by Henry Treece
Now Wulf said secretly to Eystein, ‘I almost wish that Hauteville had struck up more sharply that day in the wood. He is giving us a bad name in the world. Have you noticed, when we go out into the countryside now, we see no men, no women, no sheep and cattle - nothing. It is as though everything vanishes as we go forward. I do not like it, brother.’
Eystein said, ‘I have always gained my bread and meat honestly before; perhaps hard, but honestly. So have my shipmates. We do not profess to be the best Christians in the world, but we have no stomach for this village-burning. The cries of the women and children sound in our dreams.’
Then Wulf said, his eyes full and brimming, ‘Brother, you know me now almost as well as a man could. I am not a particularly bloody man, but it is being sharply driven home to me that unless Harald is curbed, then the world will spit when his name is mentioned. There is only one way to curb him, Eystein.’ And as he said this, he drew his dirk from the banding on his right leg. It was a stark weapon, the length of a man’s forearm, broad at the haft and coming in to the sticking-point, with runnels all its distance to give it lightness in the blade. Its handle was yellow walrus ivory from off Greenland, riveted with iron nails. No man would say that it was the prettiest pig-sticker in the world, but there was none deadlier. The iron of its edges was black, and it had never been reground.
Eystein looked at it sideways, as fighting-men do at such wicked things, then said, ‘Put it away, brother. I don’t like these things.’
So Wulf put it away, but his mind was made up.
A week later an old woman brought in for questioning told Harald that she came from the ancient mountain of Dicte, where she claimed Zeus was born to his mother Rhea. Harald made her stand close to him and said, ‘This birth-place, what was it, a fine palace?’
The old crone laughed and answered, ‘No, viking, we have no palaces up there. It was a cavern. And I can tell you, in that cavern we have found such things!’
Harald took her by the shoulder and drew her squirming towards him. ‘What things, old woman? ‘he said.
She cried out, ‘Oh master, do not hurt me!’
He said again, ‘What things, old woman? Answer quickly.’
And she said, ‘Oh, oh! Precious things! Magic things! Axes and swords, sir!’
He let her go then and said, ‘Give her food and drink, but no money. These peasants do not understand money as we do. Then send her packing.’
So Harald took the notion of finding the cavern of Zeus as a greedy fish takes the baited hook.
And when spring came, the Varangers went to Mount Dicte, and there found an immense cave of limestone, with a massive hall, and then a chasm that fell steeply for two hundred feet into the darkness. Eystein and Wulf led thirty men down there on ropes and found that there was a black pool at the foot of the drop. And then, hall after hall, decorated by great stone columns from floor to roof, and all created by nature. But the only thing they brought back up to the daylight was a little bronze brooch on which had been cast the shapes of a woman in a flounced skirt and a palm tree.
When the party came up, Harald asked, ‘Where are the axes and swords?’
But Eystein stuck him out and said, ‘This is all there was. If you do not believe us, go down yourself and see.’ He spoke out boldly, almost as though to an enemy.
So Harald took this brooch and said scornfully, ‘It will do well enough to hold up my third-best cape. It is too small to support a cloak.’
Wulf said then, ‘I should look more closely at it if I were you, Sigurdson. You may find that it bears a message on it. It may foretell your doom.’ He too spoke out boldly, with little love sounding in his voice.
Harald smiled pleasantly then and squinted at the brooch. ‘No,’ he said, ‘it is only a woman dancing under a tree.’ ‘Then,’ answered Wulf grimly, ‘you have nothing to fear.’ Harald said, ‘The darkness has turned your mind, brother. What is there in a woman, or a tree, for that matter, to make any man afraid?’
Wulf said, ‘Aye, to be sure, what is there?’
So they made the journey back to Cydonia. And there Harald drank too much of the wine of that place and as he sat with Haldor by the brazier, suddenly saw that Olaf his half-brother who had died at Stiklestad was standing at the far side of the room, where the shadows were thickest.
Harald said, half-rising from his stool, ‘Why, brother, they did not tell me you were in Crete. I should have been down at the harbour to greet you.’
