Hakim was one of those who saw the gesture, and was visibly chagrined, reminded by this of his own recent harsh whipping of the slave, who had just now escaped his clutches. Becca too was surprised, but he saw that it only confirmed that he had made a wise choice, that this slave was different. Could he replace Aelfric? No, but perhaps he would play a different role than Aelfric, but none the less important to him. Time would tell!

Back at the ship, when they had loaded up whatever provisions they had bought for their journey, Becca had his slave come to stand by him as the ship cleared the harbor.

When it was late, he let the slave hold the tiller as he had done, for he had watched long enough to see how it was done. The slave smiled and took the duty, as Becca's crew glanced with surprise and even shock at them.

Gaining the man's confidence with this act of trust and also some other acts of kindness, Becca worked with him to find out as much as he could about his former life. He learned that the young fellow's name was Alexios and he was a Cypriote, and had been taken by an Arab saracen that had suddenly pounced on his waterside town, taking many of the youth like himself for sale in Carthage, Alexandria, and other African cities. Thousands had vanished to cruel fates before him, so he expected nothing better at the hands of the slavers. He never expected to see his home again and had despaired of his life, for the Saracens were known to be very cruel, and slaves were often worked to death. Here he was no farmer or had worked in olive orchards and vineyards. But he was probably destined for a mine or a brick maker or dye vats, some such drudgery that would kill him in a few years.

"He whipped you too," Becca observed from the marks on Alexios's back. "What was the reason for him whipping you?"

"He knew we were Christians, of course, and so he forced us to convert to his god, whom they call Allah. Those who refused were whipped until they converted. But I could not accept his cruel, false god and deny the only true God. Mohammed, the one who is the champion of this religion, is not a true prophet of God, for his book says that God has no Son, and I know His Son, He is Christos, who is Savior and Lord! How could I deny Him! I would rather be whipped to death. And so they whipped, beat, and starved me--and would have killed me, except that our slave master, Hakim, decided against going that far with me, as he hoped to yet get some money for me in the markets if he spared my life. Just the same, whenever he saw me, he had to grind me to the floor with his foot and he spat on me and hurled every insult these barbarous Saracens know. And then he always mocked me and my God, saying that worse was to come, in the African mines or in the quarries, which he said were too good for infidels like me! Jews were pigs, and Christians were monkeys, he said, quoting his holy book that Mohammed wrote! To Hakim we Christians were fit only to be slaughtered or to be made low caste and forced to pay high taxes."

The slave had given Becca much to think about. He had not heard about these Saracens and their religion to this extent before. He had not known that they denied the Christian God and His Son, as a Muslim trader in Hedeby told him they worshipped the same God and that the Muslims believed in peace. But now he knew the truth about Islam, their religion, and would he meet with more of these wicked Saracens in the coming days, and perhaps trade sword blows with them? He knew he would not mind if he were sent to fight them--for they were nothing but cruel men, who would force believers in Christos to take a god in whom they did not believe. How could that faith be of value? Danes never forced people to believe in Odin or Thor-- why should they believe in their captors' gods? It was forced! Anything a slave was forced to do, would God accept that as true homage? All the love of freedom in his Danish soul rose up enraged at the thought. He knew he would have fought such a thing himself, with all his strength and will. No one was going to force him to give homage to a god, it was to be of his own free will or nothing!

"Now what do you want of me, master?" Alexios asked Becca, as Becca took a sponge and a bottle of olive oil and applied the healing oil to Alexio's lash-covered back.

Becca smiled. "You are Greek, are you not? I am Danish from the far north country, a barbarian to your eyes! I learned of you Greeks when I was a boy. You have your heroes and great sailing ships too, like us. Greeks still come all the way to our markets, just to buy amber, some of which I have brought with me for trade. It is true, we are barbarous, and need much teaching. Teach me your Greek language and your runes, for that is why I rescued you from that dog of a trader. I saw you were not like the others, you were a man of knowledge, smooth, not rough handed like them. Now tell me about the places we are looking to go."

So, with the Greek slave able to give Becca all the information he needed to make it to his destination, they sailed across the Great Sea all the way east to the farthest end of the Great Sea, passing by Cyprus on this journey until they reached the City of Constantine, New Roma.

As for why they passed by the slave's home, Becca explained: "If I come with this one steed of war, your people might set upon us and kill all of us, thinking we are returning for more captives! But I will take you back to your home after we reach the city of your emperor."

Becca was already known to the City Prefect and the naval authorities as they were stopped and interviewed by commanders of imperial warships while still miles at sea. After a lengthly inspection of his ship and his men and weapons, he was ordered to report to the imperial court for possible service to the Emperor. There he enlisted his ship and men in the naval forces of the emperor, who drove hard deals with barbarians who entered his service.

Were they good enough? They were tested in every art of war and handing a ship at sea, and came through with flying colors. Becca was told he could name his price, since he was of exceptional worth to his new masters. Becca declined to name a price, only said that he preferred a tenth of the spoils of war he and his ship could win in battle, and a tenth more for the the widows and poor of the city. Asking so little for himself and showing his love for the poor of a city foreign to him, immediately gained him wide approval and friendship. In this way, not grasping for every advantage for which he could, Becca was not like the other barbarians who flocked to serve in the armed forces of the Emperor. He was cunning enough to hold his own in any bargaining but he was wise and good, and these sterling qualities along with his feats of bravery in fighting the emperor's chief enemies, the invading Arabs of Arabia who followed Mohammed and his successors, travelled all the way up the chain of authority to the emperor.

One day a bejeweled, magnificently silk attired imperial herald came to greet Becca's warship on return from a campaign, riding right up to the ship berthed at the imperial wharves on a quadriga drawn by four white richly decorated horses, his pages carrying the imperial standard, to deliver a summons even before the ship could be unloaded of the booty and an accounting and division made. The herald stepped down from the imperial gold quadriga onto a piece of carpet. Becca came forward to him, and the herald extended his hand, which Becca took, not knowing what else to do. Was he to bow? He had never bowed to anyone, even the king of the Danes did not demand such obeisance.

The herald did not seem to be effronted, showing no sign he was displeased at Becca's behavior.

"We know that you, as foreigners, do not know our ways, but you will learn them. Welcome to New Roma! You are more than a guest, you are to be extended every courtesy, as your character as you have already displayed is rare among barbarians, and is greatly prized here."

But there was more! Becca was called to court, a most rare invitation for a newcomer, and barbarian at that!

So, dressed in his best, going to the Hall of Ambassadors in the palace, he witnessed with his own eyes the majesty he had only heard about before, but could scarcely believe.

A jem-incrusted throne that rose up into the air, transporting the emperor to the ceiling of a immense mead-hall that could contain all the mead-halls of the Danes and still have much room to spare? A golden mechanical tree by the throne that held golden, cunningly fashioned birds that sang as sweetly as any in the wood?

