She eyed him from under her lashes, her gaze skimming over him from the top of that dark head, down past those arresting blue eyes, past those high cheekbones and well-sculpted mouth, past that strong jaw…Goodness, he was a handsome man. She had only to look at him and her cheeks were on fire!

Impersonating the Princess had flung her deep into uncharted waters. She was utterly out of her depth here in more ways than one. Surely he could sense it? Her hand was shaking so much she was likely to tip wine over her gown. Does he know that I am quaking inside? Does he suspect that I am misleading him?

Will I be safe if he learns the truth?

A new thought caught her by surprise. For the first time in an age, Katerina was not sure she wanted to be safe.

About the Author

CAROL TOWNEND has been making up stories since she was a child. Whenever she comes across a tumbledown building, be it castle or cottage, she can’t help conjuring up the lives of the people who once lived there. Her Yorkshire forebears were friendly with the Brontë sisters. Perhaps their influence lingers …

Carol’s love of ancient and medieval history took her to London University, where she read History, and her first novel (published by Mills & Boon) won the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s New Writers’ Award. Currently she lives near Kew Gardens, with her husband and daughter. Visit her website at www.caroltownend.co.uk

Previous novels by the same author:

THE NOVICE BRIDE AN HONOURABLE ROGUE HIS CAPTIVE LADY RUNAWAY LADY, CONQUERING LORD HER BANISHED LORD

Look for further novels in

Carol Townend’s mini-series

Palace Brides Coming soon

BOUND TO
THE BARBARIAN

Carol Townend

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To the Romantic Novelists’ Association

on your 50th Anniversary.

With thanks for so many years of good friends,

lively meetings and writerly support.

May the next 50 years be as golden!

And to my daughter, with all my love

Acknowledgements:

I should like to thank Professor Judith Herrin

for her helpful answers to my questions

on the male and female forms of Greek names,

and on forms of address in medieval Byzantium.

I have used Greek versions of names where possible,

but in a couple of cases I have shortened

the names of real people to avoid confusion.

Chapter One

Ashfirth was unable to keep the shock from his voice. ‘The Princess is in here?’

‘Yes, Commander.’

Shooting a disbelieving glance at his captain, Ashfirth dismounted. He was careful to hide the twinge of pain in his leg. Lord, it felt no better, despite the rest he had given it. The ride from the port on the other side of the salt marshes had not been arduous, but his leg felt as though it was being gnawed by wolves. Surely broken bones mended more quickly than this? Removing his helmet, he hooked it over his saddle bow, surreptitiously easing his aching limb. He wanted his men to think he was fully recovered.

‘What did you say this place was?’ He shoved back his mail coif.

‘It’s a convent, sir.’

It didn’t look much. The dome of the church was barely visible above the convent walls. It was cracked like a broken eggshell and someone had attempted to repair it. A botched job. Weeds had taken root in the rendering.

‘I’ll lay odds that roof leaks,’ Ash said.

Captain Brand grinned and shook his head. ‘Only a fool would take that bet on, Commander.’

Ash made a non-committal sound and completed his survey of the walls and buildings. Why on earth would the Princess take refuge in a minor convent outside Dyrrachion? To the military eye, the walls were also in dire need of repair. One section was little better than a tumble of stone; it was splotchy with yellow lichen and clearly had been that way for some time. Even as Ash looked, a bell tinkled and a brown-and-white goat leaped into view in the opening. The goat stood for a moment on top of the stones, its slanty eyes unearthly in the morning light. Then, the bell at its neck a-jangle, it leaped down and wandered into the scrub. Ash lifted a brow.

What the devil was Princess Theodora doing here? The answer flashed back in an instant. Tucked away at the northern edge of the Empire, this convent was to her mind probably ideal. The woman—Ash eased his leg again, he would strangle her when he finally got his hands on her—most likely thought this was the last place anyone would look.

‘It is the last place,’ Ash murmured, realising with a sense of surprise that he was closer to England, his homeland, than he’d been in years. The thought brought no pain, which was less of a surprise. Ashfirth had long ago come to terms with his new life, but come to terms he had, thank God.

‘Sir?’

‘If the Princess thinks that wall will keep us out, she can think again.’

Brand eyed the low wall and grinned again. ‘Yes, sir.’ The sunlight bounced off the razor-sharp edge of his battle-axe. Brand was a good captain, and an excellent scout. Once they had arrived in Dyrrachion, he had been quick to make contact with someone who had mentioned a nearby convent that offered shelter to ladies from all walks of life.

‘Does this ruin have a name?’

‘St Mary’s.’ Captain Brand cleared his throat, opened his mouth, appeared to think better of it and closed it again.

‘There’s more, isn’t there? Come on, man, out with it.’ Brand was struggling to keep a straight face. Like Ash, Brand was an Anglo-Saxon from England and Ash could read him as he might read a brother, particularly when, as now, they were speaking in English.

‘Yes, sir. St Mary’s is renowned hereabouts.’

‘St Mary’s doesn’t look as though it would be renowned for anything except the wretched state of its masonry.’

‘It takes in women, sir…women who choose to leave the world because they repent of their former way of life.’

Ash raised an eyebrow. ‘The Princess has taken refuge in a convent for fallen women?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘The Princess must be desperate.’

‘Sir?’

‘Why else run to Dyrrachion, to a convent for fallen women—she really doesn’t want to marry Duke Nikolaos, does she?’ Briefly, Ash spared a thought for the woman they had tracked to this remote outpost.

‘Why should marriage to the Duke of Larissa be so repellent, sir?’

‘Lord knows.’ Ash had never met Duke Nikolaos, he knew him only by repute. Accounts spoke of a fine soldier, a brilliant commander. A man of honour. ‘The Duke of Larissa’s holding is at the heart of the Empire; he is of the old elite, the military aristocracy. She could hardly hope to do better—her reservations about marrying him are odd, to say the least.’

‘Wasn’t Princess Theodora’s first betrothal to an outsider?’

‘Yes, she was betrothed to one of the Rascian princes. The rumour is that she grew fond of him—that must explain her reluctance to marry Duke Nikolaos.’ Ash grimaced. ‘But the Rascian prince is dead, she has to forget him.’

Brand rubbed his chin. ‘That may be easier said than done, sir.’

‘Nevertheless, she must forget him.’ Ash knew that Greek princesses usually viewed marriages made outside the boundaries of the Empire as something of a penance. He also knew that Greek princesses were highly sought after all over Christendom, possibly because such contracts rarely took place. ‘Prince Peter was only a minor prince. Her new fiancé, Duke Nikolaos of Larissa, is of a different order altogether—he is one of the most powerful men in the Empire. The Emperor considers this marriage important, Princess Theodora will not be allowed to wriggle out of it.’

Ashfirth glanced at the convent. The Princess might be reluctant to return home, but his priorities were clear. As Commander of the Varangian Guard, Ashfirth answered to the Emperor and to no one else.

Back in the Great Palace in Constantinople, the ageing Emperor had summoned Ash to a private audience in an apartment where the walls glittered with golden mosaics from floor to ceiling.

The Emperor, arguably the most powerful man in Christendom, had slumped in his throne like a man sapped of strength. There he had sat, much withered by age, seemingly diminished by the trappings of power that surrounded him. There was the double-headed eagle on the Imperial standard; there were the Imperial robes. It had struck Ash that never had that standard looked more forlorn. And as for the robes, it seemed that they were wearing the man. Surely it ought to be the other way around, surely the man should wear the robes?

The voice was creaking and tired. ‘Commander, the Rascian prince who was betrothed to my niece the Princess Theodora is dead,’ Emperor Nikephoros had told him. ‘You are to bring her home.’

Strictly speaking, Princess Theodora was not the Emperor’s niece; in truth, she was the niece of the previous Emperor, Michael Doukas. But it would not have been tactful for Ash to have pointed this out because the new Emperor—despite his advanced years—had married Emperor Michael’s young and beautiful wife. This made the question of Princess Theodora’s relationship to him a moot point.

‘My niece has been living among barbarians for too long,’ Emperor Nikephoros had gone on to say. ‘In the Palace she may reacquaint herself with more civilised ways and prepare herself to meet her new betrothed, Duke Nikolaos.’

Which was how Ash came to be thousands of miles away from his quarters in the Boukoleon Palace, and now found himself near the port of Dyrrachion, staring at the gate of this out-of-the-way convent.

A convent for fallen women.

The gate looked sturdier than the walls; it was made of seasoned oak bleached by many summers. A small barred window had been cut into it at eye level. At present it was shuttered fast, but a bell-pull hung alongside it.

Unstrapping his battle-axe, Ash hung it over his pommel alongside his helmet. He caught Brand’s eye. ‘You, too, Brand—there is no sense in frightening the ladies.’

Unless we have to. Frightening the ladies might be the only way to get the Princess to accept his escort back to Constantinople.

‘Yes, sir.’

