‘Fetch the treasure,’ Vallon told Gorka. ‘It’s in the cabin.’
One of the duke’s men tried to block the door and Gorka clubbed him aside with his sword hilt. Vallon wrenched Skleros towards the side and handed him over to a squat Seljuk with a moon face all the more frightening for its impassivity. ‘Guard him close.’
The leading battleship was less than a mile to starboard, foam curling from its prow. Gorka and his men staggered out of the cabin, burdened by the treasure chests. A collective failure of nerve rooted the duke’s men to the spot.
‘Josselin, order those ships to stand off. Tell their commanders that we’re on imperial duty and will treat any attempt to close as an assault. Tell them I have the duke in my custody.’
Vallon waited until every man was in the boats before taking his place. They’d found space for six of the duke’s company and the craft sat low in the water. Wulfstan balanced on one of them, exhorting the rowers to put their backs into it with a string of expletives almost poetic in their intensity. No hymn-singing now. He was back in his element and rejoicing in it.
Pelican’s hull blocked Vallon’s view of the oncoming battleships. ‘Josselin, what are they doing?’
‘Shortening sail, sir. They know something’s amiss.’
Pelican’s hull loomed over the boats. Hands stretched down. ‘Take the duke first, then me.’ Two men plucked Vallon on deck. Grabbing Skleros, he ran to the other side as an amplified voice drifted from the dromon.
‘Dungarios of the Eastern Sea, carrying imperial despatches for Duke Michael Skleros.’
The duke wriggled in Vallon’s grasp. ‘I told you.’
‘What orders?’ Vallon bellowed.
‘For the duke’s eyes only.’
‘Where did you sail from?’
‘Trebizond.’
Vallon swung the duke round. ‘Trebizond? There’s not a ship built that could have sailed from Constantinople to Trebizond and then put back to sea in time to intercept us. The only reason they’re expecting us is because they knew of our voyage in advance.’
Skleros had regained possession of himself. ‘Very possibly,’ he said. ‘You’ve lived in Constantinople long enough to know how difficult it is to keep secrets. An imperial order whispered in a palace closet will be the talk of the taverns by midnight.’
‘No,’ said Vallon. ‘This is your doing.’
The duke’s face grew inflamed. ‘How dare you! Remember who you’re addressing.’
Vallon’s manner was implacable. ‘It was you.’
‘Nonsense. Where’s your evidence? I could make the same accusation against you.’
‘I spoke to no one.’
‘Not even your wife?’
Vallon flung him away. ‘We’ll settle who’s to blame soon enough.’
The officer on the battleship raised his megaphone. ‘Transfer the duke to the admiral’s ship for instructions regarding your mission.’
‘If you want him, you’ll have to come and get him.’
Skleros tugged Vallon’s sleeve. ‘You’re only making things worse for yourself. Those ships carry six hundred men and marines. Pointless to resist. You can’t save your career, but you still have a chance to save your life.’
Vallon’s lip curled. ‘I thought you knew nothing of military matters, yet now you reel off the enemy’s strength.’
The duke looked around, shaking his head, before fixing a tragic gaze on Vallon. He gave a weary sigh. ‘You’re a damn fool. If you’d stayed longer at table, we could have settled everything to everyone’s satisfaction. But no. The first glimpse of a sail and you run around like a rabid dog.’
A chill closed around Vallon’s spine. ‘So I’m right. You’ve sabotaged our expedition.’
‘Saved us from certain death,’ Skleros hissed. He leaned back. ‘Admit it, Vallon, you have no more appetite for this adventure than I do. I saw it on your face the day we met.’ He brought his face closer. ‘Only I have firm evidence of the emperor’s folly.’ He nodded, one plump finger wagging, his voice dropping to an intense whisper. ‘We’re not the first expedition to set out for China. The emperor deposed by Alexius sent a delegation last spring. A carrier pigeon brought news of their fate in December. They’d lost three-quarters of their men and run out of food and water. Nothing has been heard of them since. They’re dead. Do you want to meet the same fate?’
Vallon stared at the war galleys. Hundreds of armed men lined their sides. ‘Those ships aren’t part of the Eastern Fleet and they’re not carrying an admiral. Who commands them?’
