A Burning Sea by Theodore Brun

Author:Theodore Brun [Brun, Theodore]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atlantic Books

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

After the requisite backslapping and bear hugs when first they were reunited, Einar took the news that he was now in the service of an emperor as he took most things: lubricated with a jar or two of the city’s finest.

‘So you’re saying if I want to help Queen Lilla and get back home before I lose the last of my teeth, then I have to spend the foreseeable future kissing the arse of this golden prince?’ Einar tugged at the braid hanging off his chin and took another massive gulp from his wine cup.

‘Something like that,’ conceded Erlan.

‘Sort of an arse-cheek each, is it?’

‘Hm! You can have first pick.’

‘Delightful. Though I can’t say I’m in a mad hurry to get home. I expect what’s waiting for us back there – that is, if we ever get home –’ he slurred, ‘will be a sight less cosy than what this city has to offer.’

‘Beginning to like the place, are you?’ Truly, the Fat-Bellied looked as happy as a pig in slurry.

Einar wrinkled his nose. ‘It has its diversions.’

‘Long-haired ones, I’m guessing.’

‘A man’s got to eat. So to speak.’

‘Well, Fat-Belly,’ said Erlan, giving him another slap on the shoulder. ‘Personally, I don’t know what to make of this place. But Lilla has her plan. And whatever she thinks she can get out of this Leo fellow, she’s counting on us.’

‘Best not fuck it up for the lass then, hey?’ Einar bashed his cup against Erlan’s and a shard of pottery went flying. ‘Drink up.’

Once they had been equipped with the uniform of the emperor’s personal guard – white tunic, white cloak, white-plumed helm, polished scale armour that would have cost a small fortune in silver back in the north, and white shield – they reported to the commander of the palace guard. A tall, efficient man, as spare of frame as he was with his words, his name was Alexios. ‘We carry spear and shield. Then again,’ he added, ‘we shouldn’t have to fight. Not unless every soldier in Byzantium is already dead.’

‘That’s good to know,’ said Einar approvingly. ‘But if I do have to fight, it’ll be with this old fellow.’ The Sveär tapped the tip of his battered axe. The long handle was scored with old marks and cuts, each one a memento to another man’s attempt to kill him. But its blade was nearly a foot long, polished to a mirror and sharp as sin. Alexios peered at the weapon doubtfully. ‘An axe?’

‘Aye, a bloody axe,’ barked Einar. ‘I can paint the thing white if it makes you happier.’

‘That won’t be necessary. And you?’

‘I have this,’ said Erlan, touching Wrathling’s hilt. ‘But I’ll use a spear if I must. A man can’t carry too much steel. In my experience.’

‘I know something of your experience,’ replied Alexios. ‘You killed Georgios.’

‘Georgios?’

‘He was Arbasdos’s best spatharios. Some say the best in the city. And a friend of mine.’

‘Someone should have told me.’

The guard commander held Erlan’s gaze for a long moment, his face calm and unreadable.

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