Although the emperor allowed few imperial guards to be posted nearest him, since some previous emperors had been slain by their own guards enlisted in various power struggles, the palace was thronged with them, inside and out. Uncountable warriors all equipped with golden shields and wearing shining tunics of silver mail. Why even the posts that held up the walls and ceilings of the emperor's palace were made of gold and held inset jewels in them! The emperor's riches were beyond numbering, his war ships and armed horsemen beyond count, and the walls that encircled his sea-girt capital were at least three days journey by land! If the thirteen miles of land and sea walls alone, with all their fortresses and walled harbors along the Golden Horn and Bosporus, were stretched out, wouldn't it be a hundred miles?

And this great ruler of the Empire of Eastern Christendom wanted to see him and speak to him, a Danish sea-rover, Becca the Red, the son of Rasmus the Green-Eyed! Wouldn't his father be proud if he knew? After his audience with the emperor, Becca was given some days ashore to relax and full freedom to go anywhere he chose with his men, who were also given passes. After all, the emperor had chosen them to be his special bodyguard whenever he sailed on the Bosporus or the Sea of Marmara. For this great honor they were given magnificent tunics and shields, and all new weapons. As Becca and his crew toured the city, Becca's ship was completely outfitted and restored in the emperor's shipyards by the best shipwrights. The only thing a bit strange to him was the name they were given by the imperial recorders: "Varangian."

"Varangian?" He and his men were called to be called that, whether it sounded strange to his ears or not! Deciding that it wasn't the worst thing Danes were called, he did not argue for "Dane", and let it go.

They toured the city, which was the largest and most splendid in the world. The lands alone were a great sight to see, built by Emperor Theodosius in the 4th century.

The amphitheatre was another great attraction, of course, with four chariot races daily, attended tens of thousands of citizens, half of which were one color, half another, depending on the colors of the two favorite contenders. They all drove quadrigas, which were drawn by four horses apiece. As they raised around the obelisk, Snake Column, and a gold-sheathed column of the Emperor Theodosius, with the crowds of tens of thousands roaring their favorites' names from the tiered stands, it was a magnificent spectacle to the Danes, beyond anything they had imagined it would be. The emperor himself and his chief officials sat in a special box, which had a private entry opening on a guarded tunnel that took him to and fro from the palace.p> Gambling was a Danish passion from of old, but Danes were not particularly obsessed with horse flesh, preferring their "steeds of the sea" to the land-bound species, so they did not spend the day there, as most other visitors would, throwing all their cash away on this and that contender.

The immense, tall, domed buildings, the palaces, churches, baths, and huge commercial districts strung out along the major thoroughfares, all pillared and covered with canopies, drew their chief attention, since they had not seen the like anywhere else, except perhaps in Gaul where the ruins of the Roman cities were still very impressive. The Port officials showed them the special fortresses guarding the shoreline and the ship-defying chain that was winched up from both sides to block the mouth of the Golden Horn, the inner harbor of Byzantium. Then, from a high tower Becca looked down upon the Golden Horn in the midst of the city. Hedeby would have fit in just one small piece of it, and be swallowed up so it couldn't even be found! But this city was larger than his eye could see, even from the vantage of this tower.

Allowed to remain armed, to keep their swords and shields because they were imperial bodyguards, Becca and his Varangians were escorted through the most magnificent and largest temple on earth, the one built by Emperor Justinian three centuries before. Becca was more than thrilled by the sight, even moreso when he was told the edifice was called Divine Wisdom.

Surely, there was no other place on earth that could as rightly claim such a name as this! he thought. As he looked up into the vast dome overhead, pierced with many windows all around, he thought for sure he was looking through heaven's window as the light flooded down, multi-colored, into the sanctuary where thousands of worshipers and priests daily assembled. This indeed was the center of the world, of the universe, for him! Could there be more glorious spot? The beauty and splendor was indescribable and left him speechless.

In the galleries on the second storey, gazing down at a forest of alabaster columns and upwards at countless shining golden lamps and domes overhead pierced by many-colored windows all pouring their light and color into the vast spaces beneath upon thousands of congregants and priests, he paused to take his sword and with the point carve a rune on the alabaster railing. It was one he had learned from one of his northern tribesmen onboard who was the son of a rune-master.

As long as Divine Wisdom stood overlooking the sea approaches to the city, Becca's rune would testify that he, the son of Rasmus and the grandson of Mimir, had stood in that glorious place, and it would still be there on the day that the Usurper who claimed to be Greater Than All ascended his throne to rule the world.

Touring the world's greatest and wealthiest city and its marvels, they were interrupted by a call from the emperor to return to their ship to get ready for duty. Spies had reported a sharp increase in activity in the ports of Muslim kingdoms to the south. Diplomats from the emperor had been hard at work, trying for months to delay the coming attack with treaties and offers of many gold byzants for mutual trade and prosperity, but the Muslims under the leadership of the Caliph of Baghdad did not want to share anything, they wanted to seize the whole empire of the Christian emperor at New Roma, lock, stock, and barrel! Holy, golden-domed Byzantium had been assaulted countless times before, but her triple walls would repulse them, so that the only way left to her enemies was by water, by sea-borne war ship. The enemy fleets could do much damage to the country, and so the emperor was forced to destroy them, or suffer the destruction of most of his country, even if the capital itself was spared any injury, thanks to its tremendous land and sea walls and forts.

So the Danish Varangians were pressed soon into active service for when the Caliph launched yet another armada to take the capital, just as Mohammed had commanded, that they should strike at the head of their enemy, then mop up the other cities and countryside at their leisure.

The emperor's chief weapon was not sword or warship or even massed calvalry charging the enemy--it was Greek fire! A demonstration was given Becca and his men by a descendant of the discoverer of this weapon, held in a place of ruins where military devices were tried out and tested.

After the hand-held cannon was displayed to Becca, the great-grandson turned to him and gave his name. "My name is Basil, and my forefather was Callinicus, a refugee from Syria when the infidel Muslims invaded. He brought the secret recipe for the fire we use against our foes. Next I will show you the munitions works where I prepare my special fire for the emperor's forces."

Becca was allowed to follow Basil, but both he and his men were prevented from any sight of the workshop where the Greek fire was produced, as this was a most secret place of all, its secrets guarded on pain of death if they were compromised in any way. How naptha, saltpetre, petroleum and other ingredients were blended in a way to produce the volatile Greek Fire, only the Basil and his select workers knew, and they weren't telling, so Becca learned nothing that the man in the street did not know.

