Altaica

by Tracy M. Joyce

  With the changing tide the barge continued to increase in speed. ‘Pio! Get back here now.’ Lucia’s firm voice brooked no argument. Pio, glancing back at her face, immediately stopped crowing. He now knew just how much worse things could become.

  Lucia hugged him fiercely as his feet touched the deck. ‘Thank the gods you weren’t hurt.’ He winced as his mother’s hand connected sharply with his backside. ‘Now go and sit down.’ Pio skulked up the deck briefly before darting to Isaura, who had not moved from where she had crawled during the storm.

  ‘Isa, did you see?’ She nodded. ‘It was the best!’

  ‘Look out—your mother is coming.’

  Lucia glared at Pio as she pounded the deck toward him.

  ‘Was it worth it?’ Isaura whispered.

  ‘Yep!’ Pio whispered with a grin. Isaura flashed him a quick wink as Lucia dragged him away.

  The barge continued to gather pace. As they approached another bend in the river, a massive old fallen tree lay entangled at its edge. Large branches protruded perilously into their path and Curro struggled to keep the boat away from it. The barge shuddered violently as it scraped over the partially submerged trunk and an overhanging branch rent the canopy.

  The murky waters were deceptive. The river surface appeared calm, yet there were many odd little whirlpools and bubbles here and there signalling more underwater obstacles. The hull groaned as it fought against these unseen enemies. The river straightened and gradually widened. Curro relaxed, grinning at his brother. The ocean lay before them.

  Smiling and cheering, the villagers hugged one another. The children raced forward again as the barge emerged into the ocean like a popped cork. Lucia and Nicanor stood silently embracing. Now we just head up the coast and everything will be fine, Lucia thought. Silence enveloped the barge as the sight of the vast grey ocean captivated them. Forks of lightning spiked from the retreating clouds, and in the growing light dense sheets of rain could be seen blanketing the horizon.

  Nicanor shook his head as if waking from a trance. He looked back at the coast and was surprised at how far away it was.

  ‘Why aren’t we turning?’ Nicanor strode toward Curro.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why aren’t we turning? We’ve got to head up the coast. Curro, you must turn us!’ He saw the concentration on Curro’s face and realised that he was trying to turn the barge, but it was having little effect. The currents were too strong. The coast was getting further away. He spun, racing down the deck, calling for help to put the oars into their locks. The villagers, ecstatic about reaching the ocean and ignorant to all else, clustered around, blocking his way.

  Nicanor struggled to manoeuvre the first of the oars into place. Frustrated, he yelled, ‘Get out of the way! Damn you, all of you get away!’ Shocked, they remained immobile. ‘Move, now!’

  Daniel and Jaime hustled people around the deck. They recruited more men to help lock the oars in place and reposition some of the cargo. All the while the boat pulled further from the shore. Several men heaved on the oars on one side, struggling to aid their turning.

  The breeze ebbed and then billowed the sail. Nicanor frowned, realising the square sail was hindering them. They were fighting against it and the current. He leapt up, calling for aid to furl the sail. Two men jumped to assist him, then darted back to their positions on the oars.

  Muscles straining and red-faced, they barely kept the coastline in sight. Women took over from the men at rowing and at the helm. The breeze continued and a soft swell rose. Exhaustion began to overtake them. The oars felt increasingly unwieldy and with each swell of the ocean they continued to lose sight of land as nature insidiously conspired against them. When at last they collapsed, utterly spent, the coastline had long disappeared from view.

  ‘What do you want us to do?’ Jaime asked.

  ‘We’ve got to rest,’ said Curro.

  Nicanor grunted in assent. He was wet with perspiration. His muscles were beginning to cramp from the prolonged exertion and his face was pale.

  ‘We know which direction land is … if we rest and then take shifts again maybe we can make our way back?’ Jaime suggested.

  Nicanor wasn’t sure it was going to be that easy.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FRUSTRATION GNAWED AT Isaura. Her leg felt as if it was on fire. She could barely put weight on it. The laceration on her face had scabbed over, but if she opened her mouth a little it would split and slowly weep blood down the red, swollen side of her face. Bugger, I can’t do anything!

