by Henry Treece
The man smiled cynically and shook his head. ‘You know the rules as well as I do, my little man,’ he said. ‘Only two allowed out at one time, except by special pass. Have you a pass?’
It was in Grummoch’s mind to march up to the man and show him his great ham of a fist and to tell him that this was his pass. But at that moment there sounded a sudden scurry of many feet down the narrow street and a mob of excited townsfolk came into view, yelling and waving sticks and rough weapons.
‘Down with Irene, the she-wolf!’ they shouted. ‘Down with her idiot of a son! They have brought disaster upon us! The Bishops warned us that we risked damnation in supporting Irene! The Bishops are right! Where is Irene? We will slay her and her son! We will burn her Palace of Unrighteousness! Down with Irene! Down with the Guard! They are butchers! They are the hounds of their evil Mistress!’
The Guard at the gate calmly lowered his javelin, which had prevented the passage of Harald and Grummoch. Then he drew a silver whistle from his belt-pouch and blew a shrill blast upon it.
‘You two had better go and get your javelins, my friends,’ he said with a cold smile to Harald and Grummoch.
Behind them, in the barrack block, a trumpet began to sound the ‘Fall in!’ The two men heard the sound of their comrades’ feet pattering on the stone courtyard.
They were caught between the mob and the Imperial Guard.
Just then stones began to fly. One struck Grummoch on the chest, but did him no harm; another struck the sentry between the eyes. He fell like a slain ox and lay still.
Grummoch rolled him aside and said, ‘Come on, Harald, or we shall be too late!’
Then, with a great roar, he drew his sword from under his tunic and charged at the crowd. Harald came beside him, shouting out with all his strength, ‘Up the North! Death to all traitors!’
The mob faded before them, like wisps of smoke before a fierce gust of wind. Suddenly the street was empty and then Grummoch said, ‘Come on, lad, or we’ll be caught again!’
They turned and ran with all their speed away from the Palace gate, and did not stop for breath until they were once more in the centre of the city.
They stood panting beside a tamarisk tree when Harald said suddenly, ‘I have seen the light, friend Grummoch! Look, do you notice a house at the end of that alleyway, with a door shaped like a Frankish shield set on its end? Well, that house was once described to me by an old man, when I was in prison here. It is one of the secret treasure houses of Her Imperial Majesty – one of many, scattered about the city.’
Grummoch ruminated like a great bull. ‘I recall what a splendid store of treasure I once had, little Harald, way back in the kingdom of MacMiorog of Dun-an-oir. That treasure I lost – you know how! I would like to reimburse myself for it, somehow, before I die.’
Harald nodded and said, ‘Irene owes us a month’s pay, Grummoch; and we served her well. After all, did we not dispose of Marriba for her? Come on, let us see what is to be found there!’
The door shaped like a shield opened easily when they set their shoulders to it, and they found themselves faced by a narrow stone passageway, at the far end of which was a small square courtyard, set round on three sides with squat pillars.
Harald ran straightway to a square flagstone in the middle of the courtyard. There was an iron ring set into it.
‘This is the place,’ he said excitedly. ‘The old man described it all – even the iron ring. If we lift that flagstone, we shall find a flight of steps leading directly into the cellar where the gold is stowed.’
Grummoch had taken the ring firmly in his hand when a light shone on them from behind. As they turned in surprise, a man came from behind one of the squat pillars, a long curved sword in his right hand.
‘You choose the right moment, my lords,’ he said in a sly and silky voice. ‘But, alas, you forget that I am the official guardian of what lies below.’
Harald stared him in the eye and said, ‘We are Guardsmen of the Company of the Most High. We come at her command, to bring back treasure for her, to pay for anything she might require while she is away from Byzantium.’
The man gazed at Harald for a long while and then began to smile. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘Yet only an hour ago a messenger came from the Most High, threatening me with a slow death if as much as a single plate were moved from its place when she got back from Chrysopolis! How do you account for that, then, my good fellows?’
