TLV - 01 - The Golden Horn

by Poul Anderson

  Maria slept with her hair spilling night-black around her, hps parted, lashes smoky below the thin blue-veined lids. One arm was thrown across the blanket, fingers closed on the thumb, like a child that has wept itself to sleep. Harald leaned over and put his hand on her mouth. It was the first time he had touched her in two years.

  She started awake. "Be still!" he hissed. "It's death if we're heard."

  He let her go. She soared from the bed to him. The sight of her young unclad body brought back his dizziness, he gripped her and was drowned.

  "Harald, Harald, Harald!" She clung to him, shaking, her dear fingers biting into his flesh. "Harald, you cannot, we must not, oh, God forgive me, come to me!"

  He shook his head. She saw how teeth gleamed in the gaunt jut-nosed face. "Not yet, my dearest. Have you not heard? I'm a hunted man."

  She nodded, blind with tears. He told her what had happened. She drew a long breath and said thinly:

  "I understand. Surely we are cursed. But go. Fast, before they come. I will wait. I know you can find a way to return for me. Or if not, you will at least be alive. Go!"

  "I came not to tell you goodbye," he said. "Get some clothes and we'll be off."

  She was suddenly aware of her nakedness. He was moved to see how the blush ran over her body. He should have turned his back as she scrambled into gown and slippers, but he could not.

  "Now we're on our way." Laughter brimmed in him. "Come."

  She met his gaze with a despair he could not fathom. "I cannot," she said.

  "What?"

  "My family . . ."

  "They'll know how it is. Come along By God, we've no time to spill!"

  He caught her wrist. She tried to pull free. "I cannot!" she said in a near scream.

  Stabbed, he answered bleakly, "If you make that much noise, you'll bring the city guards."

  "But . . ."

  "Are you afraid?"

  "Not for myself," she said, frantic. "But my father, mother, brothers . . ."

  "I have put them under the ward of the Varangians." Harald picked her up. For a moment she struggled. Her litheness filled his world. Then she lay still.

  "If you do not come with me, I will not leave at all," he told her. "I'll wait here and slay enough of the guardsmen who arrive to force them to kill me."

  "I will come," she said, so low he could barely hear.

  Borne on the wave of his relief, he set her down and kissed her. They scrambled through the window; he mounted the wall and drew her up, then sprang down to the street and she fell into his arms.

  3

  The dock smell swirled in their nostrils. Two Varangians stepped from a shadowed warehouse doorway to challenge them. Weapons dropped as they were recognized. Harald led Maria onto one of the ships.

  Those were a pair of lean, shallow-draught Russian vessels, good on both river and sea, each with room for fifty or more men. Ulf's crew carried supplies over the gangplanks, with much shuffling, thudding, clinking, creaking and swearing. The Icelander's stocky form padded up to Harald and the girl.

  ''We're almost ready," he said. ""I've also stowed the chests of money I set aside last year. No sense letting them stay behind; bad enough to forfeit so much withheld pay. But how in the Nine Worlds do you plan to get our ships past the barrier? I'd meant to slink out with the morning traffic when the chain's pulled ashore."

  'These are light craft," said Harald. "The chain lies low, even under water in places. We'll row like fiends. As we near the links, let every man not at the oars run aft with whatever he can carry: boxes, sleeping bags, anything to make weight. That'll raise the stem and slip it over. Then let them at once run forward, and we'll slide across."

  Ulf whistled. "A good scheme if the keels can stand it."

  "We've no choice. Lacking a head start, we're too likely to be chased down, or blocked off by the Bosporus patrols if horsemen forewarn them. Fear not. St. Olaf is with us. And so," he laughed aloud, "so is Maria!"

  He hugged her to him, wondering why she wept so softly and hopelessly.

  The men completed their tasks and went aboard. Harald took the steering oar of one ship. Maria sat hunched at his feet. Ulf went to the bow. Halldor had charge of the other vessel. They slipped their moorings, put forth oars, and stole out into the Golden Horn.

  Would not the creak and splash of oars rouse the whole city? Harald thought. On either side bulked tall hulls with masts that stabbed the constellations; patrols walked the docks, Europe and Asia walled him in ready to awaken with a scream. Ulf chanted the stroke just loud enough to hear, men hurled themselves at the oars and the ship sprang forward. Behind, the wake swirled ghostlike. Reflected stars fluttered in the dirty water.

  Now, ahead, appeared a dull wet gleam. Wavelets slapped against heavy floats; they heard the scrape of iron. "Row!" bellowed Ulf. The shadowy hull grunted back at him. Harald clutched the steering oar with both hands and aimed his prow where the chain seemed lowest.

  "To the stern!"

  Feet boomed across planks and thwarts. Harald saw the stempost rise into the winking sky. Then the shock of impact threw him against the starboard bulwark.

  "Forward!" he howled. "Before we slip off!"

  They scrambled back, cursing and clutching. The stern rose. The strakes groaned. The ship went over. Water sheeted white at the bows. They rocked toward the stillness beyond.

