Yngvar laughed. “You insist on believing this foolish story. Captain Alexius, if I had wanted to take this fortress, my men would’ve attacked outright. We would not have gathered in a hall while I sneaked off to kill one man. Think on this. Has what you’ve seen today really seem to be me attempting to overthrow the commander? There are a group of soldiers over there who attacked you without cause. Why not doubt them rather than me?”
The captain stared hard at Yngvar, but his eyes shifted to the captives. His disapproving scowl deepened.
“They are cowards,” he said at last. “They want to abandon their posts for safety somewhere else. Where is that safe place, I wonder? There are men in that group who I once called friends. Now, they have split us in two and all of us are weaker for it.”
Yngvar nodded.
“The force here is broken. The slave warriors have joined me. The traitors have chosen their deaths. There cannot be more than sixty of you remaining, and some are injured. There are two ships at dock, but the Navy is not under your command. The moment they learn what has happened this morning, they are going to sail for a new port. You could leave with them.”
Captain Alexius glared at him.
“I am no coward. Orders are to hold this fortress until relieved or dead. That is my intention. I am the highest-ranking officer remaining with Commander Staurakius gone.”
“This was the Arabs’ plotting,” Yngvar said. He shooed away a fly and tried to look disinterested. “They will follow up soon. You can depend upon it.”
“And you know the Arabs’ plans? You must be a traitor.”
“I hate Prince Kalim and all the peoples of this horrible place, Arab or otherwise. I want nothing more than to board my ship and rid myself of this cursed place forever. But I have sworn an oath to all of my crew who died here. An oath of revenge. Until Prince Kalim’s head rolls at my feet, I will remain. In this, you and I have a shared goal.”
“What are you suggesting?” Alexius’s sidelong look hinted that he understood Yngvar’s unspoken proposal. Yet he folded his arms more tightly and waited.
“You are disarmed and defeated. I could round you all up and use you as bait to trap Prince Kalim. But as you just said, I look at these men and see faces of men I once thought of as sword brothers. I’d rather it remain so. You swear yourself to me. You alone. The rest of your soldiers remain under your command.”
Alexius held out both hands as if shoving Yngvar away.
“Madness. I would not swear service to the man who killed my commander.”
“And if I did not, would you then?”
“Let me speak clearly,” Alexius said. He puffed out his chest and drew almost close enough to butt against Yngvar. “I am a senior officer in the Roman army. I would rather you torture me to death than ever swear service to you or any other man. I am sworn to the Empire first and only. So, barbarian, if you want my aid, I will dictate the terms.”
“A prisoner giving terms?” Yngvar laughed.
“You can take our weapons, but we can still fight. All of us would gladly die rather than submit.”
“Not all of you,” Yngvar said, glancing toward the other group of traitors. “But let us not argue. Tell me what you are thinking. I will tell you what I decide.”
Yngvar was about to add that he owned the fortress now. But then he thought of the sailors at bay under One-Eye’s command. If they decided to join against him, he might be in trouble.
Alexius shifted, loosening his folded arms.
“Prove your innocence to me. Then swear to me by whatever you hold as sacred that you did not raid this very fortress at the start of summer. Do these two things and we will work together in peace. Oh, and you will release those traitors to me for judgement and punishment.”
“Will the punishment be death?”
“Of course.”
“Then I agree,” Yngvar said. He glanced at Alasdair, whose pale face did not betray his thoughts. He simply returned the same grave look as Alexius. “You will support the repair of our ship. For once we have killed Kalim we will leave you to whatever fate awaits.”
“If Kalim is killed, we will have no worries for a while after. Leave if that is your desire. But now we need to send messengers north to request help. Though I doubt there is any more aid for us.”
Yngvar wondered how much Alexius knew of the secret attack at Messina. As second in command, Commander Staurakius might have entrusted him with the knowledge. Yet it seemed to Yngvar that he should not mention the plan, at least not now.
They broke up, with Alexius returning to his men with a swaggering step. The slaves still brandished their spears at him.