Afterwards, Becca emerged from the munitions buildings and talked some more with Basil. "If we Danes had this wonderful liquid fire of yours, we could have conquered all the Saxons and taken their lands years ago! Danes would give anything for the list of the ingredients! They would pay any amount of gold for it!"

Basil shook his head, and spoke low as if they might be overheard. "No, sir, we would never sell such a thing. Our city, our homeland, our people of Christ all depend upon it not getting into the hands of our enemies or even our friends such as you. Don't think they haven't tried countless times to wrest the secret from us! We have been offered enormous bribes for it, but we cannot hand our city and people and our holy places over to the infidel, though they offer us all the gold and treasure of the whole earth! God himself gave the secret of it to my forefather. We have heard from his lips, as it was passed to me by my own grandfather and father, that God answered the prayer of the Christians for such a great weapon, that they could use it to ward off the coming hordes of the infidels who follow Mohammed their prophet.

The Lord God told my forefather this: "I will protect you until the time you grow rich and fat and heedless of my commands. When you abandon me for the sake of your luxuries and sinful pleasures, when you turn as unholy as the heathen who assaults your walls, then I will give you over to the cruelty and oppression of your enemies. Until then you will be saved by My Hand and you will overcome your enemies, every one."

Becca had to wonder. "How long will that be?" he asked Basil. Basil did not smile, just shook his head slowly. "Perhaps we are beyond the point now, and are being judged, and will not survive this coming attack. But we still have the fire, only we know that the enemy may have something similar, for he has made many attempts that we have heard about. God will not let us have preeminence forever if we have abandoned Him. That was His stern warning to our rulers and the people. Even this holy nation may fall to the infidel--for God plays no favorites when you pollute his sanctuary with your sin, unbelief and rebellion."

Basil then showed him how the fire was to be used, by a tube being inserted through the prow of Becca's warship. A pump was installed, and when the Greek fire container was brought, it had to be handled without jostling it, as it could explode, Becca was warned. Water only increased the flames, so if a fire started aboard from a spill of the Greek fire, water could not put it out. It burned on water just as greedily as on wood. Even metal and masonry were consumed! Nothing so far had stopped Greek fire, Basil observed. With it Byzantium stood as a fortress beyond peer, throwing back the repeated onslaughts of the Muslim infidels, century after century. How long that would be the case depended on their love of God and faithfulness to his commands, he concluded.

Becca and his fifty warriors soon had their first action. Everything worked well, as Basil had shown them all they were to do to handle Greek fire safely. The training session was abruptly turned into actual combat when the Arab armada launched a massive attack.

With this wonderful weapon they met the attacking armada head-on and burnt ship after ship of the enemy navy. Becca was like lightning from just heaven, as he laid waste to the invading armada, whose god denied the One True God for whom he had gladly given up his own people's false and bloody gods. Yet he felt sorry for his and the emperor's enemies, as they perished. "It is too bad they do not know the truth. They are ignorant of the truth. That is why they serve such a low god of war and blood as this they call Allah! Wasn't I such as them, only but lately?"

Probably as a result of this thought, that the enemies of God were ignorant and did not know what they were doing, he ordered a swimming enemy sailor rescued from the water, even against his own men's wishes. Alexios in particular was unhappy with bringing an enemy aboard. "But that man is a snake, master. You must not bring him among us, for he will turn on us when he has a chance and bite one of us!"

Indeed, the saved man was not happy at his rescue either. He had pushed the oar away that was held out to him to grab. Several times he did this, then finally grabbed it and he was pulled onboard.

Once he was saved from drowning or being burnt alive in the pools of floating Greek fire, the captive sat glowering at them, showing no sign he was grateful to them for sparing his life.

Becca send Alexios to see if he could find out anything from the prisoner. "Come and tell me if you learn anything," Becca told him. "It will help me to decide what to do with him. I don't want him harmed, just let him speak so we can tell what he is about."

Alexios looked doubtfully at the captive, shaking his head at the thought that an enemy should be accorded such rights. If he had a whip, he would have been tempted to use it, to get all the information he could out of him that way. But of course, he could not,a s a slave, do any such thing.

"What is your name?" Alexios, who knew some Arabic language, asked him.

The prisoner, his hands bound behind him, gave him a look of pure venom as he slowly spat out the words. "Hasayn! I am the son of Walid Husayn ibn Ibrahim of Al Alexandriya. Why did you spare my life? Kill me with your sword! It is a shame that I should live while my brethren perish?"

"Why do you wish to die?" Alexios asked. "What good is it if you perish like the others?"

"You know nothing, Christian! We go straight to Paradise, as the Prophet has promised. But now I shall not go there, if perchance I do not fall in battle with the infidel."

Alexios's face colored, as he knew full well what Hasayn meant by "infidel."

"YOU are the infidel!" he protested. "We Greeks were at peace with you, but you came and attacked us, driving us from our homes on our own island that has belonged to us for over a thousand years, even carrying some of us off to your ships to make slaves of us! How dare you call us infidels! We knew God and Christ His Son centuries before you even left your viper's nest in the deserts of Arabia!"

Hasayn's face showed he was gloating, satisfied with the effect he had on Alexios.

"So I come from a viper's nest? What do you come from? You are a slave to your captain, are you not? You are Greek, you say? Did he carry you off, or did we? Are you one of those we carried off to our ships and made slaves of? Is that the cause of your anger toward me? I had nothing to do with it, if that is the case. Evenso, if I had the chance of enslaving you, I would gladly do it, for that is commanded by our God and our holy book. You Christians are nothing but pigs and monkeys--fit only for being slaves, if we do not kill you first."

Alexios was furious, and Becca, glancing over and seeing how the interview was going, intervened.

He took Alexios aside. "What did you learn from him?"

Alexios had a hard time calming down, and finally he did and was able to answer in a reasonable way.

"I am sorry, master. We Greeks from the islands have too much emotion, and it is hard for me to listen to the insolent things he says. He says he would enslave us if he could, if he did not kill us first. He is nothing but a dog, a barbarian!"

Becca's brows lifted. "Why? What could make him want to do that, since his own country is rich enough to build a mighty war fleet, and one able to do that surely does not need to attack this land and people to find provision for itself?"

"Oh, they are greedy and covet the emperor's gold and silver, the wealth of the Christians, no doubt, master. But the chief reason for what they do is this: they believe their God, their religion, compels them to attack us, wherever they find Christians, and drive us either into slavery or into the grave. That is their reason for what they do. Otherwise, they would not have come to hazard themselves and their ships to Greek fire, though they had heard of it and knew how bad it could hurt them."

Becca could not believe it. "But we Danes attacked others to take away their gold and silver, and also make slaves of some of them. But we did not seek to do this to the entire earth, nor did we think the gods Odin and Thor commanded it. Does he really believe such a thing is commanded him and his people?"

Alexios nodded grimly.

