I stood between two of the northerners. A third stood behind, holding up a wooden shield to keep the fine drizzle from soaking me.
‘It’s an Imperial battle fleet,’ I said, looking west across the mile or so of choppy sea that divided us. ‘I can’t say what it’s doing in these waters. And it’s pretty unusual for it to be out of harbour at all this time of year, and on a day like this.’
‘Could it have followed us from Cartenna?’ Edward asked. He was the one who’d got me out of bed at dawn, and had then been darting up and down the mast so he could relay the details of the fleet’s elaborate gyrations. I could see these now for myself as it struggled ever closer while keeping in attack formation.
‘Might have,’ I conceded. But that wasn’t very likely. There had been no warships in Cartenna the day before. I knew of no naval base within easy communicating distance. And if this was what Wilfred had seen in the night, it would have been coming from the west – perhaps the north-west. The fleet might possibly have touched in on Cartenna after we’d left and then set straight out again in pursuit. But it struck me as a very faint possibility.
‘These waters are full of Saracen pirates and other raiders,’ I said, after another long inspection of those small, dark shapes. I couldn’t see the rise and fall of the oars, but the wind was now bringing the faint and ominously rapid beating of drums. Unlike our ship, these were propelled by well-trained – or well-whipped – slaves. ‘But do search your memory, Edward,’ I asked with a change of tone. ‘Did Hrothgar say anything about possible alternative meetings before Kasos?’
The boy shook his head. He repeated that the plan had been to use the design advantages of this ship so far as possible and keep away from the shore. There was no reason why Hrothgar should have shared any more with him than I’d already been told. But I did know that, ever since we’d had to put in to gather wood for a broken mast, we’d never managed to recover the course Hrothgar had had in mind.
‘Do you suppose, Master, we are to be attacked?’ Wilfred asked from deep within the folds of his hood. He might have been asking if the wind was about to change.
‘No reasonable doubt of it,’ I said. I glanced at Edward. He at least was looking scared. ‘Do you see how the fleet is bearing down on us in that crescent formation?’ I tapped the deck with my stick to show our own position, and then traced an invisible crescent a few inches beyond to show the formation of the fifteen battle ships. ‘The idea is for the outer ships to overtake us. You see how small and light they are relative to their sails and the number of their oars? On a smoother sea than this, they can move with astonishing speed. The bigger ships in the centre don’t move so fast. But you really don’t want to come within a few hundred yards of them. The biggest ship of all will be controlling all the others – coordinating their moves into a single and quite deadly weapon. The cusps of the crescent will overtake us. The whole thing will then close in on us like some giant pincer. If we don’t surrender at once, there will be grappling hooks fired at us from the larger ships. After that, it’s boarding.’
Wilfred calmly folded his arms and fought to suppress the renewed coughing fit. I looked round at a noise behind me. It was Edward, now carrying a spiked mace so heavy, it bumped on the deck beside him.
‘Will there be fighting?’ he asked, trying to look fierce.
Where his rain-soaked clothes clung to him, he looked absolutely lush. A shame he’d not be going back to Jarrow, I thought again. I smiled.
‘I’m sure the crew is up to a fight,’ I said. ‘But once those grappling hooks slam into the side of this ship, it’s numbers that will count.’ Edward’s face fell again. Before I could really enjoy the sight, I sniffed at the rising wind that had brought the sound of the drums. ‘Can you smell burning?’ I asked.
‘There are things on the larger ships that look like big spoons,’ Edward replied. ‘Do you think they might be catapults? They’ve been loaded with what look like bundles of burning cloth.’
I gripped the side of the ship and tried harder to see across the water. ‘Tell me,’ I asked, a cold feeling rising out of my stomach, ‘can you see bronze tubes projecting from any of those ships?’
Edward shook his head and gave a better description of the charged catapults.
I was only slightly relieved. Even I could see the speed at which the fleet was approaching. I’d never have thought it possible for the formation to be kept up in weather like this. No one but a fool could think this was to be a prearranged or even peaceful meeting. If orders had been given for a capture, this was an odd way to go about obeying them. This was an attack. Bearing in mind the price of those pitch bags, the catapults hadn’t been charged to scare us into surrender. It was an attack preparatory to sinking. I turned to the pilot, who was standing a few yards to my left.
