The Creed

by Perla Giannotti

  “Oh boy, that was not one of our best moorings,” he said, almost as if to justify himself.

  “I noticed that without someone port side, it is twice as much work.”

  “You noticed right,” the boy agreed, “my uncle, my father’s younger brother is usually here too. He is unfortunately unwell. Trying to govern this barge with just three of us is bad business. My uncle is also the strongest of all four. Without his strength, you can really feel it in the maneuver. I hope we can avoid the shallows,” he then added, lowering his voice so no one else could hear.

  “Is that also a risk?” Selot asked, matching his tone to the boy’s.

  “Yes, just before we get to Astel. There’s a very dangerous shallow there. Last year it rained a lot and we didn’t have any problems. It hasn’t rained for four months now, and each trip is always worse.” He looked around worriedly. “My father let too many people on in my opinion…and your horses too. We’re heavy. I would have said no to a few coins to be more sure.” Then he tried to downplay the situation.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you all this stuff. If my father were to know, he’d beat me to a pulp.”

  “You can count on my discretion,” Selot answered back, trying not to think about the preoccupations.

  The vessel went along the river lazily, and the current was always less strong. The owner eyed the water level often, and the two brothers started giving each other nervous looks. The younger brother went to his father. They exchanged a few words. Selot turned just enough to delve into their thoughts. The boy was suggesting they steer towards an emergency jetty and make everybody get off, renouncing three quarters of their wages and certainly causing great dissatisfaction. The father shook his head. They had to make it to Astel. Then they would decide whether to go on for the last stretch of river, or not. At least then they could keep half their earnings. He had the last word. The order was not to be contested again. Selot looked over to Marrhit who seemed absolutely indifferent to what was going on. The brother gave Selot a crooked sneer which made his skin crawl.

  The talkativeness of the boy at the helm stopped as time went by. After a quarter of a mile, a sinister, scraping noise could be heard coming from the bilge. The passengers looked at one another fearfully. The three boatmen froze with worry.

  “It’s not possible they are already this close…” the man murmured. The young helmsman felt his heart drop. They observed the water level with respect to the bank and realized just how far the water had lowered since their last trip.

  “Quick! The poles!” the father screamed.

  They grabbed their poles to distance the barge from the left river bank in an attempt to avoid the shallows that were threatening to beach the vessel. With great effort they managed to shift their position in the river, but just when they thought they had avoided danger, a new deafening noise accompanied by a jerking movement struck. It went on for several seconds until the worst scenario materialized: there was no movement at all. They had run ashore. A worried murmur rose up all of a sudden, followed by fear.

  “Damn it!” the boy said, leaving his post at the helm which was now completely useless. The father was mute and ashen-faced. He had taken the wrong decision and now there would be heavy consequences. He was evaluating whether to make everyone get off, escorting them with the lifeboat to the uncertain, muddy shore, or attempt a difficult re-float with everybody on board. Unfortunately, that stretch of river had impractical banks, thick rushes and muddy banks, making it impossible to walk on. It was a bad state of affairs. Selot read every thought in his anxious mind. The two horses shied, unsettled by the terrifying vibrations and jolt at the moment they had run ashore, and the growing panic of the passengers did not help either. Selot went over to calm them.

  The owner of the barge gave orders to his sons to verify the situation. The two got down to inspect the position of the hull with respect to the bottom of the river. They stayed immersed up to their chests for some time in treacherous water. The river was turbid and it was impossible to see anything. They realized however, that the shallows were very extensive and the barge had ridden up and over the insidious river dunes well beyond any hope of freeing it with the boat full. They hopped up on board again with tense expressions. Their father understood straight away. Selot scanned every bit of information relevant to their concerns. Marrhit hadn’t moved and looked on with a distant air.

  “We could take the weaker passengers in the lifeboat to the jetty two miles up the valley,” the youngest son suggested.

  “It would take a full day to transport everybody,” pleaded the father.

  “And the others?” reasoned the older sibling. “Shall we tell them to get off here? It’s a precarious situation. Not everyone can manage with the river current. Some of them might not even make it. And the luggage? There’s no way we can carry all that.”

  It was a disaster.

  “Let’s try to re-float,” the father said. There was no other alternative.

  “Let’s ask the men to give us a hand.” There were ten poles available.

  “Free passage for whoever helps!” the father announced loudly, looking to add weight to his tone of voice. He was the one who chose the men for the team. He did not dare ask for assistance from the two knights who were on board. What’s more, he saw they were very young. Their loose fitting shirts were able to hide their warrior physiques underneath. There were five strenuous attempts made with grunts and groans, but the barge did not budge. On the contrary, it turned dangerously, worsening the situation. After the fifth attempt, which was the worst, the man signaled to let it go. In those conditions it was an absolute impossibility. The men who had been helping, abandoned the team spirit straight away and began to clamor about, asking for their money back. They started competing with one another for a place for them and their families on the first trip on the life boat. The sons lined up with their father, fearful that someone might pass from words to action, and attack them all.

