by Sam Taw
My nephew caught my attention, pointing to the leather straps nailed to the inner edges of the vessel. He gestured for me to slip my hand through the loop and hold on tight. I nodded my understanding and grabbed Jago first, attaching him by the wrist while he was sick. He hardly even noticed. Brea couldn’t fight the swell any longer, she stood next to my slave and together they heaved dry bile.
With my tin nuggets in my pockets, and my medicine kit containing my knives wrapped around my body, I clung to the leather strap and held on for dear life. The next dip in the waves tipped us on a steep angle to the left. A bundle containing our food slid across the planks towards the hull, where a disturbing amount of sea water gathered.
With fumbling speed, I unhooked my hand from the loop and hurled myself across the short distance, until I was sprawled on my belly. Reaching out for the parcel, I felt the sharp stab of my knives digging into my ribs. One wrong move and I would impale myself on my own blades. I tried to push my upper body up to a kneeling position, but the craft tipped further, crushing me against my kit bag.
Just when I thought I would have to surrender our food and water bladders to the ocean, a new wave caught us in an upward lift, thrusting me back towards the bow. The food tumbled back into my arms, allowing me to reattach my wrist in the loop for safety. Gods be praised I thought my gut would be ripped asunder. Sweating with shock and relief, I lashed my kit bag and food bundle to another loop away from my body. Providing the vessel stayed afloat, my knives and herbs will remain on board, even if our food is soaked in salt water.
Tallack barked more orders to his men, some of whom bailed the liquid from the hull. Every one of them pulled in the oars and stowed them along the edges of the long boat. It seemed to me that we were at a disadvantage compared to those in the smaller crafts. This great monster of a ship that Tallack traded for struggled to compensate for the moving peaks and troughs of the rolling waves, where the smaller vessels were nimbler.
Still, my nephew seemed to have its measure. He knew his ship’s limitations well. With the weight of his whole body against the tiller, he steered us along the edge of the storm, keeping the lashing rain and forked lightning to the right of us.
How long we could stay in this position, I could not tell. The storm looked to be heading closer to us, with Frynkish shores at its tail end. One way or another, we would have to endure its wrath. If we stayed still, it would blow in our direction. If we steered into the wind, it could knock us off course and shatter the ship from under us.
As old as I am, I desperately needed to hear some reassuring words that my nephew had experience of such a vast storm, but he was against the breeze. I could barely hear him calling out to his men. Keeping my eyes trained on our leader, I hoped that he would eventually notice me in the bow, shivering and soaked through with the salt spray, and give me a sign that all would be well. There was none. He caught my eye for a moment, but his expression was grave. I held on even tighter to my leather strap, checking every so often that Jago was still aboard and attached to the side. With more hollering from their leader, the men slipped their ankles into more leather loops. The storm had arrived.
Thrown into darkness, the clouds blocked out the sun’s weak rays, stopping us from seeing our reference points and preventing us from charting our course. For all we knew, we could be heading back to Dumnoni lands, or pushed out to the never-ending sea at the edge of the world beyond Iwerdon. Jago sat back down, having nothing left inside to hurl. Brea remained standing, clutching the side of the boat with white knuckles and screaming between retches. There was nothing left to be done but pray to the Goddess of Lakes and Seas to protect us from harm.
If our vessel capsized, we might lose more than our lives. Our entire tin supply extracted and refined over the last few moons were in these boats. Our tribe were relying on us to return with copper and possibly grain. I’m so glad that I hid the long sword from the midsummer gathering in a secure place within the mining community back on land, but I cannot help but wonder if this storm was sent by Cernonnus to punish me for not awarding it to our Metern as I had promised. How could I give it to one nephew and not the other?
Jago looked to me as though all his nightmares were revisiting him during his wakeful state. He shook so violently, he rattled against my legs in our cramped position. It was crossing this stretch of water where he first met the Frynkish girl who became his wife. Her sacrifice killed something inside him. The joy of life left him the moment her throat was slashed. I guessed that it gave him little comfort to know that those who took her life met the same fate.
