“Thank you Owain. This is a surprise, you always seem to have another up your sleeve.”
“Thank you, thank you. Now get aboard. I wish you well on your journey. Come back and let me know how things go for you. Oh, and Anselm,” he called as I was getting aboard, “I don’t know what went on with you and Gawain, he won’t tell me, so I find no fault in you. You’re very welcome here. The Queen looks forward to seeing you again! Goodbye now!” He was about to turn away but then he called back again, clicking his fingers. “Anselm! I meant to ask you. We thought you were dead! How did you escape the grave? Come back and tell me everything!”
With that, the boat was cast off from the jetty. The two junior members of the crew used the oars under the direction of the pilot to manoeuvre the craft out from the shore towards the main stream. The wind was fresh and the sail, when hoisted, filled out and tugged the craft eagerly out into the Clyde estuary and then towards the east, deeper into Strathclyde. Within moments the little fleet was leaving the castle and settlement of Dumbarton behind.
I enjoyed sailing. I found the rocking and the movement of the wind and the waves soothing but I was virtually alone in my pleasure. Whimpers of terror came from the other passengers, and not just the children. I tried to ease their fear as much as possible and made my way up and down the boat as carefully as possible, keeping out of the crew’s way, until I’d calmed all who could be. The others - including those on the other vessels - I assured of my availability if needed, then settled down to enjoy the voyage.
10
The Clyde
The tide ran swiftly but the wind was keen to beat it, wherever it was heading. It blew in from the west, laden with the scents of the land to our right and of the sea further on. It brought hints of grass, heather and daffodils from the sheltered valleys of Renfrew. It was an ideal direction and we would barely have to tack at all until we were well upriver. We were making astonishing progress. The passengers had mostly settled with resignation to whatever fate would throw at them, but a crosswave, or sudden gust of wind, or anything that caused an interruption to the rhythm of the boat could still prompt a cry of alarm.
One older woman in our boat would not be calm until she was back on dry land; she spent much of the first hour of the journey wailing and begging to be let off. Her family comforted her as best they could but her muffled weeping could still be heard from behind her shawl, wherein she had wrapped her entire face and held so tightly that there was some fear she might suffocate.
“Then we might all get some peace” the helmsman whispered to me, and I smiled in spite of myself. I was sitting in the stern, well away from her and her family. I’d tried to calm her but without success. I understood her fear and sympathised to an extent, but her continuous noise was enough to try the patience of the most pious and long-suffering of saints.
Eventually, she fell asleep. She may have worn herself out but I had come across cases where someone in extreme terror had simply lost consciousness. Maybe she’d reached that point. Whatever the reason there was quiet on the boat, for which everyone was grateful.
But it only lasted a few moments for the dame snored, and she did so loudly. Others in the company tried – with little success – to suppress giggles and guffaws but her family looked beyond embarrassed; mortified, more like. They tried to settle her into a position where her airways would remain clear. They failed, repeatedly, and some attitudes were worse than others. They finally decided, with general agreement, that her original position slumped against the gunwale produced the least disturbance.
“No peace for the wicked, nor the holy neither, Magister,” the pilot commented with a grin, “but I think I can put up with this racket more easily than the other. What say you?” I agreed. I asked him what he thought Owain had in mind with this idea of shipping up and down the Clyde.
“He wants to see more traders I understand, sir, or at least that’s what he said when he gave me the commission. He asked me because he knows I’m useless at anything but the boats, and I’ve rendered him good service at getting his fighting-men across the waters wherever he may be. From the Rhinns across the Ituna[18], across the Bay of Sands[19] to the south of Rheged, or over the Dee to Gwynedd, I’ve got them all across safely, and fast if the wind’s right,” he paused for a moment and dropped his voice before continuing. “But I think this idea has more to it than just ferrying traders about. Think on it. If the boats pay their way when there’s no fighting to be done, then he can afford to build more fighting boats - and he’ll have more troop transports to hand in an emergency.” I nodded in agreement. It would be in character with what I had come to know of the brothers, for them to have dual purposes in mind.
The pilot himself was clearly not British. He stood nearly six feet tall and his hair was lighter in colour than the norm, without being blonde. He spoke the language with a lilt and a hint of strange pronunciation. I concluded he was from Norway, and asked if that was the case.
“I am indeed, sir. Norse I am. I came over first time twenty years ago, when I was a young man. Our family farm was too small to divide between four brothers on my father’s death and give any a decent living. I took the boat as my share, together with some goats and woollen cloth my mother wove for me, some bear furs to trade and I set off to plough the blue fields until I fetched up at these islands. I had to travel round a bit before I found somewhere I was welcome, but King Gwriad was a good man and he let me stay.
“I tried my hand at farming, but I was no good at it so I went on the fishing game,” he continued. “Did all right at that, had enough to trade for the meat and vegetables that would have died under my useless hands. And I went with King Owain - Prince, he was then - and Prince Gawain, up and down the coasts with them, bringing supplies for the army, and reinforcements if they needed them, which was often.”
I asked when he’d retired from the military life.
“I haven’t sir, not yet. I was with the King when he caught that party of pirates down in Rheged. It was me who raised the alarm when I saw the boat.”
He had features in common with the leader whose head decorated Owain’s hall. I hesitated before asking if he was uncomfortable, going against other Norsemen.
“No problem at all, sir. I say there’s good and bad all over, everywhere you go, and pirates are bad sorts wherever they come from. Norway, Strathclyde, Erin - where I believe you come from, sir, and we’ve had trouble with them, too - wherever they come from, they’re vermin as far as I’m concerned. Preying on women and children and simple farmers. I was pleased to get a couple of them myself. King Owain let me keep one of their heads, which I believe is the custom in these lands.”