Chained to the Barbarian. Carol Townend

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СКАЧАТЬ boy emerged from the stable with a forkful of dirty hay. He tossed it on to the muck heap and looked questioningly at William. ‘Good morning, sir.’

      ‘Good morning.’ No chance there. Nodding casually at the stable boy, William passed on.

      Was this all the Palace? It was like a city! Lord, somehow he had to get through the wall. Where in hell was the nearest gate? William couldn’t ask, to do so would reveal a suspicious ignorance of the Palace, but if this went on, he was likely to find himself going round in circles. And the last thing William wanted was to find himself back where he had started, at the Boukoleon Palace.

      Above him, the clouds were falling apart and the morning sun was breaking through. It was exactly what William needed. If the Great Palace was walled all around, surely it was reasonable to assume there would be more than one gate? He knew the Sea of Marmara lay to the south so … he would head north-east, there was bound to be a gate in the eastern wall.

      Using the sun as his guide, William pressed on, hugging the side of a great hall, skirting one courtyard and another. He had no idea why the Palace was so quiet, but it was an unexpected blessing.

      Some buildings looked to have been abandoned. He walked swiftly by and at last found a gate manned by four sentries. They were well equipped with helmets and mail tunics, with swords and spears …

      William tried not to look too obviously at their arms. They were not Varangians, they had no battleaxes.

      Again, his luck was in. Grave-faced, the guards had their heads together and were deep in discussion. William strolled languidly towards them. Concerned that the bruising on his naked chest and the bandage on his arm might cause comment, he drew the cloth firmly about him and prayed they were too preoccupied to notice that his cloak was a drying cloth from the Palace bathhouse. His pulse rate speeded up.

      ‘Surely General Alexios won’t fight it out in the streets?’ one was saying. ‘It’s tantamount to treason.’

      Another guard shook his head and made a sucking sound with his teeth. ‘You don’t think so? The General has been acclaimed Emperor by the army and he has the backing of half the Court. Emperor Nikephoros is too weak to object.’ Absently, he waved William through.

      ‘Yes,’ a third man chimed in as William forced himself to walk casually past, ‘Emperor Nikephoros has alienated far too many. Wouldn’t be surprised if …’

      William stepped into a paved street and the voices faded. God be praised, he was free! Likely the guards would have been more disciplined and demanding if he had been trying to enter the Palace, but, thank God, he was out.

       Free!

      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 СКАЧАТЬ