More men bailed out the water from the boat, some with their cupped hands, others with beakers and jugs but it was not enough. The waves crashed against the front and sides in massive eruptions of white spray, covering the tin ingots and laying us low in the water and at greater risk of sinking. I should have untethered myself to help them, but fear froze me to my seat in the bow.
The roar of the sea as it pounded against the planking, coupled with the ear-splitting cracks of thunder over our heads, compounded my terror. How were we to fight against such angry gods as these? I was sure that the storm would continue to ravage us until it had taken at least one of our lives, if not all of them.
All I could do was fix on Tallack’s face and wait to see a flicker of hope. He and one of his crew now wrestled with the helm, steering us into the oncoming force of the next wave. His expression did not alter once. His teeth gritted, he pulled back on the tiller while his crewman pushed against the force on the rudder. Every part of his crew and the ship were drenched in salt water or sweat. The wind howled, the thunder echoed and the lightning strikes were getting perilously close.
I had no idea whether the rest of the smaller boats were still afloat. With our tin spread across all of the vessels, there was still a chance that one or two would make it through unharmed. As it was, I feared for our lives more than theirs, since our mast was by far the tallest, and most likely to make contact with the light spears of Cernonnus.
“Fur Benyn, we are going to die on this wretched ship.” Jago cried, grasping my arm with his free hand. I had no words of comfort for the boy, as I believed that he could be right. Was this a result of withholding the sword, or from my mistake over accusing the Lady Eseld of murder? The thought cast a new shadow on our plight. If I untethered my arm and let Cernonnus take me for my sins, would he let my nephew and his crew live?
My fears remained, but the notion that I could perhaps save them all remained. I unhooked my wrist from my leather strap, closed my eyes and sent a word of prayer unto the gods. “If this is truly your wish, god of gods, then take me but leave my kin alone.”
The moment I completed my prayer to Cernonnus, I opened my eyes to see Jago’s look of abject horror. His extended arm pointed to the spot where Brea had stood only moments before. She was gone. In the turmoil, no one noticed a giant splash against the side of the boat which knocked Brea off her feet and into the ocean. I threw myself against the side, and felt Jago clutching my ankle lest I should follow her over board.
“Tallack!” I yelled, but my voice was lost among the crashing noise. I could see him straining to hold onto the tiller as another swell grew beneath us, raising us high into the air. I stared into the depths at my side, looking for signs that she was still alive.
A tiny fraction of my mind rejoiced. She was gone from our lives and justice was served in a most violent manner. Aebba the Wild was avenged at last. He was free to ascend to the Summerlands, to sit by the side of his ancestors and greatest warriors of all time. Peace would come to our tribe and a new era could begin in earnest. As these and a few guilty thoughts crossed my mind, I saw her head bobbing beneath us, as she clung to a rope attached to the bow.
Brea lived, but without our help to bring her on board, it would not be for long. The question remained; should Jago and I save her life knowing that she would bring misery and further heartache to my kin, or let her drown in the storm? I turned to f
ace my slave. “She lives.” I said it in as quiet a voice as I could manage. Not that Tallack’s men would be particularly bothered by her plight, for none so much as acknowledged her presence on board.
“Please, Fur Benyn. You must let fate take its course.” He begged me, still holding my leg to prevent my own tragedy.
I peered down at her, coughing, spluttering and shouting for help. She was a pitiful sight. It was a wicked way to die, with lungs burning and fit to burst from lack of air. My indecision filled me with dread.
CHAPTER SIX
It was no use. My guilt over the Lady Eseld already kept me awake at nights, having Brea’s death on my hands was more than I could take. Without thinking it through fully, I leaned across and took hold of the rope secured at the bow end. Kneeling against the furthest reaches, I began to pull in the line.
“You can’t, Fur Benyn. She will not rest until we are dead. You must not rescue her.” Jago pleaded, but there was one thing he failed to realise. Tallack would ask why we did nothing to save his woman. We had no idea if he or his men had seen her go over, and I couldn’t bear the thought of his disgust at my failure. If Brea was to die, it would not be from my lack of trying to save her.
