‘Harder!’ I said, but when I looked at them I saw only tired arms, tired faces, and thought they might collapse if I tried to press the pace further.
Up ahead rose the island, which I saw now was no great mound but in truth little more than a low rise, bolstered on its upstream side by wide banks of silt. Indeed, had Wyvern’s mast been raised, the island would have been barely taller, but set against the flatness of the surrounding land, it stood out like a wart upon the skin of the earth. To the right of it lay the channel for which we were aiming, which at closer sight seemed even narrower than at first it had appeared, wide enough only for two vessels like ours to run abreast, with barely enough space for oars as well. I shivered at the sight.
In the bow of the ship, the rest of the knights were still putting on their mail, Wace and Philippe adjusting their coifs over their heads, Radulf and Godefroi tying their helmets’ leather straps under their chins. Only Eudo was fully ready, looping the strap of his shield around his neck.
I called him over. ‘Take the drum,’ I said, releasing it from my arm and pushing it towards his mailed chest. He slung his shield across his back and took it without a word, his expression grim. I thought of all the times we had charged upon enemy shield-walls bristling with spears, staring fate in the face, never knowing whether that battle would be our last. But at least then we’d known we could trust in the strength of our own sword-arms to see us through.
‘We have a priest with us,’ I said. ‘God won’t let us come to harm.’
He did not look certain, nor did I feel it, but I could think of nothing else to say. I left him and crossed towards the bow platform, where Wace was fastening his helmet-strap.
‘Are the ladies safe?’ I asked.
‘They’re safe,’ Wace said. I nodded, feeling that I should check on them but knowing there was no time; I had his word and that would have to be enough.
From behind came another muted rush of air as more arrows were given flight, though they dropped short of the stern by half a length. I had spotted only half a dozen archers on each ship, but that was scant relief, for it would only take a few of their shafts to strike home to start causing panic amidst our rowers.
I turned my attention to Malet’s men, who were beginning to pull chausses up over their legs.
‘Leave them,’ I said. ‘A hauberk you can remove quickly if you fall in. Chausses will only weigh you down.’ I spoke from experience: I had seen men drown in circumstances none too different, held under the surface by the very weight of their mail, floundering, struggling for breath with no one to help them.
I shrugged off my cloak and fastened my sword-belt to my waist, then found my gambeson and pulled it on over my head, followed by the hauberk and finally the helmet. I fed the hilt of my sword through the slit in the hauberk, just as a cry of agony went up from one of the rowers on the larboard side. His oar-handle slipped from his grasp, through the rowlock and out into the water. I rushed to the young man’s side as a great cheer erupted from the boats of our pursuers. A feathered shaft had pierced his gut, and blood was spilling out on to the deck.
‘It hurts,’ he whimpered, eyes shut tight. ‘It hurts!’
‘?lfwold,’ I called, and then because some of the oarsmen around him were drawing their attention away from their stroke, ‘Row, you bastards!’
‘Pull,’ Eudo said. ‘Pull!’
I put my arms around the man’s chest and hauled him over so that he lay on his back rather than his side; he had been struck on his right and I could not easily get to the wound otherwise. He let out another cry and his hands clutched at the arrow. I saw that it had pierced deep, the whole head buried into the flesh and some of the shaft too. I pushed the man’s hands away and snapped off the flighted end to leave only the point in the wound, then took hold of a corner of the man’s cloak. It was wrapped awkwardly around his body, but I was able to free enough that I could gather it and press it in a wad against the wound. Even as I did so, though, I knew it was in vain: the wound was too severe, the blood flowing too quickly to be staunched.
The oarsman gasped and his head wrenched forward. I heard footsteps along the deck and ?lfwold knelt down next to me.
‘How badly was he struck?’ he asked.