The Sea Wolves decided to follow her and see where she went, hoping to mark the place so that they could return and plunder it later. So, we followed the chair-bearers from the market as they started down one of the many streets radiating from the square.

The way was narrow and dark, the dwellings so close-built that little light from sun or sky made its way down to the street. Men hurried to and fro, or stood in huddled clumps talking to one another; some glanced at us as we passed, but most ignored us. Apparently, the sight of wild barbarians wandering the streets was nothing new to them, although we saw no other Sea Wolves that day.

The buildings here were of more humble construction, their roofs steeply pitched, their facades far less ornate than those we had seen previously. There was little glass to be seen and no statues. The path itself was unpaved save for a narrow strip of flat stone down the centre. We made our way along, and eventually came to a place where two roads crossed. Carts and bearers filled the street at this junction and it was all so confused we quickly lost sight of the queen and her chair. We stood in the centre of the crossroads and tried to decide which direction to take. Thinking to return to the wealthier district we had seen before, Hnefi chose the right-hand way, though it was darker and even more narrow than the one before.

We had walked but a dozen paces when a low, broad door in the wall suddenly banged open and out on a gust of hot air rushed a wooden cart pushed by two men, stripped to the waist and sweating. The cart was full of fresh-baked bread, and the smell from the open doorway halted us in our steps.

"Brod!" cried Orm, running after the men. He caught the cart, stopped it, and grabbed a loaf from among those stacked in the cart. The men yelled at him, snatched it back, and hurried on again, shouting at him as they went.

Seeing how Orm had fared, Hnefi turned to me. "Get us some of this bread," he said, and sent me after the cart.

I caught up with the men and fell into step beside them. "If you please," I said, "we would like to buy some of your bread."

"No! Not for sale!" one of the bakers shouted irritably.

"We have money," I said.

"It is impossible," the other baker said. "This is theme bread."

"Forgive me, I do not understand."

"Theme bread!" repeated the first baker. "Theme bread-bread for the soldiers. We are not permitted to sell on the streets. You will get us into trouble. Go away."

"I am sorry," I replied. "But we are hungry. Perhaps you can tell us where we can buy bread like this."

"Fie!" muttered the first baker, pushing away.

But the other man paused long enough to say, "Try over there." He pointed to an open doorway a little further along the street.

I shouted my thanks to the men and returned to where the Danes were waiting. "They say we can buy bread there." I showed him the house the baker had indicated. We made our way to the place, whereupon Hnefi withdrew a handful of coins from his pouch, selected a small one marked with a K and gave it to me. "Buy it for us," he ordered.

Regarding the tiny coin doubtfully, I promised to do my best and entered the dark doorway. The interior of the building was warm and lit only by the fire from an enormous oven. A large fat man in a leather apron together with a skinny boy were stoking the flames with chunks of chopped wood. On the floor beside them was a small mountain of loaves still hot from the oven.

I greeted them and explained that I wished to buy some bread. The man wiped his hands on his leather apron and held out his hand for the coin. "All of it?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

He shrugged, stooped to the stack of still-warm loaves, selected three and held them out to me. I took them with thanks, whereupon he selected three more and gave those to me as well. I thanked him again, and received three more loaves. These bread loaves were not large, but nine of them were enough to fill my arms. I thanked him for his generosity and he placed two more loaves atop the others and bade me farewell.

Staggering back into the street, I rejoined the amazed Sea Wolves. "All this," wondered Hnefi, "for only one coin?"

"Yes," I told him. "I could not carry any more."

"We can live like kings in this place," remarked Orm. With that, the Danes helped themselves to the bread, each taking three loaves, leaving me with two, which was more than plenty. We strolled on happily, tearing off pieces of bread and eating as we walked along.

The thin warmth of the day began to fade as the sun sank lower and the night clouds crowded in. The streets became shadowed and the sky took on a pale purple cast. Hnefi grew concerned that we should make our way back to the ship to tell what we had learned of the city. It was only when we turned and tried to retrace our steps that we discovered our predicament; we had wandered so far and by such a circuitous path that the process soon proved utterly futile.

"You will ask the way to the harbour," Hnefi commanded. We had paused at a paved open space near a cluster of stalls selling woven cloth and dyed wool. Two streets led away from this small square: one uphill in what seemed to be a westerly direction, and the other downhill to the north. Neither way seemed likely to lead to the harbour, which we imagined to lie somewhere to the south, though this was in no way certain, as Gunnar thought it must certainly be to the east, and Orm was convinced that it was due west.

"Ask that man," Hnefi ordered, pointing to an old man hurrying by with a bundle of sticks on his back.

I went to the man and hailed him. "Pardon me, father," I said, "I was hoping you could tell me the way to the harbour."

The old man glanced at me and, without stopping, said, "Follow your nose."

"A strange thing to say," remarked Hnefi when I told him. "You must ask again."

I tried another passerby, who told me that we should take the uphill path. Though we hastened on our way, the sky was growing dark by the time we reached the top of the hill to find another square surrounded by several large buildings and a view of the city to the east and south. "Heya!" shouted Orm, pointing to the east, "Gunnar was right. There is the harbour."

Gunnar made no reply, and when I turned to him, I saw that his attention was wholly occupied with a large white structure behind us. "Look," he said, indicating the roof.

I saw where he was pointing and my heart leapt within me. A gold cross stood at the apex of the roof, gleaming in the last light of the setting sun, and this had caught Gunnar's eye.

I was instantly seized by an overwhelming desire to run to the place and throw myself on my knees before the altar. I stood staring at the cross and thought: I have arrived at last. I have crossed many oceans to be here, but here I am. I thought I should tell someone about the pilgrimage. The brother priests in Constantinople should know of this; I should tell them.

Without thinking, I started away towards the church. Alas, I had walked but three steps when Hnefi grabbed me roughly by the arm. "Stay here!" he snarled.

Orm misunderstood the significance of Gunnar's interest. "It is not gold," he said.

"Most likely brass," added Hnefi. "It is not worth taking."

Ignoring them, Gunnar said, "It is his sign-just as you said, Aeddan."

"Yes, it marks a church," I told Gunnar. "A place where the Lord Christ is worshipped."

We were thus involved when the big double door swung open. There came the peal of a bell from inside the church, and a procession of priests emerged carrying candles and cloth banners on poles. Dressed in long dark robes, they moved out into the street, singing a psalm in a slow, undulating chant. Their tonsure was the Latin kind, unlike mine; their clothing, however, was similar to that worn by the western monks, but more richly ornamented. Several of the priests wore long silk scarves around their necks-the orarion-embroidered with crosses in gold thread; the sleeves of their robes were long and also ornately patterned.