Vallon 02 - Imperial Fire

by Robert Lyndon

  ‘What the devil’s got into you?’ Vallon snapped.

  ‘Beg pardon,’ Wulfstan gasped. ‘Some kid just arrived with a message. An Englishman and his family, all wearing Seljuk dress, have landed at the Harbour of Theodosius, claiming they know Vallon the Frank.’

  Hero and Vallon gaped at each other. ‘It can’t be.’

  ‘It is,’ Wulfstan said. ‘The lad didn’t give a name but said the man had corn-coloured hair and his woman had hair as pale as flax. And they’ve got a giant dog with them and two kiddies. The harbour guards won’t let them leave.’

  Vallon pushed past Wulfstan and strode into the hallway. ‘My lady, come quick. Amazing news.’

  Caitlin bustled in. ‘What now? I can’t take any more alarms.’

  ‘Wayland and Syth have arrived in the city. We’re going to collect them.’

  Caitlin steepled her hands in front of her mouth and screamed. ‘I’m coming with you.’ She ran for the door. ‘What about the girls?’

  ‘Bring them with you. Aiken, too. Wulfstan, order a caique. It will be quicker than riding.’

  On the ride down the Bosporus they worked themselves into a fever of speculation over what could have brought Wayland and his family to Constantinople.

  ‘The Logothete must have sent for him,’ said Hero.

  ‘No. Wayland wouldn’t uproot his family on the minister’s say-so.’ Vallon gestured towards Wulfstan and put a finger against his lips. ‘Let’s wait and see.’

  The Harbour of Theodosius on the Marmara coast was Constantinople’s largest port, built to handle Byzantium’s grain imports from its former Egyptian colony. Vallon’s party hurried down the quay, dodging stevedores and fishermen unloading catches.

  ‘That must be them,’ Wulfstan cried, pointing at a cordon of soldiers.

  Their officer strode forward and saluted. ‘General Vallon?’

  ‘I believe you’ve detained an English family.’

  Behind the soldiers, a tall blond man with Viking blue eyes rose from a bale. Up darted a slim lady, holding in each hand a tow-haired boy and girl, the boy clutching a miniature bow, the girl with tear-swollen eyes folding a doll to her chest. Beside them stood a long-limbed Anatolian shepherd dog with a tucked-up waist and shaggy cream and grey pelt.

  ‘Syth!’ Caitlin shrieked, and ran forward and gathered the woman in her arms. Vallon advanced at a stroll, smiling from ear to ear.

  ‘Wayland.’

  The Englishman smiled a lazy smile. Years of staring into the sun had etched a fan of lines around his eyes. He looked weary and his quilted tunic was travel-stained.

  Syth smiled the lovely smile that still glowed in Vallon’s memory. Two children hadn’t spoiled her figure, and her eyes remained as clear as northern skies.

  Wayland kissed his old companions. ‘Captain Vallon, it’s good to see you again after all these years.’

  ‘He’s a general now,’ said Hero.

  ‘There are no ranks between us,’ said Vallon.

  ‘Hero, I’ve often thought of you and I’m delighted that you look even cleverer than when we parted.’ Wayland noticed Wulfstan and laughed. ‘You’re the last person I expected to see.’

  Wulfstan threw out his chest. ‘I’m the general’s houseguard. A reformed character. I even go to church. Come here, you bastard, and let me hug you.’

  Vallon presented Aiken. ‘This is my adoptive son. He’s English. His father was an officer in the Varangian Guard.’

  Aiken shook Wayland’s hand. ‘It’s an honour to make your acquaintance.’

  Hero put the question that everyone wanted answering. ‘What brings you to Constantinople?’

  ‘Later,’ said Vallon. He put his arm around Wayland. ‘Let’s take you home and then we’ll chase all the missing years.’

  The officer intervened. ‘I’m sorry, General. The Englishman served at the Sultan of Rum’s court. I’m afraid I can’t release them until they’ve been properly examined.’

  ‘The devil with that. I can vouch for them.’

  ‘I’ll need more than your word, General.’

  ‘If that isn’t good enough, I can vouch for them before the Logothete tou Dromou.’