Becca was sickened by the thought. "How can there be room enough on even this wide an earth for both these people and everyone else? They will continually be at war, and not rest as they take the sword against everyone who is not under their heel. Even we Danes will find these wolves coming to take our flocks."

Alexios nodded again. "Yes, they are on our doorsteps today, master, but tomorrow, or the next day, they will be on yours!"

The Golden Horn Chain was drawn up well before the Muslim navies appeared. Boys took advantage to climb out on it and cross to the other side. But this was now wartime, soon the guards were posted that kept everyone away, except those who came by ship to inspect it.

When the sea battle was over, and the scorched remnants of the once grand and formidable Muslim navies drawn from Egypt, Libya, Syria, and Lebanon were turning and fleeing back to their home ports, Becca's ship returned to the imperial wharves, a day's work well done. They knew they would receive double pay at least, with perhaps a reward on top of that! As for Captain Becca, he knew he might even be in line for a promotion to squadron commander of the auxiliary mercenary ships, as his has performed the most ably and taken out the most enemy ships of any of the emperor's navy and auxiliaries. Trebizond's fleet had been a great help to the emperor among, but he knew he had destroyed more ships than all of them combined. It was the agility and manueverability of his longship that proved a great advantage in navigating the battle scene and getting to fresh victims. In the time he had dispatched four enemy craft, his best competitor from Trebizond had put away only one. There was no rival to his ship, indeed, and his fine, individually-picked crew.

The great iron sea-chain that blocked the mouth the Golden Horn was let down into the water, and they were able to pass through into the waterway and anchor within a small, enclosed harbor of one of the fortresses.

The whole capital was full of celebration. Huge crowds had thronged the walls and towers and watched the battle from start to finish. The cheering when up the moment the enemy turned tail and fled away, Becca's ship in hot pursuit, taking out several more of them before he turned back. It was clear to all that the emperor had won a great resounding victory over the enemy, one they would not recover from for years. It would give them peace from that quarter and perhaps even tribute and recovered territory if the emperor followed up with further military action on land to regain provinces, such as Egypt, Libya, Syria and Lebanon that Muslim armies had invaded and taken starting in the 7th century when Mohammed their prophet and war commander first gained control in Arabia.

Becca directed his ship to the military's naval wharves, but they were full and very busy, and the dockmaster informed him that he was early, they were not prepared to take his ship and his men yet. As soon as the ships at dock could be loaded for the new imperial expedition to Thracia, they would be sent out, but that might be in a day or so. So Becca moved on to another anchorage and there were plenty he knew of where he could tie up. He continued to a quay at a big commercial square, and found it open at the moment. They moved in and tied up. Becca and his men tied up the ship securely, took their belongings and arms, and leaving a guard, they began to move into the vast square.

But thousands of people, seeing them, rushed to line up in an informal triumph. Cheering, shouting, throwing flowers, the crowd's favor was evident, that they were over-joyed with Becca and his men's victorious attack on the enemy fleet, even beyond that of all the other commanders serving the emperor.

As Becca and his men trooped through the lines of celebrating citizens, many calling out his name, he felt humbled, as he recalled his father and his grandfather, and wondered what they would say if they could see him now. His father would be so proud, but his grandfather? Old Mimir would stroke his wispy beard no doubt, then say something like, "This too shall pass!"

Or he might say, or add, "The only way from a mountain top is down!"

How true, how wise! Becca thought, as he glanced at the citizens of the world's greatest city calling his name and shouting their gratitude and God's blessings on him and his men.

He wondered how they would respond, if in the next campaign he did not do so well. Was all this glory so fleeting! Surely it was! So why take pride--after all--what glory he might earn now, it might all be gone in a moment later, when the circumstances turned against him. Better not let his heart swell up in pride! he cautioned himself. He knew he had a long way to go, before he and his men returned home. There would be many pitfalls, toils, and snares in store for him in the sea-path ahead, he knew. The cheering was, for him, premature.

"Better a king's favor at the end, than at the beginning

That, he recalled, was yet another wise saying of his grandfather's!

With the cheers of seemingly the whole capital still dinning in their ears, garlands of flowers drapped around their necks, Becca and his men made it to their quarters in the Varangian barracks. The captive was with them, and Alexios was one who eyed him most closely, to watch his every move, since as a Greek who had suffered most from Musim Arabs he had good reason to distrust this one the most.

There was little spoil, of course, from this naval battle, since the ships were burnt and sunk with everything in them, even though it was still a very great victory. A few ships had seen it was hopeless and given up and had been captured, which yielded up some recompense to the victors as well as slaves to be sent to the quarries (since there was no other safe place to place them, and prison for the rest of their lives was out of the question). But most of the enemy fleet had been incinerated by Greek fire. One ship was allowed to flee away, to take the news of the calamity back to the Baghdad caliph and his Egyptian and Syrian confederates.

Becca and his crew supposed rightly. They were going to be rewarded handsomely for playing a major part in the triumph.

So how was the emperor to reward his imperial bodyguard, both Byzantine and mercenary, and his navy, and his Varangian auxiliaries? Banquets were arranged, with entertainment of music and dancing, a bag of silver coins awarded each navyman. But the ship of Becca received special largess from the imperial treasury. Gold coins instead of silver given out to each Varangian, and silver fittings were ordered by the emperor for their swords and shields. Besides this, each man received two new suits of clothes and unforms. Finally, the barracks of the Varangian guard was carpeted, the stone floors that were so cold in winter would not be much warmer to the the men's feet, and fine blankets were also dispensed to them from the imperial stores. The imperial kitchens were also ordered to supply meals directly to the Varangians, thrice a day, and no longer would they need their own cook, who was nothing so good as what the emperor's cooks could provide.

The fifty of course were very happy with all this, for the more they earned, the sooner they could return home with their earnings to live on the rest of their days. Becca too was pleased, for he was well treated besides all this, he received a double share as captain and commander. A special, private audience with the emperor was also arranged, so that the emperor could learn just how Becca had achieved such remarkable success with his ship, which had shot like lightning through the enemy fleet, leaving nothing but flaming hulks on the water along its path.

When Becca arrived at the main gate of the palace and gave his name to the guards, they knew at once what to do. He was given escort directly to the emperor in his royal quarters.

It was all done so quickly that Becca did not have time to look around at the imperial suite, but found himself facing a man in a private chamber with only two attendants present. He knew this had to be the emperor, as his escorting guards bowed low, then left them.

Dispensing with protocol and ceremony, the emperor got right to the point of the private interview.

"I received news of your prowess even far as the Gates of Hercules and Sicilia, but you have exceeded them all! I am very pleased."

Becca was amazed. "How did you know of me, sire?"

