Close to the Forum of Constantine, with the crowds bustling and jostling amongst the many market stalls, the soldiers stopped abruptly, exchanged looks, then turned to speak with Hardrada. Pausing to pick a piece of fruit from one of the traders, the Viking frowned at the men. “What is it?”
Without a word, the soldiers stepped aside and Hardrada found himself staring into the florid face of a large, plump official, bobbing his bald head, a greasy smile splitting his face. His hands were lost within the folds of his voluminous saffron robe and when he produced one, Hardrada noted the splendid, glittering rings covering each stubby finger. The man bowed slightly.
“At last,” he said, his voice light, soft, “I have the good fortune to meet you, Harald.”
Hardrada tilted his head, “You have m
