A Burning Sea

by Theodore Brun

  From his position, Erlan could see Arab troops and siege engines filtering out of the gates through the eastern rampart of their camp, fanning north and south to take up position before the land walls. The huge fortifications stood as impregnable as ever – three thick tiers of red and white stone. His blood felt the familiar simmer of battle coming. His body felt as though it had fought a dozen battles already. His chest was a web of scabs, itching like a nettle rash. But he was still standing, he could still hold his sword, and he was ready.

  Next to him Einar Fat-Belly leaned against his horse’s rump, gleaning the last scraps off a mutton bone saved from breakfast. He waved it airily to the south. ‘Someone’s getting ready for a fight, hey?’

  ‘Aye. But I’ll lay they aren’t ready for two.’ So far there were no signs that the Arabs feared any surprise attack from the west. ‘You’d think they’d have learned their lesson by now.’ Forbidding as the land walls appeared, Erlan couldn’t help admiring the discipline with which the Arabs took up their dispositions. From this side of the walls, the mass of troops looked damned menacing.

  ‘Perhaps they know something we don’t,’ said Einar, picking a strand of mutton from his teeth and tossing the bone to Aska, who dropped to the ground and started gnawing at it eagerly. ‘Someone coming, look.’ A small cloud of dust was moving down the hillside in the distance, cutting north away from the Arabs’ position towards the Judas tree under which they stood. The agreed meeting point with Davit when he returned. Standing alone on the ridge brow, it wasn’t exactly discreet. Since Davit had left to carry word to the city its branches had bloomed into a blast of pink blossom. In the north, such signs meant the raiding season was close at hand, and sea-kings would be mustering their crews. Here in the south, the blossom came earlier. And so did war.

  The sun was well clear of the horizon when the horseman reached their position.

  ‘You’re a damn ugly rider, you know that?’ called Einar.

  ‘I’ll not take lessons in elegance from a barrel of northern lard,’ Davit called back.

  ‘What word from the city?’ said Erlan impatiently.

  Davit jumped from his saddle. ‘The Egyptian fleet is man-oeuvring south of the Marmara gates. The emperor has given Arbasdos his orders. He’s refitting our fire-ships in the Horn as we speak.’

  ‘Then this’ll be a day of death like no other,’ growled Einar ominously.

  ‘What’s Leo’s message for the khan?’

  ‘To deploy his horde however he thinks best. Only that he must hold off his attack until he sees the beacon fires lit. Timing is all, he says.’

  ‘Good. Better get moving then.’ Erlan turned to his horse.

  Davit caught his arm. ‘Not you. Leo wants you to report to him. Personally.’ He tipped his head at the fat man. ‘Both of you.’

  The two Northmen exchanged a look. ‘Who knew we were so popular?’ said Einar.

  ‘He said as soon as possible,’ continued Davit. ‘You can circle north and enter the city via the Horn. That way is clear for now.’

  By the time they reached the palace, the corridors and colonnades were filled with court officials all in a hurry somewhere, ladies-in-waiting twittering past in a cloud of perfume, palace guardsmen marching by. Not exactly panic, but urgency laced the air everywhere.

  They found Emperor Leo enthroned in the Golden Hall. He interrupted his business as soon as they were announced. ‘I had started to wonder what had become of you,’ he said when they stood before him.

  Erlan bowed his head. ‘The muster took time, Majesty.’

  ‘There were times I thought we’d lost you completely.’

  ‘There were dangerous moments—’

  ‘Not to danger, Northman,’ he snapped. ‘To desertion!’

  ‘Desertion? Why should we desert? Our queen remains within the protection of the city. Your ally—’

  ‘Is she?’ Those flat eyes glared imperiously.

  Erlan frowned. ‘Do you have reason to think she is not?’

  ‘Huh! Then you don’t know.’

  ‘Know what?’ A knot of fear for Lilla’s safety tightened in his throat.

  ‘During your long absence it has occurred to me that we do not know you northern folk. None of you. You suddenly appeared among us. But why? No one has yet given me a plausible explanation. And so now I find myself unable to trust you.’