But Saint Olaf put on a very hard face and said, ‘Do not get up, Harald. You will fall on your face if you do.’
Harald began to laugh, but Olaf silenced him with a stiff glare and then said, ‘Now, you are hardly the brother I knew years ago, when the Dane-king came against us. Do not try to explain anything to me, I already know it all. So listen, for I shall not be with you long, since I have other more important things to attend to than thieves and traitors.’
Harald began to frown at these words but he was fixed by the wine on his stool and had to listen. Then Olaf said, ‘Our mother will be proud of you, will she not? She will wish to know that you have betrayed the emperor to whom you bowed the knee. She will smile when she hears of the burned villages, no doubt. And she will laugh outright when she is told that you wish
Jerusalem may rot so that you can send shiploads of stolen rubbish up to Kiev while your comrades in Christendom are dying in their war against the infidel.’
Harald waited a while, then said to his brother, ‘Olaf, there are some things that not even you can understand. You have been away so long.’
But Saint Olaf answered as starkly as ever: ‘I have seen all, and understand all. I am not named Haldor or Helge, who worship every sound you make. Remember who I am, and hearken to me, for it will be long enough before I come again, little brother.’
Then Harald said humbly, ‘Say on, brother, I am listening.’
And Olaf answered starkly, ‘That is just as well. Now forget all your revenges and coin-grasping, and go as soon as the winds will take you to the Holy Sepulchre they are building in Jerusalem. Do this without fail, or I will not claim kinship with you again.’
Harald nodded obediently, then said, ‘But the brooch, with the woman and the palm tree on it. Tell me, what does it mean?’
Then as he faded back through the dim wall, Olaf said, smiling at last, ‘Go to Jerusalem and find out yourself, you lazy fellow.’
Harald shook himself and said to Haldor, ‘Did you see anything?’
Haldor only stared at him vacantly, then mumbled, ‘I saw a mouse look out from under your stool, then run away into the corn-bin over there. Is that what you mean?’
Harald laughed now. ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘maybe that was what I meant, brother. Come, let us get our gear ready for Jerusalem. We have been too long already obeying our emperor. Now there is man’s work to be done.’
33. Jerusalem
So summer came again into the life of Harald Sigurdson. The winter he had passed through had left its mark on him, truly enough, for now he was like a sword-blade that has passed through the fire to be hammered by the smith to a new hardness. He laughed less than before, was sharper with the Varangers and more ruthless in any task he set his hand to. But he had come out of the tunnel of his madness and soon his name as a fair-dealing captain had spread again so widely that young voyagers from the northern lands flocked to serve him, like peasant-women gathering about a trader’s market-stall to gain a bargain.
Even the caliph sent an envoy to him in Jerusalem, wishing him God’s help in the work that now lay before him. Harald listened while the envoy read his master’s words aloud, then said, ‘I have no scribe and I cannot write; but take back this message to your lord: tell him that Harald Sigurdson is here for two purposes only - to protect the masons who will build a church to the glory of God, and to clear all roads of such robbers, of whatever land or faith, as hinder decent pilgrims who would pray in the Holy City or bathe in the Jordan. And tell the caliph that Haral
d Sigurdson wishes no gain for himself or his men, more than their soldiers’ pay which comes from their emperor in Byzantium. And make it clear to him that these men are not lawless foragers, but Christian guards who will work side by side with his own lawgivers and police to restore the good name of Palestine.’
And when Harald had finished the envoy smiled and said, ‘I will report your words faithfully, my lord. Or at least as faithfully as they will fit into our own language.’
Harald said, ‘I ask no more, sir. It is not the words that matter but the good heart that lies beyond the words.’ the end, for you Greeks have told more stories in your time than any other folk, even Orkneymen.’
Then the rider took a deep breath and said, ‘Here, then, is the list of disasters. Michael Catalactus has died, of sickness or poison or smothering in his bed - we do not know, and it was not safe to inquire. Then the widow Zoe, after weeping her public tears, raised her dead husband’s nephew, the one they call Michael Calaphates, to the status of emperor and enthroned him herself. But little did she know the quality of the man, for his first act was to throw her into prison, in a convent on the island of Prinkipo.’
