Byzantium - A Novel

by Michael Ennis

  ‘You would rule a dying empire, and in your own fashion you would become a Joannes. You did not grow up next to the heart of Rome. I did. And I know that Rome is dying. And everyone close to that heart is corrupted and dies in emptiness and darkness, no matter how long their span and how glorious the honours heaped upon them by the sycophants at court. Their souls are stolen when they ascend that golden throne, and at that moment they die, alone and empty.’

  ‘But you would have the love of your people.’

  ‘These people I would somehow reach out to from the prison of the Imperial Palace? These people who would perish in a civil war if my true identity were even known? Those who want to restore the Macedonian line would fight to seat me on the throne so that my young loins could bring forth the next Macedonian, and those factions whose interests lay elsewhere would raise their swords on protests of my illegitimacy.’ Maria turned to Haraldr. ‘It is so strange. Zoe and Theodora knew what I am telling you now, and yet in their secret hearts I guess they always dreamed that I could follow them. The shadow of their uncle the Bulgar-Slayer is still over Rome. And because Rome cannot escape a dead man’s legacy, Rome will soon join him in death.’

  Haraldr wrapped his arms more tightly around Maria and nuzzled her ear. ‘As King of Norway I will find no better counsel than in my own marriage bed. I, too, have smelled that fetor of death. In the Studion. Among the corpses of a thematic army ill prepared and even more poorly led. And most strongly within that glittering circle at court, that splendid, scented illusion that masks a power that has decayed at its very core. The foundations of Rome are crumbling, but its caretakers have chosen to re-gild the exterior rather than shore up the columns that actually support the edifice.’ Haraldr looked out at the wavering constellation of the pursuing dhromons; the lights were now strung out in single file. ‘The great beast is dying from within. But its teeth are still deadly.’

  ‘Will we outpace them?’

  ‘We have pulled away slightly. This north wind holds them back more than it does us because their hulls are higher. But the dhromons can slip in behind one another, and the crews at the back can save their energy until it is their turn to challenge the wind. See, that is how they have formed up. As I said, the teeth are still sharp. And I must take my spell at the oars.’ He kissed her and let her go.

  ‘I wish I could row,’ said Maria.

  Haraldr looked up at the sky. The stars were fading beneath a rapidly thickening haze, and the scent of an approaching storm was on the wind. He pointed to a bucket. ‘Well, you have already proved yourself a good bailer.’ he said. ‘I think you will have an opportunity to practise your skill again before the night is over.’

  ‘Khelandia,’ said Halldor flatly. ‘And there are ten dhromons instead of eight.’

  ‘I can’t see them,’ said Ulfr. ‘I can’t see--’ Ulfr stopped and squinted at the line of lights trailing behind them. Except for an occasional light or two on the shoreline, the rest of the horizon was black and featureless. The Great City was a memory. Even the stars had vanished entirely. ‘I can . . . Skita! Where did they come from?’

  ‘They had been hanging back and running without lanterns. Very clever. Put bells on the oxen and let us exhaust ourselves racing against them, then silently bring up the horses.’ Halldor turned and studied the bowing backs of the Varangians and shook his head. ‘They are at their limit right now.’ He looked back at Maria, still vigilant at the stern, her fur cape bound tightly around her. ‘Have Haraldr spelled,’ he told Ulfr. ‘We are going to have to decide what to do when they catch us.’

  Haraldr came to the stern, sweat beaded on his forehead. He listened to Halldor, squinted past the dhromons, and his ruddy complexion faded as he verified the observation. He looked quickly at Maria and she smiled at him. He beckoned her with his hand. ‘She will want to know,’ he said softly.

  Maria looked up at the three Norsemen, her eyes the only bright surface on the entire galley. Haraldr pointed to the south. ‘They have sent out more ships than we thought. Khelandia. The fastest fire-ships. I think they are waiting for some sign of our weakening before they unleash them.’ Haraldr looked quickly over his shoulder at the swaying oarsmen. ‘And that will be soon.’

