Chained to the Barbarian

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Heaving a sigh, William released his grip on his makeshift cloak. He knew the drill—he must walk naturally, he must walk as though he knew where he was going.

Head up, he turned briskly into a broad avenue. The rain had stopped. He had only gone a few paces when he noticed a fifth sentry outside the Palace. The man was facing the wall a few yards from the gate, a puddle at his feet. Adjusting the tunic beneath his mail coat, he gave William a sheepish grin. His gaze sharpened when he noticed William’s discoloured chest. ‘Sir?’

‘Guard?’ Dear God, it would take but one shout for this man to alert his comrades at the gate.

‘Would you mind telling me your business, sir?’ The sentry’s hand hovered over his sword hilt.

William glanced quickly about him, the street, like the Palace, was largely empty. Let the games begin. Snatching off his makeshift cloak, William dived. He had the cloth round the man’s head before the sword was unsheathed.

The guard struggled and pain shot up William’s arm. Gritting his teeth, William held on grimly, cracking the helmeted head against the Palace wall. The man grunted and went limp.

William snatched the sword and was haring down a side street before a bemused passer-by raised the alarm.

‘Guards!’ Behind him came a shout. ‘Guards!’

Chapter Four

Heart pounding like a drum, William gripped the sword hilt and ran on, twisting and turning down a narrow series of passages that cut in between some wooden buildings. He turned left, he turned right, he turned left again—the City was like a maze. At last the shouts faded. When he stopped to draw breath, he found himself at the edge of a large ceremonial square. His chest heaved. Black spots danced at the edge of his vision.

On one side there was an imposing building faced with purple marble in the classic style the Romans had favoured. Myrtle bushes lined the avenue between the building and a pillared monument. There was movement behind the monument, a tantalising metallic gleam in the strengthening sunlight—the flash of light on a fan of spears, on a line of battleaxes.

Lord, Varangians, and he had all but run into them. The Emperor’s personal guard were out in force, in battle formation by the look of it. Still breathless, William backed behind a myrtle bush as snatches of the sentries’ words came back to him. ‘General Alexios … battle it out in the streets … the backing of half the Court.’

God have mercy, what was going on? Whatever it was, it was serious enough to have cleared the Palace grounds of courtiers, it had sent the Varangians to stand their ground in this square not a stone’s throw from the Palace.

An ear-splitting scream pierced the air—a woman’s. It had come from the tangle of streets behind him. Whipping round, William’s gaze fell on a scrap of blue cloth caught in one of the myrtles. He tugged it free. Diaphanous blue silk, with silver threads cunningly caught in the weave.

Jesu! Lady Anna!

His stomach formed a tight knot as his consciousness narrowed down to the scrap of silk. The blue was an exact match—he remembered the glint of silver threads in her veil as she had left the apartment.

As another scream came from the mouth of the alley, William’s instincts told him that Lady Anna was close.

A triumphant cry echoed off the walls of the building. William felt sick. Several male voices … laughing, jeering, urging each other on. Lady Anna had just run into the worst kind of trouble, he was sure of it.

He was cold, cold as ice, yet perspiration was springing to his brow, he could almost feel his freedom sliding away from him. So much for returning to Apulia for justice, so much for winning lands for himself …

He could see her in his mind, grey eyes softening as she offered him the Venetian glass, mouth curving in a shy smile.

‘Merde!’ William braced himself and stepped back into the avenue.

He took a deep breath and before he had drawn the next, Lady Anna flew out of the head of the alley. Her breast was heaving, her fingers were clenched white on her blue skirts, holding them clear of the ground. Her veil had gone and her hair was streaming out behind her like a dark pennon. One foot was shoeless, William had time to register the disturbing vulnerability of bare toes before the men who were after her appeared.

Mercenaries. Three of them, howling like wolves. Predators. The uniform was unknown to him, but their eyes told William all he needed to know. These men were not fixed on any coming battle, they were focused on taking their prey. There was no doubt that rape was large in their minds.

Another scream came from the alley behind the building. Likely some other poor woman was being accosted by more of these devils. He prayed it was not the Princess.

William renewed his grip on the sword, the mercenaries halted and exchanged grins. They might as well have spoken aloud—they outnumbered him, they thought him easy meat.

‘That would be a mistake,’ William said softly.

There was movement behind him. Not Lady Anna. She had stopped mid-flight in front of the monument, her breath coming in shuddering gasps. Cold anger burned in William’s guts.

He was woefully out of condition—his chest ached, his sword arm throbbed and it was one man against three. There was a chance he might prevail, but it was small.

The soldiers hesitated and William caught a whiff of soured wine.

They have been drinking. Good. That evens the odds a little …

As he summoned the strength to make the first move, William felt the walls of Constantinople close in on him. Picking out the lead mercenary, he raised his sword.

Oddly, the mercenary wasn’t concentrating on William, he was looking past him. When his leer faded, William realised that something other than Lady Anna had distracted him.

Behind him, a harsh voice bellowed, ‘Lady Anna! This way!’

Briefly, wary of losing sight of the mercenaries, William looked over his shoulder. A Varangian had appeared, it was the man who had emerged from Princess Theodora’s bedchamber, the man he had seen in her company at the slave market. Commander Ashfirth.

The Commander unhooked his battleaxe and gestured Lady Anna towards him. The battleaxe glinted.

Lady Anna stumbled towards him. ‘Commander! Thank God!’

William held steady in the centre of the avenue. They will not have her, they will have to step over my body to reach her.

The mercenaries’ swords wavered. One of them took a step back.

Stay with the Commander, my lady. Be safe.