The emperor smiled. "I could not be where I am without another army, one of sharp eyes and ears who go everywhere across the world, and tell me what is going on with the barbarians, so that we can be prepared here at home if they should come here."

Becca understood that very well, but Sicilia and Malta? That was a long way off! And he hadn't noticed anyone giving him special attention there.

The emperor noted that Becca was still a little doubtful.

"You took aboard a Greek, Alexios by name, at Malta, a slave from the market that had been captured by the infidel, did you not? Then in the battle today you took aboard a certain barbarian, of the infidel Mohammed's faith, did you not? His name is Hasayn, according to the report I have been reading just before you came."

The emperor glanced toward the table in the room that was stacked with scrolls and papers.

"Yes," he continued, "we know about you, more than you knew was possible, but that is not the point of this talk. My admirals and commanders are amazed at your successes against the enemy today. You put most of my commanders to shame. And though they are unhappy, I am most pleased. I wish not only to reward you specially, but to find out what gives your ship such an advantage over ours."

"Your majesty, I would be happy to tell you, but the building of my sea-steed was tedious from start to finish, and so would be the description of how it is built. It is the cunning craft of my ancestors that made it, and I followed their wisdom in every part of it until it was finished. We do not rush the craft, it has to be done right with much care, and then it will all fit together perfectly and do what it is supposed to do."

"But it can't be only your ship, I believe it has to do with your leadership as well. Tell me, how did you come to this great fighting ability of yours that afforded you such an amazing, swift progress today right through the heart of the enemy's fleet?"

Becca was embarrassed by this point. "But," he protested, "my men could not be held back a moment longer! When they saw the massed ships of the enemy ranged against us, their good Danish blood boiled up and they all itched for this fight! And I fight no differently than my ancestors or my brother Danes. I am no different from them. We were all raised since boyhood to cast aside our fears and wield the ax, the bow, and the sword, and to ride the steed of the sea."

The emperor smiled again. "It is clear you learn your lessons well, Commander--for I am making you commander of the auxiliaries, whether Varangian or anybody else from among our confederates and allies."

The emperor glanced toward an aide, and he came forward with a chain and gold medallion, which he put on Becca's neck.

"I am greatly honored, Your Majesty," Becca responded.

"And moreover, I direct you to go to the arsenals and ships to instruct my shipwrights. Also I want you to teach my navy your seacraft that you learned back in your homeland, which enables you leave the formation of our navy and to dart in and between the ships of a massed fleet while you do it the most damage. You were so swift they could not touch you! I myself was watching you from the palace tower!"

Becca's interview, with a few more words, was soon over. But he was shown every courtesy as he was escorted out of the palace, the gold chain and medallion from the emperor signifying he was a naval commander shining on his chest.

The carpets arrived just as Becca and his men were about to leave the next morning for a voyage to the north, to give added clout to the emperor's bid to quell the Bulgars that were moving down across the border to settle in the emperor's European territories north of Greece.

These Bulgars were barbarians like so many others, no better, no worse, but ungovernable, it was thought, so the emperor wanted them driven out. Becca was to prevent them fleeing by boat from the scene of the next battle along a big river. Though beaten, they could still swim to safety, then regroup to attack the emperor's army again. No, they had to be completely crushed and all of them either killed or rounded up, to break their barbarian spirit and force their chieftains to negotiate.

Knowing that this was their last time in some weeks ahead before they would enjoy a comfortable, warm bed again, the men retired early and were fast asleep. Becca made a last patrol of the barracks, saw that Hasayn, his Moslem captive, was asleep in the small chamber with a guard posted nearby, and then retired to his own chamber. The carpets for his chamber were rolled up outside, ready to be installed when he left for the northern campaign.

A torch or two was burning in the hallway where the carpets lay, but no guards were posted, as everyone was trying to get as much sleep as possible for the next day. The carpeting began to stir, however, and something crawled out, then slid along the floor to the doorway of Becca's chamber, and pushing it open very slowly, slid in like a silent shadow.

Becca felt a body crash down on him, and he fought awake and began to fight for his life, but realized his assailant was not moving. But there was a second assailant he faced next, and he felt a knive plunge into his shoulder. That was all he needed to respond, with a ferocious kick that sent his would-be killer smashing against the stone wall. The man gave a cry and slumped own. Becca staggered away, holding his shoulder with the assassin's dagger still in it, and reached the hallway, and got a torch. He called his men, who leaped to his aid. And together they returned to his chamber, and the entire story was now revealed. The man on his bed was Alexios--dead! He had bled to death from a knifing wound in his back. But the other? Hasayn, who was lying unconscious, but badly hurt from his head wound, crumpled against the wall.

Becca seized Hasayn with his hand and shook him. "What were you doing, attacking me like this?"

Hasayn's eyes rolled in their sockets, but he seemed to remember Becca and what he had tried to do to him.

"I hate you, infidel!" Hasayn mumbled. "Allah Akbar! May the Caliph be avenged!"

Then his eyes closed, and Becca knew he was dying.

"Wait, why did you strike me, when I spared your life? I showed you mercy, Hasayn!"

A sneer apppeared, logsided, on Hasayn's face. "But-- but you knew I was a snake, master, when you spared me. If I bite you, an infidel, it is your fault, not mine! This way, I go straight to heaven as a hero, don't you see?"

Letting Hasayn fall, Becca stepped back, still holding his shoulder, but with a cloth pressed hard against it to staunch the blood. He had already extracted the dagger, and called for the naval doctor to be brought, then sank down on the bed where Alexios lay.

He knew now what had happened. Alexios, whose name Alexios had told him once meant Protector, had thrown himself between Hasayn's dagger and himself, having crept in during the night just to make sure of his master's safety. He had been lying at the foot of the bed when Hasayn entered like a gliding dark shadow. He did the only thing he could, since he wasn't the superior in arms that Hasayn was and couldn't stop him any other way.

While he waited for the physician to be roused at this early hour and come to the barracks, Becca had time to reflect on the events leading up to the attack.

How had it happened that his guard let Hasayn get away? Becca wondered. He had to find out, even before the doctor arrived. He could have sent a man to find out, but wanted to see himself what had happened, and question the man if he were still alive.

But Torkel was not going to answer any questions, Becca found. In the light of his torch Torkel lay on the tile, his throat slit with his own knife.

This sight made Becca feel even worse, even sick in the pit of his stomach. He went to a corner and retched into a basin, then wiped his face with some water on a towel and tried to get his thoughts straight. He now had two deaths to his account, both unnecessary. Despite all the wisdom his grandfather had poured into him, this had still happened! Where had he gone wrong? He now reconsidered, with the facts staring him his face. He should have listened to Alexio's warnings! Alexios knew the followers of Mohammed a lot more, and so he ought to have been listened to. But he had to do something, he felt he couldn't just suffer waves of remorse and self-blame. What good would that do?