While Brand disarmed himself, Ash gave a final glance at the lichen-splotched walls and approached the gate. The walls would not present much of an obstacle if the Princess balked at going with them; in truth, his men would likely relish a minor challenge after being cooped up on board ship. But he must start with a diplomatic approach; she was a member of the Imperial family.

Brand was watching him, reading his mind. He eyed the walls. ‘We could get in that way easily, sir.’

‘Save that thought, we might need it later.’ Ash gestured at the gate. ‘In the meantime, see if you get someone’s attention, the place appears to be deserted.’

Brand grinned. ‘Perhaps they ran out of fallen women.’

‘With the city and port so close?’ Ash gave a short laugh. ‘Not likely. The Princess and her entourage are in there, I am sure of it. All we have to do is extract her, then we may be back at the Palace by Easter.’

Nodding agreement, Brand heaved on the bell-pull.

Ash shifted, taking the weight off his bad leg. Lord, but it ached—the Princess had better hurry; the thought of a massage from his body-servant Hrodric was becoming more attractive by the moment.

The shutter in the gate clicked open. Ash squared his shoulders.

Princess Theodora might have had him chasing all over the Empire, but finally he had found her. He might feel like wringing her neck, but since she was the Emperor’s niece and a member of the powerful Doukas family, it was probably treason even to think such a thought. So, when a pair of brown eyes—very beautiful brown eyes—came into view on the other side of the grille, Ash had a smile ready.

‘Good day,’ he said, switching effortlessly to Greek. ‘I should like to speak to Princess Theodora.’

The eyes widened. Doe’s eyes.

Ash thought he heard a woman’s voice, and for a moment those doe’s eyes slid sideways. Someone standing next to her was speaking to her. Then the dark eyes met his, directly. A visceral jolt went through him. He frowned.

‘Your name, sir?’ Her voice was light and clear. Courteous.

‘Ashfirth Saxon, Commander of the Varangian Guard. The Emperor has charged me with escorting Princess Theodora back to the Great Pal—’

The eyes withdrew, the shutter closed with a snap.

Gritting his teeth, Ashfirth exchanged glances with his captain. As one, they turned to look at the crumbling wall.

‘I’ll give her half an hour,’ Ash said.

Brand’s face brightened.

Yes, the men are definitely in need of exercise.

On the other side of the gate, the Princess was standing at Katerina’s side. Her violet veil was trembling.

‘Is he there, Katerina? Has the Duke come in person?’

‘Despoina? My lady?’

‘Is the Duke outside?’

Katerina pressed her nose to the grille and peered through a crack in the shutter. ‘I do not know if those are his men, my lady. What does Duke Nikolaos look like?’ Katerina’s gaze was caught by the taller of the two warriors standing at the entrance. ‘There is a man here who calls himself Ashfirth Saxon. He wants speech with you.’

‘Ashfirth Saxon?’ Princess Theodora’s tone was scornful, but Katerina heard the quiver in it and pitied her. Her mistress really did not wish to marry Duke Nikolaos. ‘Who is this Ashfirth Saxon?’

He’s tall and fierce-looking. He has wind-burned skin. His hair gleams like jet and his eyes—Heavens!— how did a man with such dark hair come by eyes so blue? Katerina’s gut clenched as she inched the shutter open, the better to study him. Ashfirth Saxon had eyes that were almost as turquoise as the stones set in the cover of Princess Theodora’s book of psalms. They made a disturbing contrast with the jet-black hair.

‘He says he is Commander of the Varangian Guard and—’

‘The Varangians? Holy Mother, don’t tell me the Emperor has sent his personal guard!’ The Princess tugged at the sleeve of Katerina’s gown, bracelets chinking. ‘Are you certain? Can you see battle-axes?’

‘Yes, despoina. My lady, the men on horseback all have axes and—’

‘They are mounted?’ The Princess’s voice calmed. ‘Varangian guards usually fight on foot.’

‘Not all are mounted, my lady.’

‘Are they dressed for battle?’

‘They are wearing coats of mail, certainly. ‘

The Princess swore, using an oath that Katerina was certain ought never to be uttered within the walls of a convent.

‘Princess!’

‘Don’t be such a prude, Katerina. You know where most of these nuns have come from—they will have heard far worse, I am sure.’

Katerina doubted it, but she held her tongue. She should not have spoken up, it was not her place to criticise.

The Princess poked her in the ribs. ‘Are you sure you can see no sign of the Duke? His standard, perhaps?’

Peering past the iron bars, Katerina twisted her head from side to side, hoping to see the rest of the soldiers, but her view was limited. It was blocked by Ashfirth Saxon and his companion. So tall. Handsome devil, too. Except that he looks so angry. Ashfirth Saxon’s mouth was no longer smiling, it was set in a thin line. And those startling turquoise eyes might be looking at her past thick dark lashes, but they looked cold. Dispassionate. What did she expect? If this man was Commander of the Varangian Guard, the personal bodyguard to the Emperor, he would likely be more hard and ruthless than the rest.

Katerina cleared her throat. A guardsman’s battle-axe flashed in the sun. ‘I can see no standard, but they are very well armed. If I were you, I do not think I would want to keep this Ashfirth Saxon waiting.’

‘If you were me?‘ Princess Theodora’s voice became sharp. ‘You are insolent today, slave.’

Hurt sliced through Katerina like a blade. Slave. Well, that was what she had been until the Princess had rescued her—a slave. She had been one for so many years, it was a wonder the word had kept the power to wound, but wound it did. Particularly when it came from the lips of her princess, the princess who had freed her from the torture that her life as a slave had become. That Princess Theodora had sunk to remind Katerina of her past merely emphasised how repugnant she found the thought of marrying the Duke of Larissa.

Shooting the Princess a bleak glance—she was chewing her lip—Katerina’s heart softened. Her mistress was not by nature vindictive, as Katerina herself had good reason to know, it was simply that she was under too much strain. Duke Nikolaos terrified her. She knew it was not just slave girls who found themselves at the mercy of their menfolk.

Not even a princess can escape what men have planned for her!

The next moment a gentle hand reached for hers. ‘Katerina, forgive me?’

Katerina looked into the Princess’s eyes. Princess Theodora had eyes that Katerina had been assured mirrored her own almost exactly. They were, according to Lady Sophia, one of Princess Theodora’s ladies-in-waiting, the same shade of brown. Their eyes, Lady Sophia had said, had the same shape—they even had the same eyebrows. And the Princess’s mirror had confirmed it.

‘For what? You spoke the truth, despoina. Until you freed me, I was a slave.’

For a moment the old bitterness welled up and Katerina felt her heart harden. Her bitterness was not directed towards the princess who had bought and freed her, rather it was directed towards the man who had sold her into slavery. Her father.

Towards the Princess, Katerina felt only gratitude. She longed to be able to repay her for her generosity in offering Katerina—a peasant girl—a place in her aristocratic entourage and training her. But what could she—a maidservant—possibly have that a princess might desire?

A thoughtful expression came over Princess Theodora’s face. She leaned forwards and a beringed hand lifted to close the wooden shutter. From the other side of the gate, came the jangle of a bell and the bleat of a goat. A man laughed.

‘Katerina?’

‘My lady?’

‘Accompany me to the church. There is something I wish to meditate upon.’

‘Yes, despoina.’

When Princess Theodora, golden bracelets chinking in the light, linked arms with her, Katerina was unsurprised. This was more like the mistress she knew. Princess Theodora, niece of the Emperor himself, was a warm-hearted, even-handed woman who—while knowing of Katerina’s humble background—unfailingly treated her in the same way she treated her high-born ladies-in-waiting. Since taking Katerina under her wing, the Princess had taught Katerina the ways of the Court. She had taught her how to speak in a more refined manner—she had even taught her how to read.

Not many high-born ladies would even notice when a slave was being maltreated, but back in Rascia the Princess had noticed. Not many high-born ladies would then be willing to buy that slave to prevent her from further harm, but the Princess had done exactly that. And it was a rare woman indeed who would then go on to free the slave and offer her a position among her ladies.

If only there were some way of repaying her …

Lady Sophia and Lady Zoë made to follow them, but the Princess waved them away. ‘Leave us. I wish to offer up a few personal prayers, Katerina’s company will suffice.’

The church was cool and dark after the bright sunlight. Princess Theodora led Katerina to an alcove overlooked by a gaudily painted and earthy-looking statue of Saint Mary. Mary Magdalene, Katerina thought, lips twisting, the saint of fallen women everywhere. She shot her mistress a sidelong glance. Of course, how apt.

A couple of tallow candles lit the alcove and two nuns were kneeling before the statue. Reformed sinners? Perhaps. As the Princess and Katerina approached, the nuns glanced up, crossed themselves and scurried into the main church.

‘Katerina, I have a favour to ask and, out of all my ladies, you are the only one who might undertake it.’

‘Princess, from the moment you bought me in Rascia and gave me my freedom, I have been searching for a suitable way of thanking you. I would do anything for you!’

