Regarding the tiny coin doubtfully, I promised to do my best and entered the dark doorway. The interior of the building was warm and lit only by the fire from an enormous oven. A large fat man in a leather apron together with a skinny boy were stoking the flames with chunks of chopped wood. On the floor beside them was a small mountain of loaves still hot from the oven.
I greeted them and explained that I wished to buy some bread. The man wiped his hands on his leather apron and held out his hand for the coin. "All of it?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
He shrugged, stooped to the stack of still-warm loaves, selected three and held them out to me. I took them with thanks, whereupon he selected three more and gave those to me as well. I thanked him again, and received three more loaves. These bread loaves were not large, but nine of them were enough to fill my arms. I thanked him for his generosity and he placed two more loaves atop the others and bade me farewell.
Staggering back into the street, I rejoined the amazed Sea Wolves. "All this," wondered Hnefi, "for only one coin?"
"Yes," I told him. "I could not carry any more."
"We can live like kings in this place," remarked Orm. With that, the Danes helped themselves to the bread, each taking three loaves, leaving me with two, which was more than plenty. We strolled on happily, tearing off pieces of bread and eating as we walked along.
The thin warmth of the day began to fade as the sun sank lower and the night clouds crowded in. The streets became shadowed and the sky took on a pale purple cast. Hnefi grew concerned that we should make our way back to the ship to tell what we had learned of the city. It was only when we turned and tried to retrace our steps that we discovered our predicament; we had wandered so far and by such a circuitous path that the process soon proved utterly futile.
"You will ask the way to the harbour," Hnefi commanded. We had paused at a paved open space near a cluster of stalls selling woven cloth and dyed wool. Two streets led away from this small square: one uphill in what seemed to be a westerly direction, and the other downhill to the north. Neither way seemed likely to lead to the harbour, which we imagined to lie somewhere to the south, though this was in no way certain, as Gunnar thought it must certainly be to the east, and Orm was convinced that it was due west.
"Ask that man," Hnefi ordered, pointing to an old man hurrying by with a bundle of sticks on his back.
I went to the man and hailed him. "Pardon me, father," I said, "I was hoping you could tell me the way to the harbour."
The old man glanced at me and, without stopping, said, "Follow your nose."
"A strange thing to say," remarked Hnefi when I told him. "You must ask again."
I tried another passerby, who told me that we should take the uphill path. Though we hastened on our way, the sky was growing dark by the time we reached the top of the hill to find another square surrounded by several large buildings and a view of the city to the east and south. "Heya!" shouted Orm, pointing to the east, "Gunnar was right. There is the harbour."
Gunnar made no reply, and when I turned to him, I saw that his attention was wholly occupied with a large white structure behind us. "Look," he said, indicating the roof.
I saw where he was pointing and my heart leapt within me. A gold cross stood at the apex of the roof, gleaming in the last light of the setting sun, and this had caught Gunnar's eye.
I was instantly seized by an overwhelming desire to run to the place and throw myself on my knees before the altar. I stood staring at the cross and thought: I have arrived at last. I have crossed many oceans to be here, but here I am. I thought I should tell someone about the pilgrimage. The brother priests in Constantinople should know of this; I should tell them.
Without thinking, I started away towards the church. Alas, I had walked but three steps when Hnefi grabbed me roughly by the arm. "Stay here!" he snarled.
Orm misunderstood the significance of Gunnar's interest. "It is not gold," he said.
"Most likely brass," added Hnefi. "It is not worth taking."
Ignoring them, Gunnar said, "It is his sign-just as you said, Aeddan."
"Yes, it marks a church," I told Gunnar. "A place where the Lord Christ is worshipped."
We were thus involved when the big double door swung open. There came the peal of a bell from inside the church, and a procession of priests emerged carrying candles and cloth banners on poles. Dressed in long dark robes, they moved out into the street, singing a psalm in a slow, undulating chant. Their tonsure was the Latin kind, unlike mine; their clothing, however, was similar to that worn by the western monks, but more richly ornamented. Several of the priests wore long silk scarves around their necks-the orarion-embroidered with crosses in gold thread; the sleeves of their robes were long and also ornately patterned.
