Lilla smiled, hiding her irritation. ‘As are you, dear Anna. Is your husband well?’ Not that she gave a damn.

The princess gave a sullen little pout. ‘How would I know? I never see him, he’s so busy.’

‘He’s an important man,’ said her father. ‘With important matters to attend to.’

‘Yes, yes.’ Anna rolled her eyes.

‘Didn’t I tell you to bring something warm, child?’

‘Oh, Father, you do fuss so. See, I can share Lilla’s cloak if it gets too cold. Can’t I, sister?’ Lilla found her exuberance hard to endure. But of course she agreed readily enough.

‘Where is your mother?’ asked Leo.

‘Oh, I meant to tell you – she’s feeling unwell. You know her, Father! Especially in her condition.’

The empress was carrying a child, expected later that year – but the sickness of her early pregnancy seemed to weigh hard on her. Lilla remembered the feeling. It was only a distant memory now. And a bitter one.

‘I’m sorry she’ll miss the spectacle.’ Leo turned again towards the sun now slanting from the west. ‘D’you see now, daughter, the angle at which the sun lies?’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘It means the time has come.’

‘For what, Father?’

He laid his hand against his daughter’s cheek and smiled. ‘To unleash chaos.’ Then he turned and cried out in a loud voice, ‘Ignite the beacon fires!’

The Bulgars were about to earn their gold.

‘I thought you could use a new belt,’ said Einar, tossing Erlan a long strip of leather.

‘Much obliged to you.’ He fastened the buckle, wincing as the leather squeezed the burns circling his waist. ‘Gerutha says I have you to thank for this banging headache, too.’

‘Well,’ drawled Einar, ‘what are friends for?’ He sniffed. ‘Anyhow, are you. . . all right?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Truth is, I don’t know what to think in this den of madmen any more. I’ve seen things I never thought possible in this place, but I grant you – nothing so queer as what came out of you.’

‘You and me both.’

‘But you’re. . . changed, like.’

‘I think so.’

The Fat-Belly pulled a face. ‘Well, if whatever magic that priest worked on you stops you spewing up purple any time someone gives you wine to drink, that’s got to be a good thing. Stank something bloody awful.’

‘Aye. Sorry about that.’

The two Northmen hurried down the hill towards the Prosphorion Harbour. Below them, the narrow neck of water that formed the Golden Horn was so crowded with ships a man could have walked from the south bank to the north without getting his feet wet.