he did so with a smile.
* * *
The oars were bound in sacking. Men sharpened weapons. The gunners prepared the cannons, though they were not to be used, except as a last resort. Armor was readied but not donned. If they got through the screen of guard boats, then the armor would be hastily put on. Boarders and armor did not go together, and they might have to board a guard ship.
It was an awkward combination of circumstances. The moon, a hazy object often hidden behind gathering clouds, was slipping beneath the horizon. It was going to be as black as the inside of a cat out there. If they came upon a guard boat suddenly, the knights would act as boarders—no firearms, just swords and murderous haste. A single shot fired would mean retreat, and landfall elsewhere.
After that, if they were spotted they'd run for shore and try to beach the vessel. The knights had already planned to smash out the cladding timbers between the ship's ribs and swim their horses to shore. Once again armor was likely to drown both the knight and the horse. So, for that it would be helmets and shields only. But in the final attempt to reach the Citadel, they aimed to bring the ships to rest on the shingle just off the northern side of the islet. Sea access to this was between the islet and castle on Vidos and the Corfu Citadel itself.
The biggest difficulty was going to be keeping two silent, darkened vessels in touch with each other. They had one steersman, and two ships. A long line between the two helped. A man on the bow of the second ship kept a coil of this line in his hand, keeping the line tight without allowing it to pull. He had to feel whether it was pulling away to any direction or if the front vessel was slowing or speeding up. A second man in the bow of the second ship was ready to listen to softly made gull cries. One for port, two for starboard. Gulls shouldn't be calling in the small hours of the night, but Benito's ingenuity deserted him on this one. At least it wouldn't sound as unnatural as voices.
* * *
By the time they reached the southern channel it was so dark that all that could be seen was a shape of deeper darkness where the landmasses lay. Well . . . except for the cheerful lanterns that burned on the four equidistantly placed watch vessels.
How nice of them to show Benito where they were!
It was all Benito could do to stop himself laughing helplessly. They slipped through relatively close to the lantern-lit vessels, just in case the enemy had put unlit vessels between.
In the tense darkness, Manfred snorted. 'We're past. Let's give a rousing cheer to celebrate.'
'There are more hurdles,' said Benito. 'Listen. You can hear the cannon fire.'
They could. A distant deadly rumble. The steersman pointed. 'Those lights are Lefkimi. We're passing Lefkimi point now.'
'How long is it going to take us to get to Kerkira?' whispered Erik.
The man looked at the sky. 'If we get the sail up now, we should be within hailing distance just before dawn.' Benito caught the flash of teeth. 'Or within cannon shot. I hope those priests can come up with the magic they promised, milord, or the Venetians' own fort and Vidos castle will blow us apart.'
'They're very powerful Christian mages, those priests,' replied Erik stiffly.
The Corfiote didn't seem especially impressed. 'I've no faith in priest's magic. On Corfu we have some real, old magics. Scary things, but powerful, sirs, maybe more powerful than anything you've ever seen.'
'Eneko Lopez is one of the most scary men in the world. And he is not going to let us down.' Benito spoke quietly, with a faith he hoped he felt.
'I reckon we'll get a chance to see if that is true. If he fails we're shit. Fish-shit, soon enough,' said the steersman with morbid humor.
On the main deck the seamen were raising the carefully blackened mainsail. Under oars it had been tricky to keep the two vessels running in tandem. Under sail it would be virtually impossible. The second vessel would just have to do its best with a helmsman following the dark patch that was the sail of the lead vessel. They still had a good few leagues to go before the final dash.
'There's a small vessel ahead! Also running without lanterns. Running away from us.'
'Smuggler?'
'Must be. We've made someone shit themselves.' The seaman grinned.
Manfred came up on deck. 'What was that?'
'Smuggler-ship. Avoiding taxes,' said Benito knowledgeably.
Manfred half-choked. 'And just who is collecting taxes right now, Benito?'
'Oh, hell! Do you think it was a watch-boat? We'd better run for shore.'
'No,' said Erik decisively. 'If it was a watch vessel, someone would have fired off a signal. What you saw there was a sign that things are pretty bad on the island. That 'smuggler' will have a human cargo. He's taking refugees away, not bringing illegal goods in.'
'I've got three sisters and a brother in Achilleon,' said their steersman, quietly. 'I wonder what's happening to them.'
'It's to be hoped that your brother was also involved with the
There was a chuckle. 'Spiro is my older brother. That's how I came to be involved in the first place.'
Chapter 35