‘Anything? Be careful what you promise, Katerina.’ The Princess’s smile was strained. ‘You do not know what I may ask. It might be—’ she bit her lip ‘—somewhat dangerous.’

Katerina gripped her mistress’s hand. ‘I would do anything! I mean it, how could you think otherwise? What must I do? Tell me!’

‘No.’ Princess Theodora jerked her head away to stare at the cross on the altar. ‘It is too risky, I cannot ask it of you.’

‘Princess …’ Katerina moved closer. ‘I want to help you. Let me help you.’

Brown eyes looked steadily into brown. ‘If it were not for my…the baby…I would not think about asking. If only the Commander had not found us so soon.’ Her chest heaved. ‘Still, we cannot alter that, not now. We shall have to take it one step at a time.’

And then, to Katerina’s astonishment, the Princess’s hands went to the pins of her violet veil. ‘First, we shall see how this suits you.’ Then, gaze flickering towards the main church to ensure they were not overlooked, the Princess kicked off her jewelled sandals and nudged them towards Katerina. ‘And these, I want you to try these on for size.’ There was a flutter of silk as the veil was removed.

Katerina’s eyes went wide. ‘My lady?’

The Princess was looking her up and down, like a seamstress measuring someone for a new gown. ‘You are a little smaller than I, but we are almost of a height. Good. And it is most fortunate that our eyes are a match.’

A cold shiver ran down Katerina’s spine. She found herself staring at the jewelled sandals on the church flagstones.

‘Well? Try them on, Katerina. If they fit, you are going to meet with Commander Ashfirth to see what he has to say.’

Katerina swallowed. ‘That is how I am to repay you?’

The Princess, busily shaking out her veil, would not meet her gaze. ‘Perhaps. Now be quiet while I think, and put this on.’

Some minutes later, the snap of the shutter drew Ashfirth’s gaze back to the convent gate. He straightened and strode across.

Doe Eyes was back.

He knew her at once, even though this second time she was so heavily veiled that her eyes were barely visible. The soft fall of her veil had the look of fine silk, it was violet in colour and shot through with gold threads.

‘Commander Ashfirth!’

Her voice was still light and clear, but something about it had changed. Ashfirth was unable to put his finger on what that change was. Was it more forceful? More confident?

‘The Princess will see me?’

Behind the bars, Doe Eyes withdrew slightly. ‘Commander—’ her voice was cool ‘—it would please the Princess to know exactly why you are here.’

It would please the Princess. Ashfirth narrowed his eyes. This is a delaying tactic, she knows why I am here. ‘Am I addressing the Princess?’

He couldn’t read her, not without seeing her whole face—that damned veil hid too much. Everything but a slight flicker in the brown eyes.

‘Answer my question, if you please, Commander.’

At this moment, she certainly had the tone of a princess. Lofty. Calm. A gold thread winked in the light. This must be the Princess. Most likely she was irritated that he had caught her unprepared when he had first knocked. It didn’t escape him that she had ignored his question. He would be brief.

‘His Imperial Majesty the Emperor Nikephoros has commanded me to escort Princess Theodora back to the Great Palace at Constantinople.’

There was a pause, and again the doe’s eyes flickered. Her head turned to one side and Ashfirth caught a faint mutter of voices. If Doe Eyes was the Princess, and Ashfirth strongly suspected that she was, someone behind the gate was certainly advising her.

The brown eyes met his. ‘Is Duke Nikolaos with you?’

Ashfirth shook his head. ‘Duke Nikolaos will join you once you have reached Constantinople. The Emperor wishes you to reacquaint yourself with …’ Ashfirth paused to search for the right words, the diplomatic words. Peter, the Rascian princeling who had been her fiancé, was in the eyes of many Greeks a barbarian. The Imperial Court had been astonished when word had reached them that the Princess had allowed herself to become enamoured of him. ‘The Emperor wishes you to reacquaint yourself with life at the Palace.’

When Peter of Rascia had been killed in a petty border skirmish at the edge of his territory, the Emperor had been swift to arrange a second betrothal. Byzantine Princesses were valuable commodities, and as a member of a powerful family, this young woman would have been brought up on the idea. Her person could be traded according to the political needs of the time.

Ten years ago Emperor Michael had found it politically expedient to betroth her to the vassal ruler of Rascia. Had the Prince lived, the contract would have been honoured, but his death altered everything.

Today, it was less important to placate a minor kingdom at the far reaches of the Empire. A different Emperor occupied the throne, one who needed to look closer to home for support. The military aristocracy was crying out for change and Emperor Nikephoros needed every ally he could lay his hands on.

In offering the Duke of Larissa this well-born Princess for his bride, the Emperor hoped to placate him. Marriage with the Princess would, he hoped, ensure the Duke’s loyalty should the conflict among his generals come to a head.

The brown eyes stared into his. What is she thinking? Ashfirth was fully conscious that Princess Theodora would likely peg him for a barbarian in much the same way that the Imperial Court had thought her Rascian prince a barbarian. Ash was an Anglo-Saxon, a dispossessed Anglo-Saxon in charge of the Varangian Guard. The Court only tolerated him because of his loyalty to the Emperor and his skills as a leader and warrior. The citizens of Constantinople never forgot that the men of the Varangian Guard were mercenaries, barbarian mercenaries.

The woman behind the grille had her head tilted slightly to one side. She was obviously listening to her advisor, but those brown eyes were fixed on him. While the low muttering continued, Ashfirth was able to watch her quite openly. Something was telling him that this woman, princess or otherwise, had her secrets. He had not given up on trying to read her, but when the long eyelashes swept down, he had learned nothing.

‘Constantinople is a long sea journey away,’ she said, in that cool, carefully modulated voice. ‘You cannot expect a princess to be ready at the snap of your fingers. Be so good as to return on the morrow …’

Ashfirth felt a frown forming, he held it back. ‘Tomorrow? The Princess must have received the Emperor’s summons, she must know how…eager he is for her return to Court.’

He paused, gritting his teeth. The Princess had to have known someone was coming to escort her back to the capital! Ash had been informed that several letters had been sent. Not that a reply had ever been received. The Emperor had given her the benefit of the doubt; he had assumed her replies had been lost en route. Ashfirth was not so sure. Had she replied? Surely the Princess would not do the Emperor the discourtesy of simply ignoring his letters?

However, those doe’s eyes were looking steadily back at him, giving nothing away. And she was right, blast her. The journey was likely to take some time and there was no sense starting off on the wrong foot by naming her a liar. Especially if this was the Princess.

Keep it simple. Non-confrontational.

‘Our ship leaves this afternoon,’ he said.

Doe Eyes tipped her head to one side and listened to her counsellor.

‘Two hours,’ she said. ‘Come back in two hours.’

‘The Princess will be ready to leave?’

‘Yes.’

Nodding curtly, Ashfirth turned away. A light click informed him that the shutter had closed.

Two hours?

Make that four. The woman has not been born who can keep proper time. And this one is a princess who not only leaves the Emperor’s letters unanswered, but attempts to evade his summons to Court.

Catching Brand’s eyes on him, Ashfirth spread his hands. ‘Two hours, Captain. Tell half the men they have two hours before reporting back for duty. Something tells me that Princess Theodora won’t be too punctual.’

‘Two hours? Right, Commander.’

The Princess reached in front of Katerina to slide back the shutter and the tall, dark commander was cut off from sight.

‘Oh!’ Katerina said.

‘What?’

‘He has a limp.’

Princess Theodora looked blankly at her. ‘Who?’

‘Commander Ashfirth.’ The Princess’s dark eyes searched hers and Katerina felt her cheeks warm. ‘Yes, he’s limping. I didn’t notice at first, it is only a slight limp, but …’

When her mistress lifted an eyebrow at her, Katerina trailed to a halt—the Princess wasn’t remotely interested in Commander Ashfirth. Worse, she was looking at Katerina as though she had never seen her before, a slow smile dawning.

Inside the convent, the baby began to cry. The Princess smothered a small groan.

Katerina’s stomach clenched with foreboding. Hastily, she snatched at the pins of the violet veil and made to hand it back.

The Princess brushed it aside, and Katerina caught the glitter of tears.

‘Despoina, what is it?’

‘Katerina, I am sorry …’ Princess Theodora’s voice broke. She gave a weak smile ‘But I fear I am going to have to ask for your help after all.’

Katerina swallowed. ‘Are you?’

The Princess nodded. ‘Yes. I would not do so if I did not have to, you do understand?’

‘Despoina?’

The baby had stopped crying, but nevertheless the Princess took Katerina’s arm and set off in the direction of the convent guest house. ‘I do not wish to marry Duke Nikolaos, and you say you wish to return the favour I once did you.’

The Princess pushed through the guest-house door, her eyes going straight to the tiny child in Lady Sophia’s arms.

‘I have her, despoina, she is all right,’ Lady Sophia said, bending back over the infant. ‘Aren’t you, my dove?’