  Erlan snorted and put his hands to the neck of his tunic. ‘See here, the marks of my loyalty, Majesty.’ He ripped the garment clean open. The scars of the wolves’ claws were gouged like runes across his chest. ‘I was damn near eaten alive in your service,’ he hissed. He pointed angrily to the west. ‘You have an army waiting on your signal. And yet you say you cannot trust us!’

  ‘Your passion is obvious to all, Northman. But is your integrity, I wonder?’

  ‘If I had any grievance against you, why would I put in your hand the weapon of victory?’

  ‘I ask myself the same question. Even so, could it be that you take from the other hand a weapon equally potent?’

  Erlan shook his head. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Your queen,’ replied Leo, ‘is now a prisoner in this palace.’

  ‘A prisoner? What have you done to her?’ he snarled.

  ‘The question is what she has done. The lampros Nikolaos was murdered the night before you left. Queen Lilla was heard arguing with him that evening. And an article of hers was found on his body. He had been tortured. His body mutilated.’

  ‘Lilla could never torture anyone. This is madness—’

  ‘There is another possibility,’ the emperor interrupted. ‘That she had accomplices. Men who immediately after committing their foul deed had cause to leave the city.’

  Erlan nearly choked on this. ‘So now you accuse us of murder? We swore an oath—’

  ‘You had motive and opportunity. The means to cover your tracks.’

  The man was either blind or a fool since he seemed unable to tell friend from foe. Then through the fog of his anger, Erlan remembered the plans. Of course! ‘I can prove our loyalty and our innocence. Here and now.’ His dark eyes cast around the other courtiers in attendance. ‘But alone. These halls stink of betrayal.’

  Leo considered a few moments. ‘Very well. Clear the hall!’ he cried at last. ‘Everybody out!’

  There was a brief hesitation before the guards and other officials filed out through the great double doors. ‘You too,’ Erlan said to Einar. The fat man shrugged and followed the others outside. Only Lord Katāros lingered.

  ‘Go on, High Chamberlain. I will give him this chance.’

  ‘I would counsel against it, Majesty,’ he replied. ‘No one can be trusted.’

  ‘Go,’ insisted Leo.

  When the hall was finally empty, Leo led Erlan out onto an adjoining balcony. ‘So then, Northman. Speak.’

  But Erlan didn’t speak. Instead he reached into his ripped tunic and pulled out the folded piece of parchment tucked inside his belt.

  ‘What have you there?’ demanded the emperor.

  ‘The key to Lilla’s freedom,’ replied Erlan and passed it over.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Footsteps faint as butterfly wings, yet they pricked as needles in her heart.

  ‘Again.’ The word she had come to dread.

  The footsteps sounded louder, clear and confident on the stone passage. The door opened. Lilla cracked open her red-rimmed eyes, ready for her ordeal. Except she saw a face she recognized, a streak of white in dark hair, a tender voice saying her name.

  ‘Grusha?’ she croaked, her eyes staring madly, her body limp as they let her down. ‘Grusha,’ she murmured, collapsing into her friend’s embrace. ‘Grusha.’

  ‘You’re safe now, sweetling. You’re safe.’

  No tears came. No sudden rush of relief. She just lay folded in her friend’s arms, Grusha’s tears raining down on her filthy face. Lilla wondered whether Grusha could feel it. Whether the weight of her limbs or the stiffness i
n her body or the staring gaze of her dry eyes betrayed the truth. That she had become hard as iron. . .

  ‘How long was I down there?’

  ‘Six weeks,’ Gerutha said, sponging down her back. The water in the copper bath was beautifully warm and clean. Gerutha had arranged everything well for her mistress’s release.

  ‘Six weeks?’ Lilla shook her head. ‘You could have said six months and I would have believed you. Or six days, even.’

  ‘One hour would have been too long. But I know it was as long as Erlan was out of the city, to the day.’

  ‘He’s alive then?’ The thought of him sent a jolt of relief through her body, but also something else. A kind of anger.

  ‘He’s coming here soon. He wanted to be here now but I insisted not. I didn’t want you overwhelmed.’

  ‘So he succeeded?’