  Selot saw that it was time for him to intervene. With determination, he grabbed the two strongest poles which had been thrown to the ground after the last disastrous attempt. He took them to the stern where Marrhit was standing alone.

  “Would you mind giving me a hand?” he growled. Marrhit looked at him, annoyed. He grumbled. He was unenthusiastic as he caught the pole Selot threw at him. He detached himself from the wall where he had been standing all day. He made a sarcastic gesture with his hand, as if to say ‘show me the way’. They went over to the owner of the barge and his sons, who were already being set upon by angry passengers. Selot moved through the crowd and stood in front of him.

  “Let’s try again,” he simply said, his tone firm. The man gave a surprised start. A ray of hope lit up his face. The older son rejoiced.

  “I knew you were a good type!” It was Selot this time who chose the men to set to work, and gave orders. Marrhit respected the need to not talk and followed his instructions. The barge owner didn’t say a word and put himself to use like the others, who immediately gave up their whining. Selot had read in the minds of the two young ferrymen all the information that was necessary to coordinate the team in the best possible way. He and Marrhit took their places where the greatest force was necessary. Once they were all in their established positions, Selot gave the order to push against the poles. There was one long terrible moment of stillness, as they all turned purple with the effort. Then the barge slowly began to move in the right direction. Within a short while, the proprietor of the barge, his sons and the rest of the men realized with great amazement that their efforts were being rewarded. The two warriors, being the mainstays in their precise positions were practically moving the barge out of the shallows. Marrhit and Selot managed it all with little concern for their breathing or effort, as if they were part of the same mechanism. Their grunts lifted in unison. One could distinctly hear the creaking of their poles that joined with the sorrowful vibrations of the hull. Then, all of a sudden, there was a roll and the sou
nd of lapping on one side; the barge had started floating. At that point, Selot gave further instructions and everyone pushed at the same time to distance the barge as far as possible from the riverbed it had been stuck in. After about ten minutes of careful maneuvering and precise calculation, they were far from the slow meander of the river where the shallows had formed and were saved; towards the left bank of the river, the faster current helped push them further away. There was a chorus of joyful shouts. The owner of the vessel sat down on a bench, letting out a great sigh of relief. His young son immediately took up his place at the helm. Marrhit threw his pole into a corner and went back to standing alone at the stern as if nothing had happened. He threw his hood over his head to indicate he had absolutely no intention of speaking to anyone. Nobody dared go near him. Selot gave off the same impression more or less, staying silent next to the helmsman, with an indecipherable expression on his face. The cold attitude of the knights dampened the enthusiasm of re-departure, and everyone went back to their places. All things considered, the only important thing was to not be stuck in that muddy prison any longer. The father of the boatmen cautiously went over to Selot, who stood up out of respect. The man looked at the hordes of weapons that stuck out of the casings on his back and belt with certain apprehension. He stammered his words of gratitude and thanks. Money from their fare was canceled altogether. Selot thanked him with a bow and when the man returned to his duties, Selot sat down again.

  “How did you do that?” the young boatman asked, still excited by their good luck.

  “Leveraging at the right points and applying the right amount of force,” Selot simply replied, then fell silent.

  “You don’t sound like the spoiled son of a nobleman from Solzhaz,” the boy answered, laughing to himself. Selot imagined it was a compliment and winked his thanks.

  “Are there other risks like this before we get to Novok?”

  “One more, just after Astel. This is the most insidious part of the river.”

  “I see you maintain a very prudent course usually, following the trajectory of the lesser currents. The river is slow and the level is low. Perhaps you should change tactics this time.”

  “The current is sometimes dangerous…” the boy defended.

  “I think that it can be your ally today,” Selot suggest warily.

  “So, you’re an expert in navigation…” the youth said, looking at him furtively, trying to weigh up the knowledge of the knight. Selot avoided telling him it was the first time he had been aboard something that floated on water. “I observe,” he answered instead, with mock honesty.

  Once they reached Astel, the barge owner let all the passengers off who had come to the end of their journey, which was most of the people who had been on board. He refused to take on new passengers, creating an uproar of protests. Selot looked at the draft of the barge with attention; it had been reduced by at least four cubits.

  “If the next shallows are not as dangerous as the ones we have already found, I believe you can take on a dozen people without concern,” he suggested. The astonished man looked at him.

  “If you say so, sir, it is sure to be so.” He accepted those who would pay most for their leg of the journey, playing around with prices to make a good earning.

  “You must take that family,” Selot said firmly, pointing to a group made up of a woman and three children, one of which was a newborn. The man turned around, “They have little to give me, only the normal fare.”

  “Yes, but they must reach Ark for urgent reasons,” Selot cut him off. The man gave consent, and an incredulous gesture of thanks on the woman’s face went skywards.

  “The next trip, the next trip!” the boatman yelled to all those he couldn’t take on board, giving the final order to his sons to release the moorings.

  “How can you know the reasons for them needing to go to Ark?” the helmsman asked, pointing to the family that had just finished boarding.

  “I don’t know,” he lied, “but I do not believe a woman would drag her three children on a crowded boat for reasons that aren’t rather serious.”