Grummoch shrugged his massive shoulders and walked a pace towards the man, until the point of the curved sword was almost touching his throat. He folded his arms so that the guardian of the treasure should not feel suspicious and then, with a queer little smile on his lips, said, ‘Once in Erin, in the kingdom of the High King of Drumnacoigh, there was a treasure house, much bigger than this. And the guardian of that house was a warrior, such as you might be yourself, but with an unusual equipment for the job; he had an eye set in the back of his head, just below where the hair grows thickest.’
The Byzantine guard smiled with malice and said, ‘I have heard such stories before, my friend. Do not come any nearer.’
Grummoch smiled and gazed up towards the stars.
‘But that is not the strangest part of the story,’ he said. ‘For this man had a special cap made, with a little hole in the back, so that he could see even when his head was covered – as it must always be in Ireland, for there are to be found small hawks, no bigger than a child’s hand, which settle on a man’s head and pluck out his hairs and take them to a wizard who lives under the rock of Killymaguish. There the hairs are made into magic potions, and no man whose hair has been so used can ever call his soul his own again.’
The point of the curved sword began to waver. The man said in a slightly less angry voice, ‘Yes, that is interesting. We have a story which is similar to that, in Byzantium.’
Grummoch said, ‘I will break off my tale to hear yours, friend, for I am a simple man who delights in hearing good tales. Perhaps when I have heard yours, I shall be able to take it back to my chieftain in Ireland and gain the hand of his fairest daughter for telling it.’
He began to laugh then, as though the plan appealed to him. The man with the sword smiled at the simplicity of this great giant and then, with a shrug, said, ‘The difference between our stories is that the hawks are very big ones.’
‘How big?’ asked Grummoch, putting his hands behind his broad back and rocking on his feet as he gazed up at the stars.
‘About as broad in the wingspan as this,’ said the guardian, stretching out his hands, the lantern in one, the sword in the other.
Grummoch’s right foot shot out and the man fell on to his back. The sword clattered away into the dusk. The lantern rolled over the paving stones, sending out a whirligig of light across the courtyard. Grummoch sat on the man, gently but firmly.
‘I should have known better than to trust a foreigner,’ said the guardian of the Imperial treasure house, sadly.
Grummoch said, ‘If you are quiet and do not wriggle so much, I shall not hurt you at all. But if you as much as raise a whisper, I shall leave no more of you intact than would feed a sickly sparrow.’
The man said, ‘That is understood, my friend. I am a fatalist. Only I would be grateful if you would sit on another part of me; I have always had a weak chest, and your weight brings on my old cough, which I thought this dry summer had almost cured.’
‘With pleasure,’ said Grummoch, as he moved lower down. But the guardian groaned so much at this, that Grummoch took off the man’s belt and tied his ankles together. Then he tore the man’s robe into strips and tied and gagged him.
‘You understand, comrade,’ he said, ‘I could do much more, but I prefer to do less.’
The man nodded, for really he was a reasonable fellow and loved Irene no more than any other man. So Grummoch was able to join Harald, who was by this time down in the treasure cellar, stuffing goblets, plate, and bracelets into a sack which he had found on the floor.
Grummoch brought down the lantern, and when he flashed its beam round the place almost fell back with wonder.
‘This is more than I ever dreamed of,’ he said, ‘and in my time I was not unused to such sights!’
When they had filled the sack, they clambered back up the stairs.
Their surprise did not come until they had passed back down the narrow alleyway and into the street again. Then they saw a sight which almost sent them scuttling back to the courtyard they had left. A mob of over fifty strong was waiting in the square, looking to right and left, waving swords and torches.
Grummoch went first into the street with the treasure sack on his back. The mob saw him and instantly a great howl went up.
‘There they are! There are the two who attacked us outside the Palace!’ shouted a tall man with a pointed black cap. ‘After them, friends! Every blow we strike is a blow against Irene!’
