‘If I told you it would not be a secret. I think you had better not say another word until we get you safely into the city. You are in need of a woman’s touch, Padar. Never mind what missions I was on in Constantinople.’
For a while they rode in silence. Connor leaned over and whispered. ‘I was seeking an alliance for my wife’s brother is all. There is a Saxon silversmith down in Constantinople. His name is Alfred. He was once a coiner. He has a wife called Gertrude.’ He smiled at Padar’s gasp. ‘Ah, I see you remember them from Exeter. They had a daughter though they never thought to. God has blessed them. She is now eleven years old …’ Connor laid a finger on his lips. ‘Not a word, Padar, until this alliance is forged. They named the girl Margaret. So there you have it. They are considering. If they can bear to let her go, one day Alfred’s daughter will come to dwell in Novgorod.’
Some secret, thought Padar, not knowing whether to believe a word of it.
35
The Hall
Thea stood in the midst of the outer hall, shocked into utter silence, stunned by the great numbers of their injured. By nightfall they had won the battle, but at a price. Some of their own dead had been consumed by flames but most had been injured by arrow fire. Others were sliced through by swords or speared with javelins. How could she console these men’s wives and mothers? For a moment she watched Gudrun, who was helping Anya organise their makeshift infirmary. Lifting an urn, she went to help.
Gudrun was ashen faced as she trailed from pallet to pallet with water and a sponge. As Thea held the urn and Gudrun helped each wounded man she asked about Padar, who had not returned. No one had seen him since he had led the fire attack during the afternoon. The outbursts of fire and the smoke that followed, the nitrous smell, the cries of the burning and dying had confused them all. ‘You could not see for smoke, you could not breathe. I did not see him,’ one said.
Another man gasped that it was impossible to even see the river once the fires started. It was with great difficulty that he found the bridge and struggled back into the fortress. He had not seen Padar either.
After many more men had returned, badly burned and with similar reports, Thea climbed to the top of the tower, leaving Anya and an anxious Gudrun in the hall. To her horror, the dragon fire was snaking over the water south of the bridge, its green tongue catching cogs, carracks and galleys that were anchored by the southern wharfs. She watched horrified until smoke gathered again, obliterating the scene. There was nothing to be done except hope and pray that the ships that carried the fire machines were spared. Concerned for her brother’s safety as well as Padar’s survival, her heart heavy, she dragged herself down from the tower and sent two guards out onto the wharfs to see what was happening. They returned, reporting that all was chaos out there. She feared that it was not yet over.
A messenger returned to say that the enemy was in flight. She grasped her hands so tightly with relief that her knuckles turned white. The messenger said that they could bring the dragon fire under control by using sand. The fire that was licking the water, swallowing up their barges, appeared more fearful than it actually was. Lord Edmund would remain on the Lady Maria, until the cogs and galleys that had ignited, burned themselves out. They must save what lives they could. The messenger breathlessly added, ‘My lady, if you could send salves and strips of linen to bind the wounds our sailors have taken it would help.’ He bowed low, and rose again with difficulty, his face creased with the agony of his effort.
‘Go to the kitchen and ask for food and drink.’ Thea reached forward to help him to his feet. She clasped the man’s rough hands for a moment in her own and added in a quieter voice, ‘You have fought with great courage.’ The bruises on the boy’s face, his singed hair, the terror in his eyes and his exhaustion spoke of a terrible fight. ‘Stay in the fortress now. I shall send help to the ships, water and food. In fact, I shall take them myself.’
She ordered the steward to organise goatskins with fresh water and bread. ‘Take the provisions out immediately. The medicines will follow.’ Steward Michael hurried off, promising that he would send them forthwith.
Thea wasted not a moment. She ran from the great antechamber into the outer hall. At the entrance, she stopped short as her eyes took in a frantic sight. Many kneeling women who had come in looking for husbands, brothers, sons and fathers, tended to those who lay on the mattresses. Moans and cries filled the hall. Priests waving censers and muttering prayers wandered about and bent over mattresses to offer solace here, a prayer there. Gudrun was twitching the corners of the blankets covering those who had not survived. She glanced up as Thea approached her. ‘Padar is not here.’ She reached for Thea. ‘Please God, may my Padar live.’
