The experience put me in mind of Christ's parable. It could be no easy task to separate those sheep from goats; it would take a shepherd who knew his flock and could call them by name. Sure, it would take a good shepherd.
Several times, early in the morning, we saw fishing boats; small craft, carrying only two or three men who plied the water with long oars, they presented no interest to the Sea Wolves, who sailed by without molesting them. When, after sailing three days, we came in sight of our first settlement, Harald gave orders that no one should turn aside to plunder. With the prospect of unlimited wealth now almost within reach, he did not care to waste his efforts on such small pickings.
"They can have nothing worth taking," he said, frowning with disdain. "Besides, we can always sack them on the way home."
Over the next days, the settlements grew more numerous. Feeling that we must be getting near to Miklagard, the king exercised greater caution in his approach. Accordingly, we sheltered in coves during the day, emerging at dusk to sail the misty waters until dawn. I took my place beside Thorkel at the tiller, watching the sky. Though the sea lay deep-misted and obscure beneath a mantle white and dense as wool, the sky shone bright with stars beyond measure.
All night long we watched the dazzling sky, ablaze with unfamiliar stars. Contemplating this wonder, Dugal's words came back to me: the very stars in the sky are strange.
Oh, Dugal, if you could only see them, I thought. I would give anything for you to stand on this deck beside me with your eyes straining heavenward and the starlight on your handsome face.
"We are near," Thorkel said, pointing out over the rail to the west.
I looked and saw the lights of a fair-sized settlement, the glow of hearthfire, candle, and rushlight from a hundred or more dwellings-some huddled low, near the shore, and others scattered higher in the hills.
I did not see why this should mean that we were any nearer our destination. "Do you know this place?" I wondered.
No, Thorkel said; he had never seen it before. So, I asked him how it was that he thought a settlement on the sea betokened nearness to Miklagard.
"For a Sea Wolf, you have much to learn," Thorkel replied. "People do not build a settlement on the water unless they are secure behind the defences of a wall."
Squinting my eyes, I searched the shoreline, stark in the silver of bright starlight. "You are mistaken, Thorkel. I see no wall."
The tall pilot smiled. "Miklagard," he said, "is their wall."
He spoke the truth, for the next night we passed between two close headlands and entered a narrow steep-sided strait. As daylight broke in a milky haze in the east, the great city itself stood revealed. We all gathered at the rail to gaze upon this awesome sight. I looked out across the dawn-misted sea to a settlement of vast extent, flung upon the humped backs of seven hills: great domes of palaces pushing head and shoulders over tight-clustered white dwellings-like the rounded crests of mountains soaring above the clouds-all gleaming in the dawnlight like stars sown upon the earthly firmament.
A strange feeling of recognition came over me as I stared out across the water. Dull dread began pulsing through me with the quickening beat of my heart.
Turning to Thorkel, I said, "This is never Miklagard."
"How not?" he replied. "There are not two such cities in all the world."
"But I know this place," I insisted, the recognition strong in me now.
"That could be," the pilot allowed sagely, "for it goes by many names." He lifted a hand to the city-spread hills. "This is the renowned City of Gold, Constan's City-"
"Constantinople," I said, growing numb from crown to sole.
"Heya," Thorkel agreed amiably.
"Byzantium." The word was a whisper of disbelief on my fear-numbed lips.
"That is a word I do not know," the helmsman said. "For the Danes it is always Miklagard."
I passed a trembling hand over my face. I was a doomed man, sure; and a stupid man also. Thinking I had escaped the dire consequence of my dream, I had instead sailed straight to it.
But there was no time for ruing my fate. Harald, seeing the nearness of his prize, ordered the warriors to ready the attack. His bull voice bawled a dizzy stream of commands which were repeated on the other ships. Within moments, barbarians were dashing about the decks of all four ships pulling on armour and dressing themselves for battle. The clatter of the commotion was horrendous.
I saw Gunnar darting amidst the confusion and called to him. "Aeddan!" he cried. "Today we fill our troves with treasure, heya!"
Yes, and today I die, I thought. Death awaits me in Byzantium. To Gunnar, I said, "But the king cannot expect to attack the city now. Would it not be better to wait until dark?"
"Nay," he answered, jerking tight the lacings of his mail shirt. "We would get lost in a city so big after dark. How would we find the treasure houses? Better to attack now while the city still sleeps."
"But the guards will see us." My voice sounded shrill and frantic in my ears.
"And the sight of us will frighten them so they will throw wide the gates of the city."
"At the sight of you, Gunnar Warhammer," said a nearby barbarian, "they will certainly bring out the treasure by the wagon load."
The warriors fell to arguing about who would carry away the most plunder in the day's looting, who was the bravest and who the most timid, who would achieve renown and who earn disgrace, and which weighed more, an iron battlehelm or a sceptre of gold. This banter was accompanied by loud shouts and outrageous boasting. They were, I noticed, growing more and more excited all the while; and it came to me that they were rousing themselves to battle heat. By the time we reached the shore, they would be slavering Sea Wolves.
I retreated to my place by the mast and hunkered down. I did not know what else to do. Of course, I would not fight, nor take part in the looting. If I had any thought at all it was to stay aboard the ship and keep out of sight. Perhaps if I did not set foot on Byzantine soil, I would not die.
Even that bare hope was taken from me, however, when King Harald, magnificent in his battledress, emerged from his tented platform and saw me crouching at the mast. "You!" he shouted. "Aeddan! Come here."
I rose and went to him. Oh, the king was splendid: his hair was bound beneath a leather cap; iron bands encircled his arms, and his shirt was fine-ringed mail; on his hip he wore both a sword and a long knife; from his belt hung an iron war axe; he carried a short, thrusting spear in one hand, and a warhelm in the other.
"I want you beside me," he said gruffly. "For when I seize the ruler of Miklagard, I will need you to translate his surrender for me."
My heart sank in the sick feeling spreading through me. Not only would I set foot in Byzantium, I would be in the first rank. What is more, alone of all the attackers, I would have no weapons and no shield with which to defend myself.
This is how I will be killed, I thought. I will be cut down in the forefront of the attack. When the spears and arrows of the defenders began whistling around our heads, I would be among the first to fall.
Harald glanced at the sky. "It is a fine day for a fight," he announced, placing the warhelm upon his head. "Come men," he cried, stepping to the mast. "To oars! To oars! Let the weak tremble in their beds and curse their day of birth! Let the strong make ready their graves! Let all men fear the Sea Wolves' cry!"