At the end of the street they were in, Harald gasped, ‘I cannot go much farther, Grummoch, I have a terrible stitch!’
The savage pattering of sandalled feet sounded behind them, the fierce shouts grew nearer. Stones began to rattle on the walls beside them.
Grummoch grunted hoarsely, ‘The deer that cannot run gets eaten!’
Harald gasped out, ‘Into that archway, friend. If we stay on the street they will catch us!’
In a moment they had turned into a curved archway. Grummoch swung the heavy door to behind him. They raced along a passageway, across a stone courtyard and then clambered over a wall. They fell straightway into a sloping meadow, where a stream flowed down towards a conduit. The place was surrounded by tall houses with many black windows, but it was night-time and they rolled unashamedly down the slope. At last, standing knee-deep in the covered waterway, they dared to breathe again.
Above them the sounds of pursuit died away, and finally all was still again.
Grummoch said, ‘Now let us try to make our way out of this city of evil. I saw a path beyond the conduit when the moon came out last; it leads to a gateway at the bottom end of this field.’
They began to walk slowly along the path, which now shone grey in the moonlight. Just before they reached the broad gateway, Grummoch started back. There was something white, perched on the ledge beside the lintels, and the sound it made was not one which either of these men had heard before.
23. The Inland Sea
Then Harald burst out laughing at their fear. He moved forward to the white thing and took it up.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘it is nothing but a baby, wrapped in a shawl.’
‘And a very young baby at that,’ said Grummoch, taking the little creature gently in his big hands and looking down at it. ‘I have not seen one as young as this before. What a strange sound they make, my friend.’
Harald stumbled over something in the darkness of the wall. He bent down and then stood upright again with a sigh.
‘The child’s mother lies there. She is very young. It is sad that plague should be so cruel. She must have placed her baby there for safety before she fell.’
But Grummoch did not seem to hear him; the giant was so occupied with his tiny burden, trying not to jolt the baby, crooking it in the great angle of his arm so as to protect it.
‘You must take the treasure sack now, comrade,’ he said to Harald. ‘I will carry this most precious piece of treasure.’
They went through the gateway and out into a rutted lane, edged with buildings of a more rustic character, as though they belonged to the outermost suburbs of the city.
Behind them, the clustered houses on the hill were illumined in the sullen glow of the many fires which now seemed to rage unchecked within Byzantium. Grummoch nodded back towards them and said, ‘I am glad that we are away from that place, Harald. It was no sort of home for men like us.’
Harald answered, ‘All the same, friend, we have not done badly. We have come away richer than we were when we first arrived there.’
Grummoch nodded as he shambled on along the uneven path in the dimness of the moonlight.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and we have the baby as well. I always wanted a little baby to look after, Harald. It is strange, is it not? Now I remember that when I was a boy, my mother used to set me to look after our youngest child, Caedmac. It was very pleasant in the sunshine to swing him up and down and to listen to his laughter. He was a merry boy, was little Caedmac. I missed him when they sent me away from the village. Now we have a baby of our own.’
Harald did not know how to tell the giant that it would be almost as cruel for them to keep the baby as to leave it in the plague-ridden city; for they did not know where they might find themselves, what dangers they might meet; nor, most important of all, did either of them know how such a small child should be fed.
But the problem was solved for them quite simply. By dawn they walked into a narrow lane, bordered on either side by stunted shrubs and brown rustling reeds, and there they came upon a low hovel, built of wattle-and-daub, with a rushlight burning in the little window. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked at the sky, mournfully and without hope.
Now the baby began to wail again, as though it were desperately hungry. Grummoch looked helplessly at Harald and whispered, ‘Perhaps if the Gods are with us, we might find milk for the bairn at this cottage.’
Harald nodded. ‘It is worth risking,’ he said, ‘for we cannot walk much farther with it in this cold morning air. It must be chilled to the marrow, poor creature, as it is.’
Harald went forward and pushed at the cottage door gently, not wishing to frighten whoever might be therein. Yet, as a precaution, he held the hilt of his sword in readiness.
