By the time the logothete departed, he seemed a dazed and broken man. And why not? Harald had triumphed utterly, conceding a few minor battles along the way, while sweeping the field and winning the war. The imperial coffers were lightened by more than sixty thousand silver denarii, making Harald and the few surviving Sea Wolves wealthy men one and all.
When, later in the day, the payment arrived-half in silver denarii, and the other half in gold solidi, contained in five stout iron-bound sea boxes, as agreed-I helped Jarl Harald make his mark on the vellum scroll the courtier produced to record the Danes' receipt of the payment.
When the official and his men had gone, Harald offered me a share of the wealth. "Take it, Aeddan," he urged. "If not for you, none of us would be alive to enjoy our good fortune. Yours is a debt of gratitude we cannot easily repay, but it would cheer me greatly to see you accept it."
"Nay, Jarl Harald," I told him. "The losses represented by that treasure were yours alone. Give it to the widows and orphans of the men who will not be coming home."
"I will provide for them, never fear," the king said. "But there is more than enough. Please, take something."
Again, I declined, but Harald prevailed on me to take a generous measure of gold solidi to assist myself and the other monks on our return journey. The suggestion made sense, and I accepted the coins, whereupon the Sea King departed saying he would find another way to repay me. He then declared another feast-this one to celebrate their new wealth. The festivities occupied them the rest of the day and far into the night. When the revelry reached a fine, expansive mood, the Danes fell to boasting recklessly of all they would do with the riches they carried home with them. Gunnar and Hnefi took it upon themselves to surpass one another.
"When I get home," declared Hnefi loudly, "I will have a ship trimmed in gold!"
"One ship only?" wondered Gunnar. "I myself will have a whole fleet of ships, each larger than the last, with mast and oars of gold."
"Well and good," continued Hnefi grandly, "but I will also have a drinking hall larger than Odin's-with a hundred vats of ol to slake the thirst of all my karlar, of which I shall have a thousand."
"Well, that may do for you," conceded Gunnar loftily, "but such a mean hut would never do for me, for I will have ten-thousand karlar, each with his own ol vat."
Hnefi laughed scornfully. "You would need a hall far larger than Valhalla to hold them all!"
"Well then," Gunnar smiled at the ease with which he had trapped Hnefi, "I shall have such a hall-larger than Valhalla, so that each of my noblemen will have a place at table to feast with me. And a hundred skalds to sing my praise by day and night."
And so it went, each striving to better the other in outrageous displays of greed made glorious by dint of evermore-extravagant boasts. Those looking on called encouragement to the two contenders, laughing loudly, and praising each new height of imagined excess.
I sat listening, bone-aching exhaustion stealing over me as I looked from one beaming Sea Wolf face to the next. They were so like children, so simple and uncomplicated in their pleasures and desires, unaware of anything save the present moment, to which they gave their unstinting attention. I gazed at them and wished I could return to that quality of innocence. Then, weary with the weight of all that had happened in the last two days, I crept away to my bed.
Despite their late-night revelry, the Danes rose early the next morning and hastened to the wharf at Psamathia where the ships were moored. As Constantinople resumed its normal busy pace, the other gates were opened once more and Harald brought the three longships around to the small harbour which served the great houses along the Golden Horn-the better, he said, to keep an eye on the provisioning for the voyage home.
"When will you leave?" I asked him. We were standing on the quay at the place called the Venetian Quarter, watching some of the Danes load sacks of grain into the longships.
He squinted at the sky and looked out at the sea, then called something to Thorkel, who was ordering the storage of the supplies as they arrived. Receiving a grunted reply, Harald turned back to me, and answered, "Tomorrow. It is a long time we have been away from Skania-a very long time, and the men are eager to return to their wives and kinfolk. The weather is good. We will leave tomorrow."
"I understand," I said, unsettled by the suddenness of the departure. "Sure, I will come down and see you away."
"Yes," Harald said, clapping a big hand to my shoulder, "you do that, Aeddan."
He moved off then, but I watched him as he walked along the wharf, looking at the ships; occasionally he hailed someone on board, or paused to put his hands on the keel, or thump the side with his fist. I left the wharf after a while, as Harald and Thorkel were waving their arms at a small man aboard a sleek little merchant vessel with yellow sails.
Later, when some of the Sea Wolves returned from their various errands in the city, Gunnar and Tolar came to me, bearing a large bag between them. "Jarl Harald says we must be leaving tomorrow," Gunnar said simply. "We will miss you, Aeddan."
"I will miss you, too," I replied. "But you have Karin and Ulf to think about. And Tolar has his kinfolk. They will all be glad to see the both of you again."
"Heya," Gunnar allowed, "and I will be glad to see them. I tell you the truth, Aeddan, when I get home I will never go a-viking again. Tolar and I have discussed this, and we both agree we are getting too old for these adventures." Tolar nodded emphatically.
"A wise decision," I told them.
"We brought you a gift to remember our friendship," Gunnar said. Reaching into the bag, he brought out a small pottery bowl, and placed it in my hands. The bowl was shallow, but finely made; the inside had been decorated in blue and white with the image of a man wearing a crown and holding a spear in one hand and a cross in the other. Below the man, who seemed to be standing atop Saint Sophia's dome, was the word Leo.
"It is a splendid bowl, Gunnar. But I cannot take it. Karin would be delighted with a bowl like this. You must give it to her instead."
"Nay, nay," he said. "That one is for you, Aeddan. We have six more just like it."
We parted then, and I promised to come down to the ship to see them away. "Sit at table with us tonight," Gunnar invited. "We will drink together one last time."
"Tonight then," I agreed.
But I did not sit with them that night. Everywhere around me, the life I had known was ending; all were going their own way now, and I could not prevent that, nor would I have wished to-far from it! I was relieved that the tribulation was over. Still, I could not find it in me to sit with them and raise cups in honour of a friendship that was, like everything else around me, dying.
The next morning, Jarl Harald bade Lord Sadiq and Faysal farewell. "If you should come north to Skania," Harald said, speaking through me, "you will be welcome in my hall. We will sit together and feast like kings."
"And should you ever venture south again," the amir replied, "you have but to speak my name to anyone, and you will be brought at once to my palace where you will be welcomed as a noble friend."
They embraced one another then, and Harald took his leave. I walked with the Danes down the steep narrow streets to the wharf; Dugal came as well, but kept to himself and said nothing along the way. Since our talk in the courtyard, he and the others had not had much to say to me. I did not know if they were shunning me, or if they were merely uncertain about how things stood and did not wish to make matters worse between us.