Read Online Hereward 04 - Wolves of New Rome by James Wilde - Free Book Online

Wulfrun’s lips. He remembered the callow youth fighting like a dog in the marketplace, more skin and bone than muscle. Ricbert didn’t have much to commend him – no brawn, no skill with axe or sword, and a tongue that was too quick to mockery – but Wulfrun had seen something in him. He had dragged the smaller man along the streets by the scruff of his neck and thrown him at the feet of Hakon the Grim, who was recruiting to fill the Guard’s depleted ranks. Hakon had turned up his nose, but he had bowed to Wulfrun’s wishes. Many did not survive the ordeal of proving their worth. They now rested in the boneyard by the Petrion Gate, their graves unmarked, their names forgotten. But Ricbert surprised all except Wulfrun. He was flattened, beaten, broken, his wits kicked out of him, the lobe of his left ear and the tip of a finger lost to sharp teeth, but still he clawed his way back from the brink. And now he had found a role at which he excelled. The Varangian Guard had never seen a better master of spies. No whisper escaped his ears. His eyes were like a hawk’s.
    Ricbert sniffed. ‘Some of those old hags would afrit even Hakon the Grim,’ he said in an indignant tone. His face darkened as he glanced along the great Land Wall behind him. Four spear-lengths wide, it towered the height of seven men above the ground. From the Golden Horn to the Sea of Marmara it stretched, guarded by ninety-six towers with views across the rolling landscape to the west and north. No enemy could ever breach it.
    ‘What is wrong?’ Wulfrun asked.
    ‘Not all enemies are beyond the Land Wall, as you well know,’ Ricbert replied. ‘And there are enemies and enemies. Enemies of the emperor, enemies of the empire. And we have our own enemies too. Watch your back, Wulfrun.’
    ‘You speak in riddles.’
    Along the wall, beyond the red banner of Constantinople with its white crescent of Diana, goddess of the hunt, and the white star of the virgin Mary, he glimpsed a throng approaching. The wall guards parted as if a sword carved through them. Ahead of a group of well-armed warriors strode a towering man, a good head or two above Wulfrun, who was himself taller than most of the local men. Long hair the colour of iron streamed out behind him. Despite his age – he had seen more than fifty summers – his chest was broad and his jaw was square. His lined face was tanned the colour of leather.
    ‘Victor Verinus,’ Wulfrun muttered.
    ‘Aye. The Stallion. The man with a horse’s cock, so they say. At least, I think that is where his name comes from. Victor is a cock, one way or another.’
    ‘He is the enemy of which you speak?’
    An uneasy gaze flickered up towards Wulfrun. ‘I hear he has designs upon Juliana.’
    The captain could not hide his distaste. ‘She is but a child to him.’
    ‘Victor conquers women as he conquers land. He takes what he sees. All is about power to him. I say this as a friend. Keep your eyes upon her.’
    ‘Has he not brought enough misery to the Nepotes?’ Wulfrun watched the tall man approach. Victor’s chin was raised, his stare supercilious as he surveyed the wall warriors, who would not meet his eye. His private guard kept close at his back. They were a pack of savage dogs, but they would die before they let an enemy reach their master.
    ‘He plunged the knife into the skull of Juliana’s father?’ Ricbert asked.
    ‘Aye. And that ended their struggle for power in one blow. Victor was victor, and he took the spoils, everything the Nepotes valued. All of Kalamdios’ kin paid a high price.’
But Juliana will not be one of them
, he silently vowed.
    Victor came to a halt in front of the two men. A sly smile danced on his lips. ‘Wulfrun. The wolf of the Varangian Guard,’ he said in a low, rich voice. ‘In all the Guard, they say you have the coldest heart.’
    ‘I have heard that.’
    ‘And does that woman of yours not warm your icy depths?’ His lips pulled back from his yellowing teeth.