  Maria’s lips parted silently, and she inhaled quickly before she spoke. ‘This race is ended, then.’ Her voice was resolute. She looked at Haraldr. ‘You have a dinghy. Set me in it and give me a lantern. I am the prize, not your lives. When they have collected me, they will turn back.’ Haraldr immediately shook his head and Maria grabbed his arms. ‘Listen to me!’ she commanded. ‘This is not the end. I will find some way to come to you. Rome will never hold me again. But what prison would I escape from if you were not free to welcome me? This is the only way now. For your people. For us.’ Haraldr stared into her steady blue eyes, her unimpeachable logic ripping at his heart. He shook his head again. ‘What other way is there?’ protested Maria.

  ‘Very well,’ said Haraldr. ‘We will lower the dinghy. But I will be the captain of that vessel.’

  ‘No! Zoe might . . . who knows what she might . . . She has gone mad.’

  ‘I am not afraid of Zoe,’ said Haraldr. ‘And I do not intend to see Zoe. I intend to bribe the Droungarios in command of those dhromons.’

  ‘You should know by now that even all your chests of gold cannot purchase the fate of a purple-born.’

  ‘It suddenly occurs to me that the Droungarios almost unquestionably does not know why his Empress so desperately demands your return. You, yourself, spoke of the threat to Zoe’s own status if a more fecund Macedonian were to become available. I don’t think Zoe is yet as mad as you think.’

  Maria looked at Haraldr with sparkling astonishment. Then her white teeth flashed and she reached up and touched his face. ‘Why do I sometimes forget, my darling, that you are a very wise man?’ She drew her arms around him. ‘You won’t even have to offer him a chestful of gold. A Mistress of the Robes, particularly a discredited wanton like myself, is probably only worth a bag of silver.’

  The hulls of the Varangian galleys vanished behind the dark waves. Spray whistled along with the wind and soon drenched the passengers in the wildly pitching dinghy. Maria’s teeth chattered and Haraldr used one oar to steady the dinghy and the other to hold her. ‘Darling, I must tell you something. This wager may be lost. There is a chance that I am wrong about Zoe.’

  Maria spoke firmly in spite of her quaking body. ‘Feel this.’ She guided his hand to the lining of her cape. The hard blade of a knife lay beneath the soft fur. ‘If they threaten to take you, I will use this. You know I will.’

  ‘No. I will get in the water somehow. Halldor and Ulfr will come back to look for me. I will live and you must not die.’ A wave picked the dinghy up and dropped it with bowel-numbing suddenness. ‘What I must say is what I did not have a chance to say the other times we have taken such risks. There is so much that can happen now if this does not work. We could ... it could be a long time before we hold each other again. Years. I could die in the north before . . .’ He shook his drenched head as if in flinging away the drops of seawater he could cast off that destiny. ‘Fate is suspended, that is all I know. And I may not have this reprieve again.’ He turned to her with blue lightning in his eyes. ‘Wherever you are, I will find you again. I will hold back the last dragon for all eternity if I must to hold you again. I promise that. I will keep that promise beyond my own grave. I will find you and hold you again. This will not be our last embrace.’

  They held each other, unspeaking, until the lights of the dhromons came over them like terrible stars in a dark universe.

  The Droungarios John Moschus stuck his powerful hands into the ivory casket and pulled up fistfuls of gold. The solidi fell back into the pile, the sound a dull clink in the shrieking wind. He fixed his cold grey eyes on Haraldr. ‘It’s a hundred times more than I could expect to leave this office with,’ he said. ‘But my life is ships. It would be death for me to live on some estate in Armen
ikoi after I am relieved of my command.’

  ‘You could buy your own ships. Pursue Saracen brigands. Sail when you please and fight when you please, instead of waiting on the docks until your Emperor decides to frighten some naked children on the beaches of Kherson.’ The dhromon lifted in the mounting sea. ‘Look at this. Is this an effective sortie for thirty fire-ships? To bring back Her Majesty’s Mistress of the Robes? Next you will be asked to send twenty dhromons to Libya to capture a black man to fan the Empress’s face. Besides, she doesn’t make the ultimate decisions. The Monomach knows you are an able commander.’ Haraldr reached in his cloak, produced a large leather purse full of gold coins, and set it on top of the gleaming contents of the casket. ‘Here. Give this to a dwarf named Theodocranus. Tell him that you want the Emperor to preserve your command.’

  Moschus rubbed his scratchy black beard. ‘I’ve heard of this dwarf,’ he said as he shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head again.

