Orm took one sniff and stopped in his tracks. He and Gunnar stood side by side, transfixed by the sight and smell of the sizzling meat. The man, his face glowing in the heat of the coals, saw that he had acquired interest in his wares, and called out, "Heya! Heya!"
"How much?" asked Hnefi, pointing at the skewers.
The man shook his head.
"How much?" demanded Hnefi, speaking more loudly.
The man simply smiled wide and shrugged his shoulders. "Forgive me, my friend. I do not understand," he said in Greek.
"He is asking how much for one of the spits you have roasting there," I told the man.
"Ah!" he laughed, "a learned slave we have before us. Welcome to Great Constantine's city, my friend."
"How do you know we are newly arrived?" I asked.
The man laughed again and said that everyone else in the world knew very well that the skewers cost two nomismi. "How many would you like, my friend?"
"Four," I replied, and told Hnefi to give him eight of the small brass coins.
When the money was counted over, the man allowed us to choose our skewers. The Danes wolfed down the meat in gulps and demanded more, which the man happily supplied for eight more coins. Taking our meat-sticks, we continued on through the maze of market stalls, chewing the meat from the sticks and looking at all around us. The Danes moved like men in a dream.
As we passed along a row of stalls selling incense and perfume, our progress was arrested by the sight of a most regally beautiful woman being borne through the market in a chair on poles. Four slaves carried the chair and a fifth held a round sunshade made of stiffened cloth attached to a slender cane. The woman-a queen, certainly-wore a robe of shimmering blue silk; her hair was elaborately curled and heaped high on her elegant head, and her painted face was impassive as she regarded all beneath her.
The Sea Wolves decided to follow her and see where she went, hoping to mark the place so that they could return and plunder it later. So, we followed the chair-bearers from the market as they started down one of the many streets radiating from the square.
The way was narrow and dark, the dwellings so close-built that little light from sun or sky made its way down to the street. Men hurried to and fro, or stood in huddled clumps talking to one another; some glanced at us as we passed, but most ignored us. Apparently, the sight of wild barbarians wandering the streets was nothing new to them, although we saw no other Sea Wolves that day.
The buildings here were of more humble construction, their roofs steeply pitched, their facades far less ornate than those we had seen previously. There was little glass to be seen and no statues. The path itself was unpaved save for a narrow strip of flat stone down the centre. We made our way along, and eventually came to a place where two roads crossed. Carts and bearers filled the street at this junction and it was all so confused we quickly lost sight of the queen and her chair. We stood in the centre of the crossroads and tried to decide which direction to take. Thinking to return to the wealthier district we had seen before, Hnefi chose the right-hand way, though it was darker and even more narrow than the one before.
We had walked but a dozen paces when a low, broad door in the wall suddenly banged open and out on a gust of hot air rushed a wooden cart pushed by two men, stripped to the waist and sweating. The cart was full of fresh-baked bread, and the smell from the open doorway halted us in our steps.
"Brod!" cried Orm, running after the men. He caught the cart, stopped it, and grabbed a loaf from among those stacked in the cart. The men yelled at him, snatched it back, and hurried on again, shouting at him as they went.
Seeing how Orm had fared, Hnefi turned to me. "Get us some of this bread," he said, and sent me after the cart.
I caught up with the men and fell into step beside them. "If you please," I said, "we would like to buy some of your bread."
"No! Not for sale!" one of the bakers shouted irritably.
"We have money," I said.
"It is impossible," the other baker said. "This is theme bread."
"Forgive me, I do not understand."
"Theme bread!" repeated the first baker. "Theme bread-bread for the soldiers. We are not permitted to sell on the streets. You will get us into trouble. Go away."
"I am sorry," I replied. "But we are hungry. Perhaps you can tell us where we can buy bread like this."
"Fie!" muttered the first baker, pushing away.
But the other man paused long enough to say, "Try over there." He pointed to an open doorway a little further along the street.
I shouted my thanks to the men and returned to where the Danes were waiting. "They say we can buy bread there." I showed him the house the baker had indicated. We made our way to the place, whereupon Hnefi withdrew a handful of coins from his pouch, selected a small one marked with a K and gave it to me. "Buy it for us," he ordered.
