by Duncan Lay
But, once again, they said nothing. Finally Dermot cleared his throat. “I worked all the hours of the day, never into the night,” he said reluctantly.
That broke the dam and Bridgit listened with mounting frustration to a series of excuses from the men. Even Ahearn’s crew were reluctant to step forwards.
“He was the one who steered us true. He never liked anyone else taking the tiller,” one of them said.
“My grandpa said you just need to look for the north star at night. It’s the brightest star up there and we just sail towards it,” someone else said.
“The north star isn’t the brightest star. It’s the one above the brightest star,” another objected.
Instantly six more of them began arguing, all offering their old hints and tips for directions.
Bridgit held back her anger. She remembered Fallon telling her once that most men liked to be led: only a few wanted to be leaders. But, if they were not given direction, they fell to fighting with each other.
“Enough!” she roared and they fell silent.
She took a deep breath, thinking fast. The last shadows from the setting sun were falling across the ship and would be gone very soon. She walked through the men and held out her hand to Dermot.
“Your knife,” she ordered.
Mystified, he handed it over and she took it and walked across the deck, until she was level with the mast. Raising it high in her hands, she rammed it deep into the ship’s rail.
The men watched as she walked briskly back and took another knife from another man. She made sure she was level with the mainmast, then rammed that knife home in the other rail.
“Get some rope and stretch it across the deck. Quickly now!” she barked.
For a moment they did nothing, then a handful of men raced off, coming back with rope so they could form a line across the deck.
“Now we need to turn the ship. Dermot, you and another man to the ship’s tiller!”
Quicker to obey now, they raced up to the tiller.
“Make the shadow of the mast line up with the rope!” she called.
The sun was slipping below the horizon and she could feel hope slipping away with it but she refused to panic. The ship altered course until the shadow from the mast slowly eased around until it lay across the rope line she had stretched across the deck.
“We know that now we are heading north, with west to our left,” she said. “So we just need to hold that course until the morning. We shall check it again then, with the first light of dawn, so we get due east, so we can turn more towards that direction during the day, before heading north at night. We check it twice a day and we shall be sailing in the right direction.”
She was not entirely sure this would work but the men seemed far happier and she began to breathe again as the last shadows slipped off the deck.
“Find your families and hold them. We shall determine who will work through the day and who needs to be there at night, in case of storms or high winds to bring in the sails,” she called.
They walked away, all except the two largest, and she groaned to herself.
“When do we eat?” Blaine demanded.
“When we have worked out how much food there is and how many people we have. Be patient. I told you all to eat well today. We shall eat tonight but we have to be sure we have enough to last for the trip.”
“We did the most to get us here. We need feeding now!” Carrick demanded.
“You can either have cold scraps now or a proper hot meal later. What would you prefer?” Bridgit asked, quietly furious that these two were already causing problems.
“A hot meal. But you had better hurry, woman,” Blaine announced.
“It will be ready when I say it is and not before,” she retorted. “And woman is not my name. So, when you have eaten you can stand watch through the night.”
“What?” Blaine cried.
“There is only one captain of this ship and that is me. You would do well to remember it.”
Blaine looked ready to keep arguing but Carrick grabbed his arm. “Agreed,” he said, leading his brother away, where they sat down on coils of rope, leaning up against the rail and muttering to each other. She glared at them. That had seemed a little too easy. Then she chided herself for such a thought. They always backed down when pushed. And they had saved her back at the docks. She would just have to keep a close eye on them.
She did not spare them another look as she hurried down the ladder below, where Riona and Nola were organizing a score of women to count the supplies. It felt strange to be going below on one of these ships, where they had traveled as prisoners from Gaelland and she had first learned to lead.
Here it was darker and several lanterns showed piles of sacks spread across the lower deck.
“Do we know where we are going?” Nola asked softly.
“I used the setting sun to find east and west and we are sailing north, as we need to,” Bridgit announced loudly. “We shall check that twice a day and that should bring us to Gaelland at least. Once we find our home country, we can sail around to Lunster once more.”
The light was dim but it was still easily light enough to see the obvious relief on faces.
“What have we got?” she asked, before they could ask any more about the way they were sailing. The ship was so different from anything they were used to. The men had worked out how to get out the sails, and could bring them in again, but she was sure they were not sailing it properly. It felt different from the way they had sailed there. Slower, somehow. She pushed that out of her thoughts. An extra night or two at sea was not going to kill them.
“Well, we should have enough for a half-moon voyage. But we are going to have to tighten our belts,” Riona said. “There’s plenty of dried dates and oranges and even sacks of those strange, hard fruit they like. Those, at least, have water inside, which can be drunk. There is flour, which we can use to make a flat bread on their stove, and some salted mutton. But little of that. There will be complaints at the lack of meat within a day or two. We have four goats as well, so we can get a little milk and maybe some meat if the milk dries up.”
