God's Warrior

by Hilary Green

  The shrewd eyes skewered him. ‘And how am I to be sure that you are not the chosen instrument of the princes’ evil design? Once you are admitted to his presence you may produce a hidden dagger and stab him to the heart.’

  Ranulph shook his head desperately. ‘How can I convince you otherwise? You can have the guards search me down to the skin before I am admitted. The emperor can be surrounded by his faithful Varangians. I would never get near him.’

  She considered a moment longer, then nodded. ‘I will see what I can do. Come back tomorrow.’

  Ranulph left the women’s apartments with his mind seething. How could he convince the emperor that he was telling the truth? The fate of the whole expedition might depend on it. He was still racking his brains as he crossed one of the many courtyards and saw two of the emperor’s Varangian guards coming towards him. As he reached them he nodded a greeting and would have passed by, but one laid a hand on his arm.

  ‘You’re to come with us.’

  His heart leapt. Could Anna have persuaded her father so quickly? Or had the emperor decided of his own accord to hear what he had to say? He followed the two men back into the palace and through the labyrinth of passages and quite soon realised that they were not heading for the royal apartments. He stopped short. ‘Just a minute. Where are you taking me?’

  One of them gripped his arm. ‘Better you don’t ask too many questions. Just come with us and don’t make a fuss. We don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘Hurt me?’ Ranulph’s hand went automatically to his belt, but of course he had left his sword behind before he went to his appointment with Anna. ‘Look, I don’t know what is going on, but you know me. Your captain Leofric is my friend. Where are you taking me?’

  The grip on his arm tightened. ‘I said, don’t ask so many questions. You’ll find out soon enough.’

  They hustled him through more passages and down several flights of steps and stopped outside a solidly barred door. One of them opened it while the other kept tight hold of his arm, then he was shoved forward with a violence that knocked him to his knees, the door was slammed behind him and he found himself in complete darkness. For a moment he crouched where he was, stunned by this sudden reversal in his fortunes. Then he dragged himself to his feet and felt his way to the door.

  ‘Why am I here? I am an emissary from the Lord Bohemond. You can’t treat me like this.’

  There was no response and no sound at all from the other side of the door. He could not tell whether his captors were still there or not. He swallowed back the impulse to beat uselessly on the wood and instead felt his way cautiously around the walls. He was in a cell, no more than four paces in any direction. The walls were of stone and running with damp, which suggested he was below ground level. There was no furniture of any sort, not even a bucket to piss into. The darkness was total and he could hear no sound apart from his own ragged breathing. Eventually he sat down with his back to the clammy wall and tried to think.

  Someone must have suggested to the emperor that he was the assassin sent by the Frankish counts. He did not think it could be Anna Comnena. There had hardly been time for that. So it must be Tatikios. Had the Byzantine captain’s affability on the voyage been a fake? There could be no other explanation. But if he was seen as so dangerous, why had he not simply been strangled and thrown overboard?

  Whoever was responsible, the question was what would happen next. Did the emperor know he was here? The involvement of the Varangians suggested the order came direct from him. In that case, would he send for him to question him? That was his best hope. Alternatively, he might be handed over to the emperor’s inquisitors. That was a possibility that made him shudder, but there was one outcome that would be even worse. He had heard of prisoners being thrown into cells like this and simply forgotten. He had no friends in the palace who would enquire after him or plead his case. He doubted very much that Anna would concern herself with his fate. The only person who might have done was Leofric, and it was clear from the fact that he had been arrested by the Varangians that he could not rely on his help. How long, he wondered, did it take to die without food or water. Only days, he knew – but far too long.

  Ranulph had learned long ago to endure suffering. He had been apprenticed to it in the monastery, beaten in an Egyptian prison, and the galleys had reinforced the lesson. He closed his eyes and tried to pray. The words ran through his head like water, bereft of meaning. So he closed his mind and made it as blank as the darkness surrounding him. Sooner or later there would be an end, of some kind or another. All he could do was wait. Out of that blankness came a thought that sent a jolt of comprehension through his dazed brain. It was not Tatikios who was responsible for his plight. The Byzantine commander had brought back from Philocales of Cyprus sealed letters for Alexios. Undoubtedly, he would have told the strategos about the plot he had discovered against the emperor’s life, and he was equally certain that Philocales’ agents would have informed him of who else was travelling on the same ship. It was his nemesis, Viviana, who had inserted into those letters the suggestion that he, Ranulph, was the designated assassin.