Harald drew in his breath, then said with a hard smile, ‘This Michael Calaphates is a young man of good sense. He can see further than the last two emperors of Byzantium.’
At this the messenger began to laugh bitterly. ‘There you are wrong, captain,’ he said. ‘He cannot see at all now. The citizens of Byzantium rose in a great rebellion and released Zoe from her cell. Her great pride was so hurt by this Calaphates that she had him blinded and put into a monastery to drag out his days. Now she and her mad sister Theodora reign as joint-empresses and do as they please.’
Harald said, ‘I do not mind, as long as they please to pay my army out here. As for the rest, these empresses may please themselves. It is no concern of ours.’
The messenger laughed again and said, ‘What I now have to deliver concerns you very closely, sir. These empresses command you to return to Byzantium straightway, to answer for all your actions.’
Harald sat back on a rock and slapped his thigh with merriment. ‘They command me!’ he said. ‘Those two stupid women command me! I might see it in my heart to obey an emperor to whom I had sworn allegiance - but to two women, who are more concerned with perfumes and prayers than with ruling an empire properly! No, my friend, that is not the sort of command Harald Sigurdson listens to.’
The messenger said, ‘So, you will not return to Byzantium, captain?’
Harald answered, ‘Oh, yes, I will return, certainly. But not as they think to have me, grovelling before them alone. I shall withdraw all the Varangers from Palestine to go and greet these empresses; and we shall see which side of their faces they laugh on when we put into haven in the Golden Horn.’
The rider said, ‘Then I will take that message back to them.’ But Harald nodded to Wulf and Eystein, who took the man by the arms and tied his wrists to his saddle-horn. Then he said, ‘No, my friend, we shall take the message back ourselves. As for you, your duties are over for the time being. We shall put you in the charge of certain Saracen friends we have in Jerusalem, and they will care for you well until we are sailing through the Sea of Marmara.’
The messenger nodded and smiled. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. ‘I had no great wish to take back such a reply as you have spoken.’
34. The Bronze Brooch
Riding into Jerusalem the Varangers were silent, each of them turning over in his mind the great step they were about to take in making war against the holy city of Constantinople. But they were with Harald to a man. And so were the garrison commanders assembled in Jerusalem at that season. As the captain of Ascalon said, ‘If we do not stand firmly together now against these mad women, they will use us like slaves for the rest of time. A man must stand up for himself; but a Norseman must stand up like two men.’
They sent out swift riders straightway, ordering all Varanger garrisons to withdraw and to meet a week later, fully prepared to sail out from Jaffa, where the northern fleet lay at anchor.
And when all this was arranged, Harald said to his battle-brothers, ‘I shall now go to the Saracen emir here in Jerusalem and put our case plainly before him, telling him that when we have settled affairs in Byzantium to our satisfaction, we shall return until such time as the Church is built.’
Wulf, Haldor, Helge and Eystein all agreed that this was the way an honest man should act, and they walked out with Harald towards the square where the emir had his quarters, wearing their swords, helmets and cloaks now, but not their hauberks, for the evening was oppressive after the day’s sultry heat.
But when they got to the place where the masons were still working on the scaffolding, using what light was left to them, they halted. A long black-robed procession of women stood by the main door of the Church, wailing and throwing dust over their heads as though in penance. In the middle of the crowd stood a black-draped litter with silver lions’ feet. Its four posts were also of silver, but shaped like palm-trunks, with fronds of jasper stretching out above the curtains.
Haldor said gruffly, ‘I cannot bear the sound women make, wailing. It would set my teeth on edge if I had any teeth left worth mentioning.’
Wulf said, ‘They have lost someone, or are about to do so. 5
Helge said, ‘They are Armenians or Druzes, by that strange black they wear. They are certainly not any folk I have ever seen before. They are strange creatures, these foreign women. But very interesting.’
Eystein said, ‘You must be as blind as poor Michael Calaphates, for even I recognize three of these women. They are the ladies Euphemia, Anna and Sophia from the Inner Court at Byzantium.’