‘Gudrun, we can only hope, but for now we must help where we can. If we keep busy…it is better…Gather up salves and fetch the powdered opiate of poppy from my chamber. You know where I keep it. Look in my bone chest. At the bottom there is powered root of mandrake. It may still retain potency. Fetch these now. I am going out onto the wharves.’
Gudrun sped off towards the stairway that led to a walkway which connected the central keep to the terem tower.
Anya glanced up from the dying warrior she was tending on a mattress close by. ‘Thea, you must be insane. You cannot leave the citadel. They will quench the flames, and if they do not, the fires will burn themselves out. To go down there now is madness.’
‘I want to see Edmund. I must see him. There may be news of Padar,’ she said desperately. ‘He might have boarded one of our ships. I shall take Katya.’
‘We can send servants.’
Thea folded her arms across her chest. She was resolute.
Anya shook her head. ‘Promise me you will return as soon as you deliver the medicines. Promise me.’ She grabbed Thea’s arm. ‘Vladimir would never forgive me if you were placed in danger.’
‘And where is my husband?’ Thea retorted angrily. ‘I have already been placed in great danger. We all have. And we have survived.’
Anya said, ‘There will be a reason why he has not come. Our messengers may not have even reached Kiev.’ She looked over at the stairway. ‘Here is Gudrun returned. I shall fetch Katya for you.’
Thea called after her. ‘No promises, none at all, not after all we have been through today. Believe me when I say that I intend returning safely.’
Anya stopped, turned round. Her countenance was furious. ‘Then, I relinquish responsibility for your safety. You are very stubborn.’
‘I am, and I do take responsibility for my actions, Anya.’
The women hurried out of the postern gate leading onto the wharf. As they sped down the sloping pathway to the wharf, they passed struggling blackened men returning to the fortress. ‘We sent them, packing, my lady,’ one said, recognising her. Another fell to his knees, crying, ‘The dragon fire has saved the city, Princess.’
They also met a great number of shrouded women who had gathered about the wharf seeking their kin amongst the returning wounded. The patriarch had sent two elderly bearded priests with her. As the priests limped along, their chasubles flying behind them, they tried to give words of comfort to the women. Carrying tall crosses they reached out and blessed them. Thea’s servants carried torches but there was no need for these since the river was bright with flames.
Thea’s party boarded two small rowing boats that were being used to ferry the worst of the injured to shore. Slowly, they made their way over the half-mile wide river through debris and bloated floating bodies, smoke and wreckage, towards the Lady Maria. Edmund ran to help the priests climb on board first. They began moving amongst the injured with their incense and prayers.
Then he reached over the ship’s side and hauled his sister up the boat’s ladder saying, ‘You did not need to do this.’
‘I had to come; Katya too. Have you seen Padar?’
Shaking his head he replied, ‘I have been too busy to see anybody but those on the water.’
Once Katya had tumbled
on board she fell into Edmund’s arms. He embraced her tightly and turning her around said, ‘Your father is hurt but refuses to leave. Go to him.’
Katya and Thea cast their gaze across the deck to a squat iron furnace from which a tube ran to the ship’s prow to enter the rear-side of the ship’s figurehead, a bear. Its mouth was open, its gilding blackened. She made out Katya’s father. He was bent over the portable stove with its spouts and taps. He must have been wounded as he had stood by the siphon directing the launch of the last round of fire into and out of the bear’s mouth.
‘Here!’ Thea withdrew the bag of powdered mugwort from her leather satchel and thrust it to her. ‘Use this on your father’s wounds.’ She pressed a tiny pot containing a honey and lavender salve into Katya’s free hand. ‘And this; mix the powder into it and take the water pitcher too. It’s there.’ She pointed to where pitchers sat collected under linen cloth.
On the deck the wounded lay groaning. Thea paused to help where she could. She heard Katya’s father say, ‘This is no place for you, little one, or the princess either. Your father … must see this machine made safe.’ He was out of breath with pain and anxiety. ‘It is still too hot,’ he moaned.
She saw Katya’s father wince. She went over to them with a clean piece of sponge which she silently gave to Katya before returning to the dying man whom she was helping.
