The time was near. After two days, the embassy lifted anchors and left the port of Altver behind. Baron Avermal beamed. He managed to please all his guests—the Crown Prince of Ativerna, the Earl of Earton, and the Duke of Falion, not to mention the other courtiers. He made useful connections, which meant an increase in the flow of money, provided the mayor already had some “hypodermic fat” and tripled it with the help of the Countess of Earton. Only one thing surprised the baron. Why does the Earl of Earton react so strangely to every mention of his wife?
***
The sea, seagulls, the smell of salt water—Richard enjoyed the journey. He accepted the invitation of the commander and switched to the galleass, followed by Jess. The men chatted about trifles, enjoyed the view of the sea, looked forward to arriving home. Meanwhile, Jess counted the minutes. He wished for the shore to disappear in the haze and to be left alone at sea.
One cannot say that the commander was an avid conspirator, but he was an ambitious man and couldn’t stand to be “one of the many.” King Edward wasn’t going to let him advance. Ativerna was a marine state, and the royal fleet was its key power. The king had to comply with the fleet, his ruling principle for his kingdom being “divide and conquer.”
Nevertheless, the commander wanted even more power.
Richard and Jess felt so safe that they even left their swords in their cabins and only kept their daggers. If anything happened, they would have time to arm themselves. Even if they stumbled upon pirates, there would first be a rapprochement and maneuvres—and only then a fight.
They didn’t regret leaving the weapons anyway. A single sword wouldn't help against thirty armed sailors.
Almost twenty-four hours passed calmly. The ships slowly moved toward the capital. The commander was preparing, sending out messages to all the ships. The young brothers were highly surprised when they saw the commander waving the white flag.
Everything had been planned in advance. Richard and Jess found themselves in a ring of swords. A scarlet flag flew up on the mast, and the remaining ships began enclosing the embassy’s galleys into a ring, unequivocally aiming guns at them. The commander looked triumphant. It was his moment of undivided power. The right to execute and pardon was in his hands, and he would take advantage of both.
“Gentlemen, I must tell you that you are our prisoners. Resistance is futile.”
Jess grinned and drew out his dagger. Richard followed his example.
“Try to get us!”
“I won’t even try. Drop your weapons, or else I will—”
There was the whistle of an arrow. Jess jerked away from the howling air close to his ear.
“Will you kill us?”
“Not yet.”
Richard interposed.
“What does this mean, commander?”
“What’s so incomprehensible? Sometimes power changes. Those who would come in your place promised me more.”
“So you chose to become a traitor for money? Bastard!” Jess replied spitefully.
The commander smiled.
“Well, it depends on how you look at it. Didn’t your father poison the lawful heir to the throne, His Majesty Edmund?”
Jess turned pale as a canvas, a mixture of impotence and rage. Everyone suspected that the incident was untoward, but kept silent about it. Edward’s wrath was quick, for no man is without sin.
“If you were a man, I would have made you swallow those words!”
“We'll talk about swallowing later, when I have time for you,” grinned the man. “If you don’t surrender peacefully, we will dissect your body with arrows. In the meantime, to the hold!”
The prisoners had to obey.
“Attack the galleasses!”
A black flag flew up on the mast. At once, the embassy ships were peppered with a rain of burning arrows, among which stood out the large arrows of ballistas.
***
The ships of that time were poorly armed. Small ballistas, catapults that could throw “liquid fire” and so on. Those weapons were enough to cope with a galley that did not expect it.
The basic plan was to set the ships on fire, make them sink by hitting their sides, and leave—not immediately, of course, but after had they destroyed all potential witnesses. They only had to wait an hour or so before they could raise the sails, put oars into the water, and head to the capital. One could even consider the commander a merciful man. Freezing water was sharper than arrowheads, and less painful, too.
***
Richard and Jess were helplessly sitting in the hold, knee-deep in dirty water. Both were blazing with anger, but there was nothing they could do. They were tied with ropes so hard that it was impossible to tear them with teeth or hands. The villains had prudently put them apart. The only thing they could do was talk to each other.
“Who would have thought?”
“We need to escape.” Jess was more practical.
“How? By making a hole in the ship with your teeth?”
“No. But if we could bargain with the commander, ask to talk to him—”
“One on one? He is not a fool.”
“But it could work—and then we put a rope around his neck.”
“Bad idea.”
“There will be no other chance. Do you understand that they will kill us?”
Richard understood that perfectly well, but he also did not doubt the commander’s intelligence. He was a bastard and a piece of scum, but not an idiot after all.
“I doubt that he would risk that. If he took this step, he thought it through.”
“We have got no choice.”
“I am curious as to what he got promised and by whom?”
“Me, too. I’m afraid we won’t find out before we reach the capital.”
“If only my father were alive.”
“If there is a mutiny—”
Jess didn’t finish the sentence, but Richard understood him anyway. The prospect of mutiny reduced their chances of survival to zero, and they wanted to live.
“Wait, what’s that?”
The boys fell silent and listened. Judging by the noise, there was a battle going on outside.