Harald said, ‘Then by the Grace of God we may not have to travel as far as the city to ask the empress what game she is playing. She may even now be sitting within our grasp! She may be among them, wailing!’
He started forward, ignoring the two hooded horsemen who kept a watch on this procession, their long lances in their hands, and hurried to the rich litter. Pushing aside the veiled women who were in his way, he bent forward and switched back the drapes, his mouth already open to speak words of anger.
Then he stopped and for an instant almost let fall the curtains. Gazing back at him, dark-eyed and pale-faced with sorrow, was Maria Anastasia Argyra, dressed like one dedicated to a life of endless mourning. The red spots painted on her cheeks only served to stress their whiteness and to make the reality of her sadness grotesque.
Yet as soon as she saw Harald, her eyes lit up and her pale lips smiled. Now she almost leapt from that dark litter and flung her arms about him. ‘Why, viking,’ she cried, ‘you are here! They told me you had died in Sicily. But you are here!’ The women stopped wailing and turned to gaze speechlessly as their princess hugged the great Norseman. The two hooded riders began to spur forward, their lances lowering, but Eystein went to the first of them and touched him politely on the thigh. ‘If you know when your luck is with you, friend,’ he said calmly, ‘you will take a turn round the square before you point those skewers at anyone in Jerusalem. The big man with the golden beard is master here. Someone should have told you. You are not in Bulgaria now, friends.’
The lancers backed their horses off and drew against the wall farthest away from the procession, frowning under their hoods.
Harald said, ‘So it is the little girl who rode on my shoulders once. And where are you going?’
Maria Anastasia said simply, ‘I am going with you, captain.’ The viking answered, ‘But we are bound for Byzantium, lady. And we shall travel rough over the sea. That would not suit you. Besides, we have no room in the longships for all these women of yours, these wailers.’
Maria Anastasia said, ‘I would travel to the moon with you in a tub. As for these women, most of them never wish to set eyes on Byzantium again. They will be happy enough to be left here with the two Bulgars to guard them. Husbands are arranged for them in Cairo.’
But Haldor
said sternly, ‘I was never in favour of taking women aboard, Harald. They can bring misfortune to a vessel. It is not our custom.’
But Maria turned on him sharply and said, ‘I do not know who you are, sir, but it is news to me that a mere rover can out-talk his captain.’
Wulf said laughing, ‘Oh yes, you do know who it is, princess. It is Haldor, the viking who came with Harald and myself that first day to the palace. He looks a bit different now, but that is because he has been worrying about certain things. Worry changes a man’s expression.’
Then Maria put her hand on Haldor’s arm and said, ‘Oh, Haldor. I am so sorry. But indeed you look handsomer than ever. Now you look as I have always imagined the great kings of Valhalla must have looked. The grand ones, the black-faced troll kings. There is not a noblewoman in Byzantium, or Rome, who would not swoon at the sight of you, Haldor.’
Haldor turned away abruptly and muttered, ‘Let her come, Harald. I have misjudged the girl. She has more sense than women usually have.’
So Harald smiled down at Maria and said, ‘You have heard his judgement. And I did swear once that I would take you with me to where you wished to go. So if you are not afraid of hunger and sea-drenchings, then you may come.’
And when he had said this, Maria Anastasia Argyra picked up her heavy flounced skirt and began to dance with joy under the silver palm trees with their jasper fronds.
Then all at once Harald felt inside his pouch and drew out the little bronze brooch he had brought up from the cave of Zeus and stared at it closely. To himself he said, ‘So, Olaf, you knew this would happen all along - you sly old saint! You sly old Christian, you!’
Maria halted breathlessly and said, ‘What have you got in your hand, viking? Is it a lucky charm?’
Harald shrugged his broad shoulders and said, ‘Aye, you could say that of it, in a way. Although at one time I did not think so.’
Then he put it into her hand and said smiling, ‘It is for you, princess. It is a present from Crete. Perhaps, many lifetimes ago, it belonged to one of your ancestors, who knows? In any event it is yours now, and may it always bring you good fortune. Failing that, it will do to pin up your skirts when you next go dancing under palm trees!’
