King's Man (16 page)

Maniakes himself crossed over on the fourth day. It was a measure of his professionalism that he saw no need to indulge in heroics by leading the attack. He and his general staff went ashore only when his command headquarters had been set up, ready to receive him. It was there, when he called a war council of his senior officers, that I first laid eyes on him.

There are times, I believe, when the Gods play tricks on us. For their amusement they create situations which otherwise would seem to be impossible. Trdat had told me that the ancient Gods of the Greeks did the same, and relished the results. The meeting between Harald of Norway and George Maniakes was one of those moments which we ordinary humans describe as coincidences, but I believe are mischievously arranged by the Gods.

How else, I ask myself, could two men so similar have been brought together, yet each man be so unusual that he was unique. Harald, as I have described, was a giant, half a head taller than his colleagues, arrogant, fierce and predatory. He struck fear into those who aroused his anger, and was a natural leader. George Maniakes was identical. He too was enormously tall, almost an ogre with his massive frame, a huge voice, and a scowl that made men tremble. He also radiated absolute authority and dominated his surroundings. When the two men came face to face for the first time in the imperial command tent, it was as if no one else was in the room. They loomed over everyone else. Neither man could have imagined he would ever meet someone so like himself, though one was blond and the other dark. There was a long moment of surprise, followed by a pause of calculation as the two men took the measure of one another. Everyone saw it. We sensed that they made a temporary truce. It was like watching two great stags who encounter one another in the forest, stop and stare, and then cautiously pass one another by, neither challenging the other, yet neither giving ground.

Harald's war band, it was confirmed at the council, was to patrol the Sicilian coast and make diversionary attacks on Saracen settlements. Our task was to discourage the local Saracen commanders from sending reinforcements to their emir, who could be expected to mass his forces near Palermo and come westward, hoping to drive the imperial army back into the sea. To meet that attack, Maniakes and the tagmata would march inland and seize the highway which linked Palermo with the wealthy cities of the east coast. Once the highway was under imperial control, Maniakes would turn south and march on Catania, Augusta and the greatest prize: Syracuse.

The Gods arranged another coincidence that day which, in its way, was a foretaste of what was to come for me and for Harald. Harald, Halldor and I were leaving the council tent when we saw four or five men coming towards us on foot. From a distance they looked like Norsemen. Indeed at first we thought they must be

Varangians; they certainly seemed to be Varangian in size and manner. We took them to be volunteers who had recently arrived from Kiev or from the lands of the Rus. It was as they drew closer that we saw differences. For one thing they were clean
-
shaven, which was unusual. For another their weapons and armour were not quite what we ourselves would have chosen. They carried long swords rather than axes, and though their conical helmets were very like our own, their chain-mail shirts were longer, and the skirt of the mail was split in the middle. It took a moment to understand that these warriors were dressed for fighting from horseback, not from ships. Our two groups stared at one another in puzzlement.

'Greetings! To which company do you belong?' Halldor called out in Norse.

The strangers stopped and eyed us. Clearly they had not understood Halldor's question. One of them answered in a language which, by its tone and inflection, I recognised. Yet the accent was so strong that I had difficulty in understanding. Several words were familiar, though the meaning of the sentence was confused. I summoned up the Latin that I had learned as a lad in an Irish monastery and repeated Halldor's question. This time one of the strangers understood.

'We ride with Herve,' he said in slow Latin. 'And you?'

'Our commander is Harald of Norway. We have taken service in the army of the Basileus.'

'We also serve the Basileus,' the warrior replied. 'They call us Frankoi.'

Then I knew. The men were mercenaries from Francia, but not from the central kingdom. They were speaking the Frankish tongue with the accent of the north. They were descendants of Vikings who had settled the lands of Normannia generations earlier, and that was why they looked so familiar to us. I had heard rumours about their prowess as horse warriors, and how they sold their swords to the highest bidder. While we Varangians arrived by sea and along the rivers, the Frankoi came overland, also seeking their fortunes in the service of the emperor. There was, however, a major difference between us: Varangians wanted to return home once we were rich; the men of Normannia — or Normandy, as they themselves called it — preferred to settle in the lands they conquered.

Maniakes took the Frankoi mercenaries with him when he marched inland, and they lived up to their warlike reputation when Maniakes rebuffed the emir's forces in their counter-attack. Then the autokrator began his long, grinding campaign to regain the east Sicilian cities. The tagmata steadily advanced along the coast, laying siege to one city after another, patiently waiting for them to fall before moving on. Maniakes took no risks, and Harald and his war band grew more and more frustrated. His Norsemen had enrolled in the army of the Basileus hoping for more than their annual pay of nine nomisma: they wanted plunder. But there was little to be had, and, worse, Harald's men received a lesser share when the army's accountants divided up the booty because the Norsemen were regarded as belonging to the fleet under Stephen, the brother-in-law of the Orphantrophus, and not part of Maniakes's main force. By the second spring of the campaign, Harald and his Varangians were very restless.

By then we were besieging Syracuse. The city fortifications were immensely strong, and the garrison was numerous and ably led. Harald's squadron of a dozen light galleys had the task of occupying the great harbour so that no more supplies reached the defenders from the sea, nor could messengers slip out to summon help. From the decks of our vessels we heard the clamour of the war trumpets as Maniakes manoeuvred his battalions on the landward side, and we saw boulders and fire arrows lobbed over the defences and into the city. We even glimpsed the top of a siege tower as it was inched forward. But the walls of Syracuse had withstood attacks for more than a thousand years, and we doubted that Maniakes would succeed in capturing such a powerful except after many months of siege.