‘What do you want me to do, my lady?’ Katerina looked at the Princess, at the baby Lady Sophia was cooing over, and then back at the Princess. She was beginning to feel distinctly uneasy.

‘It is simple. I should like you, Katerina,’ Princess Theodora said, ‘to pretend to be me.’

Chapter Two

‘I must pretend to be you?’ Katerina’s jaw dropped. ‘My lady, you are not serious!’

‘I regret to say that I am.’ Princess Theodora glanced pointedly at the infant in Lady Sophia’s lap. The Princess’s tone intensified, the words tumbling out. ‘My time with my daughter is likely to be short. You must forgive me, Katerina, but I am desperate to be with her as long as I may.’

Hurrying to one of the travelling chests, the Princess pushed back the lid and leaned it against the wall. She reached inside and sent a stream of silks and satins flying towards her pallet: first came her favourite pink gown, the one with the silver embroidery at the neck and hem; next came the blue one made from finest English wool; then the brown silk, which shimmered with silver threads when she walked; the cream one with green acanthus leaves embroidered at the hem; the delicate green with pearl-encrusted cuffs.

Several veils floated through the air and settled on the gowns: the deep purple one that was reserved for important ceremonies because only members of the Imperial family were entitled to wear purple; the cream; the grey; the yellow …

‘Despoina?’

The Princess whirled and grabbed Katerina’s hand. ‘Here, these will suit you. What a blessing we are similar in height and build. Do you like them?’

Do you like them?

Katerina’s insides turned to water. The Princess means this! The Princess really means this!

Princess Theodora’s eyes were bright and intense, her jaw was set. She looked so determined, she seemed not to have noticed that Katerina had reservations, that sheer terror was a breath away. That, or she was choosing to ignore it. The Princess wanted more time with her baby daughter, which was perfectly natural. Princess Theodora was not the first princess to anticipate her wedding night; she was not the first princess to bear a child before she was married. Unfortunately, it seemed likely that little Martina would be taken from her the moment she set foot in Constantinople.

In preparation for her forthcoming marriage, all evidence of Princess Theodora’s transgression would be swept away.

Heart full, helpless in the face of the Princess’s pain, Katerina watched her mistress turn to another of the iron-bound chests and dip into that. A pair of kid shoes landed on the bed; some short riding boots; sandals; purple slippers …

Katerina’s heart sank when she saw the purple slippers. ‘Despoina?’

‘Mmm?’

Katerina extracted the purple veil and matching slippers from the rapidly growing pile and held them out. ‘I can never wear these. You know it is forbidden. Ordinary people just cannot wear purple! I was not born in the Great Palace. I am not remotely related to the Emperor. What would happen to a slave who did such a thing?’

‘I gave you your freedom some time ago, Katerina.’

‘That does not alter the fact that I am just a poor girl from one of the islands. Surely any offence would be compounded if someone like me committed it? I could be beheaded—’

‘Nonsense!’ Princess Theodora drew herself up, her eyes looked haughty even while her mouth was trembling. ‘I will see that no harm comes to you. I cannot force you, you are a free woman now. But if you do consent to take my place, Katerina, I will write a letter exonerating you from all blame. It will be made quite clear that you are acting under orders, my orders.’

A shadow fell over them, Lady Anna was standing in the doorway.

‘Not now, Anna.’ The Princess waved her away.

Lady Anna ducked back outside and the light strengthened.

Princess Theodora drew in a breath and took the purple slippers and veil. Pointedly, she replaced them on the pile. ‘Katerina, you said you wished to repay me for releasing you from servitude. Here is your chance.’

‘Yes, but…but…to impersonate you! Despoina, I could never carry it off!’

‘Of course you could.’ The Princess turned Katerina’s hands palm up. ‘When I bought you, your hands were work-worn, your nails broken. See how they have healed, you have the hands of a lady now.’

‘But—’

‘Think. You have learned our ways. I taught you to read. You can even write—’

Katerina let out a short laugh. ‘Only my name!’

‘That is enough to convince, particularly since most ladies cannot even read.’ The Princess glanced at her sleeping daughter. ‘Besides, if you agree to help me, I can offer you real freedom.’

‘Real freedom?’

‘I will give you a grant of land in…where did you say you came from?’

‘Crete.’ There was a lump in Katerina’s throat. She swallowed hard. She was not certain she wanted to set eyes on Crete again and had opened her mouth to say as much, but the Princess was unstoppable …

‘Crete it is then. I shall give you a grant of land in Crete. And gold. And since your time with us has turned you into a lady in all but name, I will also find you a noble husband, if you so wish. Katerina, I know it is no light thing that I ask of you.’ She gave a great sigh. ‘But perhaps you have changed your mind about wishing to help me.’

‘No…but …’

The Princess fell to her knees.

Katerina blinked. Lady Sophia stared. Princess Theodora, niece to the Emperor, was on her knees before her body-servant.

‘Katerina, I beg you, I implore you! Take my place, let Commander Ash…what was his name?’

‘Ashfirth Saxon.’

‘Let him escort you to Constantinople. Give me a month, pretend to be me for a month or two, that is all that I ask. I will try to wean her…and…and another couple of months will give me more time to get used to the thought of losing her. Please, Katerina?’

‘Despoina, do you really think matters will be easier two months from now? I am afraid you are merely delaying the inevitable.’

‘I need more time with her! Please, Katerina, if you had a child, you would understand. Go with the Commander. Please.’

For a moment Katerina could feel the penetrating blue eyes of Commander Ashfirth boring into her. ‘But…but he is a barbarian!’

The Princess’s expression softened. ‘Not all barbarians are cast in the same mould as Vukan, Katerina.’

‘Yes, I understand that. But the Commander will soon realise that I am no princess. My speech…it…it is not that of a lady.’

Her mistress shook her head. ‘It may not have been when you joined us, but it is now. Besides, he mistook you at the gate.’

‘It is one thing to mistake someone who is speaking through a grille and quite another to embark on a journey with them and not discover their true nature. The Commander will find me out and…and …’

‘He is a foreigner, as you have pointed out. A barbarian’s ear will not be finely tuned to the nuances of our language. He will not find you out.’ Rising, Princess Theodora shook out her skirts. ‘You have a quick mind. If you think about it, you will realise that you already know how to be me.’ Her eyes grew warm. ‘You have been my servant for…how long?’

‘Two years, my lady.’

‘That is quite long enough for you to have learned my mannerisms. As I said, we are similar in looks and colouring.’

‘But…but—he said you are summoned to the Great Palace in Constantinople, I have never set foot there! If by some miracle I were to reach it undiscovered, it would become obvious at once that the Palace is unknown to me.’

Princess Theodora frowned. ‘Ye…es, I see, that is a good point.’ Her brow cleared. ‘I know! You shall take several of my ladies with you. No one will think twice about the Princess travelling with her ladies-in-waiting, indeed, it will be expected. I shall make certain that Lady Anna is among them—she knows the Palace better than anyone. On the journey, she can describe it to you. She knows whom you will be likely to meet, she knows palace protocols, and—’

Palace protocols. Katerina was beginning to feel more than a little queasy. She wanted to help the Princess, but this …!

She shook her head. ‘My lady, it won’t do. What if I were summoned to meet the Emperor? He would know at once that I am an impostor.’

Her mistress gave a sad smile. ‘My real uncle, if you remember, was supplanted and put in a monastery. This Emperor has never met me.’

‘But didn’t he marry Emperor Michael’s wife? Surely she will realise—’

The Princess made a dismissive gesture. ‘Katerina, it is ten years since I was last at the palace, I was a child. No one will know that you are not me, I promise you.’ She smiled and clasped her hands together. ‘I would not ask you to do this if I thought there was any danger for you. I am sure Commander Ashfirth will treat you courteously, everything will be fine. A few weeks, Katerina, that is all I ask, a few weeks. Martina will be stronger then. And think, you will have riches and a grant of land.’

‘If I survive. Surely it must be dangerous?’

‘As I said, you shall carry letters, which will exonerate you if this turns out badly. I have grown fond of you, you must know I would not have you suffer.’ She looked towards the doorway, and raised her voice. ‘Anna, are you out there?’

The doorway darkened. ‘Despoina?’

‘See if there is a scribe to be found in the convent. If not, find me ink and parchment.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Princess Theodora looked intently at her. ‘Don’t worry, Katerina. You shall take your orders with you. And we have a good two hours to transform you into a princess.’

Two hours. Katerina stared at the purple slippers and then at baby Martina. Her palms felt sticky. It was all very well for the Princess to assume that her letters would be taken as gospel, but in Katerina’s experience men who were deceived did not take kindly to those who deceived them. A pair of penetrating blue eyes flashed into her mind. And the first person she would have to convince was none other than the Commander of the Varangian Guard. Saint Titus, help me.

‘Katerina, I am relying on you. A few weeks, once you have reached the Palace. That is all that I ask, just a few weeks.’