  “May I ask your name, sir?” Selot did not respond. He felt Marrhit approach. He had developed the capacity to individuate his feline presence whenever he was near. He turned round, preparing his spirit for some horrible trick or some new insult. The boatman whirled instinctively around too, and jumped when he saw that menacing figure only half a hands breadth away. This knight gave him an irrational fear. Marrhit made a brief nod with his head, asking Selot to follow him. He led him over to the anchor pulley, an area that was deserted.

  “You must stop concerning yourselves with humans. You leave too many traces.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “You know very well what I am talking about. You must not speak to the boy. He wants to know about you. Cut out any conversation and do not give confidences to anyone. You’ve already said too much.” Selot thought over the words that had escaped him while in conversation with the boy. Perhaps Marrhit was right. He did not respond. He simply remained where he was, turning towards the railing to contemplate the current. He did not return to the helmsman, and stayed away from him for the rest of the journey. He pulled his hood over his head just like Marrhit had done, and isolated himself too.

  The navigation proceeded without further mishap. The helmsman followed Selot’s intuition and chose trajectories that were less slow which helped them get past the more dangerous stretches. They made it to Novok the next day, in the blinding light of the afternoon. Selot led the horses to ground. The youth went over to him to say goodbye, but Selot ignored him as if they had never met before.

  “Did your cousin, or whoever the devil he is, tell you that I am too lowly for the likes of you and that you shouldn’t be talking to me?” he asked with sorrow. Selot froze. He thought of something to say.

  “Yes,” he said without facing him.

  “Go to hell,” the boatman replied and gave him the finger.

  Once they had disembarked at Novak, they were immediately aware of the military atmosphere at the borders of the kingdom. Warlike contingents came from the south and many areas of the city and its surrounds were military zones protected by the soldiers of the Kingdom of Dar. The city was heavily fortified. It was encircled by a double perimeter wall; the external one had the only visible access, higher than any wall Selot could imagine, as thick as three carts pulled by horses, one after the other. The perimeter wall extended without a break on both sides of the city for several miles, towards the east and towards the west. Selot was fascinated by that impressive structure. Some works were being carried out to reinforce the defenses, lifting margins, creating outposts for sightings.

  “It would be best to disappear immediately,” murmured Marrhit.

  They left suddenly towards the woody hills that wrapped westwards on a plain where the city sat. From far and from up high, the city appeared even more impressive, if that were even possible: the internal walls were hexagonal in shape, and the external ones were octagonal with star-shaped strongholds at each corner. The walls on the sides of the city formed a considerable barrier against the north. At the extremities, other works continued to lengthen the extension.

  The battalions were everywhere and neat military zones with low, simple stone buildings dotted the territory outside the walls.

  “All this to face a people without weapons who live in the forest?” Selot asked when they were far away, as they observed that scene from a rocky point. “It looks impossible to me. There must be more.” Marrhit said nothing. He was entrenched behind a rock hard expression on his face, which hardened even more after they had alighted at the jetty in Novak.

  “We will leave this evening towards the plain of Taur. Our final destination.” He added nothing else. Selot lit a fire. He scrutinized Marrhit to understand if there might be room to ask what they were to expect, but his brother appeared to be unapproachable as always. At the second hour of the night they set off, in a nightfall lit
by a half moon. Marrhit looked like he knew the area very well. They traversed a barely visible road that wound up to a woody strip, and reached sight of the Taur plain a little before dawn. They went up to the summit of a small elevation to get a better view. After leaving their horses, they climbed up an arduous path that took them to its rocky summit. From there, they had a view overlooking the entire plain down below. It took Selot’s breath away. An infinity of lit fires, like shimmering dots in the night, gave them the idea of just how big the encampment was, or better still, of the chain of military camps that had been set up. It was a deployment of impressive force.

  “There must be at least two thousand soldiers down there,” Selot whispered, shocked.

  “Almost three thousand,” Marrhit corrected him.

  “All of them to siege the Rotmandis?”

  “All of them to exterminate them to the very last one. The Congregation is afraid of them because they teach men to defend themselves against Vetems.” They went back down the impervious path and got their horses.

  “Stay here,” Marrhit ordered him. “I must ascertain a few things.” He left at a gallop. Selot lost sight of him quickly, sucked into the dark of the night. He came back when the sun had already risen by a couple of hours. He was tired and drawn.

  “It is as I feared. The information I received from the Governor of Solzhaz and several officials present that evening of the dinner are confirmed. The generals have raised up a chosen militia, the Praetorians. An escort body of excellence. It is as if they are afraid of a personal attack even if they are ensconced inside the base from which they conduct their war operations. It will be very difficult to get near. Once we penetrate the camp we must get to them. But we’ll have to get out of the way pretty quickly,” he said, leaving Selot to draw his own conclusions. “Or else,” he continued, “we wait for one of their inspections away from the camp, at the front, where they will be more assailable. One is anticipated in a day or two. Less deaths, less hard work, more chance of success. Though we will be two days late.” From his tone, Selot understood that the hypothesis worried him.