The sight which met his eyes caused him to forget all thoughts of combat, for this was the home of a quiet and gentle-spoken old couple, country folk, unlike the treacherous town-dwellers they had recently become accustomed to, during their weeks in Miklagard.
The white-haired old man was seated at a table, knotting together the strands of a broken fishing-net; the old lady sat at the fireside, stirring the contents of a small cauldron which bubbled on the fire and singing quietly as she stirred. In a far corner of the warm room, a young man was busy packing a small sack with provisions.
The three looked up in surprise as Harald entered, followed by Grummoch, who for the moment kept the baby concealed beneath his cloak.
At last the young man said uncertainly, ‘Who are you? What do you want at this hour? We are peaceful folk in this house. What do you want?’
Harald answered them in the Byzantine dialect which he had picked up during his stay in the Palace.
‘We are travellers who would ask only that you give this baby something to keep it alive; and then, if you have anything to spare, we would be grateful for a mouthful of that porridge which you stir in the pot, lady, and a draught of milk to wash it down.’
He fumbled in the treasure sack and drew out a small silver bracelet set with garnets. This he held out towards the old lady; but she rose with such a look of disdain that the Viking withdrew his offering in some shame.
She went forward and took the child from Grummoch and crooned to it and took it beside the fire, rocking it and whispering strange little words to it, until it too began to croon back, contentedly.
The old man put down his broken nets and said simply, ‘We lost our first boy when he was of such an age. Always my wife has said that the good God would send him back to her; and now she thinks that her dream has come to pass.’
Grummoch gazed at him, wondering.
The young man stood up straight and said, ‘You see, strangers, my aunt has dreamt the same dream three times, that men in armour like Gods, and one of them a giant, would come to our cottage one day and would bring back the child which was lost. You are her dream come to life. If you took the child away again, it would break her heart.’
Harald said, ‘We shall not break her heart, young man. The child is hers, for its mother is dead and we are not the sort of men to tend
such a little one. Lady, the child is yours.’
The old woman gazed up at him speechlessly, but her eyes were wet with tears. Then she began to sing softly to the baby and the old man poured out two dishes of thick gruel for the travellers.
As they ate it, the young man said, ‘Where do you travel, lords?’
And Grummoch answered, ‘One place is as good as another, for men like us. Where do you suggest, young one?’
The young man grinned and replied, ‘I go to join a trading ship, which sails northwards over the Inland Sea to do business with the Khazars. If you fancy such a voyage, I can speak to the captain, who is a good enough fellow, for a Bulgar.’
A little later, the three men left the cottage, where the old woman still wept with joy at the gift which the Gods of her dream had brought out of the dawn. The old man stood at the doorway, calling blessings after them. Harald ran back and pushed the silver bracelet into his hand.
‘Keep this for the young child,’ he said. ‘It may buy him a sword one day.’
The old man gazed at him in wonder. ‘A sword?’ he said, almost fearfully, ‘But what does the child want with a sword? A child wants other things, lord, before he comes to swords. And pray God this one never comes to swords and such like.’
There was nothing Harald could think of in reply to this, for in the northern world the son of a chieftain was always given a sword as soon as he could walk.
Harald shook the old man by the hand and ran after his companions. They walked for a mile down a sunken and rutted lane, which at last opened out to show them the wide marshes surrounding the great Inland Sea. And as the morning broke fully, they came to a jetty where a long ship lay, its red sail already bellying in the strong breeze.
So Harald and Grummoch came to set course again for the north, leaning over the low gunwales and watching the smoking city of Miklagard slowly falling away behind them as the wind freshened.
After a while, Grummoch said to Harald, ‘I think you had better wrap my cloak about those golden trinkets in the sack to stop them rattling. The captain of this ship may be a good fellow, for a Bulgar, but his eyes had a strange glint when he heard the sound the sack made as you set it on the deck. I do not trust him too far.’
