have worked hard to put him there.’

  ‘’Twould have been good to know that was what we were doing,’ Kraki grumbled.

  ‘Aye, I have been guilty of keeping secrets from you, but for good reason. If we failed, there would be no blame placed on you. But we did not fail.’

  Silence had fallen. Hereward watched the spear-brothers look up at him. In the candlelight, their faces softened as they understood what a long game he had been playing, and that through it all he had tried to protect them.

  ‘The Comnenoi owe us a great debt, and they will pay it in full.’ His deep voice echoed off the stone walls. ‘This day I have been made commander of the Varangian Guard, and you, all of you, will be raised up with me. The rest of the Guard will answer to all of you. This is the bargain I made with the emperor’s mother long seasons ago.’

  Grins sparked in the half-light. Hereward sensed their excitement mounting.

  ‘There will be gold aplenty, that is true, but that is the least of it. We have the ear of the emperor now, in a way no others have had. We have fought beside Alexios and he knows and trusts us. And An
na Dalassene wants only the most trusted to keep her son safe. He is young still, and he needs seasoned men to guide him.’

  Hereward looked across the upturned faces of his spear-brothers. They had followed him over the vast sweep of the whale road, across trackless leagues. They had followed him on their journey from farmers and woodworkers and simple folk to warriors. They had followed him from the despair of defeat to this, their greatest victory. The Mercian felt his heart swell with pride. Without them, without their courage, none of this would have been possible.

  ‘Ahead of us lies a great fight. Robert Guiscard and his Norman bastards will be determined to attack. The Turks need to be defeated. But with this new emperor, and with us beside him, there is hope. A new age is dawning here in Constantinople.’

  ‘Then we are truly raised up high,’ Sighard murmured. Hereward could sense the wonder in the young man’s voice.

  ‘Wise men could steer a clear course, I would say.’ Hereward caught Alric’s eye as the monk grinned at him in the dancing candlelight. He returned his smile. Alric had always been at his side along this hard road, and knew him better than anyone. He knew what had been sacrificed, and he knew, now, what had been achieved.

  ‘In England, we stared defeat in the face, a defeat that would have broken many men. But we were not crushed. We found the fire in our hearts, and we fought on.’ Hereward looked around those faces one more time, as his spear-brothers considered his words. ‘We have lost a kingdom. But now we have gained an empire.’

  Silence filled the room as the spear-brothers let this realization settle on them. Slowly they began to see the full promise of all the days yet to come. Hereward looked up to the sole narrow window, high up on the eastern wall, and saw the new dawn beginning to silver the sky.

  His grin still bright, Alric leaned over and blew out the candle. The darkness swept in.

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  As we bring this sixth Hereward volume to a close, I wanted to reveal some of my thinking behind the storytelling.