But why? And how?
***
The ones responsible for the “whys” and the “hows” were Erik and the Countess of Earton. The former for his efficacy, the latter for her telescopes that allowed the crew to see three times farther. Consequently, the Virmans spotted the plotters before they could be discovered themselves, but did not approach any closer. Although they had the king’s order, it still wasn’t crystal-clear if they would be taken for friends or enemies. If they approached, they risked their ship being destroyed before they could start negotiations. After all, the crown prince was on board. If Erik were in place of the commander on the embassy ship, he would have done just the same. Therefore, the Virmans decided to follow the embassy ships unnoticed. Their sails would occasionally emerge on the horizon, but in the sea, no one would open fire without an evident reason. A passing ship was expected to pass.
Erik’s watchmen reported seeing something strange—the escorting ships enclosing the galleys of the embassy and firing at them. Erik didn’t hesitate to act. Decent people would never act this way. As a result, no one would reproach him for dealing with these noble villains as he pleased.
“The oars!” roared Erik. “We advance! Get ready for a fight! Wear armor! Raise the red shield!”
The crew on the Virman ship enlivened. The ships turned around and slowly headed toward the embassy ships and their escort.
“Olaf! Go around from the other side and see what's up with the embassy!”
The ship of Olaf Redbeard slightly changed its course to show that he heard Erik’s order.
The catch is promising! The Virmans never refused prey.
***
That day, the stars favored the Virmans.
The commander had not expected to enter into a fight. He got slightly carried away firing at the helpless ships. We must leave
soon. The main prey was already in his hands. He didn’t care for the fate of the others. The black-flagged ships slowly turned away from the perishing galleys, ignoring all cries for help. Erik’s appearance wasn’t a surprise. The commander had seen the Virmans from far away but didn’t think that they defended the interests of the Ativernian Crown. Once the commander saw the Virman ships swiftly heading toward them with the scarlet shield on the mast, he clenched his jaw.
“Get ready for battle!”
He first tried to raise the black shield as a plea for a dialogue. Yes, it is humiliating. The Virmans are pirates, robbers, the wolves of the seas. The commander desperately wanted to live. Everything had been going so well up until now. We could put up a fight, but not with such a valuable treasure in the hold. Our forces are approximately the same. We risk losing both our lives and our prisoners!
A flying arrow whistled across the sea, stuck in the black shield and defiantly fluttered its red plumage.
There will be no talks!
***
Olaf’s ship was slowly dragging itself past the sinking galleys. Long ropes dropped into the deep waters, fishing out the ones who had escaped the arrows. The Virmans didn’t do it out of their kind hearts; they wanted to know what had happened there.
The Duke of Falion was lucky to be the first man saved. The duke had spent a lot of time on deck, and when he realized that the ship was being attacked, he managed to escape the first blow. Realizing that the traitors would not take captives, he grabbed a piece of wood that had broken off after the blow and jumped overboard. He wanted to live and realized he had more of a chance for survival in the water than on the ship. He had had just enough time to take off his boots so they wouldn't pull him to the bottom. He also noticed the Virmans and cursed everything. He didn’t want to become a slave at his age. Although he could trust his son to redeem him, only Aldonai knew when. Meanwhile, the Virmans came in between the sinking and attacking ships and dropped their ropes. Falion, who was nearly frozen to death, decided that the pirates were better than the sea-tsar and swam to the Virman ship.
No one was going to tie him down or chain him to the mast. Instead, they handed him a piece of cloth and a jar with strong wine. A pleasant wave of heat went down into his stomach, and it made him dizzy. He heard one of the Virmans speak. It was Olaf.
“What is happening here?”
Why do you Virmans care for the prince, Ativerna, the embassy? But the diplomat was used to taking all chances.
“I am from the embassy of Ativerna. I am seeking help.”
The Virmans weren’t even surprised. Did they know? Did they spy on us?
“Where is the prince?”
“He was on the embassy ship, but the commander invited him to his galley. I don’t know what happened to him there.”
“I doubt they killed him. So, it is treason! Gar, take the flags and inform them that the bastards sank the embassy ships and hold the prince captive—”
“The prince and the Earl of Earton.”
Olaf’s lips curled into a malicious smile. Falion didn’t understand.
“He is the spouse of our lady. We need to help him out.”
Falion sank low to the ground. His legs didn’t hold him.
Their lady? Help him out? I don’t understand.
The boy flew up the mast and began waving the flags, as agile as a monkey.
Lily had also suggested the flags. At first, she remembered Morse code, then about the flag alphabet. It was not just used at sea. When children played in garrisons, they played spies and partisans. They transmitted messages, wrote coded notes, and signaled with their handkerchiefs. Leif and Erik made the countess create a local directory of signals. It didn’t fit everything, but brevity was famously the sister of talent.
It was easy to recreate Morse code, guided by its general principles. As for flags, red stood for letters, green, for words. One could use flags to say our lady, husband, captured, prince, attack, theft, offense, and so on.
