Tim Severin - King's Man

'Backwater with your blades,' called Halldor. 'We must save those we can.'

We reversed our vessel, and began hauling men from the water. Dragging them aboard was easy — our ousiai was built low to the water — but there was nothing we could do to reach those unfortunates from the stern of the shattered vessel; they had slipped into the sea on the far side of the chain. A few of them managed to swim and reach us. Others clung to the wooden rafts, and we collected as many as we could, but the guard boats were closing in and there was no time to save them all.

'Row on!' ordered Harald, and we began to pull away from the approaching guard boats.

'Poor bastards,' muttered the Swede next to me. 'I don't fancy their chances as prisoners

His voice died away as I glanced up.

Harald was standing on the stern deck, hard-faced and glaring down at us. The flash of anger in his eyes told us that it was time we shut our mouths, concentrated at the oar handles, and carried him towards his destiny.

TEN

WE ENTERED KIEV in great style. Harald led our column on horseback, dressed in his finest court robes from Constantinople and wearing the ceremonial sword with its gold handle and enamelled scabbard which marked his rank as spatharokandidatos. Behind him marched his war band, all in their best costumes and adorned with their silver and gold jewellery. A column of porters and slaves, loaded with the bales of peach silk and the other valuables we had stripped from the ousiai, brought up the rear. I too was on horseback, riding with Halldor and the other members of Harald's inner council. After our escape from the Queen of Cities, Harald had formally appointed me as his adviser. In return I promised to be his liegeman, to serve and support him as my superior lord, even to the day he took his rightful place upon the Norwegian throne.

'Cheer up!' Halldor said to me as we clattered through the city gate and King Jaroslav's guards cheered us. News of Harald's prowess had gone ahead, and the guards, many of them Norse mercenaries, were eager to lay eyes on the man who had been sending back such a mass of treasure for safe keeping.

I gestured towards the red-tiled domes of a large monastery on the hill ahead of us. 'I hadn't expected to see so much of the White Christ here,' I said morosely, for I was in low spirits.

'You'll have to get used to it,' said Halldor. 'I expect Harald will soon be getting married in a place just like that.' His remark took me aback.

'Thorgils, you've forgotten that on his way to Constantinople, Harald asked for the hand in marriage of the king's second daughter, Elizabeth. He was sent away with a flea in his ear. Told to come back when he had riches and renown. Well, now he's got just that, and more. Elizabeth and her family are devout Christians. They'll insist on a wedding in the White Christ manner.'

I listened without enthusiasm. I had been congratulating myself that my appointment as councillor to Harald would give me the chance to shape his policies in favour of the Old Ways. Now, it appeared, I would find myself competing with the views of his wife and the retinue of advisers she would surely bring with her. The thought made me more depressed than I was already. Pelagia's death had hit me hard, depriving me of both a friend and a confidante, and on the way to Kiev I had been feeling more and more isolated amidst the often ribald company of Harald's followers.

'Then this is not the sort of place where I'll be comfortable,' I concluded. 'If I'm to serve Harald, I can be of more use to him in the northlands. I'll ask his permission to go ahead and prepare for his arrival in Norway. I can try to find out which of the powerful nobles might support him, and who would be against him when he makes his claim for the throne.'

'You'll be a spy again?' asked Halldor, to whom I had related my role as an informant for John the Eunuch. 'Harald will like that. He's always in favour of subterfuge and trickery.'

'Part spy, part envoy,' I answered.

Harald agreed to my proposal, and as soon as I had collected the money arranged for me by the banker in Constantinople, I headed onward with those of Harald's ex-Varangians who had asked to go home early. By the time Halldor and the others were celebrating the glittering wedding of the Prince of Norway to King Yaroslav's second daughter, I was back in the northlands where my own Gods belonged.

My first impression was how little had changed in the twelve years I had been away. Among the three main kingdoms, Norway and Denmark still regarded one another with suspicion, while Sweden stood aside and quietly fanned the flames of rivalry between her neighbours. Norwegian raided Dane and was raided in return. Alliances shifted. Leading families squabbled, and wherever Norsemen had seized land across the sea — in England, Scotland or Ireland — there were great magnates who nominally owed allegiance to an overlord in the homeland, but acted independently. Through these turbulent waters I had to plot a course for Harald when he returned.

I made a start by visiting the court of Harald's nephew, Magnus. He held the Norwegian throne, and also claimed the kingship of Denmark. I found him to be personable, energetic, proud, and shrewd beyond his years. He was only twenty-five years old, yet had won the affection of his people by his fairness and his habit of winning his battles against the Danes. Harald, I concluded, would find it difficult to dislodge the man his people called Magnus the Good.

I came to Magnus's court posing as an Icelander returning after service in Constantinople and wealthy enough to dawdle on the way. It was near enough to the truth, and no one questioned me too closely about my background. The only time I nearly dropped my guard was when I heard that the dowager queen Aelfgifu had died. She was the woman who had first taken me to bed. 'Good riddance, for all that she was the great Knut's first wife,' commented the man who told me of her death. 'Her husband sent her to us as co-regent, along with that callous son of hers. They weren't popular, and we drove them out. Can't say I'm sorry that she's gone.' His remark made me feel old. No one likes to think that their first lover is in the grave. Not when you remember their warmth and beauty.

IT WAS TO be nearly two years before I was able to tell Harald of my impression of Magnus, because King Jaroslav insisted that his new son-in-law stay on in Kiev for longer than Harald had intended. But I scarcely noticed the delay, for I had at last found a place where the Old Gods were revered, and I was happy.

I was travelling from Magnus's capital at Nidaros on my way to Denmark to assess the strength and character of Earl Svein Estrithson, who ruled there, and it was autumn. I had taken the land route over the mountain passes and reached the area known as Vaster Gotland. It lies on the border between Norway and Sweden, but is such a bleak and unforgiving region that no one really cares about the exact position of the frontier. It is a place of rock and forest, small lakes and shallow streams, and a large expanse of inland water — the Vaner Lake - which, like everything else, freezes over in winter because the climate is very harsh. I was on foot because the trail is difficult for horses and there is no fodder to be found. Nor did I have a servant to accompany me, but was travelling alone. Vaster Gotland has a reputation for outlawry, so I was beginning to wonder whether I was wise to carry so much gold and silver with me when I came across a memorial stone beside the track. On the rock was carved an epitaph to a lost warrior who, according to the runes, had ended his life in Serkland, 'the land of silk'. The mason who had cut the inscription was no rune master, for the gouges left by the chisel were plain to see, and the lettering was crudely done. Nor could I tell who was commemorated, for the rock had split away where the dead man's name had been written, and I could not find the broken piece. But I took it as a sign from Odinn, and after clearing away the undergrowth I buried half my hoard.