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Back A Burning Sea
Chapters (54)
  1. CAST OF CHARACTERS
  2. PART ONE
  3. CHAPTER ONE
  4. CHAPTER TWO
  5. CHAPTER THREE
  6. CHAPTER FOUR
  7. CHAPTER FIVE
  8. CHAPTER SIX
  9. CHAPTER SEVEN
  10. CHAPTER EIGHT
  11. CHAPTER NINE
  12. CHAPTER TEN
  13. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  14. CHAPTER TWELVE
  15. PART TWO
  16. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  17. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  18. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  19. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  20. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  21. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  22. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  30. PART THREE
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  42. PART FOUR
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  45. CHAPTER FORTY
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  53. HISTORICAL NOTE
  54. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Now, at last, the day had come. Now – this very moment! He spilled out of the shadows under the archway of the Boukoleon Harbour into the sunlight. Below him on the quayside, preparing to embark, was the envoy. Katāros slowed his pace, calmed his breathing, stilled his racing heart beneath his spotless white robes, and smiled. He had not been too late after all.

‘My lord,’ he called. The envoy turned and looked back up the steps. ‘A word with you.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Illustration

The darkness was almost a friend now. Its comfort cold perhaps, but at least familiar.

The funny thing was, Erlan didn’t think much about the men who had put him there. About the slaver’s betrayal, or the steward’s insouciance, or the general’s retribution. He didn’t think about the mysterious Lucia, or Aska, or Kai, or even Lilla. Why sully her memory with this stinking hole?

He thought of home, the home he had foresworn – forbidden himself even to think of. Yet here, in this place of silent darkness, he allowed himself this morsel of memory – like a drunkard licking up a drop of wine. Jutland. He imagined the marram grass bending in the wind off the Juten Belt, the curved dunes sweeping down to the frothy grey breakers. He thought of the nutwood above the hall-stead, the furrowed strip-fields, frosty and mist-wreathed on an autumn morning, martins swooping under the eaves of the dark hall of Vendlagard. Old Hadding’s coarse laughter, Tolla’s chiding words which really meant, ‘I love you.’

Home. . .

His father—

His mind recoiled then as if from a jagged edge. No. All of it was shattered, for ever. By her. By him. He could never forgive them. Never forgive himself. Didn’t he deserve this foul fate he had fallen into? Hadn’t he brought it on himself? Softly, he knocked his head against the stone wall, ignoring the slime sticking to his hair. Knocked so he would clear away all thoughts of home. Of that place.

I am Hakan. I am the chosen son, a voice said.

No. Hakan is dead, answered another.

I am dead, he thought. Only Erlan lives.

It was simple. He must drink the blood of the king of kings. And so. . . the king of kings must die.

This time, Lilla chose her own clothing. Layers of lightweight silk, a sky-blue stola under a cream palla, which fell more naturally over her figure, and left her room to breathe. Her arms were bare, but for two silver arm-rings, their dragon-head terminals pressed tight against her sun-bronzed skin. She felt more herself. She needed to.

General Arbasdos filled a silver chalice with red wine. ‘From Rhodes,’ he said, offering it to her. ‘It was the finest in the empire. Until the Arabs took the island from us. It’s wasted on them, of course.’