  ‘It’s his officials I’m waiting for.’

  ‘Then tell them they can find us at my villa, but not before tomorrow at the earliest. My friends need rest.’

  Caitlin was already leading Syth and the children to the ferry, brushing aside a soldier who made a half-hearted attempt to detain her.

  ‘Very good,’ said the officer.

  Wulfstan jostled Vallon’s arm as they boarded the caique. ‘Now we’re all together again. Like old times.’

  Vallon’s tone was sad. ‘No. Those days are gone, and we’ll never see them again.’

  On the trip back up the Bosporus, Caitlin handed out snacks from a basket. The children were called Brecc and Averil and regarded their counterparts with silent fascination before falling asleep in their mother’s arms. The whole family gave off an air of exhaustion.

  ‘Your rooms have been prepared,’ said Vallon when they reached the villa. ‘Sleep as long as you like. If you feel like joining us for supper, we usually dine at sunset.’

  Caitlin showed the guests to their room. Hero waited until they’d left before turning to Vallon.

  ‘It will be hard to keep the expedition a secret.’

  ‘We simply tell them that I’m leaving for another tour of duty, and that you’re accompanying me to observe the customs of the natives.’

  Hero said no more on the matter and he and Vallon went to the study to go over the inventory drawn up by the Logothete. It ran to sixteen pages – so many horses and mules, javelins, suits of mail and lamellar armour, sacks of hardtack…

  Vallon put pen to paper. ‘We’ll be taking about one hundred and thirty horses and pack animals, each needing twenty pounds of dry fodder a day. The voyage to Trebizond could take two weeks, so that means we’ll need…’ He began his calculations, making frequent crossings out and brushing his hair up into spikes.

  ‘About thirty-five thousand pounds,’ said Hero.

  Vallon looked up from under his brows. ‘How do you do that in your head?’

  ‘With the aid of the signifier zero. It’s quite simple. I can teach you how it works in less than an hour.’

  Vallon held up a hand. ‘Not that again. You know it’s beyond my grasp. I’m too old to learn new ways.’

  ‘Actually, I introduced Aiken to the concept and he picked it up straight away. Why don’t you let him help with the inventory?’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea. It will teach him that soldiering isn’t just about slaughtering and being slaughtered.’

  ‘What will we do for provisions once we reach Trebizond? Will the governor be expecting us?’

  ‘No, and he’s going to have an unpleasant shock when I show him the imperial orders demanding that he opens his granaries and warehouses to us. After that we’ll have to pay for our provisions. We’ll be carrying fifty pounds of gold solidi, which the Logothete assures me is acceptable currency all along the Silk Road. On top of that there’s the squadron’s pay – a hundred and thirty men averaging two solidi a man every month for a year, with the remainder to be paid in arrears to those lucky enough to see home again.’ Vallon cocked an eye. ‘What does that add up to?’

  Hero half-closed his eyes for a few moments. ‘Forty-five pounds.’

  ‘So a hundred pounds of gold plus the gifts for the Song emperor. Let’s hope pirates don’t get wind of our fortune.’

  They were still ploughing through the inventory in late afternoon when a child’s cry broke into their calculations. They went to the veranda to find Zoe seated on the dog’s back, being led around the courtyard by Brecc, Caitlin looking on in apprehension. Wayland stood beside her freshly bathed and wearing a smart tunic of blue shot silk borrowed from Vallon’s wardrobe.

  ‘Are you sure that dog’s safe?’ Caitlin demanded.

  ‘Don’t worry. If the child
ren plague him too much, he’ll take himself off somewhere quiet.’

  ‘I’m not taking about the dog’s welfare. I meant, are my children safe with that brute?’

  ‘He grew up with my own youngsters and has never so much as nipped them.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Batu. It means “faithful”.’

  ‘Is it the dog Syth picked out at the emir’s encampment?’

  ‘His son. Old Burilgi was killed by a bear two years ago.’

  Caitlin’s voice came from high in her throat. ‘I don’t think I want to hear any more. Wulfstan, don’t take your eyes off my girls for one moment. I’m going inside to see Syth.’

