The Viking Saga

by Henry Treece

  PART THREE

  * * *

  14. Marriba’s Command

  One day out from Jebel Tarik, Harald stood at the helm, holding a north-easterly course through the torpid blue waters of the Middle Sea. Once more he felt the salt upon his face and his heart rejoiced. Radbard and Haro stood in the prow, pointing excitedly at this and that – a white gull swooping low over the water, a brightly-coloured sail on a distant ship, anything.

  Marriba sat under an awning aft, stroking her leopard cub and sometimes deigning to speak to the old woman, her personal slave, who accompanied her. This old woman, Lalla, was a devout creature, for ever at her prayers, and hating the whole idea of a voyage, even though Marriba told her again and again that they could come to no harm, with the Vikings to guard them, and ten fierce Syrian oarsmen, who were as able with a sword as with an oar or a sail. But still the old woman shook her head mournfully and wept that she had ever come to this …

  Sometimes Marriba strummed on a golden lute that her father had given her as a parting present, and then the sweet music seemed to echo in time to the beat of the oars and the cry of the seabirds, and all seemed gay in the sunshine.

  Often they passed other ships belonging to Marriba’s father, which always gave a loud call on their trumpets to show that they recognized their master’s fast ship and were paying their respects to it.

  Harald was thinking how beautiful Jebel Tarik had looked, as they sailed away a day ago, set in terraces on the high rock, white and red and yellow in the morning sunshine. It had quite gone from his mind that he had ever been a slave there, and now when he looked back, it seemed a place of good fortune – in spite of the fact that to get there, he had lost many friends, a ship, and a load of treasure.

  His thoughts swung back to his comrades – Haro, Goff, Sven and the others … yes, even the giant Grummoch, who had looked like becoming a true sea-rover and then had jumped into the water and put an end to himself rather than be taken by the Arab pirates … What a shame it was, thought Harald, that one lost one’s shipmates! And how glorious it would be to sail with all the good men one had ever known, in the biggest longship of all time, to the west, to the west, to the west …

  But now he was sailing to the north-east, he reflected, half-sadly for the moment, and he knew only two men in this fast little ship.

  He was roused from his daydream by a blast on the silver whistle, which Marriba used to call her shipmaster to her, on her father’s orders.

  Harald beckoned to Radbard, who ran aft and took the helm. Then he made his way to the girl as she sat under the striped awning.

  Marriba smiled at him and indicated a cushion at her feet with a motion of her hand.

  ‘Sit down, shipmaster,’ she said, gently. ‘There is something I wish to say to you, now that we are over a day at sea.’

  Harald still stood, feeling that he should not show any familiarity with his master’s daughter; but Marriba pointed to the cushion again, this time imperiously. ‘Remember, you swore to obey me in all things – yes, in all things, Captain,’ she said, smiling.

  Harald frowned and said, ‘What shall be, shall be. What is it that troubles you, Lady Marriba, then?’

  Marriba smiled sweetly at him and said, ‘Nothing troubles me, Captain; and nothing is going to trouble me, either. You will obey all my commands, and then nothing will trouble me. Is that clear?’

  Harald nodded, puzzled. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I shall obey you in all reasonable things.’

  Marriba said sternly, ‘You will obey me in all things – reasonable or otherwise, Captain. For that is the oath you took to my father, and that is the oath he will expect you to keep.’

  Harald said, ‘Yes, but if you ordered me to run this fine ship on to a rock, not even my oath would make me –’

  Marriba stopped him with a wave of her hand.

  ‘I should not do anything so stupid,’ she said quietly, ‘for we need this ship to take us to Byzantium, don’t we, Captain?’

  Harald jumped to his feet. ‘What do you mean, Byzantium?’ he said, in amazement.

  ‘Just that, Captain,’ said Marriba, fingering the silky ears of her leopard cub. ‘I am ordering you to change course, and to set this ship’s nose towards Byzantium, or Miklagard as you barbarians call it, towards the Empire itself. Is that clear?’

  Harald said thickly, ‘No, it is not clear. I am to take you to the northern islands, a day and a half away, to pass the summer there with relatives who expect you.’

