Silk Dreams - Songs of the North 3 (25 page)

“Acquaint our new security advisor with the changes you have implemented and then you may go,” Mahomet said to Erik. “Please convey my thanks to the esteemed General Quintilian for his interest in the well-being of my humble household.”

Mahomet put his fingertips first to his lips and then to his forehead, sketching the graceful Arabic gesture of farewell.

Erik escorted Haukon out of Mahomet's presence before he dared speak again. He walked the perimeter of the courtyard making small talk about security while his mind raced ahead. When he led Hauk past the stable, the air redolent with hay and warm horseflesh, and on to the room his friend would now occupy, he finally asked the question that burned on his tongue.

“What made the general order me to stand down?”

“Not what. Who. All I know is the chief eunuch was leaving the general's quarters as I was called in.” Hauk tested the sagging bed and grimaced. Then he pulled a small packet from inside his tunic. “Damian Aristarchus bid me deliver this to your hand and yours alone.”

Erik unwrapped the oilskin. His horn-handled knife, freshly sharpened, lay in the protective wrapping.

“Say, that looks like yours,” Hauk said. “Where did you lose it?”

Erik slumped into the room's only chair and dragged a hand over his face. “In the wrong bedchamber, my friend.”

Hauk clicked his tongue against his teeth and chuckled. “Then the eunuch has done you a service by returning it discreetly.”

Erik shook his head. “It's a warning.”

“But you were in his service. You know how to speak with those court types even if you must hold your nose to do it.” Hauk always complained the courtiers of Byzantium wore more perfume than high-priced whores. “What happened?”

Since Hauk was gone from the city when Erik first returned from his time in the mountain villa with Valdis and the chief eunuch, there was much to tell. Erik described how he'd tried to hold Valdis at a distance but failed.

“I love her, Hauk,” he said simply, marveling at the truth of the words and angry at himself for never having said them to her.

“Then it is well that you are leaving this house.” Hauk nodded sagely. “So far, you have been lucky. When does the Court of Asgard allow joy to reign among men for long? It is never wise to tempt the gods.”

Erik's shoulders slumped. He knew his friend was right, but when it came to actually leaving Valdis in this house where she might become nothing more than another man's plaything, his eyes burned with suppressed fire.

“I can't even tell her good-bye.”

“Carve a rune stick. It's clear you've lost your head as well as your heart. I never thought to see the day you dabbled in
seid
craft.”

“It's a small matter,” Erik said, picking up the knife to begin his final runic message to the woman he loved. “I'd dare more than the spirits' curse for Valdis.”

“The women in the harem are never allowed outside the walls?” Hauk asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Not since I've been here. But Valdis has asked to visit the big church of
Kristr,
near the Palatine.” His face lit up. He knew what he would carve now. “I’ll tell her to try to come two days hence. That should give her time to wheedle permission from Mahomet.”

His face hardened into a frown at the thought of Valdis spending time with her master. And having to beg him.

“Cheer up,” Hauk said. “At least you're to be assigned to interesting duty.”

“What have you heard?” Erik asked with dread. The Byzantine Empire stretched from one end of the inland sea to the other. He might be ordered anywhere.

“You're to be given command of a ship.”

Erik's worst fears were realized. A sea voyage took months, years maybe. How could he leave Valdis behind? “What ship?”

“Don't act too excited. It's not what you think,” Hauk said with sarcasm. “The fleet captured a pirate
dhow
a month back. The emperor wants a spectacle. The Greek commander is going to recreate his naval battle in the Harbor of Theodosius so the court and the populace can look on. It's all a sham, of course, every oar stroke arranged to make the Byzantine
drommonds
seem the most invincible craft in the world.”

Erik scoffed. He knew a sleek Norse
drakar
could sail circles around the wallowing Greek vessel. Only the infernal weapon known as Greek Fire had kept a flotilla of dragonships from overpowering the Byzantine navy years ago.

“So now I'm to pilot one of those sea cows?”

