He had looked to One-Eye Petronius as he spoke, but the captain stared away to the sea.
“Be well,” Yngvar said. “Fate bought us together. Now Fate parts us forever. But I will remember what we did here, and I will name you and your men as heroes in the songs we will sing of this day.”
So the scouts went off to find their fates.
Yngvar guessed they found the death they expected.
The battle at Messina had happened. One-Eye Petronius had gone to find others of the so-called Byzantine Navy. He returned with reports that the Byzantines had all perished at Messina. The entire fleet was sunk. Thousands upon thousands had died. The Byzantine leader was taken captive.
All the besieged fortresses had collapsed. The Arabs sent the Byzantines back across the strait and out of Sicily. To Yngvar, it seemed they would never return. They had made their attempt. They had stumbled and fell. With the loss of so many men and ships, another attempt made no sense.
Feeling the same, One-Eye decided to remain with Yngvar at least through the winter. He had nowhere to go. His little ship was of no use to anyone on its own. He and his crew were pirates in the making. For now, they considered themselves sailors in the Byzantine Navy. But there was no navy anymore, at least none here. Soon, they would take to raiding, first against Arabs and then to any vulnerable target. It seemed inevitable.
So Yngvar crossed the camp they had established for the winter. One-Eye’s men knew of this island, a haven for generations of what must have been raiders, pirates, and outcasts. Neither he nor anyone else wanted to travel north in winter. Besides, the balmy weather here was better than the slush and ice waiting them at home.
He ducked into his tent. His eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dim light.
Alasdair sat cross-legged on a cloth. Valgerd sat next to him. Both looked up and smiled.
“One-Eye will land soon,” he said. “I expect he will have the new cloth you asked for, Valgerd.”
She nodded. She could still hardly speak. Her injury was healing. But she wore a gray scarf to hide the horrible stitches one of Sergius’s men had to give her. In the end, there was no other way to keep the cut from reopening. She spent the first month hovering between life and death. But she was fed a fish paste that gave her strength. Being Norse, she recovered. Norsemen, Yngvar mused, were the strongest folk in whole circle of the world. Of course she had survived.
Alasdair had chosen vengeance. It might have been a sin to his god. But the Old Gods who still watched them from their golden halls were greatly pleased. They rewarded him with Valgerd’s life. Alasdair may have fooled himself, claiming his god showed mercy to a sinner. But Yngvar would never be convinced to trust a god that claimed to love everyone yet killed his own people with a careless hand. Perhaps this Christian god was really Loki in disguise. Who could understand the world of the gods? No matter, Alasdair was happy and prayed daily to Christ to beg forgiveness.
Yngvar settled beside them. Alasdair had a stack of gold coins he was examining.
“All of these have different faces on them,” he said. “I had never considered to look so closely at coins before. It is like a record of history, though I cannot say what it all means.”
He pressed one into Yngvar’s hand. The gold disc was warm and smooth. Yngvar held it up to the light to see better.
“I suppose that could be a man’s head,” he said. “Those are words around the edges. Do you know what they mean?”
“No, lord, but I suppose they must be praise for the man on the coin.”
Yngvar flipped the coin back on the cloth. He and Alasdair stared at it.
“There is one final leg to this long journey,” Yngvar said at last. “No one has spoken of it, but everyone dreams of it. Me, especially.”
“The lost king’s treasure?” Alasdair asked. Yngvar nodded. “I was hoping you’d forget about that. It is cursed, lord.”
“It is,” Yngvar agreed, staring at the small stack of dull gold coins. “But the curse can be removed. We just need to learn the king’s name. I know. It is easier said than done. Yet I’m certain we could find out what it is. What I am less certain of is finding the island again. I have a notion, but too much has happened since. My memory fades.”
Alasdair grew quiet. Too quiet. He sat still, staring at the cloth.
Valgerd frowned and shook him gently by the shoulder. The two looked at each other, and she nodded toward a corner of the tent.
“Very well,” Alasdair said. “I was eventually going to show this to you, lord. But I hoped to wait until we were better rested. I suppose if you are thinking of the treasure, then you should see it now.”
Alasdair rose to his feet. He slipped behind Valgerd to retrieve a leather sack from his belongings heaped in the shadowy corner. He returned and sat down again, pulling open the flap of the sack.
“When you were Captain Alexius’s hostage, I went to retrieve your sword. I had more time to wander the fort, as I was certain nothing would happen until after sunset. I returned to Commander Staurakius’s war room. I remembered you had wanted to take these as well. So I packed them for you.”