While he waited for the two hours to pass, Ashfirth walked with Brand to the top of the hill. His leg had had enough of riding, instinct was telling him that it needed this different form of exercise or it would stiffen up, perhaps permanently. They had spent too long at sea.

They stopped just short of the summit. A little way below them lay the convent with its crumbling walls and vegetable garden. Next to it, a small orchard was bursting into life, there were green shoots everywhere. The wind ruffled Ashfirth’s hair; it had broken up the clouds and was pushing them across the sky—white sails scudding across blue. A gust caught the fruit trees and the branches waved.

Past the convent and orchard, the hillside sloped more steeply, it was thickly covered in bushes and scrub as it ran down to the sea. The sea was choppy, the waves flecked with foam. In the deeper waters, a striped red-and-white sail was slowly progressing from west to east in the same direction their ship would follow.

‘Brand, is that a Greek vessel?’

‘Can’t say at this distance, sir. It might be, but it could just as easily be Norman.’

‘That is my fear.’ Ashfirth heaved a sigh. There seemed to be rather too much Norman activity in these waters—the Emperor’s rule here was definitely under threat. He must make a report to that effect when they returned. ‘We will have to be circumspect.’

The port—and their own ships—lay at the end of a promontory that was bordered on one side by sea and on the other by salt marshes.

‘Do you think the Princess will make difficulties, sir?’

Those soft brown eyes came into Ashfirth’s mind and he shook his head. ‘She will know she cannot run for ever. By the time the month turns, Princess Theodora will be safely where she belongs, in the women’s quarters of the Great Palace.’

Brand gave him a straight look. ‘Before we left, people were muttering—taxes, rising prices. Are you expecting trouble when we get back, Commander?’

Ashfirth hesitated. His loyalty was to the Emperor, but he did not believe in keeping his men in the dark. And Brand spoke no less than the truth—when they left Constantinople, several disturbing rumours had been doing the rounds.

‘Rising prices are the least of it,’ he said. ‘There are those in the army talking of acclaiming a rival emperor.’

‘General Alexios Komnenos?’

‘The same.’ In Ashfirth’s private opinion, General Alexios would make a far better emperor than Nikephoros, who had grown old overnight and who seemed to have given up on government. The Empire needed a firm hand, particularly—Ash scowled at the red-and-white sails across the water—with so many Normans nibbling away at the boundaries.

‘General Alexios is not the only pretender to the throne, ‘ Brand said.

‘Apparently not. One way or another, a storm is looming.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Brand considered. ‘Rioting?’

Ashfirth grimaced. ‘It is possible.’ The price of wheat in the city had risen to such an extent that many were unable to afford it. Time was when the Emperor had handed out bread free to those who had need of it, but that had been years ago. The current Emperor, shut up in his palace, was blind to the needs of his citizens and his unpopularity was growing by the day. ‘Whatever happens our duty is clear. We are not there to control the populace, we serve the Emperor.’

And pray that he heeds the contents of my report. Ash wanted no repetition of the shocking incident that had taken place a couple of years ago, when a band of infuriated Varangians had actually attacked the Emperor they were meant to be protecting. It had happened before Ash’s promotion, and he was determined there would be no repetition, not while he was Commander. But he was aware there were rumblings of discontent even within the Guard.

‘Yes, Commander. We obey the Emperor, our loyalty is only to him.’

Ash nodded, but in truth he longed to serve a man who commanded more respect. It was something of a surprise that Emperor Nikephoros had clung to power for so long. Particularly when there were others in the army who were far more able. Ash had to admit that General Alexios headed the list.

Alexios Komnenos came from the military aristocracy. At twenty-four, the General had already done ten years’ service in the army. His record was impeccable, he had never lost a battle. What an Emperor General Alexios might make!

Abruptly, Ashfirth shook his head to clear it of such a disloyal thought. The Commander of the Varangian Guard must serve the Emperor he was sworn to. And Ashfirth had taken an oath to protect Emperor Nikephoros.

Hell, trouble is coming and I am sworn to a man who does not command my respect. A man who has yet to heed my advice. Ashfirth gazed bleakly at the cross on the dome of the church. He had sworn a holy oath and he would not break it. Come what may, he was the Emperor’s man.

‘Brand, the sooner we get Princess Theodora to the Great Palace, the better.’

A couple of hours later, Ashfirth and Brand were sitting on a low wall opposite the convent gate, a loaf and a wineskin between them.

Eyeing the position of the sun, Ash tossed his bread aside. For this meeting with the Princess he had thought it polite to remove the trappings of a warrior and don the clothes of a courtier. He had put aside his mailcoat and leather gambeson and was wearing a blue linen tunic. His cross-gartered chausses were tucked into his riding boots.

The gate creaked and slowly opened. Ash exchanged startled glances with his captain.

Surely this could not be the Princess already? Heavens! A woman who is only a few minutes late? And she…aprincess…how extraordinary.

He strode over, brushing crumbs from his tunic.

She was standing in the midst of her ladies-in-waiting. Doe Eyes. Lord, so many ladies, a grand woman. She is not going to like being commanded.

She was not tall, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Close to, her brown eyes were flecked with green lights. Ashfirth blinked. Something had changed. Her eyes were starkly outlined with some sort of black paint or cosmetic, he was confident they had not been before. The eyeliner made those beautiful eyes more noticeable. Oddly, the cosmetics had the effect of changing his perception of her. Before, he had received a fleeting impression of softness and vulnerability. It was not there now.

He was puzzling it out when those long lashes swept down. She had darkened her eyelashes, too, they appeared thicker and longer than when she had spoken to him through the convent grille. It was baffling how the cosmetics defined her eyes and drew his gaze, while at the same time they seemed to hide her. She looked mysterious and other worldly. Earlier, he had been conversing with a pretty young woman. Did she usually face the world from behind a painted mask?

Shame. I prefered the pretty woman.

But this, Ashfirth must remember, was the Princess, his opinion of her was irrelevant.

For her departure from St Mary’s, the rest of Princess Theodora’s face was almost entirely swathed in her veil. Her body was lost beneath the folds of a green silk cloak. She was slender, as far as he could judge, tiny and delicate. Gold glittered at her throat, in the threads of her veil, at her fingers and wrists.

‘Princess Theodora?’ Aware that he had been staring, Ashfirth bowed. Behind him, he could hear the men saluting, their coats of mail clinking.

‘Commander.’

He held out his hand. She would not like what he had to say. Ashfirth might have set aside his mailcoat, but he was painfully aware that he was no courtier to win her over with clever words. He would simply have to do his best.

Slim fingers lightly touched his. When he attempted to lead her away from her ladies, she pointedly withdrew her hand from his. It was not quite a snub, but it was close.

‘Despoina, will you walk this way? There are matters I would discuss with you.’

She gestured haughtily at one of the women. ‘Lady Anna, please attend me.’

Ashfirth cleared his throat. ‘My apologies, my lady, but what I have to say is for your ears alone.’

An arched brow lifted, the brown eyes searched his.

Ash found himself holding his breath. He was praying that she was not going to prove troublesome. He had his orders and he had hoped to execute them with courtesy—she was a princess—but after receiving a disturbing report in Dyrrachion this morning, he realised he might no longer have that luxury. If Princess Theodora became awkward, he might have to resort to force.

When she nodded, Ash breathed again.

‘Very well, Commander.’

She allowed him to lead her to one of the apple trees at the edge of the orchard. Her ladies remained by the convent gates, their silk veils fluttering in the breeze: pink, green, bronze. Bright as butterflies. One of the goats must have got into the convent again, Ashfirth could hear it bleating from over the wall. It sounded rather like a baby crying. The Princess must have heard it, too, because for a moment her attention wandered from him.

She sighed and then those dark, outlined eyes were looking expectantly at him. ‘Commander?’

‘Despoina, if you will forgive me, I must be blunt.’

‘Please, say what you must.’

Be courteous, she is a princess. Be tactful. Do not question her about her failure to respond to the Emperor’s letters.

‘When we arrived in Dyrrachion,’ Ash kept his voice low, confidential, ‘one of my troopers overheard a conversation in Norman French.’ He paused; she must be aware there had been Frankish incursions into Imperial territory in Apulia. She had been out of the Empire for some years, but surely even in Rascia word must have reached her about losses in Apulia?

She frowned, eyes bright and alert. Clever. She had heard. ‘You think they are spies, that the Normans have designs on Dyrrachion? How many were there?’

‘My men saw only two, my lady. We do not know what they are planning, but their presence here does concern me. Several Frankish ships have been sighted in these waters. It is vital we leave without fanfare, and because our Varangian galleys are so distinctive, I have reserved a Venetian merchantman for your use.’

Rings flashing, she waved at her entourage, at the pile of trunks and travelling chests that had been deposited next to her ladies-in-waiting. Brand was in their midst. Ash had asked him to discover which of the trunks belonged to the Princess so that they might be extracted from the rest, the baggage mules were waiting.

