A rock passed by the stern, the length of three men and the width of one, surrounded by a floating mass of broken beams, and straightaway I knew that this was what we had hit. But so close were the enemy following that as we left it in our wake, I realised that the steersman of the ship behind could not have seen it.
A cry went up from the men in their bows, but it was too late, and they struck it full on, the prow heaving up, the rock slicing into the boat’s underside, tearing timbers into savage splinters. Men fell backwards, or were pitched over the side, plunging into the water, thrashing about to keep their heads above the surface, struggling to free themselves from their mail hauberks, which were dragging them down. Their ship ground to a halt, pitched over to one side with its larboard gunwale high, a rent along the length of its hull. Some of the oarsmen leapt overboard, trying to push it free from the rock, while those nearer the stern began to back-paddle. Behind it, the second ship drew up, the channel too narrow to allow it past. Angry shouts filled the air.
‘Break,’ I told the others in the shield-wall. Arrows continued to spit down from the sky, but I sensed they were loosed out of frustration rather than with any aim in mind, and they sailed high, far to larboard as the Wyvern steered right, following the channel. Stroke by stroke we pulled away, opening the range as they laboured to free their stricken vessel.
‘Row,’ Eudo shouted from amidships. ‘No flagging, no slacking! Pull! Pull!’
The enemy receded into the distance, their ships continuing to dwindle until at last they disappeared into the night. Gradually the pace slowed and I began to breathe more easily as their shouts faded away to nothing, until all I could hear was the gentle creak of our own oars in their rowlocks, the splash of the blades as they entered the water, the slow beat of Eudo’s hand upon the drum. The men looked spent, hardly able to lift the blades any longer, their backs hunched over, their arms almost limp with exhaustion.
Wace made his way to the bows, where he lifted the deck-planks and gave his hand first to Elise, then to Beatrice, as he helped them climb out from the hold. I noticed the flighted end of an arrow jutting out from one of the timbers; it was as well they had been hidden, or that same arrow could have struck one of them.
I stepped over to the shipmaster and slapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘We owe you our thanks,’ I said, offering my hand.
Aubert took it wearily, his palms chafed and raw. ‘I don’t need thanks,’ he said between breaths. ‘Let’s just hope we don’t meet any more of the enemy tonight.’
I nodded. In front of us the channel was widening once more; the open river was almost upon us. If our luck held then by morning we would be in Alchebarge.
Fifteen
DARKNESS SETTLED AROUND us as Wyvern’s prow carved its way from the shore out towards the midstream. Aubert left the tiller and strode along the length of the ship, giving the order to ship oars. Eudo ceased beating the drum and the long poles were slowly hauled aboard, dripping water on to the deck. All else was still. What breeze there had been had now died completely, and the clouds hung low, bathed in the glow of the moon and the stars. For the first time in what seemed like hours, silence filled the air as we drifted on the current.
I untied the strap under my chin and removed my helmet, setting it down on the deck by my feet. I glanced towards my fellow knights and saw the relief in their eyes. At the same time, though, I could sense a frustration in them, a frustration that had I been the same age I would surely have felt too. For there were few things worse for a young warrior hungry for battle than to be denied the chance to test one’s sword-arm, to prove oneself. Death was not something one even considered, though that seemed to me due less to the arrogance of youth than to an innocence of the true nature of battle. Many were the times I had seen such men charge happily to their deaths. More than once I had come close to doing the same. The fact that I had held myself back was – above all else, above skill at arms or bravery or strength – the reason why after all these years I was still alive, when so many others I had known were not.
I gazed past the stern into the night, searching upstream for any sign of the enemy, but there was none. Indeed I could barely make out the line of the shore, lost as it was in the mist. But in truth I didn’t expect them to continue the pursuit; the last light of day was gone and they could not hope to find us by night. We were out of danger, for the present at least.
Wace returned, having already divested himself of his mail, though he was still wearing his scabbard. He stood beside me, arms folded as he leant on the gunwale, soon joined by Eudo.
‘Malet will need God on his side if he’s to defend Eoferwic,’ Wace said.
‘He was on our side tonight,’ I pointed out.