  How many hours passed he had no way of knowing, except that he had been hungry and had passed beyond hunger, and his bladder had become so full that he was forced to empty it in a corner of the cell. There was no daylight, no way of marking the passing of time. Then he heard a sound, so quiet that he thought he had imagined it. It came again and he shivered. The last thing he needed was the company of a rat. Then he heard the bars of the door being lifted and a crack of smoky torch light appeared.

  Ranulph staggered to his feet, his legs weak and cramped from sitting. Was this a summons to the inquisitors’ torture chamber, or to execution? The door opened wider and a large figure was outlined against the light. A familiar voice said, ‘Well, are you going to stand there all night? I thought you’d have had enough of this place by now.’

  ‘Leofric!’ Ranulph’s voice rasped in his throat.

  The Varangian came closer and took him by the arm. ‘Come along – and if you value your life keep quiet.’

  Ranulph allowed himself to be led out of the cell and back along the passageway, then through other twists and turns until Leofric opened a small postern door and he found himself in a street running along the side of the palace. It was almost dawn and the street was silent and deserted. Nearby another Varangian held two horses.

  ‘Get up,’ Leofric ordered.

  With some difficulty Ranulph hauled himself into the saddle and Leofric mounted beside him.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Ranulph asked.

  The Varangian winked. ‘You’ll see. There is someone I want you to meet.’

  It was on the tip of Ranulph’s tongue to say that he was in no state for social converse, but he thought better of it. He was free. He could smell the sea and feel the breeze on his face. Questions could wait.

  They rode through streets where the common people were just beginning to come out of their houses. Shopkeepers were raising their shutters, there was a smell of baking bread, and one or two women trotted quickly along on some errand or other. Soon Ranulph realised that they were heading for the harbour. Moored at the quay was a solidly built cog and from the bustle around her it was obvious that she was about to set sail. Out in the offing there were three other similar craft, swinging at anchor. Leofric dismounted and handed the reins to a waiting boy and Ranulph did likewise and followed him up the gangplank. Immediately he was swamped by familiar sounds and smells. This was a ship just like the one he had sailed in as a boy. But he was surprised to see it here. Such vessels sailed the northern seas, but they were rarely found among the oared galleys which plied the Mediterranean.

  Leofric gave him no time to indulge in memories. He touched his arm and nodded towards the after deck, where the captain stood watching the final preparations. He was a lean man in middle age, with reddish hair and beard and blue eyes deep set in lines worn by wind and weather. As Leofric and Ranulph reached
the deck he turned to greet them with some surprise.

  ‘Leofric! I thought we had said our farewells last night.’ To Ranulph’s surprise he spoke in English.

  To his even greater surprise Leofric bowed respectfully. ‘Sire, I bring you a fellow countryman much in need of your help. His name is Ranulph, son of Athelstan thane of Erbistock. Ranulph, this is Edgar Aetheling.’

  Ranulph gasped and fell to his knees. ‘Sire, your name has been familiar to me since my childhood, but I never thought to meet the rightful King of England!’ He reached for the captain’s hand and would have kissed it but Edgar instead drew him to his feet.

  ‘No longer king – and never crowned. It is many years since I renounced that title. But you are in need of help? In what way can I be of service to you?’

  ‘You can take him with you and as soon as possible, before the emperor decides to send for him and finds his cell empty,’ Leofric said.

  Edgar lifted an eyebrow. ‘What have you done, my friend, to anger the emperor?’

  ‘It’s … it’s a long story,’ Ranulph mumbled. So much was happening so quickly that he found it difficult to think straight.

  ‘Just know that he has done nothing to deserve it,’ Leofric said. ‘He can give you the details once you’re safely under weigh.’ He held out his hand to Ranulph. ‘I must get back before I’m missed. Good luck!’