‘Cancel the order to try going round those ships,’ I said. ‘Can we outrun them?’ I thought again of the hundred or so oarsmen aboard each of the attacking ships. I thought of them against fifty strong but semi-drunken northerners – fewer if we were to keep any fighting ability on deck.
‘Piece of piss!’ The man laughed. ‘But why not just ram through them?’ He cleared his throat and spat appreciatively.
I thought about his suggestion. He knew more about his ship’s capabilities than I did. It was a heavy ship, and I had no doubt it could smash up even a big battle ship. But we’d be rowing into the wind. We were too heavy and hadn’t the oarsmen to keep up the required speed once we’d broken through the crescent. But we did have that big sail, and the wind was picking up by the moment. The battle ships, I knew, were good for sprinting and darting about. If we could get away, they didn’t have the means for extended chase. And in this sea, they’d take in a lot of water if they tried for speed over any distance.
But the wind was blowing from the west. If we raised the sail, we’d be hurrying further into a sea that I badly wanted to leave. If we did outrun it, that fleet would still be about, potentially blocking any further attempted dart to the west. If we did manage to get past it, we might still find ourselves chased from the east by another fleet. Then we’d be fucked for sure.
I strained to look into the dark skies to our west. That way was Richborough. All my plans had been based on a slow rowing into the wind. Once through the Narrow Straits, the northerners would be back in waters they knew and could manage with the sail. I’d been almost counting the days off to the moment when we could touch shore at Richborough and send word for Theodore to come down from Canterbury with his money bags. Now, that bastard fleet blocked the way. I sighed and nodded to the pilot. While I was helped back to my sodden daybed, the ship pitched and rolled horribly as the sail came flapping down and took the full power of the wind.
It wasn’t before time. Even as I looked up again, I could see the bright streak of flame against the grey of the sky. As the burning pitch bag came closer, I could hear its fluttering buzz through the air. It fell short – though only by a few dozen yards. But then I felt the shudder as one of the six-foot iron-tipped arrows crashed into our side. Had I left it too late with my dithering? If we didn’t pick up speed soon enough, or if the wind dropped down, there was every chance of a lucky hit. One hole in that bulging sailcloth, and the whole would split from top to bottom. With everything wagered on the sail and its already damaged mast, we couldn’t afford a lucky hit.
But if the ships on the arms of that pincer came closer and closer, the distance did eventually widen. Other huge arrows flew overhead or smashed into the side. More of those fiery bundles landed behind us – and I could hear the hiss as they struck the grey water. But now the great sail was filled with air as if it were an inflated bladder, and the mast held. It held for all the dubious upward looks, and for all the continued distribution of arms about the deck. One moment, the battle ships were so close that even I could see the little figures darting about on the upper decks, and the archers watching us from the rigging. Another moment, and the whole battle fleet was a receding blur.
The crew let up a ferocious cheer. Perhaps the largest man on board sucked his moustaches in as he took a great lungful of air for shouting something long and obscene back towards the failing pursuit. Someone sat me roughly forward and patted my back until I coughed. Someone else pressed a wine cup into my hands. Whatever might be said against the notion, I was their wizard. For the second time in two days, they somehow believed I’d got them out of trouble. Whatever lay in wait at the end of this dash to the east would need more than the magic I’d shown them so far. I’d have to think of something. But that huge, articulated pincer was half a mile behind us. It could open and shut as it pleased. We were beyond its reach.
‘Take me to my cabin,’ I called weakly in Latin. No one came to help me to my feet. I looked over to the stern of the ship. Just beside the tiller, Edward and Wilfred were locked in what looked like a tremendous row. I strained to hear them, but the flapping of the sail overhead drowned out the snatches of shouted argument that blew towards me. I waved at them, but neither paid any attention. Wilfred suddenly gripped his chest, and I saw his body shake with coughs. But he never let up his own side of the shouted argument. I turned to the man who’d given me the wine. ‘Take me inside,’ I ordered. ‘Also, do have the pilot attend on me before the celebratory beer is handed round.’