Leading the procession was a bishop carrying an eagle-headed crozier and wearing a mitre. He was followed by a pair of monks wearing white chasubles: one of them carried a large wooden cross, and the other the image of the Christ painted on a flat wooden panel. The painting showed Jesu nailed to the cross, eyes lifted heavenward, pleading mercy for those who had crucified him.
The sound of priestly voices lifted in song filled me with a rare delight. It seemed half a lifetime since I had heard the psalms sung out-though the singing was in Greek. Still, I felt a thrill ripple through me at the familiar words: "Praise God in the heights, all ye men! Praise the Lord of Hosts, all creatures on the earth below!"
Gunnar put his head near mine. "It is him!" he whispered. "It is the Hanged God you told us about. It is the same one, heya?"
I told him that it was the same god, and that the cross had become Christ's sign.
"Even in Miklagard?" wondered Gunnar. "How can this be?"
"He is everywhere," I replied. "And is everywhere the same."
"Then it is true," he concluded, much impressed. "All you said of him is true."
Orm, overhearing this, decided to give us the benefit of his vast knowledge of religious matters. "You are mistaken, Gunnar," he declared flatly. "Do not let this Shaven One lead you astray. That was certainly some other god, for how can the same one be in two places at once?"
"There could not be two such gods," Gunnar maintained. "Aeddan said he was hanged on a cross by the Romans. There he is, and there is the cross."
"The Romans kill everyone on the cross," Orm replied, enjoying his superior intelligence. "They cannot all become gods."
Hnefi had grown impatient with the talk. "The Shaven Ones are going down the hill," he said, indicating the priestly procession. "We will follow them-perhaps they will lead us to the harbour."
The priests moved slowly, and we followed at a short distance, keeping them in sight by the light of their candles. As I walked along, I began thinking how I might speak to these priests. We were, after all, brothers in Christ, and having come all this way it seemed important that I should declare myself in some way to the leaders of the church. And then it struck me that perhaps, by some priestly means, they had word of my brothers. At this prospect, my heart beat a little faster.
We followed the procession down the long hill, past more houses, their upper windholes glowing from within with warm yellow light; we passed another market square, empty now save for a few homeless dogs fighting over scraps. At one place we passed alongside a truly large aqueduct, around the walls of which were clustered a number of crude shelters that appeared to be made of discarded wood and refuse, thrown together anyhow. Before some of these people sat hunched over small fires, cooking bits of food on twigs. They watched us silently as we passed.
The stars were bright in the sky by the time the priests arrived at their destination: another church, somewhat larger than the last, with a rounded roof and rows of glass windholes high up in the walls. Candlelight flickered on the glass, beckoning me inside. A pang of longing arrowed through me, and I yearned to go inside and observe the eventide Mass. Just to be among others of my kind would have been bliss. But the Sea Wolves had got the scent of the harbour in their nostrils now, and would not stop long enough to allow me to go inside the church.
"Perhaps I should ask someone the way to the ships," I suggested to Hnefi, though I could smell the dank fishy scent of the water. "I could go into the church and speak to one of the priests. Maybe one of them could lead us, and then we would not get lost."
"Nay," replied Hnefi, starting off down another dark street. "I can find the harbour now. This way."
"But it is growing dark. We may yet lose our way."
He gave a grunt by way of reply. "Move along, slave," Orm said, stepping behind me and shoving me forward.
"Let him be," Gunnar said on my behalf. To me he added, "Come, Aeddan, do not anger them. As it is, I think Jarl Harald will not be pleased when he learns how we have fared this day."
Hnefi's unerring nose led us to the harbour. The city gate was closed, but a four-man guard stood watch at the small door and upon presentation of our copper disci, they allowed us through. The bay was dark and calm; the water glimmered with the lights of cooking fires and lanterns from the ships laying at anchor. The small boats had vanished, however. We walked up and down the quay looking for a boat to take us out to the ship, but there were none to be seen anywhere.
"We will have to swim," declared Hnefi.
"But we do not know which ship is ours," Orm pointed out. "We cannot swim to every ship in the bay."
They fell to discussing how best to proceed, when Gunnar said, "Listen! Someone is calling."