  Ranulph gripped his hand hard. ‘I shall never be able to thank you for getting me out of there. But have you put yourself at risk?’

  Leofric shrugged and grinned. ‘I’m not worried. My men are loyal. But I’m sorry you had to suffer. When the order came to arrest you I had to obey it and didn’t dare give the men a hint of what I intended – or you.’

  ‘I understand that. But tell me one thing. Did the order come from the emperor himself?’

  ‘No, from Tatikios. I don’t know what he’s got against you and I haven’t got time to find out. Just get going and keep away from here.’

  ‘I’ll do that. And thank you again.’

  Leofric grinned at him and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Think nothing of it. We Englishmen have got to stick together. My lord Edgar will agree with that, I’m sure.’

  ‘I do, indeed.’ Edgar gave Leofric his hand and the Varangian bowed again, then turned away and ran swiftly down the gangplank to where his horse waited.

  One of the sailors shouted a question and Edgar shouted back orders to cast off. Turning to Ranulph he said, ‘I need to take charge until we clear the harbour. It might be best if you were to go below out of sight. We can talk later.’

  In the small cabin below decks there was a bed, a chair and table and a small stool. Ranulph sat tensely on the stool, listening to the sounds above him. They were so familiar that he could visualise exactly what was going on as the moorings were cast off and the big lateen sail was hauled up. He felt the ship surge forward and the change in her motion as they swung out into the main channel, but he did not relax until he felt the swell of the open sea and knew that they had cleared the harbour bar. Until then there was still the fear that his escape might have been noticed and orders given to stop the ship.

  Edgar came below soon after. He poured two cups of wine and appraised Ranulph with keen eyes. ‘When did you last eat?’

  ‘I don’t know. Yesterday morning?’

  Edgar put his head out of the door and shouted and very quickly a boy appeared with a trencher of bread and cheese.

  ‘Eat,’ Edgar said, then seeing Ranulph hesitate, ‘Don’t stand on ceremony. I have already broken my fast.’

  He sat opposite Ranulph and said nothing until he had wolfed down some of the food. Then he said, ‘Tell me about yourself. Your father was thane of Erbistock, Leofric said. What happened?’

  In as few words as possible Ranulph related the story of his early life, his adventures as a mercenary, his success as a trader and his capture by the corsairs.

  ‘How did you escape?’ Edgar asked.

  ‘I was freed when Count Roger of Sicily invaded Malta.’ He left the details unsaid.

  ‘So, how did you end up in the emperor’s dungeon?’

  Ranulph chewed and swallowed. He needed time to think. How could he tell this man, who had been deposed by the Norman invader, that he was now fighting alongside the hated enemy.

  ‘The emperor may have been told that there was a plot against his life and that I was the potential assassin.’

  ‘Told by whom?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but Tatikios, the emperor’s general, brought a letter from an old enemy of mine. I think it may have contained the accusation.’

  Tatikios?’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘We’ve met. But I thought he was with the Frankish army at Antioch.’

  ‘He was. He came back to carry a request for help and supplies – at least that’s what we thought. Instead, it seems he was determined to turn the emperor against us.’

  ‘Us?’

  ‘The Franks who are besieging Antioch.’

  ‘You are one of them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘For whom do you fight?’

  ‘For Lord Bohemond of Taranto.’

  He waited for the look of scorn, or of anger, but saw neither. Edgar said mildly, ‘So you have thrown in your lot with the Normans.’

  Ranulph swallowed again. ‘I prefer to think that I have thrown in my lot with fellow Christians against the infidel.’

  ‘And I applaud you for it. This is a greater cause. And do you intend to return to Antioch?’

  ‘If I can find a way to do so.’

  Edgar smiled suddenly. ‘That will not be difficult. You are already on your way. This fleet is destined for the port of St Simeon, with a cargo of food and timber for building siege engines and other necessities.’

  ‘You are going to the help of the Franks?’ Ranulph stared at him incredulously.

  ‘As you say, they are our fellow Christians.’

  ‘But you must hate the Normans more than I do – or did.’