  ‘Look,’ said Haraldr, ‘my men will come back for me. A lot of your men and my men will die. For what? For a glorified serving girl. If I did not love her so much with the head that doesn’t think, I probably would just give her back to you and shrug it off. But I burn every time I think of her. Why don’t you keep the money and let me keep the Mistress?’

  Moschus looked at Maria and then at Haraldr. ‘I think you might misunderstand. I have orders to let you go. Maybe you should try to forget her.’

  ‘Look at her,’ said Haraldr. ‘Could you forget her? She’s not a woman, she’s a demon. She possesses the soul. You know what they say about her.’

  Moschus laughed. Maria’s eyes never flinched. ‘I’ve heard about her as well.’ He cocked his head at Haraldr. ‘You’re certain that it isn’t the Emperor who really wants her back? I mean . . .’He lifted his wiry eyebrows suggestively and threw his hands up.

  ‘She’s faithful to me. I keep her locked up.’

  Moschus dug his hands into the gold again and then stood up. He stamped the deck. ‘Damn! Women! That’s the beauty and the curse of the sea. No women. Damn!’ He looked at Haraldr. ‘I need to think about this.’

  ‘Halldor, your eyes are intoxicated with their earlier success.’ Ulfr winced into the screaming north wind and flying spray. Hord Stefnirson leaned over his shoulder. They silently studied the sea for a long while.

  ‘Odin!’ Hord jerked erect as if he had been struck by an arrow. ‘Odin! No! Who?’

  Ulfr looked at Hord and shook his head as if to say, ‘Don’t tell me you are as mad as Halldor is.’ Halldor shook his head back at Ulfr. ‘You’re not talking about that squall line?’ said Ulfr, still peering at the sea. ‘That . . .’ Ulfr went rigid. ‘Holy Mother of Christ. Holy, Holy Mother of Christ. That is no squall line. That is . . .’ He turned and looked at Halldor. ‘That is the fleet.’

  ‘Yes. I think about three hundred ships,’ said Halldor, not at all enjoying his triumph. ‘Now let us see,’ he said grimly. ‘Who can be the first to discover whether they are merchantmen or warships?’

  Maria pressed her chin to Haraldr’s chest. ‘If he does not accept, I will threaten to kill myself. I will. His mission could hardly be considered successful then.’

  ‘He will accept,’ whispered Haraldr. ‘The fact that a man like Moschus says he must think about it convinces me that he has already accepted. He knows that he could do exactly as ordered and still be dismissed because of some Imperial caprice. Rome does not reward loyalty sufficiently well to be accorded loyalty. The only thing I am worried about now is this storm that is coming.’

  ‘A mere hurricane,’ said Maria with a wry smile. The call from the look-out high above blasted through the wind. Haraldr turned to the mast and saw Moschus pulling himself up the rope ladder. Moschus hung about halfway up the enormous mast and looked into the night. His body yawed as the wind whipped at the ropes; then he jerked abruptly with alarm or astonishment or both. He shouted down the deck. Haraldr heard part of the command but it was too late. The Imperial Marines, spears lowered, were already encircling Maria and him. Haraldr thought of leaping the railing at his back but instantly knew he was defeated. He could not leave Maria to an unknown fate.

  Moschus came back down the rope ladder like a huge, thick-bodied spider clambering through its web. His face was livid. He shouldered through the arc of his marines. ‘If you think you can coerce me, think again, Varangian!’ he shouted, clenching his powerful fists. ‘I don’t understand your game, but while I have been hesitant to quarrel with you over this woman, I will be more than eager to accept a challenge from your fleet! You cannot see them yet, but I ordered another three dozen dhromons and support vessels to follow behind this group, simply as an exercise. I will crush you!’

  Haraldr looked at Moschus in astonishment. ‘Droungarios, my fleet, as you put it, was reduced by a third when one ship foundered on the boom. And why would I ask that fleet to challenge you now? You were about to accept my offer, were you not?’

  ‘I was,’ snapped Moschus, ‘until I discovered this treachery. By my count it would take a hundred wrecks to reduce your fleet by a third. Do you plan an invasion? Perhaps the Empress had good purpose in putting my fleet in your pursuit, and I better Fortune by ordering my strength to sea.’