“Lord, it seems we have balanced all our victories on the edge of a knife. What if the killer escaped? How will you swear to our innocence in the raid?”
“If we are to attack Licata, we will need at least a hundred willing men. I am not happy with his terms, but what other choice do I have? You know these soldiers as well as me. Alexius has not made an empty threat. They would die rather than submit. What profit is there in that?”
“And if we cannot find proof?”
Yngvar chose not to answer. Now that immediate dangers had passed, he had space to think deeper. This rebellion was planned and the commander had not been a fool. He likely knew and there had to be a way to show that he did.
They rejoined the others and explained the situation. He looked to Ragnar.
“You speak the language. Go to the docks and fetch the captain called One-Eye. Take a few men with you. Tell him to meet me at the gates with his officers.”
He continued to dispense orders, asking Bjorn and Lucas the Byzantine to secure the traitors in bindings and keep the others under careful watch.
“You and I,” he said to Alasdair, “will search the war room and the commander’s quarters. He might have left something to show what he knew of this rebellion. A list or something. You can still remember your letters from your time with the monks?”
“Not at all, lord. It has been useless knowledge.”
Yngvar grunted. “Well, maybe you’ll remember something.”
Upon returning to the war room, he was horrified to find Commander Staurakius still laid out on the table with his head now stuck to it by his sticky blood. He looked to the floor. As expected, someone had been through to clear away footprints.
“The injured Arab must have left a blood trail,” Yngvar said. “But I trust Thorfast and Valgerd to root him out. First, let’s find a way to offer the commander more dignity than this.”
Together they resettled the body on the table. They found a sword resting sheathed against the wall. They drew it then placed it on his chest with his hands folded over it. They set his head where it should have been. At last, Alasdair returned with a white sheet from Valgerd’s room and draped it over the corpse.
“It feels like this murder happened a year ago,” Yngvar said. “But it was just this morning. How fast do you think the killers could return to Licata?”
“I think even with a swift horse it might take a full day, lord. But if they travelled by ship, then it could be only a few hours.”
“I agree,” he said, looking around the room. “We should assume they went by ship. Which means we only have a day or two to strengthen our position. Then Kalim will come for us.”
“Are you certain of it, lord? The Arabs might not be associated with Kalim.”
“In any case, he will learn the news soon enough. One cannot mend the roof during a storm. So we must prepare now as if the Arabs were coming tomorrow.”
The war room still smelled vaguely of pepper, and dark powder had been hastily mopped from the floor. They searched the war room, but found nothing that might show the commander suspected rebels. However, Yngvar claimed the commander’s collection of maps. Most fit into wooden or stiff leather tubes. He did not understand maps, but he had learned enough of them from watching the commander. One day, these maps might be of use.
The commander
’s quarters were untouched. Yngvar reluctantly searched through his items. But Alasdair cut their search short.
“Lord, this is a book that the commander seems to have been writing. I believe these are dates of his entries.”
Yngvar rushed to the simple wood desk where Alasdair flipped pages in a small, wood-bound book. The stitched pages flipped with a soft rustle. Each new page Alasdair revealed was covered in neat script filled with flourishes of all sorts.
“Looking at that makes me wish I could read and write.”
“It is not useful, lord. Unless you plan to read Scripture. I found it terribly difficult to learn. Why place so much effort to make sounds on parchment that you can easily make with your own voice?”
Yngvar shrugged. “I don’t know. But this is the commander speaking to us from death. That is magic, is it not? Take the book. We will present it to Alexius. With luck, my hopes will bear out.”
Blood stains in the hall outside the door were muddled and smeared by dozens of footprints. Yngvar teased a trail out of the mess, but the low light defied his sight. Alasdair knelt beside the drops of blood and scanned down the hall.
“We could follow this and learn where they escaped. I think he took a servant’s passage down to the first floor.”
Yngvar looked down the main stairs and heard faint shouting outside.