Alasdair upturned the bag. Heavy sheets of cloth-like material spilled out. Yngvar’s eyes widened when he understood what he had been presented.
“These are the commander’s maps,” he said. He sorted through them, looking at the strange shapes and symbols. He stopped on one that showed the Midgard Sea and the lands around it.
“Yes,” Alasdair said. “I believe that map might show the forgotten king’s island. It is not unknown, just avoided by reasonable men everywhere.”
Yngvar traced the lines. He smiled so widely it hurt.
“Never did a better man live than you,” Yngvar said. “I cannot be grateful enough. I do not understand maps so well. But I’m certain One-Eye Petronius does. This will take us to the island and to treasure unlike any other in world.”
Alasdair smiled. Valgerd did as well. But neither spoke.
Yngvar held the map in his hands, staring at the small shapes that described islands in the sea.
“One last adventure and we will each stand upon our own mountain of gold. I must gather the others.”
Yngvar dropped the map and strode out of the tent into the warm light. A world of riches awaited him.
Author’s Note
The Battle of the Straits between the Emirate of Sicily and the Byzantine Empire took place at the end of 964. It was the culmination of a steady push by the Emirate to dismantle Byzantine power, which had begun several years earlier with the systematic destruction of Byzantine forts. A request for aid was sent to the Emperor Nikephoros II Phokas. He answered with a fleet led by his nephew. If Byzantine sources are to be believed, this fleet contained over forty thousand men.
The Byzantines had a successful landing at Messina and swiftly recaptured this key location. From there, they recaptured a number of minor fortresses. However, the Byzantines stumbled over their relief of the besieged fortress at Rometta. The Emirate army shattered the attacking Byzantines. It was a thorough defeat, counting the emperor’s nephew among the casualties.
Rometta collapsed and the Byzantines, now under command of the fleet admiral, withdrew to Messina. From there, they boarded their ships and prepared to cross the straits back to mainland Italy. The Emirate forces intercepted this crossing. They employed divers who swam from the Arab ships to attack the Byzantine ships with Greek Fire. The Greek Fire was contained in clay pots that were broken on the Byzantine decks, destroying them by the dozens.
This was a major Fatimid victory. According to Arab sources, thousands of Byzantines were taken prisoner, including the admiral and many of his officers. The Byzantines were forced to pursue a truce. This resulted in a new peace treaty that squeezed a gold tribute from the Byzantines. Ransom was paid for the return of the admiral and many of the other captives. Finally, Muslims were resettled into the primarily Christian towns under former Byzantine control. At least one of these, Taormina,
was razed to the ground and not repopulated for another decade. As Emperor Nikephoros was focused on conquests closer to home in Cyprus, and the Fatimid Caliphate (that ultimately controlled the Emirate) were preparing for an invasion of Egypt, Sicily was forgotten.
The Byzantines were gone for good.
These are the background events for the setting of this book. Also I have set these events slightly earlier in history and have compressed the timelines. Prince Kalim, Commander Staurakius, the palace at Licata, and the fortress at Pozzallo are all fictional. The emir and Kalim’s brother Ahmad are historical figures, though they do not appear directly in the story.
The push and pull between Licata and Pozzallo as I imagined it here is more of an amalgamation of all the conflicts between Arab and Byzantine forces in Sicily. The Byzantines held on for many years without definite support from their emperor. The Arabs were frustrated at times with progressing against their enemies. At last, the stalemate was broken in one decisive campaign.
Now Yngvar and his Wolves are left at the center of the aftermath. There is still the matter of a great treasure, which it seems the gods have laid before our heroes. All that remains is for them to claim it and retire to lives of fabulous wealth and power.
But that is a story yet to be told …
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Also by Jerry Autieri
Ulfrik Ormsson’s Saga
Historical adventure stories set in 9th Century Europe and brimming with heroic combat. Witness the birth of a unified Norway, travel to the remote Faeroe Islands, then follow the Vikings on a siege of Paris and beyond. Walk in the footsteps of the Vikings and witness history through the eyes of Ulfrik Ormsson.
Fate’s Needle
Islands in the Fog
Banners of the Northmen
Shield of Lies
The Storm God’s Gift
Return of the Ravens
Sword Brothers
Grimwold and Lethos Trilogy
A sword and sorcery fantasy trilogy with a decidedly Norse flavor.
Deadman’s Tide
Children of Urdis
Age of Blood
Copyright © 2019 by Jerry Autieri
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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