‘Rest for a bit, my father,’ Katya replied. ‘Others will finish this when the furnace cools.’ She drew her father away to a bench, sat him down and began to wash away the dirt on his arm. Once the dirt was cleaned away, Dimitri’s arm showed an angry burn. He leaned against the ship’s side clearly exhausted. He gasped as Katya touched his blackened suppurating skin and gently rubbed the salve into it. His burns reached up from wrist to shoulder. ‘Oh, Papa, you should have returned to the hall,’ Katya said.
‘Not yet. I started this … I must see the fire off the water. If the wind turns …’ He managed a smile between hoarse breaths. He called to Thea. ‘Princess, we did it. We … have … defeated them,’ he attempted to say. ‘They have ridden into the cut. Connor – the earl – he will destroy what is left of the bastards.’ Tears streamed from his pale eyes. ‘It worked. The fire worked.’ His voice creaked. ‘We have saved Pereiaslavl.’
Thea glanced up at him. ‘Yes, we have.’
She returned her attention to one who was clearly not going to survive. He was burned from head to toe. His clothes had melted from his agonised body. He died in her arms clutching a small wooden cross. ‘At a great cost,’ she said sadly, looking up again.
She heard Edmund shout an order to the ship’s rowers. ‘Turn us back now. The horsemen are not returning. I shall take one of the rowing boats down the river.’
Across the plain, through the fading fires, Thea glimpsed dead horses and bodies. Already buzzards were circling. ‘Ours?’ she asked Edmund.
‘Some, but mostly theirs,’ Edmund said hoarsely as the sailors manoeuvred the Lady Maria around and back towards the wharf. ‘Tell Gudrun, Padar will return. He is a survivor.’
Thea nodded, but she had worry in her heart for Padar’s safety.
Later that night, once the ships had been docked and the last of the survivors had been taken to the keep, Thea removed herself to the receiving hall to rest before returning to help in the makeshift infirmary. She was mopping at her face and shoulders with a dampened cloth when she heard horses’ hoofs entering the courtyard below the shuttered window.
She hurried to the chamber entrance into the hall to see what was happening. Vladimir, sweat pouring down his face, his eyes wild with concern, came striding through the pallets of wounded, past the women who knelt by them, circling the wounded and the dying. She stood as if frozen. He was clearly desperately intent on reaching her. Anya followed, trying to keep up with his strides. Behind her Steward Michael, Governor Olaf and Vladimir’s guards stumbled through the hall. Thea thought with sudden realisation, of course, the distant horsemen they had seen far, far up the river that afternoon – it was him. She sank to the tiled floor clasping her hands together in a prayer of thanks.
Prince Vladimir lifted Thea to her feet and embraced her. He waved the governor and steward away. ‘I want to speak with my wife alone.’ He looked at Anya. ‘Stay, Princess. Come with us into the private chamber.’
Once away from public gaze, Vladimir embraced his wife again. ‘I hear from the governor that you saved the city.’ He held her elbows, tears gathering in his yes. ‘Look at you. How could I have deserted you?’ He looked from Thea to Anya. ‘Did you send to Kiev for help?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Then your messengers were captured.’
‘We suspected as much. Where is my husband?’
‘He is in Kiev. I am to bring you both there. This is why I am here. I had no idea until we rode towards Pereiaslavl that the city was under threat of siege. In fact I was not even sure that you were here, Thea.’ He searched his wife’s face. ‘You look exhausted. You should lie down. Thea, you are with child.’ He looked towards the terem stairway. ‘Our sons – are they safe?’
She nodded, overcome with exhaustion and unable to speak, but she felt a great weight lift from her shoulders. Her tears of relief flowed freely. He gathered her into his arms again and a moment later reached towards Anya too. ‘You are both brave, courageous women.’
‘By the grace of God, we are all safe,’ Anya said reaching out her hand to him.
Anya’s hand was caked with drying blood. ‘It was because of your wife’s strategy that we were able to prevent a siege,’ she said.
Vladimir looked down at Anya’s blood-stained, filthy garments. ‘I am sorry. I was not here to protect you.’