“No,” Hauk said. “You get to play pirate. You're to captain the
dhow
. Oh, you won't be allowed to win, of course. From what I hear, they have every turn and bowshot planned out with precision worthy of a band of eunuchs counting out tax revenues. They want no blood. This is to be a set piece, but they wanted someone to pilot the
dhow
with enough seamanship to give the battle a semblance of reality.”

Erik nodded grimly. As he set his face to his carving, he realized Damian Aristarchus had maneuvered him into recreating another Greek tale as well. He would be Odysseus, strapped to the mast.

On a ship destined to sink.

“This is most irregular,” Publius said for the twentieth time as he jostled in his sedan chair. The poor slaves manning the poles fought not to collapse under his monumental weight. “Women of the
zenana
hardly ever leave the protection of the master's house.”

“But we are not leaving the protection of the master. That's why we have you with us,” Valdis said in an attempt to placate him. In the swaying chair next to Publius, she and Landina were swathed from head to toe in modest burkas to shield them from curious eyes. “And it is not without precedent. Did you not attend Rania, the head wife, when she accompanied the master to the games in the Hippodrome only last week? Thanks to your diligent care, she returned home in safety with all proprieties observed.”

Mahomet and his retinue were the guests of the emperor's nephew Leo in his curtained and guarded box for another running of the chariots. Valdis had been able to finesse the information from the eunuch and used it to her advantage. She satisfied Damian that she was busy gathering intelligence for him instead of mourning Erik's removal from the house. The less Damian knew of her true feelings the better.

Then when she pleased Mahomet with a favorable prediction, she used the head wife's successful outing to plead for her and Landina to be allowed to make a brief pilgrimage across the city to the Hagia Sophia. Landina was a follower of
Kristr,
Valdis explained, and wished to pray for a son in a manner that might meet with her God’s approval. This request could not fail to meet with Habib Ibn Mahomet's favor. What man could possess too many sons?

“And you, my seeress,” Mahomet had asked. “What might you be seeking among the Christians?”

“Enlightenment,” she answered smoothly. “
Seid
craft bids me open myself to wisdom. Does not the name Hagia Sophia, Church of Holy Wisdom, suggest it may offer me new insight? I seek wisdom where ever it may be found that I may better serve my master.”

In the end it was decided the two women would go together under Publius's watchful eye. The eight bearers of their sedan chairs could be stationed at the many doors of the great church to make sure Valdis and Landina did not slip away from them. None of the faithful Muslims wished to sully themselves by actually setting foot inside the building dedicated to the worship of another deity besides Allah the Merciful.

As they neared the basilica, Valdis too was trepidatious. The structure was designed to intimidate. Its scale was huge, a series of half-domes flanked by four spires stabbing the gray sky and crowned with a monstrous full dome. The church was a veritable beehive of activity with small knots of worshippers coming and going from the many doors.

If he was even here, how would she ever find Erik amid this throng? His last runestick had been cryptic.

Thor’s day Hagia Sophia north gallery.

Even though Erik left the house of Mahomet, Valdis regularly found a carved piece of wood near the stone bench in the courtyard. Erik had arranged for the new Varangian who'd taken his place to act as a messenger.

Beside her, her friend Landina fidgeted with excitement. She hoped to see her beloved Bernard here as well. The meeting was risky but if Erik managed to locate him at the Xenon, where many foreign visitors to the city lodged, Landina was sure Bernard would dare to come.

“Remember,” Publius admonished them, “you are not to dawdle. Make whatever obeisance the Christian god requires and return as quickly as possible. The sky is threatening.” He held out his palm, testing for a drop of rain. “I’ve half a mind to turn around right now.”

“No, no,” Valdis said. If everything went well this first time, she'd be able to make this pilgrimage a regular occurrence. If she could only see Erik, even for a few moments, she'd be strengthened to continue on the path that led to her freedom. “We will be quick. I promise.”

The two women scurried through the basilica's tall bronze doors. Once inside, Valdis pulled back the hood of her burka. The walls were covered with mosaics peopled with solemn-eyed figures to whom a smile would be a mystery.