  ‘Aye.’ Gerutha grinned. ‘The Bulgar army awaits to the north. Ready to sweep them Arabs from under the walls. That’s what he said.’

  Lilla nodded, digesting each piece of information slowly, like morsels of bread after a long famine.

  ‘Oh, I’ll never forgive myself – you being in there all that time,’ Gerutha continued, scrubbing busily at the layers of grime that had accumulated on Lilla. ‘I tried to see you but it was hopeless. And the only ray of light I found led to nothing.’

  ‘What ray of light?’

  ‘Alethea.’

  ‘What? The beggar? Why her?’

  Gerutha explained what she and Domnicus had discovered, what Alethea had seen and the knife she had found. ‘She was certain the time and place matched the circumstances of the murder. But when I took the knife to Katāros, he dismissed it almost as nothing.’

  ‘Katāros?’ The name made her wince, like a thumb pressed into an old wound. ‘You took it to him?’

  ‘He was in charge of the investigation. I was sure it would clear your name.’

  ‘He’s no friend of mine. What did you tell him?’

  ‘What I told you. He promised to look into it.’ Gerutha sighed. ‘I only half-believed him but I could do no more.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Five, six days ago.’

  ‘Oh, Grusha.’ Lilla turned and looked up into her servant’s gold-flecked eyes. ‘I think you should not have done that.’

  There was a sudden rap on the door that startled both of them. Erlan’s voice sounded through the panels. Lilla rose from her bath. ‘Go to Alethea, Grusha,’ she said hurriedly as he banged again. ‘See that she’s safe.’

  ‘Yes.’ Gerutha wrapped a robe around Lilla’s brittle shoulders. ‘Yes, of course.’ Then she threw on a shawl of her own.

  She and Erlan crossed the threshold with barely a nod, he was so eager to enter the room. When he saw Lilla he hesitated for a moment, and then he ran to her, throwing his arms around her. She let him crush her against his chest, but even then she felt oddly cold against him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he murmured. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘How did you get me out?’ she asked in a flat voice.

  ‘Does it matter? You’re free.’

  ‘Yes, it matters. Tell me.’

  Erlan held her away from him and looked down into her eyes. ‘We found the plans that the Jewess had stolen from the lampros. The emperor was satisfied of your innocence.’

  ‘Plans for what?’ she said, but somehow she already knew.

  ‘The fire.’

  ‘You mean, you had them in your possession. . . and you gave them back.’

  ‘Of course I did! I would do it again – a thousand times over.’

  ‘You gave back what could have made all of this worthwhile.’ Her voice broke with anger.

  ‘If it meant your freedom—’

  ‘Do you know how I’ve suffered?’ Her voice trembled with fury.

  ‘If I could have spared you a single moment of pain—’

  ‘Oh, words, words. Spare me words!’ she cried. ‘I have died a hundred deaths since you’ve gone and yet you just gave away what could have justified them all!’

  ‘You would be dying still more deaths if I had not.’

  ‘Why? Why?’ she moaned, burying her face in her hands. ‘After all I’ve been through. After all I gave up for you. . .’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t understand this obsession with the fire. What good will come from carrying it back to your land? Evil only multiplies itself. I know that to my cost.’

  ‘Oh, what do you know?’ she snapped, glaring up at him. ‘I’ll tell you what I know, what I realized in that place.’ She shook her head that seemed to throb in frustration. ‘That I don’t know you. . . Yet here I am. I came all this way. For you. I told myself it was for an alliance with this great king. But it was for you! Don’t you see? Like some lovelorn maiden, I came here and laid down everything because I love you! But what do you give me in return? Nothing of yourself. You hide from me. Do I not deserve you? Have I not suffered enough to deserve all of you?’

  ‘You have me. You have all of me.’

  ‘No, I don’t, Erlan! Why do you hold back from me? Why did you even come into my life? Was it only to torment me? Is that all? To make me love a shadow? A ghost? I don’t even know who you are.’

  ‘You do know me. Of course you do,’ he insisted. He tried to reach for her but she knocked away his hand.

  ‘I saw it so clearly down there in the darkness. Tell me now – I’m begging you. Who are you? Who are you, Erlan? Tell me. Tell me!’ Her last words were a cry of anguish, tears bursting from her eyes at last, and she fell on him, beating her fists against his chest.