  Haraldr looked to the north. His two galleys had approached to within less than a bowshot of the dhromon, which surprised him, but not as much as the fact that that was all he saw. ‘I left with two ships,’ he said in bewilderment. ‘I don’t know why they are coming up, but I can assure you they do not intend to attack without my signal.’

  Moschus stepped forward and seized Haraldr’s arm. ‘Very well! You climb up there, and if you can still maintain there are only two ships, I will turn over my baton to you!’

  Haraldr was only a third of the way up the swaying rope ladder when he looked out and gasped. The dark hulls virtually spanned the width of the Bosporus and disappeared back into a lowering mist. Haraldr hoped that what he saw was only a small wrinkle in the fabric of fate. He shouted down to Moschus. ‘Those are Rus ships!’

  Haraldr studied the ships for a few more moments before he climbed back to the deck. The Imperial Marines surrounded him again. He faced Moschus. ‘I swear to you I have no collusion in this. But those are the hulls of Rus merchantmen.’

  ‘Which can also be used as warships!’ growled Moschus. ‘It’s late in the year for a trade flotilla, don’t you think?’

  ‘Perhaps they have been delayed by the Pechenegs,’ said Haraldr. ‘I am certain their business is peaceful.’

  ‘Droungarios!’ Haraldr’s galley had come within fifty ells of the larboard, and Halldor hailed from the stern. ‘Droungarios! Permission to come alongside!’

  Moschus barked orders and the lion-shaped bronze spout at the stern of the dhromon swivelled to address the Varangian galley. Then he gave Halldor his permission. The ships drifted to within ten ells and pitched alongside each other in the heavy chop. ‘Haraldr,’ shouted Halldor, ‘the fleet is Rus, commanded by Vladimir, Prince of Kiev.’ Haraldr sighed with relief; Elisevett’s brother, Vladimir, had been a puny Idler the last time Haraldr had seen him. He couldn’t attack a nest of mice. ‘Droungarios!’ shouted Halldor. ‘The leader of the Rus fleet wants to negotiate with the commander of the Imperial Fleet.’

  ‘I know this Vladimir,’ said Haraldr. ‘Believe me, he is without hostile capability.’

  Moschus shook his head. ‘This is all too neatly contrived.’ He scratched his beard. ‘Here is what I will offer you in good faith. You go and bring this Vladimir to me as my hostage, and I will not attack his fleet pending inquiries to the Prefect and the Logothete of the Dromus. In the meanwhile I will keep the Mistress of the Robes in my custody.’

  Haraldr looked at Maria. It was clear she liked this compromise less than he did, and he wondered if she was at last losing her courage; he would not blame her. How many times could they dance on the needle of fate? He nodded to her that they must play this out.


  Maria rushed to him and clutched him with stunning power. ‘No,’ she gasped. ‘You cannot go out there!’ She shuddered violently. ‘Hold me,’ she pleaded, ‘hold me. I am so cold. I am so cold.’ Her teeth chattered and she grimaced so that she could speak. ‘You must not go out there. I will never see you again.’ She began to cry and her entire body trembled.

  Haraldr could not fathom her premonition. It was only Vladimir. This would be settled in an hour. He rocked her and stroked her hair. ‘I must,’ he said. ‘The sooner I begin, the sooner I will be back for you.’ He forced her chin up. ‘Darling, remember my promise. If Satan himself is out there, I will still come back for you.’

  Haraldr’s galleys pulled north through the pitching rows of Rus ships. According to the slit-eyed little Rus functionary Halldor had taken aboard, Prince Vladimir was tucked safely in the middle of his enormous fleet. Haraldr wondered how the hapless scamp had ever got this far, with so many ships still intact.

  The functionary pointed to a fat river ship identical to the dozens around it. Haraldr told Ulfr to stay aboard and take command if anything happened, though he was confident nothing untoward was about. He strapped on his sword and laughed. ‘I would tell you to wear your byrnnie, Halldor, but when you see this Prince of Rus, you will be so frightened that you will leap into the sea, and I don’t want you to sink.’

  Haraldr rowed the Rus functionary and Halldor across in the functionary’s dinghy. He helped the other two over the railing of the fat merchantman and then swung himself over. For some strange reason the ship smelled like Rus, though he couldn’t say exactly what scent produced that effect. He looked up. Raindrops hurtled out of the darkness.