So he went and laid Torkel's knife down by his body, and then covered him with a fine blanket.

Could he take the body home, or bury him in this foreign land? And Alexios? Shouldn't he find a metal-lined coffin for him, and take his body to his family and relatives on his home island? They would want his body for burial, surely. What to do?

His mind whirling, and feeling throbbing pain in his shoulder, he returned to his chamber to avoid the stares and remarks of his crew. He wanted to be alone more than anything, to consider his own thoughts and what he must best do for both Alexios and Torkel. As for the treacherous dog Hasayn? Let his carcass be dragged out and burnt in the city dump with the other carcasses of dead things hauled there! The sooner the better!

And he thought how he had tried to treat him kindly, to bring him around to a loving, forgiving Christ rather and away from own cruel desert god! It had not worked with the likes of Hasayn-- he had used his kindness only to try to kill him, and taken away poor Alexios's life and Torkel's too--two brave men he and his crew would sorely miss in the days ahead!

The doctor came, glanced at the bodies of the two dead men in the chamber, then ignored them--for the dead did not require his medical attention--and treated Becca's wound, and the news was not so bad. The dagger had struck a bone and not penetrated deeply into his chest, and if it had, he might have suffered a punctured lung and bled to death, as his servant no doubt did. But now he would mend swiftly, if all went well. The doctor cleaned and cauterized the wound, using the ointments he brought and the dressings and bandages as well, then gave final instruction to not disturb the wound and to rest as much as possible while the mending proceeded. If anything seemed amiss, he was to be called at once. The doctor took his leave without mention of pay, as he was on the royal staff, attending only the strategoi (supreme imperial commanders), and came to Becca's aid because Becca had been put on the list by special imperial order--a sign of how good an impression Becca had made on the emperor!

Becca heard quite a lot more than this from the doctor--somewhat more than he knew what to do about. The doctor was outspoken, in fact, about the emperor, Constantine VI by title, of the Isaurian dynasty that had ruled since 717. So valued was a court doctor, he knew he was not expendable. Of noble blood, powerful enough to command his own imperial guards when he cared to take them along, he cared nothing about spies and what they might report about what he said, and so was immune to anything they might do to trouble him. He told Becca that the emperor needed all the friends he could get at this time, even if they were barbarians in his employ, as he had quite run out friends among his own countrymen after just a few years. He had begun reigning at a young age, for he was now only 26 years of age, though he looked much older. He had aged particularly fast in several years, after cutting the tongues off four of his father's brothers upon accession and blinding Alexios Moselle, the esteemed and popular Armenian general who was in charge of all the imperial forces. That had greatly angered the emperor's Armenian allies, who had put him in power against his own mother's wishes (who exercised the imperial power herself alone during his regency), and he turned on them and crushed them most cruelly despite the great favors done him by them. With his military in disarray due to his treatment of the loyal Armenians, his first major foreign enterprise had failed badly, sending an army out to the north which was then defeated by Khan Kargan of the Bulgars, thereby exposing the entire northern themes to massive Bulgar invasions. What had he done that had not weakened the empire and divided it? Diplomacy might have saved the say with Khan Khargan, for the Bulgars were like any crude, illiterate and ignorant barbarians and lusted for gold more than lands that required careful and laborious tillage to produce their grain and fruits, and he could have been bought off and an imperial army saved from defeat, losing forces they sorely needed to push back the Arabs encroaching in the south and east. To make matters even worse for the realm and for his own throne he had divorced his wife, Maria of Amnia, and married Theodote his mistress, hoping to get a son from her, as Maria was childless. This angered the people, because Theodote was unpopular with them and Maria was much loved for her charitable giving and piety. How long would he reign? was the question. How long would the Dowager Empress Irene, his mother and the widow of the late Leo IV the Isaurian, his father, permit the son to ruin the whole country like this?

There were certain rumors going about, that the empress, Irene of Athens, was very restless of late, and was being sought out by many great patricians, nobles who were some of the most powerful in the realm. Perhaps, they would be able to do something, to rein in this emperor from making further mischief for them all? Like the barbers, the doctor knew everything too, for he was in contact with everybody who was somebody--and so his patient was spared nothing!

Shaking his head over the follies of the young emperor, the doctor went away, leaving his patient to mull over all these things along with the deaths of his two servants.

But he couldn't think too long, the dawn was near, and it would be time to set off on the new campaign against the Bulgars. Now he knew why he was so well received andf well treated--the emperor was desperate for new allies, any allies. He had alienated his own people and even his own military. His mistress-wife was hated even more since she had been elevated to wife and "empress," so how could he expect a son of that union to be recognized and received as heir to the throne? It was an abomination to the people, who knew the standards of God and would not let them be abrogated in this way, even by an emperor!

After hearing what the doctor said, now Becca was unsure that to continue with the emperor was perhaps not such a good idea. Wouldn't this latest campaign fall flat as the other had? Greek fire had saved the day against the Arabs on the sea, true enough, but on land the Bulgars had proved a match for the best imperial army sent to drive them back north. However vital the sea lanes were to the realm, the land was just as important, or even moreso, since an empire needed lands, plenty of them, to support the whole apparatus of state and the royal throne and household and capital. With the drastic shrinkage of the borders caused by the Bulgars, how long could they absorb such losses in territory and still continue to fend off enemies that ringed the realm on every side?

But Becca had first to consider hiw own strategy and particular priorities. Was it time to call an assembly of his crew--to determine how they might think about this imperial campaign against the Bulgars and their own role in the Varangian imperial bodyguard?

He thought about it in the remaining hour or so before dawn, lying on the side of the bed where Alexio's blood had not reached, unable to sleep, and interrupting his thoughts to give orders concerning the bodies of the dog-assassin and his own two friends.

The means to dispose of Hasayn came right to the back door. He was the one who came every morning to sift through garbage behind the barracks, and haul it away to the dump. A barracks cook detained him, and word was sent back to the cook, for him to take Hasayn's body if he would, for a good fee and bury it. There were no questions asked, as Becca's name was sufficient enough to bury him wherever he wanted.

This seemed a boon to the refuse handler, and he readily agreed to the task. So Hasayn was wrapped in some old carpet and hauled off in the dump-man's hand cart, and then disposed of where dead dogs were carted and dumped into shallow graves. With some such unfortunate dogs, Hasayn shared his grave.

Of course, that didn't protect the body very long, as the dump abounded in dogs that dug there for carrion, and lived on dead carcasses, whether fish, fowl, canine or even human.

At nightfall, the city's wild dogs crept out of their dens and made for the dumps that lay outside the walls, though there was one inside, the first such dump of the city that was still being used.