  Lucia was checking on Hugo and Isaura could hear his complaints clearly. She returned to Isaura, red-faced and fuming. ‘Your mother was a patient woman. I’d forgotten what he was like.’ Isaura heard the underlying accusation: Why did you bring him?

  Embarrassed and ashamed, she replied, ‘I’m sorry, Lucia.’

  Lucia felt immediately guilty. ‘Oh Isa, no … no.’

  ‘Help me up? I’ll deal with him.’ Relief was clearly evident on Lucia’s face. Isaura grimaced as pain shot up her leg. ‘Let me lean on you. Once we get to him you don’t have to stay.’ She hobbled over to Hugo, tucked in the small cabin. He had not moved at all since the storm. Hoping to soothe him, she tried to take his hand as she sat on the bench seat. He snatched it away. The wild look he gave her shocked her.

  ‘You. You couldn’t even stay with me. Make sure I was safe, be here when I woke up. Instead a stranger cares more for my welfare than you do.’

  ‘Lucia is hardly a stranger.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘I had problems getting here.’

  Hugo finally noticed Isaura’s face pinched with pain, pale on one side, red and weeping blood on the other.

  ‘You should know how to treat that. Or do you need my help?’

  Ignoring this, she asked, ‘How are you feeling? Nausea, dizziness? Would you like anything?’

  Refusing to answer, he stared resentfully at the cabin wall.

  ‘You obviously wanted me here, yet now you refuse to talk. Well, you should try stretching your limbs. Drink.’ He grunted in assent, but remained where he was. ‘Look—there’s fresh water, bread, cheese, and apples. I can’t get them for you …’ Still silence greeted her. ‘You can ask Lucia … or you could find them yourself.’

  ‘That woman shows no respect,’ he spat.

  ‘Father! Lucia is a good, kind woman. You …’ His eyes narrowed. Isaura held up her hands placatingly. ‘We’ve all got to get along. Come on, the boat’s steady now. Now is the time for you to try to get your sea legs.’

  ‘Sea legs! Girl—if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t need sea legs,’ he sneered.

  Isaura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She raised her eyes to his, playing the penitent. ‘Father, you’re right. I should have left you at home. I was trying to save you. I didn’t realise how hard this voyage would be on you.’ The hard part hasn’t even started yet. ‘I did it with the best of intentions … your welfare at heart.’ Isaura allowed the pain from her injuries to bring tears to her eyes, drawing a gulping breath as if to control her overwhelming emotions. She waited, praying she had not overplayed her hand.

  Hugo blinked at her like an owl blinded by the sun. He cleared his throat and patted her wounded leg with the condescension due to a recalcitrant child. ‘I was young once, child. We all make mistakes.’

  Isaura winced, but victory was in sight. ‘I am sorry. Try to walk about on deck, there are plenty of handholds.’ His eyes narrowed again at Pio running along the deck. She took one last chance, pricking his pride. ‘Everything is so easy at that age.’

  ‘Hmf! Well, I am not so old.’ Inhaling deeply, he rose shakily from the bench seat. With one hand braced on the cabin wall he proceeded through the door. He squared his shoulders as he went, while keeping a hand firmly on any fixture he could.

  Isaura sighed; she hated manipulation, but could see no other option with Hugo.

  Lucia eyed Hugo warily, then went to help him.

/>   Overwhelmed with tiredness, Isaura bit back real tears and leaned back against the wall. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep listening to the shipboard noises.

  * * *

  Isaura woke to a gentle touch on her shoulder. ‘Isa, Isa, wake up.’ Pio was standing beside her looking worried. She turned stiffly, but was unable to hide her pain. Pio’s eyes widened. ‘Isa, you’re really hurt. You need help.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few days, Pio, but I’d better do something about this leg to help it along, eh?’ She smiled. ‘Can you fetch my bag?’

  While she waited, Isaura tried moving her leg. It took all of her concentration to do so and the movement caused a sharp stabbing pain high on her inner thigh.

  Pio arrived with her bag and hovered in the doorway. It seemed he felt a sense of duty to help her, yet he still kept an eye on the other children.

  Isaura chuckled. ‘Pio, you don’t have to stay. Go on with the others.’