“Give me a hand, Jago. We are not killers. We will not sink to her level.” At the time, I failed to see the humour in what I’d said. He sulked and cast his eyes down, but ultimately helped me to pull in the line. Brea dipped below the surface several times as we reeled her in. Choking and wheezing through the rough water, it took all our strength to pull her onto the boat and not get sucked up in the smashing waves ourselves.
Drenched through and coughing up ocean dregs, she lay on the planks of the hull emptying her lungs. Jago was beside himself with renewed grief. She was alive and seething with anger. We both knew where she would direct that force and how we might suffer as a consequence. At no point during the storm, did she thank us for her rescue.
It was some time before the black clouds began to fade and the thunder trundled away towards home. The pitching and rolling continued for quite a while. Tallack ordered one of his crew to take a turn with the tiller, while he rested in the stern.
Brea’s mood failed to lighten. She glowered with ominous intent, and without a single word of appreciation to Jago and me. It was then I started to wish that I’d taken Jago’s advice. The gods had every right to claim her life for all that she’d done to my tribe. I shouldn’t have interfered, but my former good judgement appears to have left me of late.
By nightfall, Tallack clambered over his crewmen to the front of the ship to speak with us. I unwrapped my soggy food bundle and offered him a strip of dried rabbit. He declined, and instead threw his arms about me and squeezed tight.
“I saw what you did, Aunt. You never cease to amaze me.” Pulling away he kissed my head, and then offered his hand to Jago in a forearm clasp of friendship. My slave was puzzled at first, misunderstanding my nephew’s intentions. I demonstrated the hold on myself, folding my lower arms over each other and grasping above my wrists with each hand. Frowning, Jago moved with caution, until Tallack could complete his gesture of friendship and gratitude.
“You are both braver than I ever gave you credit for and I thank you.” Tallack looked at Brea with a beaming smile, expecting her to follow his example. She looked less impressed by our efforts, returning his grin with something like a pout.
“I seriously thought we’d lost you, Brea. Are you fully recovered from your ordeal?” He said to her, frowning at her attitude.
“Not in the slightest. I am exhausted and scared. I think I should spend the night at the stern with you.” She feigned weakness, allowing her knees to buckle underneath her so that she fell onto his torso. Tallack caught her and led her to the back of the ship. Before I could get another word in, she looked over her shoulder at me and narrowed her eyes in warning.
Hateful girl. It wasn’t my fault that she ended up over the side. Now I wished she’d drowned.
To add insult to injury, Jago piped up with, “I told you so, Fur Benyn.”
Rolling my eyes at him, I snarled, “Just eat your rabbit and mind your tongue,” but I have to admit, the boy was right to chide me. Rather than using the experience to let matters drop, or to smooth over our relationship difficulties, she was intent on making things between us worse. I thought at the time that maybe Jago and I should run away together when we reached Frynkish shores and let the lot of them be damned.
The night under cold wet furs was long and excessively uncomfortable. When dawn broke, I was overjoyed to see that the other boats had made it through the storm alongside us. The wind had lessened so much, it was no use in moving us forward. Tallack gave the crew time to eat and then ordered them to reposition the oars and row. The waves still peaked, slapping us sideways for every length we managed to achieve in a southerly direction. Tallack did his best to correct our course, but against such forceful currents, even I knew that we would be much further along the Frynkish coast than planned.
When the sun reached its highest point in the winter sky, we first caught sight of land. The men cheered, breaking open the ale in an early celebration. I sipped at what was left of our fresh water, sharing the last bladder with Jago. The cheese we’d brought with us was little more than a milky fluid with jelly lumps stuck to the cloth wrapping. I emptied it overboard. It looked too much like the contents of Brea’s guts for me to eat.
