Amongst the mercenary host, Hardrada"s men soon settled down, joining in with the general clamour of laughter, slapping of backs, and the consumption of generous amounts of ale and wine. Hardrada stood apart, drinking slowly, whilst Ulf threaded his way through the carousing press of warriors. Men from a dozen different lands: Norse, English, Normans, men from the wilds of Anatolia, Slavs from the Russian steppe, a smattering of Italians eager to regain the pride of the Roman Empire. Hardrada laughed to himself. So, the Greeks did not like foreigners? They were as fickle as they were devious.
“Some of these men, the Norsemen, gain promotion into the Varangian Guard.”
Hardrada turned to face the man who had sauntered up to him, unheard. Dark-haired, broad-shouldered, intelligent eyes peer