  The women and children dined separately, as was the custom in Constantinople. The evening was warm and the men ate in the courtyard, bats cutting erratic paths through the lamplight.

  Vallon waited until the first course had been served. ‘You haven’t told us the reason for your flight.’

  A gust of feminine laughter carried from the house. Wayland composed his hands on the table. ‘We lived comfortably in Rum, but we never really adjusted to Seljuk ways. The curbs they place on women are hard to tolerate for English folk. Matters came to a head when one of the sultan’s nephews asked to take Averil as his bride. It wasn’t a request we could refuse, but we determined that our daughter should make her own choice of husband when she came of suitable age. We talked about it at length, not knowing what to do, until the sultan himself ordered us to send Averil to his nephew’s household. We forged papers and joined a caravan travelling to Sinop, where we took ship for Constantinople. It wasn’t as simple as I make it sound.’

  ‘I can tell that your journey was fraught.’

  ‘It was hard for the children.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘Return to England. We’re not penniless. I have enough gold to pay for the journey and buy a decent holding of land.’ Clearly uncomfortable, Wayland changed the subject. ‘But you, Hero. What brings you to Constantinople?’

  Vallon answered before Hero could speak. ‘A happy coincidence. Hero decided to pay a visit, and when I told him that my next posting was to the Danube border, he insisted on accompanying me.’

  Hero examined his plate. ‘In a few weeks, Vallon and I leave on a mission to China.’

  Vallon grabbed the edge of the table so hard that the crockery rattled. ‘I told you not to say one word about that matter.’

  ‘You can’t keep it a secret. Caitlin has probably already told Syth. And how would Wayland feel after we slip off and he learns that we’ve gone to the other side of the world? Explain what we’re up to, and make it plain that there’s no place on the expedition for a husband with two young children. Anything less would be a betrayal of our friendship.’

  Vallon subsided. ‘You’re right.’ He smiled at Wayland. ‘No man in his right mind would choose to accompany me. And as commander of the expedition, I would reject anyone who did volunteer as a fool.’

  Wayland’s response was mild. ‘Hero’s no fool.’

  ‘Hero has his own good reasons for making the journey, and he doesn’t have family.’

  Wayland turned his slow gaze. ‘Aiken, what about you? Will you be going?’

  Aiken glanced at Vallon. ‘Yes.’

  Vallon choked in surprise. He coughed and thumped his chest. ‘We agreed that you’d stay and continue your studies. I thought that’s what you wanted.’

  ‘I changed my mind.’

  ‘Have you told Caitlin?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Vallon ran a hand through his hair and looked around with a wild stare. ‘We’ll discuss this later.’

  ‘In that case, will you excuse me? I have to finish a grammar exercise.’

  Vallon watched in disbelief as the boy left. ‘By the Virgin’s bloody tears! I feel like the only full-witted man in an asylum.’

  Hero filled the strenuous silence. ‘Aiken is a promising scholar,’ he told Wayland. ‘He speaks Greek as well as I do and has an impressive flair for logic.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ Wayland said. ‘I’ve only had one conversation with him, but I was struck by the way he leads you through a sentence only to leave you in a place where you didn’t expect to be.’

  Vallon sat slumped over his drink, his expression blasted. ‘Caitlin will never forgive me if I take him.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Wayland. His gaze drifted between Vallon and Hero. ‘You’d better tell me more about this enterprise of fools.’

  Vallon told him, stressing all the negative aspects. When he’d finished, Wayland sat with a half-smile. The house had fallen quiet, only one window lit. Wayland stifled a yawn. ‘Well, that certainly sounds like a journey too far, but I’m too tired to take it all in.’ He rose from his seat. ‘Would you mind if I retire?’

  Vallon stood. ‘Before you go, let’s drink a toast.’ He hoisted his wine cup. ‘To good friends and loyal companions. And here’s to the next generation. May they be as blessed by fortune as their parents.’

  Vallon followed Wayland into the house and barged into Aiken’s room.

  ‘What the hell are you playing at? First you don’t want to go, then you do. Explain your fickleness.’

  Aiken laid down his quill and seemed to consider a whole range of responses before selecting the one that best suited his purpose. ‘I decided to see where an irrational decision would lead me.’