  Marriba sighed and said, ‘How dull you Northmen are. A man of the south would have seen my point immediately. Well, if you must know, my dear relatives in the northern islands will wait for me in vain. They are old and dull and would be no fun for a young girl like me to pass the summer with. I am going to pass the summer, and longer than the summer, with someone more to my liking, dear Captain.’

  Harald gazed at her with wide-open eyes.

  ‘You know someone in Byzantium?’ he said slowly.

  Marriba mimicked his slow speech. ‘Yes, dear Captain,’ she said. ‘I know a prince there, a Roman, who wishes to marry me. Is that clear?’

  Harald stood back a pace and rubbed his forehead.

  ‘But does your father know about this?’ he said.

  Marriba smiled wickedly and answered, ‘No, dear Captain, he does not; and who is there to bother him with such news? You will take me to my prince in Byzantium, it is an old arrangement with us, and then everyone will be happy.’

  Harald said, ‘But what if I refuse?’

  Someone had stepped behind him. It was Haro. He put his hand firmly on Harald’s shoulder and said, ‘You will not refuse what this lady asks you. You have sworn an oath, as I have, and you will obey her.’

  Harald looked into Haro’s eyes and saw that he was deadly serious.

  ‘You are bemused with this young woman, Haro,’ said the shipmaster. ‘Abu Mazur didn’t mean us to obey her in things like this.’

  Haro answered calmly, ‘Who are you to decide what Abu Mazur meant? Do your duty as a Captain, Harald. And if I am bemused with her, well and good, that is no crime. I shall see her delivered safely to her prince if it is the last thing I do.’

  Radbard met Harald outside the awning and said, ‘I have heard what has been said.’

  Harald said, ‘You must be the final judge, Radbard. What do you say?’

  Radbard Crookleg scratched his long nose and then smiled at Marriba over Harald’s shoulder.

  ‘I have always wanted to see Miklagard,’ he said.

  And before Harald could reply, Radbard had walked back to the helm, to swing the ship round so her prow faced towards the east.

  Marriba said nothing, but picked up her golden lute and began to strum lightly.

  Harald stumped away to the prow of the ship and stood staring into the white foam that lashed about the bow. But at last even he relented and by evening time sat with the others under the awning, eating and drinking and telling those immensely long tales which all Northmen rejoice in.

  15. The Ship of War

  Excited as they all were, the trials of the many weeks which followed caused Harald to doubt his wisdom in agreeing to the long voyage to Miklagard.

  When they drew too close inshore off Tunis, a dhow came out after them, and though they easily outstripped it, yet they lost three Syrian oarsmen in the flight of arrows which followed them.

  Marriba said bitterly, ‘If my father knew of that, he would have the crew of that dhow strangled with bowstrings.’

  Harald retorted, ‘If your father knew, he would probably reward them all for trying to recapture his wicked daughter.’

  But this only made Marriba laugh and Harald said no more.

  Again, they almost ran aground on the coast of Sicily, and were chased by a long warship which got close enough to fling out its grappling hooks. Harald swung the helm hard over, almost capsizing the shallow craft, and unseating the oarsmen, who by this time were ready to surrender to anyone who loo
ked fiercely enough at them; but they got free again, and put in at Malta to replenish their food and water, which had only been sufficient to take them to the Balearic Islands in the first place.

  At Malta, yet another misfortune befell them, which made Harald feel that the hand of Odin was turned against them on this voyage. Wandering in the woods above the shore, while the water-skins were being filled, Radbard trod upon a viper and was bitten deeply in the ankle. He struck off the creature’s head and then tried to let out the poison from the wound with his sword. Harald and Haro found him, hours later, staggering about in the woods, his eyes wild, and babbling that he must get back to the fjord to plant the barley seeds for his old mother.

  Harald examined their comrade’s leg. It was very swollen and had red streaks running up it towards his body.

  ‘There is nothing we can do, friend,’ said Haro, when he saw this. ‘Radbard has run his course. It is the will of Odin.’

