TLV - 01 - The Golden Horn by Poul Anderson Page A
Authors: Poul Anderson
Tags: Historical Novel
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soldier! Forward! About face! Stand where you are or I'll see your liver!' "
Georgios nodded. "You'll need such phrases. The Normans are a wild and filthy folk. Stand ready to cuff them down, they are used to stern overlords at home."
"When shall we cross over to Messina?"
"In two or three weeks, however long we need to make ready. I'll have you in later with our other captains to hammer out the plans. Meanwhile, go arrange for the Normans to be quartered and drilled with your Varangians." Georgios went into details. Having ended his explanation, he asked, "Do you understand? Good day, then." Immediately he returned to his paperwork.
Harald went out and sought the Norman chief. Odo Fitz Maurice sat in a house drinking with a dozen cronies. They had nearly wrecked the place, tapestries hung ragged and tables were hacked and a peacock mosaic had been used for crossbow practice. Guards in hauberk and long surcoats admitted Harald, who ducked his head as he came into the dining hall.
Odo glanced about. He was a lean, richly clad man, his black hair cropped short and shaven at the back, his features hard and blue-chinned. "Well, a giant to add to the circus!" he said in broken Greek.
"Speak more respectfully." Harald tossed the parchment given him by Georgios onto the table. "I am your new captain. There are the orders."
"So." Odo studied him for a space. A drunken mumble ran among his fellows.
"We had best talk of this," said Harald mildly.
"Quite so." Odo's tone was sour. "Be seated."
Harald cocked his left brow still higher. "I belong at the head of the table," he said. His backbone prickled.
Odo made some remark in French. His men guffawed.
"That will do!" Harald stepped over in one stride, seized Odo and lifted him in the air. A moment he held the squirming, cursing man aloft, then flung him to the floor and sat down in his chair.
Odo leaped up, spitting like a cat. A dagger flamed in his hand. The other Normans were on their feet, roaring. Harald stared at him. "Be seated," he said.
"You whoreson outlander!" Odo sprang. Harald snatched a massive silver goblet from the table and hurled it with deadly aim. Odo went down with a smashed nose, his face one mask of blood.
Harald drew his sword and struck the table with the flat so wood and metal boomed. "Before God, I am the chief here!" he bellowed. "Does anyone else care to dispute it?"
Still he remained seated, but they remembered his height and drew back, snarling at him. "Who is the next in command among you?" he barked.
"I . . . I am," said one unsurely.
"Then you are in charge, under me. Odo what's-his-name will mend his ways on bread and water until we sail. The next such insubordination means a beheading." Harald put the horn at his hip to his mouth and blew.
His escort shoved in past the sentries, axes aloft, grinning at the Normans. Harald jerked a thumb toward the half-conscious Odo. "Put that dog in irons, Ulf. And now, friends, shall we talk of plans?"
Thereafter the Normans obeyed him. When next he saw Georgios, the Archestrategos remarked, "I heard how you tamed your wolf pack. You like not mutiny, do you?"
"Indeed not," said Harald.
"Suppose I had tried to so likewise to you, three years ago?"
"Well, kyrios, you did not."
Georgios laughed.
VI
How Gyrgi Was Angered
1
Harald was two years in Sicily.
Having taken Messina by a hard and bloody fight, Georgios Maniakes swiftly subdued the larger part of the island and built citadels to keep the folk tame. But this rugged land had many chiefs who from their castles ruled like small kings and must be subdued one by one. Harald and his men, with some Greeks to help as engineers and in other skilled work, were sent out on this task.
The castles he must overcome were well-stocked fortresses surrounded by turreted stone walls, not lightly to be seized. Harald conquered his first one by a clever strategy. He had spread nets and lime to catch birds; it was still the nesting season. Splinters
Georgios nodded. "You'll need such phrases. The Normans are a wild and filthy folk. Stand ready to cuff them down, they are used to stern overlords at home."
"When shall we cross over to Messina?"
"In two or three weeks, however long we need to make ready. I'll have you in later with our other captains to hammer out the plans. Meanwhile, go arrange for the Normans to be quartered and drilled with your Varangians." Georgios went into details. Having ended his explanation, he asked, "Do you understand? Good day, then." Immediately he returned to his paperwork.
Harald went out and sought the Norman chief. Odo Fitz Maurice sat in a house drinking with a dozen cronies. They had nearly wrecked the place, tapestries hung ragged and tables were hacked and a peacock mosaic had been used for crossbow practice. Guards in hauberk and long surcoats admitted Harald, who ducked his head as he came into the dining hall.
Odo glanced about. He was a lean, richly clad man, his black hair cropped short and shaven at the back, his features hard and blue-chinned. "Well, a giant to add to the circus!" he said in broken Greek.
"Speak more respectfully." Harald tossed the parchment given him by Georgios onto the table. "I am your new captain. There are the orders."
"So." Odo studied him for a space. A drunken mumble ran among his fellows.
"We had best talk of this," said Harald mildly.
"Quite so." Odo's tone was sour. "Be seated."
Harald cocked his left brow still higher. "I belong at the head of the table," he said. His backbone prickled.
Odo made some remark in French. His men guffawed.
"That will do!" Harald stepped over in one stride, seized Odo and lifted him in the air. A moment he held the squirming, cursing man aloft, then flung him to the floor and sat down in his chair.
Odo leaped up, spitting like a cat. A dagger flamed in his hand. The other Normans were on their feet, roaring. Harald stared at him. "Be seated," he said.
"You whoreson outlander!" Odo sprang. Harald snatched a massive silver goblet from the table and hurled it with deadly aim. Odo went down with a smashed nose, his face one mask of blood.
Harald drew his sword and struck the table with the flat so wood and metal boomed. "Before God, I am the chief here!" he bellowed. "Does anyone else care to dispute it?"
Still he remained seated, but they remembered his height and drew back, snarling at him. "Who is the next in command among you?" he barked.
"I . . . I am," said one unsurely.
"Then you are in charge, under me. Odo what's-his-name will mend his ways on bread and water until we sail. The next such insubordination means a beheading." Harald put the horn at his hip to his mouth and blew.
His escort shoved in past the sentries, axes aloft, grinning at the Normans. Harald jerked a thumb toward the half-conscious Odo. "Put that dog in irons, Ulf. And now, friends, shall we talk of plans?"
Thereafter the Normans obeyed him. When next he saw Georgios, the Archestrategos remarked, "I heard how you tamed your wolf pack. You like not mutiny, do you?"
"Indeed not," said Harald.
"Suppose I had tried to so likewise to you, three years ago?"
"Well, kyrios, you did not."
Georgios laughed.
VI
How Gyrgi Was Angered
1
Harald was two years in Sicily.
Having taken Messina by a hard and bloody fight, Georgios Maniakes swiftly subdued the larger part of the island and built citadels to keep the folk tame. But this rugged land had many chiefs who from their castles ruled like small kings and must be subdued one by one. Harald and his men, with some Greeks to help as engineers and in other skilled work, were sent out on this task.
The castles he must overcome were well-stocked fortresses surrounded by turreted stone walls, not lightly to be seized. Harald conquered his first one by a clever strategy. He had spread nets and lime to catch birds; it was still the nesting season. Splinters
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