‘Close relatives and trustworthy friends.’
‘What arrangement have you made?’
‘Allow them to come alongside and escort us into Trebizond.’
‘Then what? I’ll be transported back to Constantinople and executed for treason.’
‘Neither of us can return to the capital. You’ll have to remain in Anatolia. The duchy is effectively independent. In Trebizond you’ll be beyond the emperor’s reach.’
The situation was spinning out of Vallon’s control. ‘My wife and family are in the capital.’
‘So are mine, waiting for instructions to join us. As soon as we reach port, send a message to your lady. A ship will be waiting. I’ve arranged it. In a week or two you’ll be reunited with your family.’
‘Lose my home, my career?’
Skleros’s carnal breath gusted into the general’s face. ‘I’ve lost much more. Both of us can build a new life in Trebizond. Better that than dying among barbarians a thousand miles from home.’
‘And my men?’
‘Trebizond has need of soldiers. They’ll find employment.’ Skleros had seized the initiative. ‘Listen, Vallon. Why do you think the emperor chose you for this mission?’
‘My experience of travel in hostile lands.’
Skleros tugged Vallon’s arm. ‘Yes, yes, all that. But something else.’
Vallon frowned. ‘Because I saved the emperor’s life?’
Skleros gave a gleeful laugh. ‘And something before that. You stood up in front of his generals and told him that it would be foolhardy to engage the Normans. And you were right. And when you’d been proved right, you rubbed salt into the wound by rescuing the emperor from his own vainglory. You don’t move in court circles as I do, but believe me, at private banquets and bath houses, important men whisper your name and smile at the irony. They haven’t forgotten – and nor has Alexius – that Basil the Macedonian, one of our greatest emperors, began his career as a foreign general.’
‘What’s your crime?’
‘My name. I’m a Phocas, cousin of the emperor deposed by Alexius and his scheming bitch of a mother.’
Vallon felt dull-witted. He shook his head. ‘Alexius wouldn’t spend a fortune just to get rid of one of his generals and a treacherous duke.’
When Skleros smiled, his eyes disappeared. ‘How little you understand Byzantine politics.’ He waved at the treasure chests. ‘That gold amounts to less than what it cost Alexius to build a private chapel in which to confess his sins.’ He held up a finger and his voice fell to a hush. ‘But for us, General, a fortune, a solid foundation on which to rebuild our lives.’
Vallon’s hopes, shakily constructed from the start, had collapsed in ruins. Skleros recognised his dismay and followed up. ‘Another thing. You have a beautiful wife. You’ve spent longer on foreign service than you’ve been at home.’ Skleros flinched and held up a placating hand. ‘Don’t misunderstand me. I’ve heard nothing to suggest that your lady is anything other than a faithful partner. But at dinner parties I’ve heard several wealthy and well-connected gentlemen who would like to separate you from your mistress.’ He gripped harder. ‘Three years, Vallon. That’s how long we’ll be away, maybe longer. That’s how long your wife will have to endure an empty bed.’
Vallon felt cold. ‘What part does the Logothete play in this?’
Skleros loosened his grip. ‘Who knows? He spins and weaves, knotting saint and
sinner into warp and weft.’
Vallon took a shuddering breath. ‘I have to consult my officers.’
‘There’s nothing to consult about. The expedition’s finished. Even if you could escape, you’ll lose the supply ships.’
Vallon looked at Skleros as if seeing him for the first time. ‘I thought you were a fool, a lazy glutton without a thought in your head except where your next meal would come from.’
The duke tittered. ‘Cleverer men than you have made the same mistake.’ He sobered and his eyes grew round with false sincerity. ‘I won’t hold it against you. You’re just a simple soldier trying to do your duty.’
‘Yes,’ Vallon said. ‘A simple soldier.’
‘So I forgive the rough treatment you’ve subjected me to. Now then, do as I command and you’ll receive a share of the gold and treasure.’
‘How much?’
Skleros cocked his head like a bird about to spear a worm. ‘A quarter would be fair, I think.’
Vallon stepped back. ‘I’ll weigh everything you’ve told me.’