‘As you see, we are ready, Commander,’ she said, voice aloof.

Ashfirth cleared his throat and resisted the desire to shift the weight from his healing leg. ‘I am sorry to say this, my lady, but with your uncle’s enemies nearby, it is vital we leave as unobtrusively as possible.’

An immaculately plucked eyebrow rose.

‘It would not do—’ Ash pressed doggedly on ‘—for word to reach the Normans that the Emperor’s niece was seen boarding a ship bound for the capital.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Your entourage is too large. So many ladies are bound to attract attention.’

‘Commander, my ladies-in-waiting accompany me everywhere. Surely you are not telling me I cannot take my ladies…that…that I must travel alone with you?’ Her voice was high, incredulous.

Spoilt, of course. Used to getting her own way. A pang of something that felt surprisingly like disappointment shot through him. Spoilt. Ash held down a sigh and reminded himself that he was dealing with a member of the Imperial family. This woman had spent much of her life in a foreign court where a Greek princess was bound to have been seen as a rare treasure. Her every whim would have been granted. It had probably been years since she had been denied anything.

And Ash did not like the tone in which she had asked if she must travel alone with him—as though he were some kind of monster.

‘I am not saying that your ladies may not travel to Constantinople, despoina. All I am saying is that they may not travel on your ship. I would suggest that they follow us in the Varangian galley in a couple of days’ time. My captain, Brand, will accompany them. You need not concern yourself about their safety—Brand is my best man.’

Her chin inched up and her veil slipped to reveal a pretty mouth; it was set in a very determined line. ‘It is not their safety that concerns me.’

In the face of such arrogance, Ash could only stare. ‘My lady—’

‘I do not travel alone.’

The veil slipped a little further, and she drew it back over her face. It was then that he noticed her hand was trembling.

The Princess was nervous? When she glanced sideways at his men, Ash realised he was right—Princess Theodora was nervous.

He looked down at her dispassionately. Did his men frighten her? The Varangian Guard were famed the world over for being ruthless warriors, but she must know they would never harm her.

Hell, we came for her in full battle regalia. He had had no choice. To do otherwise, when Normans were hanging around the nearby port, would have been foolhardy in the extreme.

Ash became conscious of an unsettled feeling in his core and realised he was weakening towards her. It was likely that this woman never took a step without her ladies. Was he asking too much?

It was also becoming painfully clear that he was not as well equipped for executing this commission as he had hoped. His experience in dealing with princesses was non-existent. This was the first time he had addressed one face-to-face—if face-to-face was the right way to describe a conversation with someone so heavily veiled that most of her features were hidden. Be that as it may, he clearly could not expect her to travel alone with him. ‘You may choose one lady-in-waiting to come with you on the merchantman, ‘ he said.

Relief sprang into her eyes, the darkened lashes lowered. There was a pause, then.

‘Thank you.’

Then her lashes lifted and Ash felt a distinct jolt. He was taken by a most inappropriate urge to examine that pretty, determined mouth; it was a struggle to keep his eyes politely on hers.

‘And you say you plan to accompany me in the merchantman, Commander?’

‘Yes.’

‘As for my other ladies—can you assure me that they will follow in the Varangian galley?’

‘Indeed.’ Ash smiled, and offered her his arm. It was a relief when she laid her fingers on his sleeve. ‘From now on, we shall have to be careful how we address you.’

‘Oh?’

‘It is important that no one realises who you are.’

For some reason her eyes widened and she bit her lip. ‘I see.’

‘So with your permission, my lady, from this moment I shall refer to you simply as Lady Theodora. Will that be agreeable?’

‘I…yes.’

‘Which of your ladies will you choose to take with you?’

‘Lady Anna, I should like Lady Anna to accompany me.’

Ashfirth nodded and looked her up and down. ‘My lady, there is another matter I feel we should discuss before we leave. Your clothing.’

‘My clothing?’ A small hand stroked down her silken skirt. ‘What is wrong with my clothing?’

‘Can you ride in that gown? In that veil? Are they not too fine?’

Her doe eyes went wide. ‘Ride?’ She swallowed. ‘Commander, I. I do not ride.’

Ashfirth went stock-still. Behind that veil she had definitely lost colour. She cannot ride? Whoever heard of a princess who could not ride? Was she afraid of horses? And why the devil had no one thought fit to inform him of that fact? ‘You don’t ride?’

She glanced briefly towards her ladies, as though searching for help. Her chin inched up. ‘No, Commander, I do not.’

Swallowing a curse, Ash fought to keep his expression neutral and his tone polite. ‘I see. And what about Lady Anna—does Lady Anna ride?’

‘Yes, she has her own horse.’

‘But you do not.’

‘No.’

‘My lady, I do not wish to cause you undue alarm, but we ought to set out as soon as possible. And since the path down to the bridge is too precipitate to accommodate a cart or wagon, you will have to ride with me.’

She lifted her fingers from his arm, gold bracelets flashed. ‘You brought no litter?’

‘No. My lady, I do apologise, but you will have to ride with me.’

Chapter Three

The beginning of the ride to the port was a nightmare. She was practically in his lap, shaking from head to toe. Has he noticed?

Commander Ashfirth had said the path to the bridge was steep and he had not lied—on one side the land fell sharply to the sea. Spiky rocks were poking up through the water like the claws of some titanic monster fighting free of Poseidon’s net. And Katerina was sitting precariously on a horse. A horse. Her pulse raced.

Horses terrified her and from the outset her mind only had room for fear. Ever since Katerina had been a child, horses had worried her, and her fear had been compounded by her experiences on the slave-ship. For much of that most terrible of voyages she had been chained close to the slavers’ horses. There had been a storm and.

She did not like to remember. For years she had kept her memories locked away. But now, for the first time in her life, here she was on a horse herself.

On a horse in the arms of Commander Ashfirth, to be precise. The horse was black, like his hair. A stallion. She had heard him call it Caesar. It was huge. Unfortunately, being forced to ride this great black beast had brought back memories she would rather forget.

Darkness. Flashes of lightning. Waves crashing down on her. Thunder. The taste of salt on her tongue. The thirst. Men screaming; ropes straining, cracking like whips. Flailing hoofs. Blood…a dead slave …

Katerina forced herself to take slow, calming breaths.

Forget about Caesar. Commander Ashfirth knows how to handle him. This horse will not get out of control like those on the slave-ship. Caesar will not kick out, or rear up, or…

Forget about being on a horse.

It wasn’t easy. The path was narrow, little more than a goat-run. On the one side there were those jagged rocks in the water, and on the other the scree-covered hill that sloped up to St Mary’s. If Katerina shifted, ever so slightly, she could see the last of the convent walls, the trees in the orchard, the goats.

Even though she had scarcely moved, the Commander’s grip on her tightened. He had one arm round her waist, the other held the reins. Casually. As though it were nothing to him to have her up before him while he controlled the great stallion.

Behind them Lady Anna was on her grey mare, Zephyr. Lady Anna was a competent rider; like the Commander, she was entirely at ease, smiling, tossing back the odd remark to Commander Ashfirth’s manservant. The thin track was forcing them to ride in single file, and Hrodric—the Commander’s manservant—was immediately behind Lady Anna. He had one of the pack animals on a leading rein.

Lady Anna was actually laughing. Laughing. It didn’t seem to have occurred to her that if she fell, those boulders on the hillside would cut her to ribbons. Katerina hardly dared move. Still, it was a relief to see Lady Anna smile. Lady Anna was not in the habit of confiding in Katerina, but Katerina had received the distinct impression that Lady Anna shared Princess Theodora’s reluctance to return to Constantinople—she had heard her mutter something about not wanting to see her father. Now that was an emotion Katerina could understand.

One of Caesar’s hoofs sent a stone rattling down the hill. Katerina stifled a moan. I must remember my dignity at all times, I am meant to be the Princess.

But oh, everything was going horribly wrong. Already.

Several ladies were meant to be travelling with her, all of whom had sworn to help her, to cover up when she made a mistake. But he was insistent that the other ladies—and that included the Princess—were to travel on the Varangian galley.

What could she do? She had not been born to command, and this man had his reasons for insisting she travelled separately from the entourage. In any case, whatever she said, it was unlikely he would listen.

Katerina’s fingers dug into the front edge of the saddle; she was gripping it so hard the white of her bones could be seen. It was bad enough that she should have to impersonate the Princess when the whole entourage was on hand to help her, but to be made to travel with just one lady! Holy Mother, help me …

She could feel him at her back. Warm. Strong. He had removed his body armour for the ride back to the port because he wanted no one to realise he was a Varangian. They were to travel under false colours.

If only he knew.

Nevertheless, the fact that he had removed his body armour was a mercy, otherwise that coat of chainmail would have torn Princess Theodora’s silk gown to shreds. Her mistress had generously given it to her. Katerina had hoped that, in a few weeks, when she had carried out her orders and had truly earned it, the gown would still be in one piece. She had never worn such a delicate gown, had never dreamed it might be hers.

