Free Hereward 05 - The Immortals by James Wilde Page B

him.’
    Stunned, Hereward whirled. Falkon had identified Turold. The Roman was clever: Turold wore his gentleness for all to see, in his easy smile, his open face. The death of such a man would undoubtedly be a blow to his brothers in battle.
    Turold gaped in shock, not understanding what was happening. Grabbing his arms, the guardsmen hurled him to the ground. ‘I have done no wrong,’ the captive said, looking up in disbelief.
    ‘Stay your hand!’ Hereward demanded as a tumult of angry cries rang out from his men. Turning back to Falkon, he pleaded, ‘He is no warrior. He has made plans to give up his spear … to marry a Roman girl …’
    Falkon nodded to one of the guardsmen. Hereward jerked at the sound of steel upon flesh and bone. Anguished cries erupted from his men.
    Hereward felt only cold horror. When he turned, he was gripped by the sight of Turold’s head rolling to a gentle halt upon the flagstones. A growing pool of blood spread around the fallen body.
    The spear-brothers threw themselves into a frenzy. In an instant, they were swallowed by the Varangian Guard, who rained blows down upon them.
    ‘Hold!’ Hereward yelled, fearing that more of his men would be slaughtered. ‘Harm no more.’ Turning back to Falkon, he felt his anger boil and it was all he could do to contain it. ‘Turold did not deserve to die,’ he croaked. ‘He had a gentle heart, quick to show kindness to all he met.’
    The Roman held out both hands, his voice too light for the weight of the command he had just given. ‘Someone had to pay for Sabas Apion’s death. Now his kin will feel that justice has been done.’
    Hereward swallowed, knowing that if his hands were free he would have choked the life from Nikephoritzes’ counsel there and then, though it would cost him his life. He could hear the lamentations of his men, voices cracking with fury as they cried for vengeance.
    ‘Still, it is not a fair balance,’ Falkon continued, speaking as if to an old friend in the forum. ‘One English cut-throat for a man like Sabas Apion. There yet may be other deaths among your men. You have been warned.’
    ‘Is the hippodrome not enough for you Romans now?’ Hereward spat. ‘You must find your joy in tormenting good men who have done no wrong?’
    Falkon levelled his implacable gaze on the Mercian. ‘I have learned much about you this day, Hereward of the English. It would seem you are not merely a barbarian with a sharp blade, as I first thought. I have heard how you and your men fought against the Norman king who conquered your land, and how you came within a hair’s breadth of defeating him. A great warrior, they say. A man who could be of some use to the empire in these difficult times.’
    Hereward’s eyes flickered towards Anna Dalassene, but she was looking dreamily out to sea, as if she were paying no heed to the confrontation.
    ‘I have been moved to set aside your punishment. For now, at least,’ Falkon continued. ‘I have been told you have been axes-for-hire in the employ of our army. But now you will fight for your life, and that of your men. Succeed and you will live, as will your brothers, and I will consider the account of Sabas Apion closed with the death we have witnessed this day. Fail us, and all of you will pay the price for the murder you committed.’
    ‘Is that just?’ Hereward snapped.
    ‘It is what it is,’ the Roman replied, holding out one hand, palm up. ‘We do not allow a citizen, and a great one at that, to be slain with impunity. What say you?’
    Hereward could barely hear the words for the thunder of blood in his head. Deep inside, he could feel his devil yearning to be set free. But there would be a time for revenge. For now, he had his men’s lives to save. ‘What do you demand of us?’
    Falkon nodded slowly, a smile flickering on the edges of his lips. ‘There may be wisdom in you yet.’ He looked past Hereward to Wulfrun and called, ‘Tell him what we demand of him in return