riches and a grant of land.’
‘If I survive. Surely it must be dangerous?’
‘As I said, you shall carry letters, which will exonerate you if this turns out badly. I have grown fond of you, you must know I would not have you suffer.’ She looked towards the doorway, and raised her voice. ‘Anna, are you out there?’
The doorway darkened. ‘Despoina?’
‘See if there is a scribe to be found in the convent. If not, find me ink and parchment.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
Princess Theodora looked intently at her. ‘Don’t worry, Katerina. You shall take your orders with you. And we have a good two hours to transform you into a princess.’
Two hours. Katerina stared at the purple slippers and then at baby Martina. Her palms felt sticky. It was all very well for the Princess to assume that her letters would be taken as gospel, but in Katerina’s experience men who were deceived did not take kindly to those who deceived them. A pair of penetrating blue eyes flashed into her mind. And the first person she would have to convince was none other than the Commander of the Varangian Guard. Saint Titus, help me.
‘Katerina, I am relying on you. A few weeks, once you have reached the Palace. That is all that I ask, just a few weeks.’
While he waited for the two hours to pass, Ashfirth walked with Brand to the top of the hill. His leg had had enough of riding, instinct was telling him that it needed this different form of exercise or it would stiffen up, perhaps permanently. They had spent too long at sea.
They stopped just short of the summit. A little way below them lay the convent with its crumbling walls and vegetable garden. Next to it, a small orchard was bursting into life, there were green shoots everywhere. The wind ruffled Ashfirth’s hair; it had broken up the clouds and was pushing them across the sky—white sails scudding across blue. A gust caught the fruit trees and the branches waved.
Past the convent and orchard, the hillside sloped more steeply, it was thickly covered in bushes and scrub as it ran down to the sea. The sea was choppy, the waves flecked with foam. In the deeper waters, a striped red-and-white sail was slowly progressing from west to east in the same direction their ship would follow.
‘Brand, is that a Greek vessel?’
‘Can’t say at this distance, sir. It might be, but it could just as easily be Norman.’
‘That is my fear.’ Ashfirth heaved a sigh. There seemed to be rather too much Norman activity in these waters—the Emperor’s rule here was definitely under threat. He must make a report to that effect when they returned. ‘We will have to be circumspect.’
The port—and their own ships—lay at the end of a promontory that was bordered on one side by sea and on the other by salt marshes.
‘Do you think the Princess will make difficulties, sir?’
Those soft brown eyes came into Ashfirth’s mind and he shook his head. ‘She will know she cannot run for ever. By the time the month turns, Princess Theodora will be safely where she belongs, in the women’s quarters of the Great Palace.’
Brand gave him a straight look. ‘Before we left, people were muttering—taxes, rising prices. Are you expecting trouble when we get back, Commander?’
Ashfirth hesitated. His loyalty was to the Emperor, but he did not believe in keeping his men in the dark. And Brand spoke no less than the truth—when they left Constantinople, several disturbing rumours had been doing the rounds.
‘Rising prices are the least of it,’ he said. ‘There are those in the army talking of acclaiming a rival emperor.’
‘General Alexios Komnenos?’
‘The same.’ In Ashfirth’s private opinion, General Alexios would make a far better emperor than Nikephoros, who had grown old overnight and who seemed to have given up on government. The Empire needed a firm hand, particularly—Ash scowled at the red-and-white sails across the water—with so many Normans nibbling away at the boundaries.
‘General Alexios is not the only pretender to the throne, ‘ Brand said.
‘Apparently not. One way or another, a storm is looming.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Brand considered. ‘Rioting?’
Ashfirth grimaced. ‘It is possible.’ The price of wheat in the city had risen to such an extent that many were unable to afford it. Time was when the Emperor had handed out bread free to those who had need of it, but that had been years ago. The current Emperor, shut up in his palace, was blind to the needs of his citizens and his unpopularity was growing by the day. ‘Whatever happens our duty is clear. We are not there to control the populace, we serve the Emperor.’
And pray that he heeds the contents of my report. Ash wanted no repetition of the shocking incident that had taken place a couple of years ago, when a band of infuriated Varangians had actually attacked the Emperor they were meant to be protecting. It had happened before Ash’s promotion, and he was determined there would be no repetition, not while he was Commander. But he was aware there were rumblings of discontent even within the Guard.
‘Yes, Commander. We obey the Emperor, our loyalty is only to him.’
Ash nodded, but in truth he longed to serve a man who commanded more respect. It was something of a surprise that Emperor Nikephoros had clung to power for so long. Particularly when there were others in the army who were far more able. Ash had to admit that General Alexios headed the list.
Alexios Komnenos came from the military aristocracy. At twenty-four, the General had already done ten years’ service in the army. His record was impeccable, he had never lost a battle. What an Emperor General Alexios might make!
Abruptly, Ashfirth shook his head to clear it of such a disloyal thought. The Commander of the Varangian Guard must serve the Emperor he was sworn to. And Ashfirth had taken an oath to protect Emperor Nikephoros.
Hell, trouble is coming and I am sworn to a man who does not command my respect. A man who has yet to heed my advice. Ashfirth gazed bleakly at the cross on the dome of the church. He had sworn a holy oath and he would not break it. Come what may, he was the Emperor’s man.
‘Brand, the sooner we get Princess Theodora to the Great Palace, the better.’
A couple of hours later, Ashfirth and Brand were sitting on a low wall opposite the convent gate, a loaf and a wineskin between them.
Eyeing the position of the sun, Ash tossed his bread aside. For this meeting with the Princess he had thought it polite to remove the trappings of a warrior and don the clothes of a courtier. He had put aside his mailcoat and leather gambeson and was wearing a blue linen tunic. His cross-gartered chausses were tucked into his riding boots.
The gate creaked and slowly opened. Ash exchanged startled glances with his captain.
Surely this could not be the Princess already? Heavens! A woman who is only a few minutes late? And she…aprincess…how extraordinary.
He strode over, brushing crumbs from his tunic.
She was standing