Gar managed to fit the message into three signals. Enemy. Hostage. Value.
What else does one need to understand? An enemy has a valuable hostage on board.
“Let’s fight them!” yelled Erik.
***
“Bastards!” muttered Schaltz. Swearing was of no use, so he sent the galleys toward the Virmans. He didn’t want to join the fight; he would rather leave. But Erik, too, was dangerous. Two Virman vessels, which obeyed his orders transmitted by a flag boy, rushed after the commander’s ship without getting into the fight.
The battle flared up. The people from Ativerna tried to pepper the Virmans with arrows, but they obstinately hid behind their shields, trying to come closer and engage in close combat. Their success was limited. Erik had eight fresh Virman ships—or dakkars as they called them—while their opponents were already exhausted from the previous battle. The reserve of arrows and stones was also limited, so the “hail of death” wasn’t as powerful as intended. One dakkar was finally set on fire, and the Virmans desperately cut the boards, throwing themselves into the water to survive for at least some while or swim in the direction of help. Olaf’s dakkar drifted around the marine battlefield, fishing out the survivors.
The dakkars collided with the galleasses in desperate combat. The Virmans jumped on the enemy’s decks, and the fighting ensued. Both parties had nothing to lose, so neither took prisoners. Except for one.
***
Erik watched Schaltz’s galley with the gaze of a predator. We will get to you, my darling, wait a minute. Bjarni froze beside him with a hefty shield in his hands, ready to cover his leader, and the arrows flew up in the sky. Erik noticed one arrow before it landed, another was reflected by the boy’s shield.
“Ballista!” someone shouted from the mast.
Erik’s smile was the smirk of a predator.
“Arrows! Go!”
Several guys under Elga’s command stepped forward.
“Two fingers up, hit to the left!” bellowed Elga. He was a natural archer. The arrows flew at his command as if he put them in by hand. The two men near the ballista shook and dropped dead. Another person didn’t fall but was evidently wounded. The dakkar quickly overtook the galleass. The target was too big for one ship, but Boar’s dakkar caught up with them, preparing to encircle him. A couple of arrows fell very near the boat. The enemy managed to use the ballista again, but its arrows also missed. Erik waved to the captain, but the man didn’t need a signal to realize what he should do.
He aimed to break the enemy’s oars into pieces with the body of the ship. Schaltz tried to swerve, but the chances were slim. The Virmans showered the galleass with arrows, not giving any chance for escape, trapping the enemy ship in their tight grip, like two wolves that had cornered a forest deer.
Everything got mixed up in the chaos of the battle. There was an archer on the enemy’s mast. Erik threw a spear with such force that the shooter did not even fall; the spear nailed him to the wood, dead. The grapplers flew aboard, tightly locking the ships together. Another dakkar came from the opposite side of the galleass and was also shooting at the enemy.
“Ahead! Go!”
The uncontrollable wave of Virmans spilled onto the deck. Erik chopped like a woodcutter. The axe was flying in his hands like a feather. It was no place for a civilized fight. Everyone hit with what they had—axes, shields, arms, legs. You hit the enemy even if he was standing with his back to you, and moved on. The Virmans fought desperately and won.
“Сlimb to the top! Hit the archers!” roared Erik.
Björn rushed forward. In one dramatic move, he jumped onto the face of a shield and onto the upper deck. A sweep of his axe was followed by painful yelling and the splashing of blood.
The Boar’s team came on deck and joined in the fight—this time with more calculation. A man in expensive armor tried to resist but didn’t stand a chance. He was simply clamped between two shields and finally received a fatal blow to the head. After his death, the overall r
esistance fell flat. As the Virmans finished off the rest of the crew, Erik overlooked the battlefield.
It wasn’t a clear win, but it was definitely a victory. Two out of eight sunken dakkars still burned in the water. Two out of four galleys had already gone to the depths of Poseidon. The other two were fine, and they would be enough to reach Ativerna. On the bright side, the Virmans now had enough resources to replace the sunken ships with the new. Erik looked around and grabbed his signalman by his collar. The youngster had not been able to resist joining in the fight. He was turning into a man.
“Up the mast, you go! Tell them to collect the trophies.”
Meanwhile, he took care of the commander.
***
Schaltz was shabby and beaten up. His shoulder had been broken in the battle, and he held up his arm with his other hand. His armor was taken off with brutal force and put in the pile with the other trophies. This did not affect the manners of Erik. He couldn't get it into his noble aristocratic head that the “Virman scum” could cut him into pieces and feed them to the fish if they wanted to.
“Do you realize what you are doing? Your island will be destroyed.”
Erik smiled at him, carelessly playing with an axe.
“Where are the prince and the Earl of Earton?!”
The answer was a proud silence. Erik nodded to one of his men, and without further ado, he kicked the commander in the face. Schaltz jerked back but didn’t have time to open his mouth. The same Virman placed a hand on his shoulder and began squeezing where it was broken. The man yelled at the top of his lungs, forgetting aristocratic dignity.
The Price of Happiness: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 5) Page 13
