‘She’s faithful to me. I keep her locked up.’
Moschus dug his hands into the gold again and then stood up. He stamped the deck. ‘Damn! Women! That’s the beauty and the curse of the sea. No women. Damn!’ He looked at Haraldr. ‘I need to think about this.’
‘Halldor, your eyes are intoxicated with their earlier success.’ Ulfr winced into the screaming north wind and flying spray. Hord Stefnirson leaned over his shoulder. They silently studied the sea for a long while.
‘Odin!’ Hord jerked erect as if he had been struck by an arrow. ‘Odin! No! Who?’
Ulfr looked at Hord and shook his head as if to say, ‘Don’t tell me you are as mad as Halldor is.’ Halldor shook his head back at Ulfr. ‘You’re not talking about that squall line?’ said Ulfr, still peering at the sea. ‘That . . .’ Ulfr went rigid. ‘Holy Mother of Christ. Holy, Holy Mother of Christ. That is no squall line. That is . . .’ He turned and looked at Halldor. ‘That is the fleet.’
‘Yes. I think about three hundred ships,’ said Halldor, not at all enjoying his triumph. ‘Now let us see,’ he said grimly. ‘Who can be the first to discover whether they are merchantmen or warships?’
Maria pressed her chin to Haraldr’s chest. ‘If he does not accept, I will threaten to kill myself. I will. His mission could hardly be considered successful then.’
‘He will accept,’ whispered Haraldr. ‘The fact that a man like Moschus says he must think about it convinces me that he has already accepted. He knows that he could do exactly as ordered and still be dismissed because of some Imperial caprice. Rome does not reward loyalty sufficiently well to be accorded loyalty. The only thing I am worried about now is this storm that is coming.’
‘A mere hurricane,’ said Maria with a wry smile. The call from the look-out high above blasted through the wind. Haraldr turned to the mast and saw Moschus pulling himself up the rope ladder. Moschus hung about halfway up the enormous mast and looked into the night. His body yawed as the wind whipped at the ropes; then he jerked abruptly with alarm or astonishment or both. He shouted down the deck. Haraldr heard part of the command but it was too late. The Imperial Marines, spears lowered, were already encircling Maria and him. Haraldr thought of leaping the railing at his back but instantly knew he was defeated. He could not leave Maria to an unknown fate.
Moschus came back down the rope ladder like a huge, thick-bodied spider clambering through its web. His face was livid. He shouldered through the arc of his marines. ‘If you think you can coerce me, think again, Varangian!’ he shouted, clenching his powerful fists. ‘I don’t understand your game, but while I have been hesitant to quarrel with you over this woman, I will be more than eager to accept a challenge from your fleet! You cannot see them yet, but I ordered another three dozen dhromons and support vessels to follow behind this group, simply as an exercise. I will crush you!’
Haraldr looked at Moschus in astonishment. ‘Droungarios, my fleet, as you put it, was reduced by a third when one ship foundered on the boom. And why would I ask that fleet to challenge you now? You were about to accept my offer, were you not?’
‘I was,’ snapped Moschus, ‘until I discovered this treachery. By my count it would take a hundred wrecks to reduce your fleet by a third. Do you plan an invasion? Perhaps the Empress had good purpose in putting my fleet in your pursuit, and I better Fortune by ordering my strength to sea.’
Haraldr looked to the north. His two galleys had approached to within less than a bowshot of the dhromon, which surprised him, but not as much as the fact that that was all he saw. ‘I left with two ships,’ he said in bewilderment. ‘I don’t know why they are coming up, but I can assure you they do not intend to attack without my signal.’
Moschus stepped forward and seized Haraldr’s arm. ‘Very well! You climb up there, and if you can still maintain there are only two ships, I will turn over my baton to you!’
Haraldr was only a third of the way up the swaying rope ladder when he looked out and gasped. The dark hulls virtually spanned the width of the Bosporus and disappeared back into a lowering mist. Haraldr hoped that what he saw was only a small wrinkle in the fabric of fate. He shouted down to Moschus. ‘Those are Rus ships!’
Haraldr studied the ships for a few more moments before he climbed back to the deck. The Imperial Marines surrounded him again. He faced Moschus. ‘I swear to you I have no collusion in this. But those are the hulls of Rus merchantmen.’
‘Which can also be used as warships!’ growled Moschus. ‘It’s late in the year for a trade flotilla, don’t you think?’
‘Perhaps they have been delayed by the Pechenegs,’ said Haraldr. ‘I am certain their business is peaceful.’
‘Droungarios!’ Haraldr’s galley had come within fifty ells of the larboard, and Halldor hailed from the stern. ‘Droungarios! Permission to come alongside!’
Moschus barked orders and the lion-shaped bronze spout at the stern of the dhromon swivelled to address the Varangian galley. Then he gave Halldor his permission. The ships drifted to within ten ells and pitched alongside each other in the heavy chop. ‘Haraldr,’ shouted Halldor, ‘the fleet is Rus, commanded by Vladimir, Prince of Kiev.’ Haraldr sighed with relief; Elisevett’s brother, Vladimir, had been a puny Idler the last time Haraldr had seen him. He couldn’t attack a nest of mice. ‘Droungarios!’ shouted Halldor. ‘The leader of the Rus fleet wants to negotiate with the commander of the Imperial Fleet.’
‘I know this Vladimir,’ said Haraldr. ‘Believe me, he is without hostile capability.’
Moschus shook his head. ‘This is all too neatly contrived.’ He scratched his beard. ‘Here is what I will offer you in good faith. You go and bring this Vladimir to me as my hostage, and I will not attack his fleet pending inquiries to the Prefect and the Logothete of the Dromus. In the meanwhile I will keep the Mistress of the Robes in my custody.’
Haraldr looked at Maria. It was clear she liked this compromise less than he did, and he wondered if she was at last losing her courage; he would not blame her. How many times could they dance on the needle of fate? He nodded to her that they must play this out.
Maria rushed to him and clutched him with stunning power. ‘No,’ she gasped. ‘You cannot go out there!’ She shuddered violently. ‘Hold me,’ she pleaded, ‘hold me. I am so cold. I am so cold.’ Her teeth chattered and she grimaced so that she could speak. ‘You must not go out there. I will never see you again.’ She began to cry and her entire body trembled.
Haraldr could not fathom her premonition. It was only Vladimir. This would be settled in an hour. He rocked her and stroked her hair. ‘I must,’ he said. ‘The sooner I begin, the sooner I will be back for you.’ He forced her chin up. ‘Darling, remember my promise. If Satan himself is out there, I will still come back for you.’
Haraldr’s galleys pulled north through the pitching rows of Rus ships. According to the slit-eyed little Rus functionary Halldor had taken aboard, Prince Vladimir was tucked safely in the middle of his enormous fleet. Haraldr wondered how the hapless scamp had ever got this far, with so many ships still intact.
The functionary pointed to a fat river ship identical to the dozens around it. Haraldr told Ulfr to stay aboard and take command if anything happened, though he was confident nothing untoward was about. He strapped on his sword and laughed. ‘I would tell you to wear your byrnnie, Halldor, but when you see this Prince of Rus, you will be so frightened that you will leap into the sea, and I don’t want you to sink.’
Haraldr rowed the Rus functionary and Halldor across in the functionary’s dinghy. He helped the other two over the railing of the fat merchantman and then swung himself over. For some strange reason the ship smelled like Rus, though he couldn’t say exactly what scent produced that effect. He looked up. Raindrops hurtled out of the darkness.