  Later they fetched the old woman, Lalla, who was skilled in herbal medicines. She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and said that if they had been back home, she would have known just where to find the right herb to cure this snake sting – but here, ah no, it was impossible. Allah wanted this man, she said, and it would be wicked to keep Allah and Radbard apart.

  As she said this, Radbard’s mind seemed to clear for a moment or two and he even smiled grimly at the old woman.

  ‘Be assured, old one,’ he said, ‘it is Odin who requests the pleasure of my company at his feast, not Allah! And I am ready to go.’

  Harald was holding him at the time, and felt Radbard’s head suddenly go slack on his shoulders. He laid the man down gently and then they covered him with boughs and turf, for the wood there was too green and damp to make a funeral pyre.

  On the way to the ship, Harald dried the tears on his cheeks and said, ‘Haro, my only friend, this is a bad voyage. But I swear to you that I shall make Miklagard pay for this. I shall leave that city as rich as a prince, or shall die there!’

  Haro did not answer and they went back to the ship in silence.

  When they got aboard, Harald solemnly handed Radbard’s sword to Marriba. ‘Here, lady,’ he said with a quiet bitterness, ‘this is a present from the man you have killed by your wilfulness.’

  He was sorry he had said this when Marriba suddenly burst into tears. But after that, she regarded Harald very oddly, at times, as though she wished to punish him for his words to her that day.

  Then their luck seemed to change without warning. A week later they ran in north of Crete, to be met by a large Roman man-of-war that stood high out of the water. There was no escaping this time, and indeed Harald had little heart to try that trick again. He merely ordered the rowers to leave their oars and get out their swords. Then he walked to the prow and stood waiting for the first men to come at him.

  The Roman ship flung out a grappling hook and drew the other ship alongside. Three officers, splendid in golden armour, jumped lightly down beside Harald, their swords rattling in their scabbards.

  ‘What cargo do you carry?’ the first man asked in Arabic.

  Harald said, ‘A woman, nothing more.’ He was weary of the whole voyage and would almost have surrendered Marriba at that moment, so annoyed was he at the loss of Radbard.

  The officers strode down between the Syrian rowers to the awning where Marriba sat, putting on a brave face, twitching the strings of her lute, as though she were accustomed to such situations every day.

  When they reached her, they bowed and smiled courteously.

  ‘On what errand do you travel, lady?’ said their leader.

  Marriba smiled up at him and whispered something which he had to bend to hear, her voice had suddenly gone so weak.

  To Harald’s great surprise, the officer bowed again and said for all to hear, ‘A thousand pardons, lady. If I had known, I would not have put you to the indignity of answering my questions.’

  As he spoke, the other two officers knelt before Marriba, their heads bowed low.

  Haro nudged Harald and whispered, ‘If they do not take care, they will break their long noses on the deck boards!’

  Then the officer spoke again and said, ‘The times are dangerous ones, Your Highness, and our Emperor Constantine, your beloved, would think ill of us if we allowed you to travel further without our escort. Indeed, great lady, if I confess the truth, we have been watching for you these three months, up and down the islands, for your message that you would find some occasion to travel east before the summer was out pleased the Emperor Constantine greatly.’

  Harald hissed, ‘To think that all the time she was planning this trick! I will never trust womankind again!’

  Even Haro looked a trifle put out as he heard the officer’s words.

  When these men had gone, with many bows and a great swirl of their purple cloaks, Marriba beckoned to Harald and said slyly to him, ‘So now you know, great Captain! I am to be betrothed to the Emperor in Constantinople. Are you not glad that you did not disobey me now, when I ordered you to sail here?’

  Harald said angrily, ‘What would your good father say to such a match? You are a Muslim and this emperor is no doubt a Christian, of some sort.’

  Marriba said quietly, ‘Be assured, friend Northman, he is a very great Christian; one of the greatest! And so shall I become, in due course, for there are some trifling obstacles to be cleared away, I understand. First this lover of mine is already betrothed to one Rotrud, no doubt an ugly creature, the daughter of that Frankish king Charles, who lets himself be called “The Great”.’

  Even Harald gasped at her insolence, for he and his folk had good reason to fear the name of Charlemagne.

