The Kontoskalion Harbour thronged with a mass of soldiers and sailors, boarding ships and moving stores. Everywhere, the air was thick with confused shouts and the scream of horses as men struggled to force the terrified animals across gangplanks onto the waiting galleons. Hobnailed boots crunched, armour and weapons clattered, the sun not yet even brushing the horizon. And over on the far side, arms folded in nonchalant ease, General Maniakes stood next to the Iron Gate and studied it all.
A great roar came up from over to his left. He turned to see the Varangians pushing and shoving their way onto their waiting ships, and by their coarse actions and derisive curses aimed towards nearby Byzantine troops, Maniakes knew most of the Norsemen were drunk, their laughter the loudest of all. He