  ‘Why so? It was not my father who was killed by them. He lived in exile in Hungary, where I was born. It was my uncle, the holy Edward, who summoned me to England to be his heir. When he died I was still only a boy and the nobles of England chose Harold Godwinson to rule instead.’

  ‘But when Harold was killed the Witangemot chose you as king.’

  ‘Briefly, until they decided their interest would be better served by submitting to William and handed me over to him.’ There was no bitterness in the older man’s voice, only a dry irony.

  ‘But when the Earls of Chester and Northumbria rebelled, you joined them. That is what I was taught in the monastery.’

  ‘That rebellion cost your father his life and you your birthright. You have as much cause to hate me as the Normans.’

  ‘Never!’ Ranulph declared. ‘To me, you are still rightful king of the English.’

  Edgar shook his head. ‘I gave up any claim to the throne many years ago. I had had enough of exile in Scotland and then Flanders and then Scotland again.’

  ‘So where have you lived since then?’

  ‘For a while I was in Italy, seeking my fortune in the wars there. I’m surprised we never met. Then, when William died I supported his elder son, Robert Curthose, against William Rufus, but when they were reconciled I went back to live in England.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘It has been an eventful life, even if I have little to show for it.’

  ‘But what brings you here, to Constantinople?’

  ‘I heard the Pope had preached a Holy War against the infidel and had long wanted to join it. I assembled a fleet, intending to sail straight to Cyprus and thence to St Simeon, but a storm blew us off course and we were forced to put in here to repair the damage. That done, I go at last to fulfil my dream.’

  Ranulph shook his head slowly. ‘It is too much to take in at one sitting. But I count myself very privileged to travel with you – and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me re
fuge.’

  Edgar rose and patted him on the shoulder. ‘I must go on deck. You need to sleep. Use my bed. I shall not need it until nightfall.’

  9.

  Ranulph peered up at the sky anxiously. Then he turned his gaze to the distant shoreline, the mountains behind it indistinguishable from the clouds that were gathering. He turned to Edgar, standing beside him with feet braced wide apart against the roll of the vessel.

  ‘There is going to be a storm.’

  ‘You think so? I don’t see much sign of it.’

  ‘Believe me. I sailed these waters for years, remember. I know the signs.’

  Edgar looked beyond him. ‘Can we make land before it hits, do you think?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Ranulph screwed up his eyes against the salt breeze. ‘With God’s help. But it will be a close thing.’

  Even as he spoke the first squall hit them and the ship yawed broadside on to the waves. Ranulph saw the helmsman struggling with the steering oar and leapt to help him.

  ‘Bring her round!’ Edgar shouted. ‘All we can do is run before the wind and pray that we don’t lose the sail.’

  With a mighty effort they brought the ship’s bows round and she immediately sprang forward like a dog unleashed for the hunt. Ranulph stared ahead through the spray. The wind was blowing towards the shore and the distance was closing with terrifying rapidity.

  ‘If we run on shore we’re done for,’ Edgar shouted. ‘Unless we can find a safe harbour somewhere.’

  It was raining now and that, together with the spume whipped up from the waves, made it almost impossible to see where they were going. Then, for a heartbeat, the curtain of moisture parted and Ranulph gave a cry of triumph.

  ‘Starboard a bit! Bring her head round.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Edgar yelled.

  ‘Trust me! I know every reef and rock on this coastline. God willing, I’ll bring us safe to shore.’

  For how long he and the helmsman clung to the bucking oar, fighting to keep the bow heading in the right direction, Ranulph could not afterwards say. The coast loomed closer and closer until Edgar yelled, ‘We’ll be aground any minute!’ Then, like a miracle, a gap appeared in the seemingly unbroken shoreline. On either side of it waves broke in fury, sending up clouds of spray. ‘Hold on! Hold on!’ Ranulph shouted and somehow they kept the bow pointing to the clear space between. A wave picked them up and hurled them forward. Then, quite suddenly, they were in calm water, in the mouth of a river protected on all sides by rocky hills, and ahead of them were the rooftops of a town and the masts of vessels tied up against the quay.