Below, the rocks were still clawing their way out of the sea. Katerina’s heart thumped. She looked swiftly away and forced her mind elsewhere.

Who could have imagined that repaying her debt to the Princess would become so complicated so soon? I must remember that if all goes well I will have wealth as well as land of my own. When this is over, I must ask the Princess if the land can be somewhere other than Crete, I have no wish to return home. Dear Lord, for the Princess’s sake, let me succeed. Do not let the Commander find me out.

The Princess had ordered her to act as though she were a princess. And on the voyage to Constantinople, Ashfirth Saxon wanted her to play the part of a princess pretending to be a noblewoman. And if that were not enough, she must not forget that as far as the sailors were concerned, Ashfirth Saxon was a rich merchant.

‘My lady,’ he had said. ‘From this moment you cannot address me as “Commander". I am Ashfirth Saxon.’

What a nightmare! By the end of the voyage, I will surely be insane.

A seagull screeched past a foot above their heads. The stallion snorted and tossed his black mane.

A whimper escaped. I am doing this for the Princess, for baby Martina.

Commander Ashfirth’s hand came to rest on hers.

‘My lady, you are quite safe.’

Safe? I am in your arms, how can I be safe? You are a man; you are Commander of the Varangian Guard; you are not Greek, you were not even born in the Empire. You are a barbarian.

Relax. He believes you to be the Princess, you will be safe.

Katerina shot another look towards the sea and the pointy rocks, and almost moaned aloud. Quickly, she brought her gaze level with the path, and hung on for dear life.

Her veil fluttered, it had to be blowing in his face.

‘Excuse me, my lady.’ Releasing her, Commander Ashfirth reached out and caught at the fabric. There was a slight pull on her scalp as he matter of factly twisted it into a rope and pushed it over her shoulder. She said nothing. Since she wasn’t about to let go of the edge of the saddle, it was an intimacy she must forgive him. His arm came back round her, her body was pulled snug against his.

‘Too steep,’ she muttered, ‘it is too steep here.’ And you are too close.

Commander Ashfirth’s saddle had clearly not been designed with two people in mind, but to give him his due, he had attempted to cushion it for her. He had called for a thick woollen blanket, but the wool was coarse and her thighs itched.

My legs are showing. It is not very dignified. He must realise I am not the Princess, he must …

Another sideways glance at the sea below had panic bubble up inside.

‘Relax, my lady,’ his deep voice murmured. ‘The path levels off shortly, the marshes are only a little way ahead and it is flat there.’

His thighs were enclosing hers. As she glanced at them, her sense of panic intensified. Before she had been trembling, now she was rigid. Old terrors. She had feared this might happen.

Distract yourself. He is a barbarian, but he will not hurt you. You are the Princess.

His chausses were grey, made from linen of a particularly fine and even weave. The best quality. The muscles of his thighs were taut and firm. Quickly, she looked away.

The horse swayed on down the path. Katerina had no stirrups, there was nothing except the Commander to prevent her from slipping sideways. What if she fell? Would he think the less of her if she grabbed hold of his knee?

Talk to him, distract yourself. Remember your dignity.

Katerina cleared her throat and said the first thing that came into her head.

‘Command—’ hastily she corrected herself ‘—sir, I did not realise Varangians possessed horses.’

‘Not all of us do. As you are aware, we are primarily foot soldiers, but those of us who can afford it keep horses.’

When he spoke, it was with the easy confidence of a man sure of his place in the world. Through the fabric of her twisted-up veil, his breath was warm on the back of her head. ‘I see. Sir, there is something I would like you to explain.’

‘My lady, I am entirely at your service.’

‘You said that we are in a hurry because Normans have been seen in Dyrrachion?’

‘Yes. I suspect they are scouting for weaknesses in the city defences, but I cannot be certain. However, Normans are opportunists and I am determined they must have no inkling of who you are.’

‘You fear they are spies, sir?’

She felt him nod. ‘It seems likely.’

‘And this is why you must spirit me away with a reduced escort?’

Another nod. ‘Exactly. The ship I have reserved for you is less ostentatious than our galley. My hope is that the world will see us as prosperous traders. That is why I am taking only half of my men on the first boat. We shall, of course, conceal our arms and uniforms. Captain Brand and the other men will escort your ladies, and they will be prominently armed, as befitting the escort of a princess.’

‘Can I not persuade you to let more of my entourage travel with me?’ Katerina did not like to beg, but it would bolster her confidence to have more of the ladies about her.

‘I am afraid not. Captain Brand has been ordered to make much fanfare when your women and their servants embark on the galley. What with their baggage and so forth, I am in hopes that he will spin it out for a couple of days.’

‘Thus distracting attention from us?’

‘Exactly. With the size of your entourage, there will be no doubt that someone of great importance is setting out for the capital. Captain Brand’s ship will be taken for the Imperial galley and in the meantime ours will have slipped away unnoticed.’

A cold sweat broke out on Katerina’s brow. Saint Titus, help me, Commander Ashfirth intends to use the second ship as a decoy! But it will be no decoy, not with the real Princess on board!

Think, Katerina, think. If the Norman scouts in Dyrrachion are truly the Emperor’s enemies, and they hear that the Princess is on that second ship, what might they do?

Would they try to capture her and demand a ransom? Would they dare?

She kept her voice light, admiring. ‘How clever. In making a decoy of your galley, no one will notice ours.’

‘That is my hope.’

Heart like lead, Katerina stared between the stallion’s ears. The track had levelled off to a little above sea level, they were approaching the bridge across the marshes.

What would the Commander think if he knew that his strategy, far from ensuring the safety of the Princess, was actually putting her in the path of danger?

The Princess! Somehow I must warn her.

‘Sir, when will our vessel cast off?’

‘As soon as Captain Brand and your entourage arrive at the port. Within the hour.’

Within the hour.

Lord, no sooner had she begun to repay her debt to the Princess than she was in such a tangle she could scarcely unravel it. Somehow, before the hour was up, Katerina must get a message to her.

Princess Theodora must be warned of these new dangers.

The chance didn’t come until after Commander Ashfirth had escorted Katerina and Lady Anna onto the trader.

Katerina had not been in a ship since the slavers had dragged her, with chains clanking at her wrists and feet, on to theirs. The contrast between the courteous way the Commander handed her aboard this time, and the way the slavers had treated her four years ago couldn’t have been more marked. Nevertheless, that hated memory was hard to dispel. Her mouth was dry, her heartbeat erratic. And yet she must pretend all was well, she must present a calm face to the world.

And above all, I must get a message to my mistress.

As she gazed about the deck, she felt his eyes on her. He watched her constantly, or one of his men did. Was he suspicious? Please, Lord, let him accept me as the Princess.

An awning was rigged up near the stern and a giant of a guardsman directed her to it. Another barbarian from outside the Empire, the man’s Viking ancestry was obvious. Long blond hair was tied back in a sheepskin ribbon, his beard was ruddy. The arms revealed by his sleeveless leather tunic were scarred and roped with enough muscle to wrestle a lion and win. This Hercules of a man might have discarded his mailcoat, his axe might be secreted away, but Katerina had no doubt that the sword thrust into his belt was razor sharp. His eyes were at odds with his scarred, brawler’s body; they were a gentle grey.

‘Lady Theodora, since the weather is set fair, you may use this as your quarters,’ the blond Hercules said. His Greek was not as fluent as the Commander’s, but it was adequate. And clearly he had been briefed as to how to address her. He bowed her in under the awning. ‘Unless you would prefer to go below decks?’

Katerina shook her head. ‘Below? My thanks, but I much prefer to be up here. This will suit me very well. ‘

‘Co…Ashfirth asked me to tell you that in here you may be assured of your privacy.’

‘Thank you.’ She looked warily at him. In recent years Katerina had kept men at a distance, but this Viking’s eyes told her she need have no fear of him. ‘What is your name?’

‘Toki, my lady. Toki Fairhead.’ He leaned towards her and lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘I am a sergeant.’

‘Thank you, Toki.’

When the sergeant continued to hover in the doorway, it dawned on her that he was watching for her reaction. She made a show of looking about her. It was shady under the awning, and protected from the breeze. There were flaps on either side of the opening that could be released and tied shut, like a door. When they were closed it would be like living in a tent, a spacious pavilion of a tent.

Some effort had been expended to make her quarters comfortable. A pallet was made up with creamy linens, and the travelling chest that the Princess had given her was already in place, pushed to one side. A goatskin rug had been spread on the boards, and a brass ewer and jug rested in a corner.

‘Thank you, Toki, this is most satisfactory.’ As she spoke, the Commander’s manservant shouldered his way in with another pallet, doubtless for Lady Anna.

‘It won’t be what you are used to,’ the sergeant said gruffly, ‘but it will only be for a short time.’

