Davit laughed. ‘From the Egyptian fleet, of course. Those ships won’t get far without their crews, will they?’ And now the sailors in the lead skiffs started yelling in triumph as the first fire-runner swept past, punching the air and hailing the emperor at the top of their lungs.

‘Does the general know where they’re anchored?’ asked Erlan.

‘Simple. Follow the bones to the lion’s lair.’ Davit pointed at the trail of torches that stretched all the way to the headland in the distance. The Byzantine attack fleet were about midway across the Bosporus now.

Erlan peered past the flares mounted on the lead-ships into the darkness ahead. He saw something, a large shadow stirring over the water. . . and the hairs on his neck prickled. ‘It looks like the lion is coming to us.’

The lookouts on the lead fire-runners started braying their alarms. Ships were appearing around the headland. Big ships of war, the beat of their oars slow and menacing as vultures’ wings.

‘Dromons,’ muttered Davit. ‘They would have been imperial ships once.’ He jerked the strap of his helmet tighter. ‘I guess the Egyptians have more balls than sense.’

‘Attack formation!’ bellowed Arbasdos above them. The trumpets blasted in reply. The lead fire-runners closed on each other till their oars were nearly overlapping. The drums beat louder and in unison now.

‘Not a sight to forget, eh?’ said Erlan, feeling his pulse ratchet a notch higher.

‘Aye,’ growled Einar. ‘Glad we’re seeing it from this side, not that one.’

‘Ready the fire,’ screamed Arbasdos, his voice straining to be heard above the beating of the drums. The fire marines, all dressed in protective leather aprons and hoods, started moving about their weapon with greater purpose. Half a mile across the black waves, two dozen or more war-ships emerged around the point and formed up into double columns, aimed like twin spear-shafts at the heart of the Byzantine fleet.

‘The sailors in that lead boat must be brave men,’ muttered Erlan.

‘They’ll be throwing up a few prayers to Allah,’ returned Davit.

‘Why bother?’ said Einar. ‘They’ll be seeing him face to face soon enough.’

Suddenly Arbasdos came thumping down the steps to the main deck. ‘Christ’s blood! I can’t see a damn thing from up there.’ He stomped forward towards the forecastle. Davit shouted after him. ‘Strategos! Wait, General! You’ll be too exposed.’

Arbasdos rounded on him. ‘If I can’t see, how am I supposed to direct the fucking fleet?’