“He probably fled out a servant’s door as well. With all his armor, he could not have run far unless he shed it along the way. With his leg cut, he might not have had a moment to spare. Anyway, do you hear that? Let’s go back outside to see what has happened.”
They clomped down the stairs and through the main room to the front doors of the fort. They still hung open, spilling in light and angry shouts from the parade ground beyond. Shadows moved with sharp, violent motion across the door. Yngvar felt his hands grow cold, fearing success had fled him.
Yet outside he found Thorfast and Valgerd with her two slave friends standing at the center of a circle of soldiers. Alexius stood before them, but both Gyna and Bjorn flanked him. At Thorfast’s feet, a soldier lay folded up. Both legs were covered in blood. Ewald hovered over the soldier and seemed to be working on his wound.
“They found him, lord!” Alasdair clapped his hands.
Yngvar shoved his way through the angry soldiers shouting for the Arab’s head. The traitor soldiers, however, remained silent. Each one seemed as if they were trying to fade from the world, tucking their heads into their shoulders. Nordbert and his men had tightened their circle and kept sword and spear ready.
“He lives?” Yngvar asked. Thorfast and Valgerd both nodded. Ewald looked up. He was wrapping the Arab’s leg.
“Bad hurt,” he said in his broken Norse. “If he dies, no speaking.”
“He needs to live long enough to prove what I’ve said.” Warmth had returned to Yngvar’s hands. In fact, his whole body shed warmth as he turned to Alexius. He pointed at the Arab. “Just as I described. Take a look and you will find he is no Byzantine.”
Alexius frowned and folded his arms. “So it would seem.”
“Sir, we have found something that may be of value to you,” Alasdair said. He offered the book carried from the commander’s room. “I cannot read but the very basics. I believe the commander wrote dates above his writing. Maybe he mentioned suspicions here.”
Alexius took the book, still frowning, and flipped through it. He paused at a page, and when he spoke his voice had softened.
“The commander was a thoughtful man. This is a journal. I will read it and it might be as you say. In fact, I see names written here that are in that circle of traitors already.”
“I don’t know what that writing is. But if the commander has accused his enemies from death, then you see I am no liar. Here is an Arab you can question for proof. There is a—journal? Whatever that writing is. It names your traitors. Now, let us work together to bring down Prince Kalim.”
“I agree,” Alexius said. “But many still believe you raided us at the start of summer. Swear to me that you did not, and I will promise the cooperation of the soldiers under my command.”
False oaths had led Yngvar to disaster. The gods could not tolerate a man who was false with his words any more than they did cowards. Yngvar stared into Alexius’s disapproving face. If he lied he would gain needed fighting men but test the gods once more. If he told the truth, the soldiers would never be his and he had to find another means to destroy Kalim.
Alexius raised an expectant brow.
“One-Eye is waiting,” Ragnar shouted as he crossed the field. “But the situation is dire.”
Yngvar broke from Alexius and rushed toward Ragnar. The captain tried to follow, but Yngvar turned to Bjorn.
“Keep him back,” he said in Frankish. “I don’t want the Byzantines encouraged to fight.”
He did not pause to see the struggle, but heard Alexius shout in protest.
“What has happened?” he asked Ragnar, who had run back across the parade ground. His cheeks were red and he puffed his breath.
“They know about the commander.”
“How?” Yngvar grabbed Ragnar by his shoulders and shook him.
“News of murder spreads like plague. The ships are all casting off. They say the fortress is lost.”
Yngvar looked past Ragnar toward the gate. The prominent shadow of Captain One-Eye and four of his crewmen formed a dark clump in the brightness of the arch.
“What does One-Eye want?”
“He’s come for the ship in dry dock. Says its seaworthy enough for where they go.”
“This smells like a ruse,” Yngvar said. “The gods are laughing at me. I did not think of the sailors in my plans. But there are enough crew out there to turn this situation around in the Byzantine’s favor.”
He punched his fist into his palm and cursed. “I just got the soldiers on my side. They know I am innocent. But I don’t know if these sailors are traitors or not. Since they are leaving, that is the same goal as the traitors. Perhaps it was their plan to flee together. I cannot let them inside. It will be a disaster.”