“We’ll keep them as long as we can,” Bridgit said, although she was already wondering how much the goats might eat. “Can we make it last for at least half a moon?”
“The children will be complaining but yes, we can get there. But we will be chewing on the last few dates when we finally see Gaelland,” Nola warned.
“And water?”
“There are plenty of casks aboard and we should drink from those. Once we get closer to Gaelland it is bound to rain and we can replenish them. And there is always those coconuts to drink, which can make things last longer,” Riona added.
Bridgit chewed on her lip. There were several wounded men who were unlikely to last the trip. If she banned them from eating and drinking then it would mean more for the others – but their families would be outraged and horrified with the thought that hunger and thirst would kill them quicker than their wounds. That was a question for another day. She would see how they did over the next day or so and decide then. Meanwhile there were other hard decisions to make.
“We need to lock the food and water away. None can come in and take any of it. If any do, then we shall punish them by not allowing them food for the following day,” she said.
“There’s many who are not going to like it. Not to mention the children who are used to getting more food and who won’t understand why there is so much of it and they are receiving so little,” Nola warned.
“That does not matter,” Bridgit said firmly. “We did not risk so much, and lose brave men like Ahearn, so that greed starved us to death within sight of our home. We shall give them a hot meal of mutton and bread tonight and tell them what we face. They will understand.”
She saw Nola and Riona exchange glances and knew what they were thinking. Blaine and Carrick were not going to understand anything. But with the whole ship against them, they could do noth
ing. “I know I swore to get them home but I’ll throw the pair of them overboard rather than have them kill the rest of us,” she said and Riona and Nola nodded agreement.
CHAPTER 35
The word had spread across the city like wildfire. Few people had actually seen King Aidan but stories of his fury and revenge had been told and retold across the city a thousand times. All had felt the lash of his anger, if not from him then from his guards. Before dawn, the square was packed with people, with more trying to squeeze in all the time. Every window that overlooked the square was full of people and there were hundreds clustered on the roofs of the houses that lined it. The only space the crowd could not fill was in front of the castle, where a makeshift platform had been by built by Brendan and a score of helpers. It was a simple affair, barely enough room for a dozen men to stand on, and it was only half the height of a man off the ground. But it was enough for it to be seen. A triple ring of Fallon’s men surrounded it. None of them were wearing surcoats now, for none wanted to wear the badge of the King, while there were not enough surcoats of either Prince Cavan or the Duchess of Lunster to dress so many. They all carried shields but kept their swords in the scabbards. The idea was to keep people away, not hurt them.
“Are you sure about this?” Padraig asked as he and Fallon looked over the huge crowd.
“He has to die. And nobody else has the courage to do it,” Fallon said. Dina had been right. Talking to Aidan had cleared his mind. Aidan’s evil had to be snuffed out. With Archbishop Kynan and almost all the bishops having conveniently disappeared from the city, the church was left without leadership. And they had no way of knowing how far the corruption went. Rosaleen had been made the new Archbishop, which would outrage more than it would please, but there was none other he trusted. Even if there had been an older Archbishop beloved of Aroaril, the church could not depose a King. With a village priestess newly put into the role, there was no question of it.
“While he is alive, Kerrin, you, everyone I care about is in great danger. And Dina is right: he is a rallying point for the nobles. With him gone, they will not want to fight for Swane. The ones who he had won over to Zorva are already dead and the others will be happy enough as long as they can still live like kings,” Fallon said.
“But how long will you let that go on?” Padraig asked shrewdly.
“Just long enough to have the country in our hands. And then they will learn that there is a new way of life in Gaelland,” Fallon said fiercely.
Padraig looked over the crowd again. “This won’t bring back the people he killed. Cavan is not going to live again,” he warned.
“I know,” Fallon said bleakly. “But it will send a message to future rulers. These people are not your playthings. Protect them or you will pay the price.”
Padraig reached out and patted his shoulder. “I hope you feel the same way afterwards. Do you want someone else to do it? Brendan has said he cannot wait to use his hammer on the man who sold Nola and his children into slavery.”
Fallon shook his head. “I cannot ask any of them to do it. I must take the responsibility.”
Padraig tightened his grip on Fallon’s shoulder. “Well, you had better go and get started, because the people are getting restless. I take it you have sent Kerrin well away from this. He does not need to see this.”
“Aye, he is with Feray and her sons, at the other end of the castle.”
“Good. I shall be up here. Just raise your left hand when you want me to make you heard by the crowd. Raise your right hand if you want the King to be heard.”
“Why should he get the chance to speak to the people?”
Padraig chuckled. “I was thinking they should maybe hear him threatening death and Zorva on all of them.”
Fallon gave the old wizard a wink. “Good idea,” he said.
“Aye, well I do have them now and again. Just don’t expect them too often!”
Fallon strode up the stairs and onto the platform, to a huge cheer from the crowd, and raised his left hand, partly to calm them, partly as a signal to Padraig.