“In this alcove, they have a splinter of the True Cross,” Landina explained as she led Valdis to a glittering gold reliquary. When the Frank saw it, she dropped to her knees before the strange artifact.

Valdis was confused by her friend's veneration for such a tiny object, and a humble one at that. The miniscule sliver of wood was entirely ordinary looking and further obscured by its extravagant setting.

“Why is this so important to you?” Valdis asked.

“It is a piece of the very Cross on which Christ died.”

Valdis shook her head. Followers of
Kristr
were fixated on his death. In the North, it was the adventures and victories of the gods that were celebrated. The Tale of Ragnarok, the Doom of the Gods, was too somber for most settings and rarely received a favorable hearing.

Valdis and her friend crept forward, drawn into the building's open central space. The sacred place was so huge, Valdis's breath caught in her throat. If the relics and mosaics left her confused, the sanctuary rendered her incapable of speech,

The ceiling soared upward and far above them; a mosaic of the
Kristr
spanned the great dome, hovering over the milling worshippers. Valdis was surprised to see the Christian's god depicted as a man, albeit a very large one, and not the three-headed being she expected. Staring up at the astonishing dome, Valdis felt the same sense of smallness she experienced as a girl when she gazed into the endless Northern night sky.

Incense rose from the altar, sending the odor of sanctity over the gathering. An unseen choir was singing, the ethereal plainsong devoid of earthly passion. In comparison to the full-throated singing of the Northlands, these southern voices were bloodless. When the song stopped, the worshippers trickled out of the sanctuary.

“Landina.” A man pushed through the crowd toward them. Valdis recognized the pale Frank she'd seen at Mahomet's table the first night she entered the Arab's house. He was undoubtedly Landina's Bernard.

Even though they were in a public place, her friend threw her arms around the man and held him fiercely. Bernard wrapped his cloak around her and drew her toward the more private curtained arcade.

“Remember, we haven't long,” Valdis whispered after them, unwilling to break the deep stillness that settled over the nearly deserted sanctuary. Landina flashed a smile of unabashed joy over her shoulder, silently thanking Valdis.

Valdis couldn't blame her friend for deserting her. Landina had no chance of earning her freedom as Valdis did. This fleeting opportunity to spend time with her beloved was all the Frankish girl was ever likely to have.

The north gallery,
Erik's rune had said. Valdis took her bearings using the faint light slanting through the circle of windows at the base of the dome to orient herself. She looked up at the open balcony above the arcades lining the sanctuary. Perhaps Erik waited for her in those shadows.

She mounted the ochre-colored marble steps to the second level and walked along the aisle, conscious of the soft swish of her kid slippers on the polished floor. She paced the length of the gallery without encountering a soul. She was almost ready to turn back and try the south side when she heard someone humming softly.

The tune was a Norse drinking song, one with decidedly randy lyrics. She followed the sound and found Erik on his knees in the second row of seats. Valdis saw the glint of his knife. He was carving something on the back of the pew in front of him.

Valdis watched him a moment, burning on her memory the tiny details that would give her comfort when she contemplated Erik on her sleeping couch. She noticed the way his hair hung over one eye and how he grimaced in concentration. The tenderness in her chest threatened to burst out of her.

He must have felt her intense gaze, for he raised his eyes to meet hers. A smile stretched across his face and he was on his feet and catching her in his arms in only a few heartbeats. He kissed her, not caring that a priest or acolyte might stumble upon them at any moment.

“Valdis,” he murmured into her hair. “I waited for you last Thor's day. I was afraid you wouldn't be able to come yet again, so I was trying to leave you a message.”

She ran her fingertip over the runes and saw that he'd carved the first two letters of his name.

“Publius is waiting outside. We haven't much time.”

“Then we'd better not waste it,” he said with a wolfish grin. Erik sat down and pulled her onto his lap. “I've been dying to hold you again.”

“I want you too.” She buried her nose in his hair and kissed his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin. “But we must be wise.” She wiggled off his lap and sat beside him, conscious of the heat of his thigh against hers. “I know it seems there's no one about, but they say the walls have ears in this city. No doubt they have eyes as well.”