An engineer visited our flotilla. He was rowed out in a small

boat and came aboard Harald's vessel. As usual I was summoned to act as interpreter, and when the engineer scrambled up the side of our ship, I thought there was something familiar about the man.

'May I introduce myself,' he said. 'My name is Nikephorus, and I am with the army technites, the engineers. I'm a siege specialist and, with your permission, I would like to investigate the possibility of building a floating siege tower.'

"What does that involve?' I asked.

'I'd like to see if we could perhaps tie up two, or maybe three, of your galleys side by side to make a raft. We would then use the raft as a base on which to build a tower which could then be floated up against the city wall.'

I translated his request to Harald, and he gave his agreement. The engineer produced a wax tablet and began making his drawings and calculations, and then I knew whom he reminded me of.

'Do you know Trdat, the protomaistor, by any chance?'

The engineer gave a broad smile and nodded. 'All my life,' he said. 'In fact we are first cousins, and both of us were students together. He studied how to build things up, I learned how to knock them down.'

'I went with Trdat to the Holy Land,' I said.

'Ah, you must be Thorgils. Trdat called you "the educated Varangian". He spoke to me about you several times. I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. We should talk some more after I've finished my arithmetic'

In the end Nikephorus calculated that the width and stability of the makeshift raft would not be sufficient for a floating siege tower. He feared the structure would capsize.

'A pity,' he said, 'I would love to have designed something novel and to have followed in the footsteps of the great Syracusan master.'

'Who's that?' I asked.

'Archimedes the great engineer and technician, of course. He
created machines and devices to protect Syracuse when the Romans were attacking. Cranes lifted their ships out of the water and dashed them to pieces, weights plunged on to their decks and sank them, and even some sort of focusing mirror, like our signal mirrors, set them ablaze. To no avail, for he lost his life when the city fell. But Archimedes is a hero to anyone who studies siege craft and the application of science to fortifications, their assault and defence.'

'I had no idea that there was so much theory to your work.'

'If you've got time,' Nikephorus suggested, 'I'll show you just how much theory there is. If your commander can spare you for a few days, you could join me on the landward side of the city, and see how the army engineers function.'

Harald agreed to let me go, and for the next few days I was privileged to see Nikephorus in action. It turned out that he had been very modest about his qualifications. He was in fact the army's chief engineer and responsi
ble for the creation and employ
ment of all the heavy equipment against the walls of Syracuse.

'Note how those drills are angled slightly upward. It improves the final result,' he said as he showed me around a device like a very strong wooden shed on wheels. Inside were various cogs and pulleys connected to the sort of tool that ship carpenters use for drilling holes, only the instrument was far larger. 'The shed is pushed up against the base of the city wall, where the roof protects the operators from whatever missiles and unpleasantness the defenders drop down on them. The drill opens up holes in the city wall which are then stuffed with inflammable matter and set on fire. By quenching the hot rock - urine is the most effective liquid — the stone can be made to crack. If enough holes are drilled and enough fissures result, the wall will eventually collapse.'

'Wouldn't i
t be safer and easier to dig a t
unnel under the wall foundations so it comes down?' I asked.

Nikephorus nodded. 'Trdat was right. You should have been an engineer. Yes, if the army technites were to have a motto, it should be "Dig, prop and burn". Excavate the tunnel under the wall, put in wooden props to hold everything in place, and just before you pull out, set fire to the props and then wait for the wall to tumble down. The trouble is that tunnelling takes time, and often the enemy digs counter-tunnels to ambush your miners, then kills them like rats in a drain.'

'Is that why you preferred to build a siege tower?' I asked. 'We saw the top of it from our ships. And heard the war trumpets.'

Nikephorus shook his head. 'That was just a ruse. That particular tower was a flimsy contraption, only for show. At the start of a siege, it's a good idea to create as much commotion as you can. Make it appear that you have more troops than is the case, launch fake attacks, allow the enemy as little rest as possible. That way you dishearten the defenders and, more important, you get to see how they respond to each feint, how well organised they are, which are the strong points in their defences, and which are the gaps.'

He then took me to see the proper siege tower he was building. The structure was already massive. Eventually it would be higher than the city walls, Nikephorus explained, and when the dropbridge on the topmost level was released, it would provide a gangway for the shock troops to rush across directly on to the battlements. 'Just the job for your axe-wielding Varangians,' he added with a grin, 'but it will be several weeks before the tower is ready. As you can see, we've only got as far as putting together the main framework of the structure. We still have to install the intermediate floor, where I intend to place a platoon of Fire throwers, and the exterior will need cladding with fresh ox hides. The Saracens are accomplished in countermeasures, and I expect they will try to set the tower alight with missiles of burning pitch or oil as we approach the wall. I'm designing a system of pipes and ducts to be fitted to the tower, so that if any portion catches alight, my men stationed on the topmost level with tubs of water will be able to direct the flow of water to extinguish the flames.'

'Won't that make the tower very heavy to move?' I objected.

'Yes, that's always a problem,' Nikephorus admitted. 'But with levers and enough manpower we should be able to roll the tower slowly forward. My main concern is that the Saracens will already have prepared the ground so that the tower topples before it is in place.'

We had clambered up a series of builders' ladders and were now standing precariously on the siege tower's highest crossbeam.

'See over there?' said Nikephorus pointing. 'That smooth, level approach to the city wall? It looks like the perfect spot for the tower when we launch our attack. But I am suspicious. It's too inviting. I think the defence has buried large clay pots deep in the soil at that point. The ground is firm enough to carry foot soldiers and cavalry, but if the tower rolls over them, the amphorae will collapse and the ground cave in. Then the tower will tilt and fall, and, in addition to the loss of life, we will have wasted weeks of work.'