Iron and Gold by S.J.A. Turney

Author:S.J.A. Turney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo
Published: 2022-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

‘What do you think?’ Ketil murmured.

Beside him, Leif peered off into the early morning, hand held over his eyes for shade as the post-dawn sunlight from alleyways cut golden lines across the road.

‘There’s definitely a garrison. Maybe a large one, too.’

Ketil nodded and looked up the street. The gate at the top of the long incline was topped with battlements and above it he could see the gleaming figures of armoured men, the banners of Byzantium snapping in the breeze. Imperial control had come back to Dyrrachium. Ketil stamped weary feet. It would have been nice to have ridden the horses this far, but they had been forced to sell them the previous day to buy food for the ongoing journey.

‘Why don’t we just try somewhere else?’ Anna asked.

Leif turned to her. ‘Anywhere with a port large enough to have merchant vessels that cross the open sea will have a garrison. And the smaller the port, the less likely we are to secure passage, especially now that there are so many of us. No, I think unless we all split up and go in pairs or trios, it has to be Dyrrachium. But that means getting past the officials here.’

‘They’re letting other people in,’ Anna muttered, watching carts and travellers climb the street between the houses and shops that had grown up outside the city walls, on the road down to the lagoon bridge.

‘Other people,’ Ketil noted, ‘are not coming in numbers and bearing weapons. City guards tend to frown on things like that.’

‘And there are other problems,’ Leif added. ‘The imperial courier system is second to none, and you can be sure the authorities here already know about the battle and the death of Maniakes. There will undoubtedly be a standing order to check for any rebel survivors. But the main issue is the bureaucracy. To put to sea here, our names will have to be in a number of ledgers and documents, and will be checked up on. It’s a thorny problem.’

‘Maybe,’ Anna murmured, ‘maybe not.’

‘What have you seen?’

Her hand came up, pointing off to the left. Ketil’s gaze followed the gesture a short way up the road to a large inn, two storeys high and arranged in three wings. There would be a courtyard around the back, between the wings, and there had to be stables, for outside the front sat a carriage and a number of horses, tended by servants in Byzantine-looking dress.

‘You have a wicked mind,’ Leif admonished her.

‘She’s right, though,’ Ketil added, looking at the coach with his remaining eye. The wounded one had settled into a gentle but constant ache now, the pain receding gradually over the days of travel, aided by poultices and concoctions brewed up by Anna with surprising skill.

The carriage meant someone rich and powerful was at the inn. During their time in the Byzantine capital, Ketil had quickly come to understand that rich men were also politicians. There seemed to be no dividing line. Gold equalled power. That

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