  Some yards off, Harald heard a scream and snapping. It was like a lance in him. Christ, the other ship had broken!

  "Over there! Haul her along the chain!" he cried.

  Two halves of the second galley bobbed about among splinters. They must have struck where the links were too high. Most of the men aboard, ironclad, had gone down like stones. A few clung to the chain or the wreckage. Harald leaned out and clasped one hand. It was Halldor he drew dripping from the water.

  The Icelander smote his fist on a bench. ''Dead," he mumbled. "'Drowning under our feet!"

  "Is everyone aboard?" called Harald across the racketing length of the hull.

  "Down in the muck," Halldor raved. "Down for fish to eat. God help me, those were my friends!"

  "We'll all be fishbait if we don't start rowing again," said Harald. "Take those oars, you scoundrels!"

  The ship rattled away. Squinting across dark waters, Harald saw torches bob about and heard remote cries. But folk would need more time to learn what had happened and start a chase. He pointed his bows toward Russia and breathed a huge sigh.

  "We're away, Maria," he said. It was a prayer of thanks. "We're free."

  She sat unstirring. The loose hair hid her face.

  Ulf came aft to report. "We saved about twenty," he said. "We're leaking, but not too much. Surely a good Norn stood over your cradle."

  "We've yet to clear the Bosporus," Harald warned.

  Ulf held a wet finger aloft. "But a fine stern wind is blowing. We can sail from here. No, I hold that you're a lucky man."

  "Save in dice," laughed Harald, wild with victory.

  "Ah, yes, you do owe me some byzants, do you not? I'll broach a beer keg. The men can have a drink when the mast's been stepped."

  The first oyster-shell glow of dawn stole into heaven. Harald saw the land loom, white with mist, on either side. Yes, he thought, the years down here had not been lost. He had gained wealth and wisdom, had seen for himself how much a wide realm under a strong lord could be, had found Maria. What more could he want?

  He turned to the girl. She sat shivering in the cold early wind. He threw his cloak about her. She glanced up with an unsure smile. "Thank you," she said.

  His free hand ruffled her hair. "Thank me not. I have to take care of my dearest possession."

  She bit her lip and looked away. He watched the clean profile with such a rush of love that he felt a stranger to himself.

  "Why do you mourn?" he asked. Down in the hull his men, a crew of bears, yawned and stretched and rumbled with talk, but he had forgotten them. "For those we lost? But they will be with holy Olaf. T
his is a day of gladness, Maria."

  She shook her head, still staring over the side. One hand clenched the bulwark. "Only sorrow, Harald. I cannot go with you."

  He would not let himself understand. "Because we aren't wed?" He chuckled, denying the sudden chill in him. "Have no fear. A ship is no place to debauch you. We shall be married in Kiev."

  "I came so you would escape," she told him. "You said otherwise you would stay and be killed. But now you must set me ashore."

  He stood unmoving. The sail cracked with a flaw of wind.

  "Why?" he asked finally.

  "Because of my people. Father, mother, brothers.

  Think you they will be spared, once the Empress learns I fled with you?"

  "But the Varangians have sworn ..."

  "How much is that worth?" she asked dully. "Let the Varangians be sent abroad, and when they come back my father is tortured to death, my mother poisoned, my brothers blinded. If there is any fear the Varangians will then do anything, the court can give out that my people died of natural causes. Do your friends even know the names of my brothers?"

  Blindness wavered before him.

  "I love you," said Maria. "Only God knows how much I love you."

  "Then come with me!" he said like a beggar.

  She made no reply.

  Wrath stirred in him. "I can carry you off whether you will or no," he said.

  Turning, she caught his gaze. "I thought you loved me."

  "I . . ." The ship veered with the jerk he gave the rudder. "Maria, forget them! Says not the marriage vow . . . forsaking all others?"

  "I could never forget," she said. "They would always be there."

  The sun was rising. It burned his eyes.

  "What will you do?" he asked very slowly.

  "I will go back and say you forced me, but I prevailed on you to let me go. And then ..."

  "You will marry someone," he said without tone.

  "Perhaps. Some decent man, and I will be a good wife to him, and . . . and I will never stop thinking of you."

  "Take the helm, Halldor," said Harald. He joined her on the bench and drew her close to him. They were silent for a long while.

  "You will marry too," she said. "Will you name one of your daughters for me?"

  "Oh, God!" He beat the thwart with his fist, for he had long ago forgotten how to weep.

  "We had too much happiness," she said. "Man was not put on earth to be happy."

  "Then why?" he mumbled.

  "I know not. I should be thankful for having seen you. That was worth many lifetimes." She kissed him. He remembered that her lips had been salt the first time, too.

  Morning wore away. They passed the galleys at the Bosporus mouth with a tale of a scouting mission that was readily believed.

  Harald called to Halldor, "Bring us to land at yonder villa, a mile or so ahead."

  The Icelander nodded and stared back at the stem-post. None of the men watched those two who sat beneath him.