  Vallon’s face screwed up in incomprehension. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re travelling to a distant empire. Your chances of returning are slim, so I would be foolish to go with you. At the same time, if I stay, not a day will pass without me worrying about you and feeling guilt that I wasn’t at your side – a duty I swore to my father. I have to decide between logic and emotion. It should be easy, but it isn’t. In this case, sentiment overrides reason. Or rather, they balance each other. What tips the scales is Hero’s presence on the expedition. I know I can learn from him more than I can garner from my teachers at the academy and so I choose to throw in my lot with him.’ Aiken picked up his pen. ‘I trust that answers your question, General.’

  ‘Call me “father”.’

  ‘I find that as awkward as it is for you to call me “son”. I had the same problem with Beorn. I addressed him as “father”, though I knew he wasn’t anything of the sort.’

  ‘He loved you and treated you as his son. That’s all that matters.’

  ‘And I’m eternally grateful.’ Aiken stared away, smiling slightly. ‘To satisfy your curiosity, my real father was an English priest at Canterbury. My mother told me before she died, and she also told me that she wasn’t the only woman he seduced.’

  Vallon rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Have you told Lady Caitlin of your decision?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ll inform her before she goes to bed.’

  Vallon’s response was weak, almost pleading. ‘Leave it until tomorrow. My lady has had an eventful day.’

  ‘No, decisions are best announced as soon as they’re made.’ Aiken plied his pen. ‘Now, I really do have to finish this exercise.’

  Vallon’s anxiety boiled into fury. ‘From now on, the only exercises you’ll perform will be on the field of Mars.’ He pointed a trembling finger. ‘You’ll join my squadron at Hebdomon and you’ll be treated like any other recruit.’

  Aiken continued writing. ‘I expect nothing else.’

  ‘Pass me the wine,’ Vallon said when he returned. He drank as if he couldn’t force it down fast enough. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he spluttered. ‘Aiken says he’s coming with us so that he can be with you.’

  Hero made to rise. ‘I’ll have a word with him.’

  ‘No,’ Vallon snarled. ‘He’s made his decision. Let him live with it.’

  Hero moved his cup in a circle. ‘That still leaves Wayland.’

  Vallon banged his cup down. ‘No, it doesn’t. I’m the commander of the expedition. I decide who joins it, and that doesn’t include Wayland.’

 
A moth blundered into the lamp. Hero rescued it only to see it flutter back to the mantle and beat against the glass until its wings scorched and it fell twitching to the table. He looked up at the night sky.

  ‘The stars are bright tonight. They remind me of the heavens above Iceland and the northern aurora in Rus.’

  Vallon poured more wine. ‘I remember puking my guts out in the North Sea and eating moss soup in the forests of Rus.’

  ‘I remember floating down the Dnieper and seeing the city of Kiev appear through a golden dawn.’

  ‘And I remember blistered hands and loose bowels and burying companions in shallow graves a thousand miles from home.’

  ‘I know, and the strange thing is that I never felt more alive than when we were most imperilled.’

  Vallon ducked his head. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Go to bed, sir. It’s been a long day.’

  ‘Yes. I apologise for my intemperate speech. You retire. I’d like to sit a while and contemplate.’

  Hero’s voice carried out of the dark. ‘Wayland will make up his own mind.’

  ‘No, he won’t. I’ve already made it up for him.’

  Vallon stayed in the courtyard after the lamp had burned out. The constellations cast a frosty glaze on the roof tiles. Somewhere in the distance a woman sang a sad refrain to a lute accompaniment. Vallon poured a last cup and looked round with a snarl. ‘Wulfstan, stop lurking in the shadows and come and share what’s left of this wine.’

  The Viking approached out of the darkness most delicately and scuffed one foot on the ground. ‘General, allow me to make a heartfelt request.’

  ‘Request refused.’

  ‘You haven’t heard it yet.’

  ‘Yes, I have. You want to join me, like the other lunatics. Well, you can’t. Your place is here, attending to my family.’

  Wulfstan drew himself up. ‘With respect, sir, you could find a thousand men to guard the house and deal with tradesmen selling nick-nacks.’