The lead mercenary spat. Another swore in a language that William did not understand. There was another backwards step, and another, and moments later all three had melted into the street round the corner of the building.

Warily, William turned. Lady Anna’s hair was tumbled down about her shoulders, she had lost her hair pins as well as her veil, but thank God he could see no bruises.

‘My lady—’ Commander Ashfirth was frowning down the side street ‘—where is Katerina?’

Katerina? Who the devil is Katerina?

Lady Anna’s mouth opened and shut, and the Commander gave her a little shake. ‘My lady?’

‘You … you know?’ Lady Anna said, all colour leached from her face.

The Commander nodded and shook her again. ‘The time for pretence is over. Where is Katerina?’

William frowned and stepped closer, he did not like the way the Commander was handling her. And why was he asking about Katerina? Surely he should be worried about the Princess? If William had guessed correctly, this man was the Princess’s lover. Who was Katerina?

Lady Anna met William’s gaze. ‘She is safe. In Hagia Irene.’

‘Thank God!’ The Commander’s relief was obvious. He looked at William. ‘You there, slave!’

William did not lower his guard. ‘Yes?’

‘You will look after Lady Anna?’

‘Yes.’

‘Time is short,’ the Commander said.

‘I understand.’ Lady Anna smiled at the Varangian. ‘You had to know she was safe.’

Commander Ashfirth nodded. ‘Do you trust this Frank?’

Lady Anna and William looked at one another.

‘I will be safe with him,’ Lady Anna said, her gaze flickering briefly to William’s sword. ‘Go back to your men, Commander.’

The Commander gazed coolly at William. ‘You are to protect Lady Anna with your life. Take her back to the women’s quarters in the Palace. Understand?’

Nodding, William held out his hand. ‘I understand.’

Lady Anna moved towards him and Commander Ashfirth turned and sprinted round the monument towards his men.

The sunlight shone in Lady Anna’s hair, it was glorious in its disarray. Her hand when it met William’s was trembling and her breath was shaky, but she was safe.

Another whoop came from the side street, it was followed by the unmistakable sound of swords being banged on shields. Scare tactics. Lord, it looked as though Lady Anna was not quite as safe as William had hoped.

Her hand jerked free and she pointed. ‘Look!’

Two of the mercenaries had returned, they were marching towards them, screeching like demons as they beat their sword hilts on their shields.

‘Holy Mother!’ Bundling Lady Anna behind him, William braced himself.

With only two mercenaries, the odds were turning in his favour.

The mercenaries nodded at each other, it must have been a signal, because one of them rushed at him headlong. He was over-confident and had little finesse. A butcher. As their swords clashed, the jolt sent black pain shooting up William’s arm. He grunted and parried the next stroke easily. He might be out of condition, but they had barely engaged and already the mercenary was breathing hard. Too much wine, William suspected. Too much chasing after innocent women.

He parried half-a-dozen more strokes, feeling his way into the man’s weaknesses, of which there were many. The other mercenary must be as drunk as the butcher, for he made no move to come to his comrade’s aid, instead, each slash of the butcher’s sword was accompanied with an unholy whoop and a thud on his shield. The strokes were wild, uneven. Slice, crash, hack, crash—like beats in in a devil’s chorus.

It took only moments for William to begin to enjoy himself. It had been too long since he had held a sword and it was invigorating to realise that he had not lost his touch. This man was not his match. William was just through the warming-up stage—he no longer felt shooting pains with each clash of steel—when the mercenary overreached himself. William made a swift, decisive thrust and the man clattered to the ground. His shield rolled to the side, blood seeped across the paving.

Behind him, Lady Anna whimpered and the devil’s chorus fell silent. The second mercenary stared at his comrade, eyes bulging.

William picked up the shield and beckoned. ‘Come on, don’t be shy, it’s your turn. I could use more practise.’

The man had eyes as dead as his comrade’s. His lip curled, he muttered something incomprehensible and retreated back the way he had come.

There was movement behind him. ‘I … I thank you, William.’ Lady Anna’s cheeks were bloodless, she looked to be in shock as she watched him clean his sword on the dead man’s chausses. It was a pity she had had to witness death at close hand, but William had had no choice.

‘Come, my lady, we must hurry, there may be other mercenaries about. Which way?’ That terrible screaming had started again, William gritted his teeth. ‘Which way?’

Her smoky grey eyes were wide with alarm. ‘Do you think he went for reinforcements?’

‘It is possible. Which way?’

She seemed held by panic and waved vaguely at the wall of the Great Palace. The domes of the Palace buildings were visible behind it. ‘The Palace is too far, we might not make it.’

Shaking his head, William slung the mercenary’s shield over his shoulder. With the sword firmly in one hand, he took hers in the other. Tugging her after him, he ducked behind the myrtle bushes and ran along the side of the building. The myrtle bushes were good cover. He stopped abruptly at the corner. A small structure resembling a storehouse stood a few feet away. There was no window, just a stumpy wooden door with fat hinges. He frowned doubtfully at it. It could almost be a prison cell.

Releasing Lady Anna, he handed her the shield and shouldered open the door. Inside, it was dark as night, he could see nothing. Behind them came the tramp of heavy boots.

‘William!’

With a final glance at the sky, William bent his head and pulled her into the dark. Prison or not, this was the only hiding place. He had to be realistic. He could not fight an entire troop—if he were killed, who would protect Lady Anna?

It was ice cold inside, in an instant his skin was covered in goosebumps. The dim outline of a great cavern opened up before them, it was large enough to house a cathedral. William halted, staring in disbelief. He could smell water.