Inside the walls, the dogs had found enough holes to hide in during the day, lest they be found and driven out of the city or killed where they were hiding.

A hundred or so of these soon scented the fresh burial, and began furiously digging to get at whatever lay beneath the shallow topping of dirt.

Then, with the body of Hasayn and the dead dogs and other carcasses revealed, the fighting began. Top dogs weren't going to feast alongside of inferior mongrels, and first these inferior wretches had to be driven off, which they soon were, though there was a lot of savaging of each other before the top dog gained command of the carrion.

Ringed by the beaten dogs, the victor tore at the cadavers.

But other alpha dogs arrived on the scene to claim the prize, and the top dogs were rivals too of each other, and they now fell on each other in their haste to get the best parts of the abdomen's entrails and then the other body parts. A leg went this way, an arm went another, but didn't go far, as dogs tumbled one over the other, tearing out fur and nipping at each other's soft parts. It was utter chaos, which the beaten ones had to watch, though a couple ventured in, and then were soundly whipped worse than before and driven off once again.

When the dust cleared a bit, and the sky lightened enough to make some things out, the bodies had disappeared, and instead all anyone viewing this grisly sight could see was a mass of moving haunches, bolt upright tails, and hairy rib cages and the only sound, crunching jaws as they devoured Hasayn, part by part, and then got to gnawing his bones, including his detached skull. When these dogs were finished, there was little left for the rest of the pack--some fingers and toes and palms of his hands, some ribs and pelvic bones, and of course the flayed skull with the staring, lidless eyeballs. But the moment the top dogs slunk off, their bellies dragging, the rest scrambled in, and the whole process was repeated, with initial madcap fights and chases and contests as to which dog got what delicacy. Yet there wasn't nearly enough for them all, of course, so they were left hungry, their bellies paining them, and then they did what they always did, they sat back and howled. But not to much or too long! They were creatures of the night, and nothing but beasts, but they were cunning in their wretched lives of surviving in such a place, and so they knew that men with swords might come if they made too much of a fuss and hunt them down relentlessly with torches and hunting dogs--so they too, after a little howling, slunk off to their dens as soon as it grew too light to safely forage.

Claudius, the lowly refuse-handler, with the generous fee from Becca the Varangian commander in hand, was now a man of some means for the first time in his career. Up to this day he had lived hand to mouth, with nothing to spare, as he only scratched together enough money each day to feed himself and his wife and two children he kept in a nearly roofless but rentless hovel outside the walls. Even the rag and bone venders had been better off than Claudius!

Now all that was changed forever! He also took the carpet that was made Hasayn's winding sheet (the same he had hidden in), which was still a new salable one, coming from the imperial palace's own carpet factory. In the main carpets emporium it sold immediately for a substantial sum despite some blood stains that needed cleaning with cold water. Now Claudius had more money, and putting the two sums together he purchased a strong, young donkey to draw his cart, and thus rose to the status of professional carter. Claudius the Carter! He could now leave the nasty smelling, filthy work of refuse handler for the dumps forever and take his place among the other carters and bid for the day's business at the countless wharves or among any the teaming markets and shopping avenues he chose to operate in. Yes, there might well be some vigorous opposition by the established carters who might not like newcomers like Claudius, but in this big a metropolis they couldn't control all the cartage trade and so he wasn't one to be put off easily, he would just keep at it and wedge in sooner or later and no one would put him out. After all, heaven had smiled on him, and he knew it! This was his golden opportunity, and he was thankful to God for it--being simple and uncomplicated in his mind and thinking and so more clear about what is a true blessing from God and what is not. Now, being on the rock bottom, the only way he could possibly go was up!

Coming episodes:

Becca settled in with his men to their assigned quarters outside the royal pavilions of Charles the Great. He could hobnob with other commanders of mercenary forces if he chose, but he preferred his own men, and their company, rough as it was. Franks were fearless, stout fighters, he found, but they also tended to act superior to his own men, as if they were the most ignorant savages, coming from the icy northern wastes that someone had described to the Franks, though it wasn't nearly as bad in Dane-land and the northernmost territories of the Northmen as it had been pictured.

Now he and his valiant fifty were warriors in liege to Charles the Great himself! Salaried too! They didn't have to wait for a campaign to be concluded before they began drawing pay from the treasurer of the court. The administration of the Frankish crown was most efficient too-- paying promptly on time in either Frankish coinage or imperial East Roman byzants.

Charles the Great had lands sprawling across most of the world, so there was opportunity for service in many different places, most of them accessible to ships such as Becca's, via the coasts and the many intersecting rivers that flowed to the the various seas, north, west, and south.

Charles's realms stretched, in fact, from the environs of Dane-land to old Roma, and from Brittany in the far west to the Goths and Huns in the far eastern marchlands of Scythia and the Kingdom of Kiev and Novgorod. His capital was a roving one, but often he preferred residence in Aachen, his chosen capital city and where he had built a splendid palace for himself and his court, with heated floors, as the Romans had done, and a swimming pool indoors. Yet the great king was restless, and couldn't be held there for long, and would set off, from one part of his realm to the other, fighting and subduing enemies along the borders, even adding to his territories. For this reason, he was always seeing good fighting men, Frankish or some other tribe, for his armies.

Becca could hardly believe his good fortune. Leaving instructions and money for the coffins of both Alexios and Torkel's bodies, his shoulder wrapped and bandaged, he and his men had gone dutifully to the front against the Bulgars, not with enthusiasm after the doctor's revelations to him about Constantine VI's cruelty and unpopular mistress-wife and his mistreatment of his friends and allies, the Armenians. But after he threw the question open to his men, whether to obey the command or not, and listened to whoever wished to speak out, he decided they still must fulfil their contract with the emperor, whether he was a good ruler or not. So far the emperor had not mistreated them, and seemed to trust them above his own people. How could they, the Varangian Imperial Guard, let him down if he counted on them so much as that? It would have been a base thing, to Becca's mind, to betray the emperor's trust. No, they had better do what they had agreed to do, but after this campaign, then they could reasonably move for a change, or even decline further service.

So they had gone up in the ship, passed through the Bosporus channel, and sailed with other ships of the imperial fleet, to the great river that divided the northern territories. The lands south of that river were still safe enough, but the Bulgars has ravaged all those north of it. It was somewhere along that riverine border that a challenge would be made to the Bulgar khan and a battle fought to decide things. His duty, he was instructed by a strategos, was to remain in the river with his ship and men, and pick up any Bulgars attempting to flee by small water craft. The objective was to administer as crushing a defeat as possible, to discourage the khan of the Bulgars from attempting further attacks on the empire and to sue for peace. If they could capture the khan himself, but that was not hoped for, since the Bulgars were adept at fleeing away, if the battle seemed to be turning against them, on their swift Scythian ponies and then regrouping somewhere else in order to once again attack. That was the Sychian mode, which usually prevented their being totally crushed once and for all. Mobile, more mobile thant than the imperial forces, they carried little or no baggage, and thus could carry on this way for some time, while the imperial forces were worn down in chases that turned up nothing more than empty air.

