"Let us find what we find," growled Harald, growing tired of the game.

"Then go your way," the Patzinak envoy said. "I will tell my lord to prepare the welcome you deserve."

"That is my fondest wish," replied Harald, drawing his thumb along the edge of his axe.

"So be it." With that, the envoy signalled to his men and they withdrew at once.

"That was well done, jarl," said one of Harald's men. "Will they attack again do you think?"

"I think not," replied Harald. "We have purchased safe conduct this time. But we are forewarned: next time it will be more costly."

Returning to the ships, we prepared to continue on our way. By day's end all four ships were once again in the water and drifting peacefully downriver. As the moon was bright enough to steer by, we did not rest, but continued on through the night. Daybreak found us far away from the Patzinak lands, and well beyond the last of the obstacles standing between King Harald Bull-Roar and the City of Gold.

May the Everlasting Christ

Go before you all your days,

And take you in his loving clasp,

Whether braving storm-torn Western seas,

Or treading death-dark streets in

The Golden Cities of the East.

The Black Sea, so far as I could tell, was no darker than any other I had seen, and when the sun shone the surface of the water gleamed like polished jade. But the sun was a rare visitor, for the days were often grey and the dawn mist which lay thick on the water now remained well past midday. Still, the air was warmer than I would have imagined; and if it grew chill at night, when the sun shone it grew almost pleasant.

By what I could see from the longship's rail, I reckoned we had come to a land of tight-clustered hills. The hills, rising dull brown beyond the cragged shore were not high, but they were dense with small, shrubby trees and thorny bushes. Sometimes I glimpsed bony sheep picking their way among the prickly branches, searching for food, but I did not see any people.

Harald, considering his fleet more than a match for any foe, proceeded boldly, sailing by day and coving at night. One evening the wood gatherers returned to camp with some of the peculiar sheep: tall, rangy, thin-haunched, long-necked, with mottled fleeces of brown and grey-more goat than sheep, to look at them. We slaughtered the beasts and put them to roast on spits over the campfires. The meat was strong and tough, and the burning tallow made our eyes water. None of the men could stomach the fare. Even Hrothgar gave up after a while, saying his belt would be more tender, and would no doubt taste better. After that miserable meal, no one troubled the sheep any more.

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."