His squadron watched in mystified silence as he made for the tower, summoning Pelican’s captain and Otia the Georgian centurion to join him. He climbed up to the platform and faced his officers. Wulfstan sneaked alongside.
Vallon’s tone was wooden. ‘Those are pirate ships and the duke is in league with them. He says that if we follow them into Trebizond, we’ll be free to start afresh with a share of the gold.’
Wulfstan spat. ‘Well, that was a short expedition.’
‘I don’t believe him. If they wanted us to go to Trebizond, they could simply have waited for us to arrive. I think they hoped to board us without raising suspicions, disarm us and slaughter us. They would have killed the crew and sunk the ships, leaving no trace of their crime.’
‘Are we going to fight them?’ Josselin asked.
Vallon cleared his throat and stood straighter. ‘Only if we have to. Captain, can Pelican outrun those ships?’
‘General, I’m not going to —’
‘I asked you a question.’
Iannis swallowed. ‘We’re lighter and more nimble. I’d wager we have the beating of them as long as this breeze holds. If it fails, their speed under oars would be greater.’
‘Where would we run to?’ Josselin asked. ‘Sinop is the nearest friendly harbour, but it must lie more than a day upwind. Voyage north and we’ll fall into the hands of Rus warlords or steppe nomads. Sail east and we’ll end up in Armenia or Georgia.’
Vallon’s wits were beginning to fall into place. ‘We won’t find a safe haven in Armenia. It’s in Seljuk hands and has close relations with Trebizond. Our documents guaranteeing safe passage wouldn’t be worth the ink they’re written in.’ Vallon squinted east. ‘Captain, how far are we from Georgia?’
‘If this breeze holds, we should sight the coast tomorrow morning.’
Vallon looked for Otia. ‘That’s your country. What kind of reception can we expect?’
‘Not a friendly one. It’s only forty years since Byzantium went to war against Georgia, and my compatriots have long memories.’
‘We’re not going to invade the place, just make a safe landfall until we work out our next move. Captain, can you find a peaceful spot to put us ashore?’
Iannis eyed the eastern horizon. ‘The mouth of the river Phasis. The coast there is flat and marshy, inhabited only by fishermen.’
‘Make for it.’
Josselin indicated the warships to windward. ‘How do we get away from them?
Vallon’s eye fell on the catapult – a trebuchet with a timber throwing arm twenty feet long, the short end counterweighted with a basket of sand that must have weighed close to a ton. He glanced at Wulfstan. ‘You used catapults in the Mediterranean. What’s that thing capable of?’
Wulfstan studied the machine with a professional eye. ‘I’d say it could hurl a thirty-pound rock more than five hundred feet.’
‘How far would it toss the duke?’
Wulfstan spluttered with laughter. Even Otia’s face twitched in a smile. ‘I calculate that he’d fall a way short of the galley, but he’d make a fair old splash.’
Hero was shocked. ‘Vallon, I hope you’re joking.’
‘Fetch him.’
The Seljuk minder bundled Skleros up onto the roof. The duke looked around at the faces and found no comfort in them. His voice quavered. ‘I trust that I’ve made you see sense.’
Vallon’s nod had all the hallmarks of defeat. ‘Yes, after considering all aspects of our situation, I realise our position is almost hopeless.’
Skleros exhaled in relief. ‘Good. I knew you were a practical fellow at heart. Remember the —’
‘Almost hopeless,’ Vallon snapped. ‘A position with which I’m depressingly familiar.’ His gaze flicked towards Wulfstan. ‘Lash him to the beam.’ He turned to face the captain. ‘Raise sail. Josselin, meet any move on the enemy’s part with a volley of arrows.’
Four men dragged Skleros kicking and screaming to the trebuchet and hoisted him onto the beam. The officer on the battleship raised his megaphone. ‘General, what are you doing? If any harm comes to the duke, you’ll pay with your life.’
‘What’s your name?’ Vallon shouted. ‘When someone threatens me, I like to know who I’m dealing with.’
‘Thraco,’ the officer said. ‘A cousin of Duke Skleros.’