How was this battle going to succeed any better than the last major campaign that failed? Becca had wondered. The strategos had anticipated the question anyhow, and he didn't need to voice his misgivings, fortunately.

"This time we have much gold to show them, for bribery, to get them to agree to peace, so they will have their eyes on this great amount of gold, and that will keep them all close enough. At a certain time in the parley, we will make a surprise attack on them in all their camps with another army coming from their rear. We must do everything with utmost secrecy of course, as they have their roving scouts watching our movements at all time, just as we have our sentries watching theirs. But the terrain we have picked is ideal for hiding our own forces for the rear attack of their camps while we engage them in the diplomacy with the promise of much gold."

This seemed a very crafty and daring plan to Becca, but one with good possibility to succeed. It had made his blood race to hear about it. Who had thought of it? He thought it sounded very Danish to him.

Perhaps, there would be a victory over these formidable Bulgar hordes after all!

He felt better after his private conference with the imperial commander-in-chief, who had no idea that Becca's shoulder was bandaged up, being hidden by his wolf shirt. Becca could see the strategos had not held back anything substantial from him in the plans, and his own part was laid out in a clear way. He was not asked to do impossible things, or foolhardly things that would probably lead his men into disaster. What he was commanded to do was quite acceptable. After all, the Bulgars were attacking the empire's territories in the north, spreading fire and ruin everywhere, looting, raping, taking everything they could get their hands on that they liked and burning the rest. These were nothing but savages, and must be stopped, so there was good reason to stop them now if they could. And it seemed now they might do just that.

So he and his men proceeded to the campaign ground along the river, then anchored where he was told it would be best. A line of ships were strung out for several miles, to make sure they could catch as many Bulgars as possible that were pushed into the water by the fighting on land. Even these good swimmers, as they were reputed to be, would not be able to swim fast enough to elude Becca's and his men's good, flesh-biting arrows!

For days, however, after they anchored, nothing happened, and Becca's shoulder had more time to mend. The Bulgars showed up late to the parley they had agreed to hold with the imperial delegation and the strategoi. When they did appear, they did so haughtily, with a great show of their arms and numbers and powers. When that was over, the Khan Khargan stepped from his golden chariot and with hundreds of his best fighting warriors and commanders proceeded on foot to the tent of meeting.

It was a tense moment when the imperial legates and military commanders stepped forth to greet them. But the greetings over, things seemed less tense, and the negotiations commenced. Slaves brought out the gold for the imperial tribute. It was presented in baskets of false bottoms, so the endless baskets actually held far less than they did, but the sight was absolutely spell-binding to the Bulgars. None had seen so much gold in their entire lives, even from the sack of some 60 cities, and now they stood agape, lusting for the gold. The presentation concluded, the baskets of gold were stacked in sight of the Bulgars under guard, and the parley began.

The Bulgars reclined upon gold-enlaid ivory couches brought out to them. The legates reclined on theirs. Dancing Circassian girls performed meanwhile, with the dispensing of food and wine to the upper grades while the diplomacy went on.

Becca heard all this was going on through periodic reports from imperials, and so he waited, and waited. Meanwhile, he sense something was about to happen, for he was not even told beforehand, when the strike would be made, it was the utmost secret in the plan, which only the strategoi were privy to. One thing only would notify him of it: an arrow with a red streamer would be sent out from the shore, at various points along the shore. So he had kept his men's eyes on the shore, for it could happen anytime now, he knew.

What was that? It was the red-ribboned arrow, shot over their bow!

The battle had begun!

All Becca's men grabbed their weapons and stood ready at the oars, waiting for orders.

Becca had the ship oared into the river, just far enough so that any Bulgars escaping there might think they could get into the water safely in the boats they had hidden in the reeds (which the imperial forces had been instructed not to disturb).

Sure enough, after several hours, Becca and his men saw movement on the bank. A swarm of men fanned out over the ground, searching along the water's edge. Then boats began to appear coming out of the reeds, with armed warriors in them.

This was their moment to respond--and they turned the boat, put arrows to their bows, and at Becca's command, waited until the little boats loaded with Bulgars were within good shooting distance. Then Becca gave the word, and the arrows whistled to their targets. The boats were immediately in trouble, as the men in them rose up and then fell into the river, arrow-pierced. Unmanned boats began drifting with oars downstream. Becca had the ship moved closer to the bank, and then the swimmers were dealt with, all those who couldn't find boats.

Using up their arrows on them, they next waited until they could reach the swimmers, and then used their swords on them, or clubbed them with their oar handles. They cleared the whole area that was their responsibility. Then they went to the aid of the other ships, and helped them, one by one.

After an hour of this, fewer and fewer Bulgars ventured forth into the water, and ran back, or rode away if they had ponies.

Victory! it was time for the Danish and Norse victory shouts and chants! And they let them go--startling the imperials, who felt the hair rising on the backs of their necks, they had never heard more savage a sound as these chants and shouts of the northern lands.

The strategos came riding up in his chariot, got down, and Becca saw he was beckoned to come to land for a talk with the commander.

Becca did not think to take anyone. He left his men with instructions to wait, and he took the small boat aboard and slipped quickly to land.

The strategos had news for Becca, besides the great news that the imperial forces had routed the Bulgars, so decisively that Khan Khargan was expected to come and acknowledge defeat by signing a truce and even a peace treaty already waiting for him in the proper papers. He would be further pacified with gifts of gold, so that he would not seek revenge when he went back to his decimated forces.

Gold has a healing quality, everyone knew, among the beaten pagan commanders such as this great, proud khan--it would greatly mollify his wounded pride and make him think he was not as beaten as he was.

Becca noticed for the first time an ambassador, his riding cloak covered in the dust of long travel and held by a retainer, while the owner waiting for the strategos to make a sign to him. But the strategos dealt first with Becca.

He confided to Becca's ears alone: "I have no desire for you to speak with him, as you are under imperial orders and are subject to us, yet there is a further matter I shall convey to you after he delivers his message to you, about a change that has come about for the good, and which will directly affect you. So reserve your judgment until you hear what I have to tell you. Will you obey me in this?"

Becca agreed he would withhold his judgment until he heard from the strategos, his supreme commander.

Introduced formally, Becca found he was looking into the keen, dark eyes of Rauncifel, a count and ambassador of the Franks, come straight from the court of Charles the Great in Aachen his capital!

The furious commander nodded to this last demand also, and then left Becca after orders given to his keepers.