  ‘And what is the other obstacle, O Powerful Queen?’ he asked, in as bitter a tone as he dared.

  Marriba examined the nails of her right hand negligently and at last said, ‘My Constantine’s mother, Irene, a woman of Athens and no true Roman, seems bent on making trouble. I gather that she hopes to rule here herself, and so did not take the oath of fealty to her son. But we shall attend to that matter when I am installed in Byzantium, friend Harald, that we shall! Then there will be no obstacle.’

  Harald said slowly, ‘No, no obstacle then, my lady. And how old is this Emperor of yours?’

  Marriba struck three light chords on her lute before she answered, and then she did so with a defiant expression on her ivory face.

  ‘He is fifteen, great Captain,’ she said. ‘But fifteen in a brave warrior is the match of twenty in, say, a mere seaman, shipmaster!’

  Harald stared at her aghast; then he controlled himself and strode to the prow of his ship to supervise the loading of certain delicacies which the officers on the warship had decided it was wise to offer to the beautiful young lady who had come so far to marry their Emperor. Not that they were afraid of her or of him, but it was as well to keep in favour – with both sides if possible – and in any case they would report all they knew, as soon as they landed, to the Lady Irene, the Emperor’s rather overbearing mother, from whom they drew a second salary, after the little Emperor had paid them off with his miserable pittance.

  On their high deck they looked down on to the fast ship of Abu Mazur. Their Captain, the one with the hooked nose and the curly black hair, who had spoken to Marriba so respectfully, said to his two lieutenants, ‘Well, gentlemen, the situation grows more and more amusing! He sends us to meet her and guard her to the port; she sends us to capture her and, if possible, to drown her quietly, off whichever of the islands is the most convenient! Which shall we do, gentlemen?’

  The two lieutenants grinned at each other, admiring their reflections in each other’s armour. Then the elder of them turned, twirled his long black moustaches and said silkily, ‘Let us take her back safely, my Captain. It would be more amusing – I should love to see what old Irene says when this young Arab lass begins to queen it over her in the Court!’

  ‘Done!’ said the Captain, slapping the other quite gently
on the back. ‘So that is settled! She lives, for the time being! And now we will go below decks and drink some of that sweet white wine I had brought on board this morning. It looks superb, gentlemen, quite superb! Far too good for the likes of poor soldiers like us!’

  They went below laughing gaily. Harald watched them from his ship and wondered what had pleased them so hugely. It was perhaps just as well that he did not know.

  16. Miklagard

  Three days later the two ships had passed between the many islands and had reached the Sea of Marmara, had skirted the Golden Gate and were running into an anchorage but a stone’s throw from the great golden-roofed Palace of Justinian.

  Though the heat beat down unmercifully, to be reflected from the oily water, Marriba had decked herself out in a robe and cloak of heavy silk, and had braided her raven-black hair with thick pieces of corded ribbon, shot through and through with strands of gold and silver thread.

  She stood upon the deck, among the rowers, gazing in wonder at the many glories of this Miklagard to which they had come, the Jewel of the World.

  Beyond the battlemented walls, set round with dark cypress trees, rose tier after tier of roofs, some red, some green, some golden, surmounted again by immense domes, that glistened gloriously in the sunshine, and great arches supported by twisted columns of marble; and over these yet again, high towers and minarets, that seemed to reach up through the deep blue sky to heaven itself. The Vikings saw the immense aqueducts which spanned the vast city like many-legged monsters of white stone and pointed in awe.

  ‘Aiee!’ gasped Haro, ‘but they are impossible! No man could put stone on stone to grow so high up towards the clouds! I shall never believe it! And when I leave this place, I shall know that it was all a dream!’

  Harald laughed at him and said, ‘If ever you leave it, friend!’

  And everywhere they looked, there was such magnificence; northward, across the Golden Horn, was the suburb, Pera, two miles away, its layers of white houses rising up from the blue waters towards the bluer sky, like some fantastic betrothal cake, set with olive trees; and eastward, a mile across the Bosporus, lay Chrysopolis, purple-roofed and splendid above the water, its harbour gay with the many-coloured sails that bobbed lazily on the swell.