Ragnar looked blankly at him.
Yngvar rubbed his chin as he thought. One-Eye and his picked men stood awaiting his answer at the gates.
15
“Are you with the traitors?” Yngvar asked.
One-Eye stared hard at him. He was thin but strong, shaped by a life of sea and sun. The hollows of his cheeks were carved by the wind that drove his ships. The scent of salt hovered in a cloud around him. His lip curled to reveal black gaps between yellow teeth.
“What are you accusing me of?” The four men at his side leaned in, hands on their sword hilts. Yngvar, alone with Ragnar and Alasdair, ignored the threat. He barred his arm across Ragnar’s chest, who rose to the challenge of a fight.
“It’s a simple question. Settle it now. It will make all our talk easier.”
One-Eye spit on the ground.
“I’ve no idea what goes on in the fort. It’s not my remit. But I know a losing cause when I see one. One good shove at these walls and we’re all done for here. My ships are sitting on the water, and you know what happened just last summer. Mercenaries struck in the night and burned the ships at anchor. Can’t have that again. So we’re leaving. There’re other places the Empire can use us.”
“That’s not an answer,” Yngvar said. He stepped closer to One-Eye. He realized that the Byzantine captain’s left eye seemed to drift slightly out of focus. Perhaps that was the genesis of his name.
“I’m no traitor and neither are our men. They might call me One-Eye, but I see well enough. You’ve got Alexius held up over there. Looks like your men are the only ones with weapons. You’d be the traitor, if I had to name one. I should be fighting to free those men.”
“But you’re not,” Yngvar said. He flashed a smile. “So you are a traitor.”
One-Eye fixed his good eye on Yngvar and made to protest but stopped. His finger hovered as if to point at Yngvar, but he gathered i
t back to his side.
“I have a duty to my crew first. I can’t lead them behind walls into a fight on land. I’m not even clear who I should be fighting, except you because you’re a foreigner. But I have a good feeling about you. Sailor to sailor. You learn to trust your instincts or else the sea will swallow you alive. You knew how to handle my ship and crew. We gave the Arabs a good slap. They don’t have much of a navy in Licata anymore. We hurt them.”
“I want to hurt them more,” Yngvar said. “I want to bring fire and ruin to everyone in that place. I want its name to be forgotten by men. But I cannot do it alone. I need warriors who share that goal. Alexius will aid me in this. We both have a duty to defeat Kalim. Would you join us as well?”
One-Eye rubbed a finger beneath his nose and glanced at his fellows. They chose to look aside.
“With your ships, we can deliver our men to Licata before the Arabs can prepare. They believe we will all be holed up here. But we should leave the fortress for them. Let them have the prize they have so long desired. With your help, we will circle behind them and tear down their walls, destroy their homes, and kill their prince. We will rob him of all his wealth. Then we will go on to wherever the Empire needs us.”
One-Eye laughed. “That’s a plan that succeeds only in dreams. Don’t imagine these Arabs are simple men. They have kept us Romans at bay for decades, and we know how to fight.”
“Fighting an army is no different than fighting a single man. In a sword fight, you lead your foeman into striking at an opening you have left him. He thinks you’ve made a mistake. But it was your plan from the start. He takes the strike. You take his head.”
“Very well, I won’t argue tactics with you. At this point, one plan is as good as another. The Empire has forgotten us here in Sicily. We are too far away for the Emperor to notice. It won’t be long before we are all sailing away for the last time. The lucky ones at least.”
“So you will stay?” Yngvar extended his arm in peace.
One-Eye looked at it.
“Well, you’ve got my fucking ship. The other crews are going to make their own choices.” One-Eye looked back toward the harbor and put his hand to the back of his head. His voice dropped. “Perhaps some of them meant to leave all along. But I was never one. My crew and I will remain. The others, I think you can see their choices are already made.”
The Red Oath Page 14
