"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!"

The gold-lust was on them now; they leapt to the oars and began rowing toward the shore. I crouched beside the mast, leaning against the solid oak for strength, praying the Kyrie over and over under my breath. "Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy! Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy!…"

All around me, men, gleaming hard in their war array, bent themselves over the oars, driving the ships to the rhythm of our swift-beating hearts. With every dip and pull of the oars, the hills of Byzantium drew nearer.

Harald Bull-Roar stood on his platform, feet wide, swinging his war axe over his head and calling cadence to the rowers. Deep voice booming like a drum, he bellowed, banking his warriors' courage high, inflaming their blood-lust with crude exhortations:

"Cold strake cuts wave!" he cried. "Axe-Wielder swiftly glides! Curved hull pushes wave! Sword-Striker hastens to the weapon storm!

"Doomed skulls roll! Severed limbs twitch! Hungry death delights in the battle banquet!

"Come, wolf! Come, raven! The meat-feast awaits! Drink deep of the red cup in the Worm King's hall!"

Raving like a madman, the king roared, whipping himself and his men into a battle frenzy.

"Gold-Giver, Ale-Pourer, Rich Provider, I am Jarl Harald Bull-Roar! Attend me Corpse-Makers, Hewers of Men, for I will deliver wealth into your hands. I will cause rivers of gold to flow over the Champion's feet, and showers of silver to fall from the skies!

"Steel-Clashers! Sword-Breakers! Widow-Makers! Hasten now to glory. Follow your Wealth-Thrower to the Hero's Hearth where cool gold quenches battle heat. Fly! Fly! Fly!"

Faster and faster we flew, the knife-edge dragon prow slicing through the calm water. Did ever a man hasten so to his death?

Constantinople, unsuspecting in the milky dawn, drew ever closer-as if it were the city flying towards us rather than the other way. I seemed to see death sweeping nearer with every oar-stroke, and yet I could not take my eyes from that place. The closer we came, the larger it grew: a colossus, a seven-humped wonder on its vast splayed thumb of a peninsula thrust into the sea. Soon I could see the dark seams of streets like tangled cords winding among the masses of square white dwellings. A filthy pall hung over the heights-smoke from hearthfires beyond counting, drifting, coiling, gathering in a thick brown pall of billows.

We drove swiftly on, making directly for the nearest landfall. Even from the sea, however, we could see the city's high protecting wall rising straight from the water. Harald was not dismayed; he directed the ships onward for a closer look. But what he saw dashed cold water on his overheated scheme. For, rising up like a sheer red cliff-face from the water's edge, stretching out of sight to either hand, encircling the entire city stood a thick curtain of brick and stone ten men high. On the water below, small tenders ferried tradestuff to and fro along the waterfront.

One look at the size and extent of Byzantium's wall, and the Sea Wolves faltered. I could feel the shock of discovery course through the ship like the tremor of an unexpected wave. Harald bawled for the longships to halt, and suddenly rowers were dragging their oars in a desperate attempt to slow our forward flight. The last vessel did not receive Harald's command until too late, causing it to collide with the one just ahead. A dozen oars on both boats were snapped and broken, and rowers cursed and writhed in pain, clutching injured limbs. The resulting confusion brought howls of outrage.

Ignoring the fuss, Harald, standing high on his platform, scanned the wall. Some of the small tenders, seeing our sudden approach, hastened to draw near, jostling among themselves to be the first to reach us-thinking, I suppose, that we had trade goods to unload. Each would be the first to provide this service.

As the tenders drew closer, the men aboard hailed us in Greek. It had been long since I had heard this language spoken aloud, and it sounded strange in my ears. Still, I was able to pick out a few words and phrases from the thick gabble of voices.

Suddenly, angrily, Harald called out to me. "What are they saying?" he demanded.

"They are offering to unload our ships," I replied, moving to the rail. "They say they will do this for fifty nomismi."

"Unload our ships!" the king cried. "What is this nomismi?"

"I do not know-money, I think."

"Tell them who we are!" the king commanded. "Tell them we have come to sack the city. Tell them we are after wealth and plunder."

Leaning over the rail, I called to the nearest boat in which two men with white woollen caps stood beseeching us loudly. I told the men that these ships belonged to Lord Harald, who was a fierce warrior, and that we had come from Daneland in search of wealth. The boatmen laughed at this, and called to some of their friends in other craft, who also laughed. I heard the word barbari relayed from boat to boat. They then told me how matters stood in the emperor's harbour.

"What do they say?" asked Harald gruffly, his patience wearing thin.

"They say everyone comes to Byzantium seeking wealth," I answered. "They say there are no more berths in the harbour, and you dare go no further unless you are prepared to meet the guards of the harbour master."