  ‘You know I can’t speak of that. I swore an oath. A word as strong as oak.’

  ‘Oh, more words!’ she spat, breaking free of him again. ‘You’ve given away so many damned words and what have they ever given you back? They bind you and twist you out of shape until you are unrecognisable from what you could have been.’ She was sobbing now, tears streaming in rivers down her cheeks. ‘What you should have been. . .’

  ‘A man is what he is. His past binds his future.’

  ‘No. No, it does not. A man is what he could become. And the present is where he has the power to change his future. Now, Erlan!’ She held out her fist in front of his face. ‘Now is when you have what you could be in the palm of your hand. Don’t you understand?’

  He turned away. Hiding from her again, she thought. But she was glad of what she had said. She could not endure this false love any more. It was killing her as surely as the eunuch’s cruelty. She watched him, watched as he turned over a world of memories in his mind. At last his eyes rose to meet hers.

  ‘I gave myself away to another once,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘All of myself. And when she was lost, I was lost with her.’ He shook his head. ‘If we return to the north, I know I shall have to lose you again. You’re a queen. You need a king beside you. And who am I? I am nothing. No one. You will have to choose another.’

  ‘No. No,’ she insisted. ‘Can you not see how your fate calls you to it again and again?’

  ‘To what?’

  ‘Kingship. Your fate calls you higher. And every time, you destroy it and run away.’

  ‘It is not I who destroys it,’ he said, his voice turning bitter. ‘I came here seeking the king of kings. I believed if I did I would find freedom. And I was wrong. I believed a lie.’ He shook his head. ‘An impossibility. I am still under the curse.’

  ‘Curse? What are you talking about?’

  He expelled a long sigh. ‘When I came for you. . . in Niflagard. I drank the Witch King’s blood. He is in me, just as Vargalf said he was. . . and somehow I’m bound to him. It is he who thwarts my fate.’

  She was, for a moment, bewildered by this answer. But the more she thought of it the more dissatisfied she became. ‘I know nothing of that,’ she said softly. ‘I see on you a greater curse. It’s your own words that bind you. Your own oaths.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘You can’t even speak your true name. . .’
r />   She drifted over to the window to stare out at the distant blue hills shining in the spring sun. Behind her, Erlan sank into a chair and hung his head, the silence between them as vast as an ocean.

  After a long while, he began to speak.

  ‘I was born in northern Jutland.’

  She turned.

  ‘My father was lord of my folk. I loved. . . a girl. . . She was forbidden to me. And because of me, she is dead. I could not stay. And I can never go back.’

  She stared at him. ‘Is that what your wandering is about? This is all to punish yourself?’

  He didn’t answer, he couldn’t even look up, and looking at him, seeing him so wretched, she felt her heart soften. She went to him and slipped her hands into his, running her thumbs over his hard knuckles. ‘It’s not your fault.’ She saw tears falling on their hands.

  ‘You don’t know that,’ he murmured.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ she said again. He sank forward onto his knees. She clasped his head close to her, his face buried in the folds of her robe against her stomach. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  They stayed like that for a long time.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Leo drummed his fingers on the folds of purple silk covering his knees. This imperial garb made him feel ponderous and slow. He despised it. He was a soldier, accustomed to speed, to motion, to springing onto horseback at a moment’s notice when the alarum sounded. Under the weight of diadem and imperial vestments he felt like a lion chained.

  But today the soldier in him must die. Today he needed to be an emperor. He waited, the scent of ambergris oil drifting pleasantly from its censer, content because he had Katāros holding Abdullah al-Battal in an antechamber. He’d told the eunuch to keep Maslama’s envoy waiting there until the frustration was boiling out of his face.

  Everything was ready. The khan’s horde was even now marshalling in the west. The fire-ships waited behind the massive chain spanning the Horn – like a nest of deadly vipers, ready to be released with their darting poison. There was even good news from the east. The remnants of the Armeniac and Anatolikon armies had linked up and won a small victory, relieving the beleaguered city of Nicomedia.