Katerina smiled. Princess Theodora had been the most considerate of mistresses. Since being freed by the Princess and offered the choice of becoming her maidservant, Katerina had never had to sleep on the floor, she had always had a pallet. But space for herself and just one other? Privacy such as this? Never.

‘Toki, these quarters are perfect. Where is Lady Anna?’

‘With the horses.’

She managed not to grimace. ‘When she has finished there, would you please send her to me?’

Sergeant Toki bowed himself out, and it was not long before Lady Anna ducked through the opening.

‘You wanted to speak to me?’ Lady Anna’s voice was tight, Katerina hoped she did not resent being summoned. It was possible.

Not only does Lady Anna regret being sent home, but she is a noblewoman. Every time she looks at me, she sees a Cretan villager who was once a slave. Is she affronted by being asked to treat me as if I were the Princess? I shall have to tread carefully, if I am not to alienate her.

‘Lady Anna—’

‘Ashfirth Saxon’s man, Hrodric, explained matters to me. You had best call me Anna, as the Princess did,’ Lady Anna said, taking a seat on one of the pallets. ‘And I suppose I had better get used to calling you “my lady".’

Katerina gave a swift headshake. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary. Ashfirth Saxon may know that you and the Princess are on the best of terms. I have often heard you call her Theodora, perhaps you should call me that for the time being—it will seem more natural.’

Lady Anna lifted her shoulders. ‘As you wish. When we are being informal, Theodora it shall be.’ Her eyes were shrewd. ‘Was that all you wanted to say? I have to tell you that I am doing this for Theodora, for the real Theodora. If you think to use this as an excuse to order me about, you can think again.’

‘That is far from my mind,’ Katerina said, firmly. Saints, my task will be impossible if Lady Anna decides to take against me. However, back at the convent there hadn’t been time to think of everything; she must make the best of it. ‘Like you, I wish to help the Princess.’

‘The Princess was generous, I hear she gave you a casket of jewels. Is it true she has also promised you land?’

‘Yes, it’s true, but even without these gifts I want to repay the Princess for her kindness to me. That is why I called for you a moment ago—I would not have done so were it not important.’

Lady Anna nodded. ‘Hurry up then, I want to get back to Zephyr. What did you have to say?’

‘Can you write?’

Lady Anna blinked. ‘Write?’

‘We have to get a message to the Princess, and I think it best if Ashfirth Saxon is kept in the dark.’

Lady Anna’s haughtiness fell away, her eyes widened. She touched Katerina’s hand. ‘A secret message? Why, what on earth has happened?’

‘Anna, can you write? I can read, but my name is the only thing I can write.’

‘Yes, I can write. Tell me, Ka-Theodora, tell me! What has happened?’

As soon as Anna understood what was happening and that Princess Theodora—the real Princess Theodora—might be in danger should she sail in the other ship; as soon as she understood that Commander Ashfirth intended using the Varangian galley as a decoy for their merchantman, it took moments for her to unearth a quill and ink and letter a carefully worded message.

‘How do we get it to her?’ Anna asked, waving the parchment in the air to dry it.

Lifting the canvas flap, Katerina peered outside. As she suspected, the Commander stood nearby. He and his sergeant, Toki, were looking up at the mast. She bit her lip. Those turquoise eyes missed nothing. ‘I can scarcely march through the port with it myself, our…guard is bound to notice. And we cannot ask any of his men. Perhaps one of the sailors might be persuaded to take it. I don’t think they answer to him.’

Anna nodded. ‘I’ll do it.’ Tucking the roll of parchment out of sight beneath her veil, she went out on to the deck.

Some half an hour later, Katerina was leaning against the ship’s guardrail, ostensibly watching crates of Venetian glass being offloaded. In truth, she was gazing at the Varangian galley moored in the deeper water on the next quay. With the Varangians’ shields mounted along the gunwale, it was unquestionably a ship of war. Katerina looked at the barbaric shields and shuddered. Dragons and wolves snarled at each other from the brightly painted limewood; rams clashed with bulls; ravens flew over whales.

As the Commander had planned, every eye in the port was on that Varangian galley.

And this was the vessel in which the Princess must sail!

The message had been sent. Lady Anna had bribed one of the sailors with a gold coin Katerina had unearthed from a purse at the bottom of the Princess’s trunk.

Yes, matters were apparently proceeding exactly as Commander Ashfirth had ordered. The second party had arrived from the convent some minutes ago, Katerina could see the Imperial entourage milling about on the Varangian ship.

They hadn’t needed heralds to announce them. If there were Norman spies in Dyrrachion, they wouldn’t be able to miss them. Rich gowns bellied out in the breeze, laughter rang out above the gulls as the sea breeze blew veils out like pennons. Fishermen stared, porters goggled. Against the mailcoats and leather jerkins of their escort, against the drab sun-bleached clothes of the sailors, the silk gowns of the ladies-in-waiting looked as bright as poppies waving delicately at the edge of a field.

Katerina felt as though she had swallowed a stone. It was too late to regret taking part in this scheme, but the Princess would put it right, the Princess would know what to do. She had to!

Much as the Princess wanted to delay her marriage to Duke Nikolaos, surely when she read the letter she must realise their plan had become unworkable? Even now—Katerina cast a surreptitious glance in Commander Ashfirth’s direction—it was not too late to confess all. If the Princess were to board this ship and admit to the truth, Commander Ashfirth must accept it.

He was standing amidships. He chose that moment to glance across and as their eyes met, Katerina’s stomach clenched. It was odd how her body reacted when she looked at him; she felt a tightening in her stomach, a shiver of…what? It must be the old fear, but she was no longer certain.

Was this fear? It must be. And yet…he had held her in his arms on the ride from the convent and, though she had been wary of him, he had behaved impeccably. Of course, he would not hurt her, not while he believed her to be the Princess. She had thought his touch would distress her, but it had not; when he had looped back her veil she had felt perfectly safe.

A lock of his dark hair lifted in the breeze; his eyes seemed to bore right into her. Out of his body armour, Commander Ashfirth was startlingly attractive. His shoulders were wide, his waist narrow. Commander Ashfirth had none of the bulk of Sergeant Toki, but she suspected he had all of the strength. It was there in his confident stance, in the alertness of his gaze, in the way his men jumped to his command. When a dark eyebrow lifted, Katerina realised she had been staring.

Flushing, she nodded to him and returned to her contemplation of the Varangian galley. Please, Princess, please. If you will not put an end to this, at the least let me know that the message has reached you, that you know to take care …

‘Theodora?’ Lady Anna had torn herself away from the horses and had come to stand at her elbow.

‘Anna?’

‘I am sorry, ‘ Lady Anna’s voice was so low Katerina could barely hear it above the rumble of cartwheels on the dockside. ‘That Viking…oh, Lord…he spotted our sailor and …’ Her voice trailed off and she jerked her head in the direction of the quay where the Varangian galley was moored.

Katerina’s stomach gave a sick lurch. Sergeant Toki was stalking towards their ship, the parchment crushed in his fist. Some straw from one of the packing cases was wafting across the dock; he strode straight through it.

Oh, no!

And there stood Princess Theodora amidst the bright, sparkling flutter that was her ladies. The Princess was affecting carelessness as baby Martina, snug in Lady Sophia’s arms, was being clucked over by an enormous Varangian with legs like tree trunks.

Had the message been intercepted before or after it had been delivered?

Katerina bit her lip. Commander Ashfirth was by the handrail, head tipped to one side as he watched his sergeant’s approach. No more than curious yet.

Holy Virgin, this was not good.

Katerina’s heartbeat quickened; she wanted to wave at the Princess, to jump up and down and catch her eye. Had she read the letter before it was intercepted? Katerina had to know.

With a frown, Commander Ashfirth pushed away from the handrail and went to meet his sergeant. His eyebrows became a black line. The sergeant pointed, first at the galley, then at Katerina. There was a brief exchange of words and the parchment exchanged hands. And then Commander Ashfirth was striding towards her, the heels of his boots loud on the deck.

‘Lady Theodora?’

Katerina stood tall. The look in those turquoise eyes alarmed her, the set of his mouth was unyielding. She cleared her throat. Her mouth was dry with fear, but she would die before he knew it. ‘Sir?’

His jaw clenched as he took her arm above the elbow. It was not a gentle grip.

Heart banging like fury, Katerina lifted a brow. She glanced loftily down at the hand on her elbow, as though startled that he had dared to touch her. React as a real princess would react.

‘Really, sir!’ She was pleased with the way her voice came out. Shocked. Indignant. With a small hint of outrage.

It had no effect. The Commander’s fingers tightened like steel, and she was swivelled towards the canvas shelter.

Anna made a movement as though to come to her aid. Hastily, Katerina shook her head.

‘This way, my lady,’ Commander Ashfirth spoke through gritted teeth.

Strong fingers bit into her as she was hauled towards the pavilion and unceremoniously bundled inside.

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