  When the ship grounded, Harald sprang into the shallows and carried Maria ashore. The folk of the villa were running down to gape. Among them was a man in rich dress. He looked, half frightened, at the giant who approached him.

  "Are you the master here?" asked Harald.

  "That is true, kyrios. You are Varangian guardsmen, are you not?"

  "Here is a lady of the court who must have suitable escort back to Constantinople. Imperial business."

  The man bowed. "At once, despotes."

  "Well, wait a bit," said Harald roughly.

  He returned to the girl, who stood alone on the beach with thin clothes and unbound hair blowing around her. The face she raised to him held a calm like death.

  "So I will say farewell, Maria," said Harald.

  She tried to speak and could not.

  "I will always love you," he said.

  She huddled against him. He bent his head to hers. She broke free and ran. He stood looking after her until she had vanished into the house.

  His ship was pushed out again, the sail caught wind and the bows hissed in the dark water. Harald shook himself. His eyes turned seaward. "This may blow up to a storm," he said in a flat voice.

  "We'll weather it," Ulf said. "We've weathered many gales."

  Harald nodded. The men must not see him downhearted. Rusty skaldship came back to him, he cleared his throat and made a verse.

  "Sicily has seen us

  sailing past her coastline,

  how our winged sea horses

  hastened underneath us.

  Mightily we've mastered men

  and lands and riches. ..."

  He paused, then finished:

  "Golden-ringed, the girl, though,

  greets me without welcome."

  He was thinking of Elizabeth, the Russian princess.

  She should be of marriageable age now, and he would need strong allies in a world full of swords. He used the same last lines for every verse he made on that voyage.

  XIII

  How Harald Was Wedded

  1

  Kiev had grown vastly in the years since Jaroslav the Wise had made it his seat. Behind the iron-gated stone walls dwelt more folk, perhaps, than in the whole of Norway. The palace was constructed of stone, too, as were many of the newer churches. There was a school where the children of noblemen learned to read and write. To the marketplaces came goods from half the world. Nonetheless, those whom the Grand Prince received with honor in his throne room, on a summer's day in the year of Our Lord 1044, were reckoned uncommon.

  One was tall and slender; he would have been handsome save for the scar which puckered his cheek. Another was short and stout, black-bearded and swaggering. The third overtopped them, a giant with a bleached yellow mane and the left brow cocked high. His clothes were good but travel-stained, hardly fitting, thought Jaroslav's courtiers, for a man so wealthy. Harald Sigurdharson had sent much gold north over the years, which the Grand Prince had put out for him at the ordinary interest of twenty-five percent; he was rich.

  No doubt this self-styled king would outfit himself properly and make suitable gifts to his host when he had been able to look over his treasures. Rumor buzzed that in that hoard was an actual bottle of Jordan water, which Harald intended to give Jaroslav as well as more priceable things. Meanwhile, the Russians listened with interest to his tale, only disappointed that he was so short-spoken about it.

  "Because of the war," he said, "we feared the Dnieper mouth would be blocked off. So we went to the Azov Sea instead and up the Don. Meeting men from Chernigov, we were brought thither and spent the winter. Its lord guested us generously."

  "So much so that it's nigh a year you've been in Russia before coming to Kiev," said Jaroslav dryly.

  Harald's mouth tightened. "I meant no discourtesy to you. But for a time ... we were weary. Nothing seemed to matter very much. Now my will has come to me, to claim my rights."

  "Against Magnus Olafsson?" Jaroslav tugged his gray beard. His face had grown deeply lined. But the wasted body sat stiff on the throne. "He's not one to step peacefully down from his lordship. And remember he is the son of Norway's eternal king."

  "I will not be less than any man," said Harald harshly. "Kneeling to others brought me nothing but ill. But I'll see if Magnus and I cannot reach some understanding."

  "That would be best. We shall be glad to help your cause as much as is lawful. Surely you have rights which could not be denied you without sin. And you served us well, long ago, you and Rognvald Brusason. He, by the bye, has returned to Orkney with his son," said Jaroslav absently. One might guess the calculation behind those book-weakened eyes. Magnus was not as tightly bound to Kiev or as friendly to the Orthodox faith as Harald could be. . . . Let ill fortune befall the heirless Magnus and the Norse-Danish realm might fall into chaos or a state of hostility that was not desirable on Kiev's Baltic flank. . . .

  "'You are weary," said Jaroslav. "Let our servants show you to suitable apartments. Your men shall be quar
tered. In the evening we will feast. At that time you must renew old acquaintances, with the Grand Princess Ingigerdh ..." he paused, "and our daughter."

  2

  One morning not long afterward the opportunity came for which Harald had been waiting. He walked into the palace garden, as if by accident, when Jaroslav's oldest daughter was there. She sat under a rose trellis, stitching a silken shirt, attended only by two elderly maidservants. Her eyes lowered as became a well-born girl, she was not aware of him before the long shadow fell over her.