‘You asked me to transfer him to you, and since he’s confessed his crimes and I have no more need of him, I’m returning him as promptly as I can.’ He glanced sideways to see the duke held by arms and legs astride the beam, Wulfstan poised to release the trigger that would propel the human missile with the speed of a departing arrow. ‘On my command.’
‘No!’ Skleros screamed. ‘Please God.’
‘Make it quick,’ said Wulfstan. ‘His nibs has shat himself.’
Vallon raised the megaphone again. ‘It seems that the duke has changed his mind and wants to stay on Pelican. If you wish to save him, you’ll let us sail away without hindrance. Remember, we have six more of his men to use for target practice. I’m sure you don’t want to see so much blue blood wasted.’
‘Vallon, if any harm comes to the duke…’
Vallon lifted an arm as Pelican gathered way, her slopping motion smoothing into a glide. She was almost out of earshot before Thraco’s final words reached him. ‘Vallon, you’re only delaying the inevitable. You’re cornered. You can’t defend your supply ships. Without food or horses…’ Distance swallowed the rest of his message.
Vallon let his breath go. ‘Release the duke and clean him up.’ He climbed down to the deck and the first face he saw was Aiken’s, lips drawn back in a rictus of disgust.
‘Don’t look at me like that. You chose to come by outsmarting yourself. This is war and war doesn’t know logic or reason.’
Aiken backed away and Vallon took up position in the bow. He was still standing there at dusk.
‘The war galleys have captured the supply ships,’ Josselin said behind him.
‘I’m not blind.’
Josselin hovered. ‘General, can you tell me your plans? The men are anxious and —’
‘I’m still assessing our situation. As soon as I’ve found a way out, I’ll tell you.’
‘Very good, General.’
It was almost dark when Hero stepped up to Vallon’s side. They watched night drawing down and Venus winking in the east.
Hero broke the silence. ‘Would you really have shot the duke from the catapult?’
‘If I’d had to,’ said Vallon. ‘Only a temporary reprieve, I fear. With the amount of treasure we’re carrying, the pirates might decide that Skleros and all his other nobles are worth sacrificing.’
‘You’ll find a way out,’ Hero said. ‘I remember you telling me that a good commander is one who, confronted by a dead end, would hack out his own path.’
When Vallon turned, Hero had gone and he stood alone under the overarching night.
&
nbsp; XI
In a desperate attempt to evade the warships, the crews of Thetis and Dolphin had taken to their oars, only for the galleys to race down on them, their armoured prows shearing off one bank apiece as if they were toothpicks. Boarding parties had seized the transports, and now they were hull down over the horizon, closely attended by one of the enemy dromons. The other war galley shadowed Pelican a mile astern. At one point she’d closed with intent to grapple and had only dropped back when Vallon threatened to dump the gold and treasure over the side, along with Duke Skleros.
Lucas watched the galley’s sails flush red against the setting sun and then fade into the night before appearing again as parchment triangles under the light of a half moon.
He’d been mucking out in Dolphin’s hold when the dromons were sighted and clambered on deck to witness the spectacle of the ships bearing down on them. Like everyone else he assumed that Vallon had planned the rendezvous, and when the order came to evacuate, he had to be dragged kicking and shouting away from Aster. He was one of the last onto Pelican’s deck, and with his rudimentary Greek it took a long time to find out what was happening. Even after Josselin had assembled the men and told them about the duke’s treachery, there were some who thought the warships were genuine Byzantine naval vessels sent to prevent the general from making off with the emperor’s gold. Men spoke about Vallon’s intention to establish a colony on some foreign shore. Rumour and counter-rumour swirled.
At midnight the enemy sails were still in sight. On either side of the stern, water slopped past the twin quarter rudders. Fatigue weighed on Lucas, but he couldn’t sleep. He was still devastated by the loss of Aster, and Aimery had told him that tomorrow they’d make land and might have to fight a battle. Lucas gave a juddering yawn.
‘So much for our great expedition. Over before it’s hardly begun, and no chance of returning home.’
Lucas blinked round to find Aiken confronting him.
‘I don’t have a home.’
‘We’re as good as dead,’ Aiken said. ‘They outnumber us three to one and they have our horses.’
‘I still don’t understand why they would attack us. We’re here on the emperor’s orders.’
Imperial Fire Page 16