“Today, we finally clean the evil from our city!” he shouted, which brought a thunderous roar. He pointed down at Gallagher and it began.
First came the Guildsmen, nobles and guards taken in the castle and in the King’s evil chamber, many of them still bruised from Fallon’s whirling attack. Rosaleen, resplendent in ill-fitting robes, blessed a cup of water and then poured it over their heads. Each one of them shrieked as the holy water burned their skins, showing they had sold their souls to Zorva, then they were dragged over to a makeshift block where Brendan wielded his huge hammer, crushing their skulls with one blow.
The crowd cried and screamed and shouted as each was dispatched and the body dragged away to be flung onto an unlit pyre. Fallon was surprised none of them begged for mercy but just went to their deaths spitting hatred.
Finally the last was dragged away and a sweating, blood-spattered Brendan stepped back.
Fallon signaled again to Gallagher and stepped down off the stage as Rosaleen offered up a final prayer, leading the crowd in an impassioned plea to turn from darkness and back to the light. Once she had finished, she would leave. Fallon guessed she would be more than happy about that. He slipped his hand into his pouch and felt the bloody quarrel there, the one that had killed Cavan. He drew strength from it for what was about to come.
Cavan’s body, cleaned as best it could be and dressed again in fine clothes, was carried gently onto the stage. Even though he was decaying, he was still recognizable as their beloved Crown Prince, and the crowd sobbed and cried at the sight.
“He was killed at his father’s orders and his heart offered to Zorva,” Fallon shouted. “Now I shall bring up King Aidan to face judgment for his crimes!”
They howled their approval and he turned away, wondering what they would say if they knew it was he who had loosed the fatal quarrel.
*
King Aidan proved difficult to get out of the cell. Firstly the ropes had cut off his circulation and he was barely able to walk and had to be dragged along by Gallagher and Craddock. When his gag was removed he immediately demanded to be let go and for breakfast to be brought to him. They kept his hands tied and hauled him up the stairs and out through the throne room. Duchess Dina was there waiting, looking pale but composed, although the King was glaring daggers at her.
“It has to be done,” she said, falling into step behind them.
The corridors were lined with many of the men Fallon had won over from Kelty’s guards. Aidan seemed to recognize some of them and ranted and raged at them until Fallon was forced to replace the gag. The King tried to break free but against the grim villagers he did not have a hope. They hurried the King along towards the front gate of the castle.
The platform almost hid them from sight as they went out the castle gate but the closest people could see, and instantly a huge roar went up, which was taken up by the rest.
Aidan began to struggle in earnest then, especially when they reached the platform steps – it was impossible to get him up them until Fallon thumped him in the stomach. They dragged him up and dropped him on the raw wood, stained with the blood and brains of his cronies.
Fallon looked at Dina, who nodded to him. “You know what must be done,” she said.
He raised his left hand and then pointed down at Aidan. “This is King Aidan, who is here to be judged and punished for his crimes against you all!”
His voice echoed across the square and silenced the crowd, who leaned forwards to hear his next words.
“He has sold his soul to Zorva!” Fallon called.
Half of the crowd screamed in horror, the other half in outrage.
“He planned to convert you all to Zorva and make you sacrifice your children to that foul god of death, so he would grow in power.”
The crowd howled back at that and Fallon had to wave for calm before they quieted down.
“There were no witches. Instead it was the
King’s men, stealing children for him to sacrifice on an altar to Zorva! All the women he burned were innocent!”
That also caused a shockwave through the crowd but this reaction was more mixed. Fallon feared that was because some of them had helped with the burnings.
“There were no selkies. Instead he sold our people to the Kottermanis as slaves, to make himself even richer!”
This accusation brought a far stronger roar of anger.
“He will make us part of the Kottermani Empire and drag us into evil. He even had his own son killed! Prince Cavan is dead because he would not convert to Zorva, while Swane has run because he did!”
Now there were cries of horror, for the people had loved Cavan. Fallon felt the mood of the crowd and waved to the side of the platform.
Bran helped a line of parents forward, men and women broken by their grief, led by Conor, the man Fallon had rescued from the snatchers.
“They took my daughter Becca,” he cried, Padraig making sure his voice carried right across the square. “Stole her from our home, then cut out her heart for Zorva and left her body to rot in a cellar in the castle. We cannot even be sure whether she rests with Aroaril after death or is doomed to serve Zorva for ever more.”
The crowd was silenced by horror at this, parents dragging their children closer.
Fallon nodded to the grief-stricken Conor and the man, tears streaming down his face, walked off the platform to allow others to come forwards and explain their stories. All were the same.
A weeping woman haltingly told how her son had been snatched from the street itself and Prince Cavan had tried to save the boy, only to lose the snatchers across the rooftops. He had lingered at the marketplace because he wanted a new cloak, not one handed down to him by his brothers. The next time she had seen him, rats had been at him and there was a hole in his chest where his heart had been.
On and on it went, until half the crowd was weeping as well, the others baying for blood.
