I climbed to my feet and followed them up the stairs. We walked towards the wall, the Danes moving cautiously, their hands on the pommels of their swords. Pausing at the entrance to the city, Hnefi turned to me and said, "You go first. We will follow."
The gate was a huge double timber door banded with iron. People were passing through it by the score, many laden with burdens of various kinds-some pushing small two-wheeled carts, and others pulling wagons, but most bearing bundles on their backs. Above the gate hung a red triangle of cloth with a symbol on it sewn in white; I did not recognize the symbol and could not think what it meant.
We joined the throng moving through the gate, and reached the entrance only to be hailed by a man in a green cloak, wearing a round black cap of wool, and carrying a short rod of brass. "Disca!" he cried without enthusiasm. He held out his hand impatiently.
"Forgive me, lord," I said, "I do not know what you want of us."
He turned a weary eye on me, then glanced at the barbarians. If their appearance alarmed him, he hid his fear right well. Noticing my slave collar, he said, "Which of these men is your master?"
"He is," I pointed to Hnefi.
"Tell your master that barbari are required to obtain leave of entry from the Prefect of Law."
"I will tell him," I replied. "Perhaps you could be so kind as to tell me where we may find the Prefect of Law."
Stifling a yawn, he raised the brass rod and pointed to a booth set up in the shadow of the gateway. "Over there."
I thanked the man and explained to the Sea Wolves what he had said. We walked to the booth to find a small, bald-headed man sitting in a cushioned chair beside a table on which sat scales and a pile of small copper discs. I stood before him for a moment without arousing his attention, which seemed to be wholly occupied with a brown spot on his green breecs which he scratched with a long fingernail.
"If you please," I said, "we were told to obtain leave to enter."
"Ten nomismi," he said without looking up.
Turning to Hnefi, I translated what the Prefect of Law had said. Hnefi gave a disapproving grunt and started walking away. Orm and Gunnar hesitated, shrugged, and followed. This brought an immediate response.
The Prefect glanced up, saw the barbarians entering the city and shouted, "Stop!" in a very loud voice. He leaped to his feet and ran after Hnefi. "You must pay!" the bald man shouted. "Ten nomismi!" He shook one of the small copper discs in the Sea Wolf's face.
Hnefi seized the man's hand and relieved him of the disc. He tucked the copper into his belt and continued on his way. The man stared incredulously and then began shouting. "Guards! Guards!"
Ignoring the outcry, the Sea Wolves walked on, and I followed. We had not moved ten paces when we were stopped by eight red-cloaked guardsmen who simply appeared in our path. Each wore a bronze helmet and carried a short, thick spear. Their leader carried a bronze rod, not unlike that of the harbour master save that, instead of a ball on top, the soldier's rod had a lion's head.
"Halt," said the foremost guard-a young man, little more than a shaveling youth, he nevertheless bore himself with an air of placid authority.
"They did not pay!" the old man screeched. "They did not pay for the disca!"
The guardsman looked at the barbarians, and then at me. Choosing me as the more likely to make an answer, he said, "Is this true?"
"I must beg your pardon," I said. "We have only just arrived in your city and know nothing of the customs here. It may be that, through ignorance, we have-"
"Pay him," he said, waving aside my explanation.
"Ten nomismi," said the Prefect, tapping his open palm.
Turning to Hnefi, I said, "They say we must pay for the copper disc-it is our leave to enter the city. Without it they will take us prisoner and throw us into the hostage pit." I did not know if this last was strictly true, but I thought it might communicate the situation in a way he would best understand.
"If we pay," asked Hnefi, "we will go free?"
"Yes."
Frowning, he reached into the pouch at his belt and brought out a silver denarius which he handed to me. I gave it to the Prefect, who puffed out his cheeks in exasperation. "Have you nothing else?" he demanded.
"Please," I said, "I do not understand. Is it not enough?"
Before the Prefect could reply, the young guardsman answered, "It is too much." Indicating the coin, he said, "The silver denarius is worth one hundred nomismi." To the Prefect, he said, "See you give them the proper amount in return."
Glaring at the guard, the bald man grumbled, took hold of my sleeve and said, "Come this way."