Finally, we were close enough to row into port. The sun broke through the clouds and thawed out my chilly bones. Tallack ventured to the front of the boat to speak with me before we made harbour. His fingers were interlocked in front of him and he wore that infuriating pleading look that I recognised from when he was a small child. He knew how to get around his old aunt, showering me with compliments and wild flowers to get me to sway Aebba’s mind over something the twins wanted to do, but that he had forbidden.
From the moment I saw that face, I guessed what he was going to ask of me. I braced myself, sighing loudly in preparation.
“Aunt Mel, please can Brea come with you to the markets? She seems to think you don’t like her anymore. That’s not true is it? You haven’t had a falling out over something daft, have you? Tell me it’s all a big misunderstanding, only the men and I have to row to the next bay for metal trades.” He said it all so fast, without even drawing breath. It was a cunning tactic, since he gave me no opportunity to speak. By the end of his little speech, everything sounded so trivial, and I could hardly tell him the truth behind our disagreement.
All I could say was, “Fine. Tell her not to dawdle, I have a lot to do.”
“Great, thanks, Aunt Mel, you’re the best.” He dashed off before I could think of an excuse to be rid of her. At any rate, I expected her to behave while Tallack was watching, but after that, she would no doubt leave us at the first bazaar. Jago gave me a glare that could freeze hot embers. I hate how I am always left stuck in the middle of strife.
A smaller boat from Tallack’s clan pulled up to ours. He explained that the larger vessel was too deep in the hull to row close to shore. With care, Brea, Jago and I stepped across a boarding plank and into the smaller boat. Brea waved and blew kisses to Tallack, as his men paddled us to the landing point and then returned to join the others rounding the headland.
Brea strutted down the jetty to the beach, leaving Jago and I to struggle with our things. She brought none of her own belongings, choosing to rely on Tallack’s timely return. I started to wonder if she had any tin or trinkets to trade for food and ale, or whether I would be expected to cough up for her keep.
Jago carried my knife bag, telling me that it was less likely for any thieves to believe that a slave such as he could carry anything of value worth stealing. I could see the boy’s logic. The pouch of tin stayed slung around my neck on a thick cord and hidden under my tunic.
“This way, Fur Benyn.” Jago sang, suddenly full of cheer to see the merchant stalls and produce for trade closer to the settlement. It was lovely t
o hear him speak in their Frynkish tongue. I’d forgotten how lyrical it sounded. The last time he spoke in this language was to teach his wife, my slave girl a few of our Dumnoni words. I was glad that he was joyful. It worried me that it might bring too many unpleasant memories to the surface and send him spiralling back into doom.
Brea trudged after me whining one moment and then pouncing on metal necklaces and ear studs the next, badgering me to give her tin to trade for them. That girl had a nerve. I walked faster, leaving her behind. The bazaar was incredible. Jago was keen to show me all that this port had to offer.
“Come see this…” He gripped my sleeve and pulled me to a spice stall. The coloured powders stood tall in their pots, orange like the sunset, reds darker than clay and richer than blood. There were fabrics dyed a deeper blue than the summer ocean at Land’s End, and so fine I could almost see my hand through the weave.
Further along the row of traders were great vats of spicy stews and strange looking vegetables from further afield. Entertainers played drums and pipes, strummed odd shaped boxes with strings pulled taught across them and danced about us as we walked past.
I wanted to stay and listen, but Jago pulled me along. “No, do not stop. That is when the thieves come and take your gold from your pockets.” I turned around, and saw a collection of dirty children lurking behind those who were being entertained. They are certainly wily these Frynkish settlers. They know when to take advantage of unsuspecting visitors.
As Jago hurried ahead, I thought we’d manage to lose Brea in the crowds, but sadly I was mistaken.
She plodded along behind and came to a halt next to me. “This place smells bad.” For the rest of the afternoon, it was all I heard her say, either everything smelled bad or tasted bad, or looked bad. Nothing was to her liking whatsoever. I on the other hand, revelled in the delights this trading station had to offer. There were people from all over the place, some from further lands than even Jago knew about. Skin of every shade, some with markings and men and women so tall it hurt my neck to peer up at them.