  Struggling with her leggings she momentarily wished she wore skirts. With her leg resting on the bench seat she methodically surveyed her injuries. Her outer thigh was deep blue-black where she had landed on the deck. Her inner thigh was ribboned with purple striations and there was a definite lump in the muscle high up in her leg. Absently she noted that her knee was also swollen. Opening a pungent brownish salve made from sunskiss, she placed some in a bowl and mixed in a small amount of a deep red salve made from bloodwort. Gingerly she applied the mixture to her bruises, braced her knee with a bandage and re-dressed.

  Gabriela and Elena joined her.

  ‘Isa, how are you?’ Elena asked.

  ‘Can we help?’ Gabriela added.

  Isaura looked thoughtfully at them. She rarely asked for help, but she knew Gabriela would if asked. If Elena chose to as well, so be it. ‘Actually, yes please.’

  Their voices radiated concern as they spoke in unison. ‘What do you need?’

  ‘Can you help me care for people?’

  Gabriela looked confused, then slightly anxious. ‘Isa?’

  ‘I can barely stand. How am I to get to people?’

  ‘They can come to you. Or we’ll help you walk to them,’ Elena said.

  ‘I’m really not sure about this, Isa. What if I get something wrong?’ Gabriela interrupted.

  ‘You won’t. You’ve nursed both your parents. You’ve never made mistakes. I trust you.’ She smiled at Gabriela’s pensive face.

  Gabriela looked shamefaced. ‘Isa, this is different … If something should go wrong … You’ll recover soon. Let’s just wait and see,’ she finished hurriedly.

  Elena added, ‘Maybe Hugo can help?’

  ‘Hugo is far more likely to poison someone than either of you,’ Isaura snapped.

  Elena tugged on Gabriela’s arm. Gabriela looked apologetically at Isaura. ‘Isa, I …’

  ‘Just go,’ Isaura replied flatly. Disappointment and hurt sat like a lead weight in her belly as she watched them walk away.

  * * *

  Curro, Nicanor and Isaura examined the final tally of food.

  ‘We planned for a few weeks at sea, a month at the most, on rations which were not generous. Isa, have you any idea how much we can cut the rations by?’ Curro asked.

  Hugo moved unsteadily toward them. ‘Gentlemen, don’t make any decisions without first consulting me. My wealth of knowledge, gained over many years,’ at which point he looked condescendingly at Isaura, ‘will stand us in good stead.’

  Isaura raised her eyebrows, saying nothing. Hugo was now wandering the ship with more confidence, but he was prone to odd mood swings. This blend of simpering arrogance set her teeth on edge.

  Curro replied, ‘I was just asking Isa if she knew how far we could stretch the rations. But now that you’re here we can have the benefit of your experience.’ The sarcasm was lost on Hugo.

  Hugo took the tallies, deep in thought. ‘The original ration quantities were not ample to begin with. I feel that you could reduce them by a quarter or a third at the most.’

  Isaura looked surprised. ‘That’s only an extra few weeks. We may need longer than that.’

  ‘Surely not. Surely we will have sighted land by then. Some solution will have presented itself.’ A slight edge of hysteria was creeping into Hugo’s voice.

  Isaura felt guilty for bringing him and imposing him on the others; paradoxically she felt guilty at the realisation that she would have felt little remorse if she had left him behind.

  ‘We need to get more time out of the rations. What’s the maximum we can get?’ Nicanor asked Isaura.

  Curro and Nicanor both turned to Isaura. ‘At a guess we could halve it, maybe a little more. There’s the animals … They are consuming water, and fresh water is our most precious commodity out here. Damn! I don’t know.’ She ran her hand through her hair, eyes tightly closed. ‘Water is our main worry. We will need to catch as much of it as we can. We’re more exposed to the elements than I had counted on. Even a mild day seems too hot … The nights are cold … Then there’s the wind …’

  ‘How long, Isa?’ Nicanor asked with hint of impatience.

  ‘Maybe three months with this many people.’ Isaura was pessimistic. ‘Healing cuts and scrapes is one thing. I’m not …’ She paused as Elena joined them.

  Elena took one look at their grim faces and moved into Curro’s embrace for reassurance.

  ‘Isa?’ Nicanor prompted.

