Free TLV - 01 - The Golden Horn by Poul Anderson

needs trained men. Have you ever thought of building up an army for your return, among the Varangians here?"
    "I could scarce do that, despotes," said Harald. "They come from all over the North, and will go to their homes when their service here is done. No, a would-be king depends on the Thing at home, the folk meeting, to hail him king, and must raise most of his forces among the yeomen there."
    "I see. That is very interesting. It reminds me of passages in Tacitus. Well . . ."
    It was not till he had been dismissed and sent on to the Empress that Harald realized John had drawn from him all his plans and learned the limits of all he could hope to do. There had never been any fear of an outlander getting the crown; the whole realm would have revolted. Briefly, he wanted to go back and cut the eunuch down. Then he grinned admiringly, for it had been done with wondrous craft. Give honor to John the Orphanotrophos!
     
     
    3
     
    Zoe Porphyrogenita, Empress of the Romans, sat in a room which was one wash of soft colors, a peacock mosaic on the floor and the long gaunt golden images of saints on the wall. Serving maids, decorously veiled, stood about to fan her and hold forth trays of the sweetmeats she loved; an armed guard waited at the entrance to her apartments. Through the air floated a richness of the perfumes which Zoe was forever concocting.
    When Harald had made obeisance and stood before her, he was astonished. He had awaited a raddled harridan such as leered from brothel windows down in the slums, but at fifty-six Zoe was still almost young. She was of medium height, her plumpness not yet become fat, her hair a heavy light-brown heap of burnished tresses. The face was youthful, nearly childish, with large dark eyes under thick brows, a delicately hooked nose, a full and somewhat petulant mouth; her skin was milk-white. She scorned the veil and stiff robes of a lady, and wore light filmy garments under a barnacle crust of jewels. Surely, thought Harald, this could not be the woman who plotted the murder of a harmless old husban d and then ran off to crown the man who had cuckolded him!
    But he remembered Gunnhild the witch, wife of Eirik Blood-ax. She had also been very beautiful, they said, to the day she was hurled into a Danish bog to drown. He stood with eyes respectfully lowered, remembering that he was unarmed and a crook of one small finger could hew him in pieces.
    Zoe smiled and looked boldly up and down his towering height. "You are very big," she said. "1 have seen few bigger men, and they were freaks or slaves."
    Harald mumbled something ending in "Your Sacred Majesty."
    "You must have had many adventures," went on the Empress. "Sit down and tell us about them, Araltes."
    A chair was brought and Harald lowered himself to its edge, wondering what to do with his hands. "There's little to tell, despoina," he said. "One fight must sound much like another to the Empress."
    "Oh, but you have seen so much," said Zoe. "Tell me, is it true that in the North a girl must agree if she is to be married?"
    "Not under the law, despoina. But few fathers would make a daughter wed a man she disliked. That could lead to trouble."
    "But you are always having trouble up there, are you not? I hear about fights, feuds . . ." Zoe's rather small voice faded vaguely off.
    "Wars, of course, despoina, and a man is bound to avenge his kin. But no one fights without a reason, unless he is a berserker."
    "A what? Well, anyhow, you carry off women and keep them, do you not? For yourselves, I mean. What do they say to that?"
    Harald found himself flushing at some of her questions. He had only heard of one way to make love. About his own adventures in bed he did not like to talk, but since she insisted he made up some good stories. She listened eagerly. Several of the maids could not keep from giggling. Harald sweated and wondered when he would be allowed to go.
    "I hope to serve you and His Sacred Majesty well," he said at last, in hopes