‘It is war, so many wasted lives, such loss,’ Anya said, gesturing towards the door into the outer hall. ‘We have paid a great price for this victory.’
Vladimir bowed his head in sorrow. ‘God save their souls for they have saved us.’ He gently touched Thea’s ash-grimed face. ‘It seemed to us when we were back along the river as if the whole of Pereiaslavl was on fire.’ He swallowed. ‘Let others tend to the fallen. You must rest, both of you, after I explain why I came to find you.’
After they were seated, he said, ‘I am here, not because messengers came, because clearly they did not make it through to Kiev. There is both good and bad to explain.’ He looked at them gravely and took Thea’s hand. ‘I was riding south to conduct you to Kiev. We paused to break bread. The men were tired and hungry so I sent ships ahead. They returned to say that the river was on fire, that the Cumans were attacking. As far as they could see the bastards were getting the worst of the fight. We saddled up again and arrived close to the North Bridge only to find that the Cuman army had vanished. There is a killing field on the far banks of the river. I feared the worst. Never did I guess Greek fire caused the flames on the water, not until we reached the city. The flames were licking along the water just as the ancients described it, green, blue and yellow tongues of fire.’
Thea interrupted, ‘Katya’s father knew a formula. We pushed the liquid fire through siphons from a container and through the ships’ figureheads into the heart of the Cuman cavalry. We sent it into the horsemen riding to capture the southern bridge. Edmund is still quenching the flames. They are using sand. It is effective, but we have lost lives because of it.’
‘Fewer than if the city was sacked.’ Vladimir sank onto the bench beside them.
‘We have won the day, but the price has been so great.’ She mopped tears away with her sleeve. ‘Earl Connor is out there and we have not seen Padar. Gudrun is beside herself.’
Everything conspired to cause her tears to flow – his presence, her exhaustion, memories of the aftermath of the Great Battle for England when she had seen her father’s body in King William’s encampment at Senlac. The winter siege of Exeter, their exile and her difficult betrothal. They flowed because of her marriage into a family where women lived secluded lives. Finally, she wept with
relief for the safety of her children. She swallowed back those tears. There was still much to do. Earl Connor and Padar had not returned. Part of their army was still fighting out on the plains. She wiped her tears away, breathed deeply and waited for him to speak again.
‘It could be worse,’ he said, holding her hand.
She nodded, snatched her hand away and managed a weak smile. ‘I shall recover, my lord.’
‘We have another journey ahead. We have been betrayed by your nephews. While they engaged us up in Chernigov, Gleb sent the khan that attacked you with orders to destroy Pereiaslavl, control the river, meet with him back up the river and take Kiev.’
Anya said, ‘So, exactly where is Prince Vsevolod?’
Vladimir stood again. ‘My father is safe in Kiev but …’ He paused and breathed deeply. ‘But I have grave news.’
Anya’s eyes betrayed her terror as to what was to come next.
Thea quaked at what he might say. Her hand momentarily went to the swan pendant that hung under her mantle. He said softly, ‘Prince Iziaslav died in the battle at the Nezhata Meadows. He was not quick enough to avoid an enemy spear. He had ridden forward from his guard, into the thick of the battle.’ Vladimir crossed himself. ‘My uncle was braver at the end than any of us were that day.’
Thea said with firmness, ‘If there is more, Vladimir, do not spare us.’
‘We took Chernigov and my cousins have fled. My father has taken his brother’s body to Kiev for burial. The merchants and the armies want my father to be crowned grand prince.’ Vladimir knelt before Anya. ‘He has sent me, my lady, to fetch you and my stepbrother and sisters home to Kiev.’
‘My husband has never wanted to be the grand prince and you do not need to kneel before me.’
Vladimir took Anya’s hand and kissed it. ‘Accept, he must. He is the senior member of the family now. We have won this round of battles. Unless we broker a fair peace there may be more.’ He turned from Anya to Thea. ‘I think you, my wife, have proved the greatest general of us all today, though I fear this may not be the end of the Steppe tribes. They will return unless we can bring the khans around to a sensible way of thinking. They must know that they are better off making peace with my father in Kiev than lingering in an ill-fated alliance with the Sviatoslavichi.’
The Betrothed Sister Page 36