  Unable to answer immediately, she lowered her head while she battled to contain her emotions. I didn’t ask for this. You all expect some damn miracle. She was on the verge of screaming at them. Instead she marshalled herself, raised her head and asserted, ‘Kill one goat soon, the other later. The chickens can wait till we can’t feed them anymore. Water must be conserved at all costs. We’ve got oats and barley, but they need to be soaked—that’s a problem. There is limited supply of kindling for the galley stove …’

  ‘Fishing,’ Elena interrupted. ‘We could make it a game for the children. It would keep them occupied and who knows, they may actually catch something.’

  ‘We need to find containers to catch water in,’ Curro said. ‘And pray to Majula and Araceli that it rains sometime along the way.’

  ‘Along the way to where? Aren’t we going to try to get home? I can’t survive on this ration. No grown man could. We’ll all be dead …’ Hugo began to panic.

  Curro grabbed his arm. Bending forward he looked at him sharply and whispered, ‘Isaura is as a sister to me, but you are nothing, old man. We have no need of your opinions. Do not spread panic.’

  Hugo looked to Isaura for aid; she merely shrugged.

  Elena cleared her throat. ‘Everyone should be involved in these decisions.’

  ‘No!’ Hugo and Isaura both said.

  Elena was shocked. She opened her mouth to speak, but Curro cut her off. ‘They’re right. Isa’s right.’

  Of course, Elena thought resentfully.

  Hugo drew himself up, saying imperiously, ‘We can’t let the villagers interfere with a decision like this. Control must be maintained. If you have too much discussion or do not seem confident of your judgement then you will lose control and order with it.’

  ‘Precisely.’ Curro glared meaningfully at Hugo, who finally had the good sense to looked chastened.

  ‘They have a right to contribute to a decision that affects their lives,’ Elena persisted.

  Isaura was resolved. ‘They’ve already exercised that right. They chose to come on this voyage. Now we make the decisions. I never thought I’d say this, but Hugo is correct. You can inform them of the facts, but we must guide them toward this end. Let them think they have made the decision themselves.’

  * * *

  ‘How can we live on this?’

  ‘It’s enough,’ Isaura said flatly as she sat in the middle of the deck surrounded by irate villagers.

  ‘For you, maybe.’

  ‘We brought more food. Why should we have to suffer this ration?’

/>   ‘I say let everyone eat their own supplies. Those who didn’t plan ahead and bring more will just have to make do.’

  ‘They brought all they could. Why should their lives be worth less than yours? Why should mine?’ Isaura explained.

  ‘Because you’re not one …’ a man vehemently began before he was elbowed in the ribs.

  ‘Ssh! You are our healer, Isa. You brought medical supplies. We …’

  ‘You need me,’ Isaura finished drily. ‘And when you don’t?’ The question hung in the air like a noose.

  ‘You all agreed to come. You all agreed to share,’ Lucia added defensively.

  ‘Not this. We didn’t agree to this. We agreed to go to Matryan. You’ve got us lost.’

  ‘We need to keep trying to row back to land. We know land is in that direction.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Nicanor asked.

  ‘We’re not trying to get back to the coast! You’re just letting us get further and further away!’

  Curro replied, ‘We tried rowing for days, yet we are no closer to land.’

  ‘We need to try again. To try harder! We don’t need to lessen the rations. We can stay at full strength and make it back.’

  Nicanor was blunt. ‘I think we’ve drifted far off course. We can’t row long or hard enough to make up the distance.’

  A large man with greying hair stepped toward Nicanor, his furious red face only inches from him. ‘No! We’ve listened to you and look where we are!’

  Jaime and Daniel reached for their swords. Curro, looking like he wanted to rend limbs from bodies, stood beside Isaura. He heard Elena’s harsh intake of breath when he left her side, but ignored her. Isaura would not be able to escape if a fight broke out; she would need his help.

  Nicanor spoke calmly, though his fist was clenched and his shoulders tense. His expression urged Lucia and Pio to move out of harm’s way. ‘In days we have not been able to make it back to land. We are using up our reserves of strength when we should be conserving them. I think we should work with the current and wind. Row when we can and use the sail to speed us onward, and believe that the gods will see us to land.’

  ‘What land? The only land we know of is back there!’