storm beyond the shelter of the bay is risky. Perhaps the captain is hoping that the small craft trailing astern will founder in the high waves before we do, but I very much doubt that.'
'I do like an optimist,' said Brian dryly, then, 'Declan, are you all right?'
He shook his head vigorously in an attempt to clear it rather than as an answer, and said, 'Yes.'
The combination of oars and rudder were bringing the ship around so that the wind was striking the foresail edge-on, making it flap loudly and ripple like a flag in a gale, then suddenly it began to fill. Underfoot the deck motion was changing as the vessel began to surge forward, but slowly because of the cluster of smaller craft that had attached or were still attaching themselves to her with thrown grappling hooks. With their shallow draft the high wind behind the foresail should have been taking them over the waves at speed, but instead they were moving as sluggishly as an overloaded barge. Suddenly, above the ringing in his ears he heard the high, clear voice of Sinead and the quieter and somehow clearer one of Ma'el calling out to the captain, but the wind shredded the words of their meaning.
A grappling hook clattered onto the deck at Declan's feet. Before it could find a hold on the deck structure he stooped quickly and threw it back into the sea. The effort made him so dizzy that he had to use the shaft of his axe to steady himself. On the rail to his right two pairs of hands were visible, then they disappeared into total darkness as a cloud blew across the sickle moon. Through the persistent buzzing in his ears he heard the sound of feet landing on the deck. Tomas and Brian began saying their names again to give their positions and identities in the blackness.
Declan did the same as he moved a safe distance away from them and took a double grip on the lower end of his axe shaft. Then slowly at first but picking up speed he began spinning around on his heels and toes with the long-axe held at full extension. He still felt dizzy but in the darkness he could not know if or when he was falling, and somehow he was able to remain erect. His idea was that if he could see nothing then he would try to hit everything that came within range, and hit it hard. Three times he felt the axehead catch and tear against something, probably clothing or leather armor, and move on. He judged them to be wounding rather than lethal blows.
Brian and Tomas were still alive because he could hear them saying their names, but suddenly two things happened at once. Declan overbalanced and fell heavily onto his side and the other two's voices were drowned out by the stentorian tones of the captain.
'Men, hear and believe my words!' he shouted. 'One of our passengers is a great wizard. He is about to conjure up a creature monstrous and terrible beyond belief to aid us in our time of need. But fear not, for he promises you that it will do no harm to any member of our crew…'
Behind Declan a light like that of a great, blue sun had come into being, a light that he had seen once before during the robber attack in the clearing. So Ma'el had broken the solemn promise he had made to himself and had decided to help slay their attackers. Declan was too relieved to feel disappointment, but he doubted that the old man's terrible and magical beast would come soon enough to save his own life.
There were five or six Romans around him, none of them further than three paces distant, and two with weapons raised to strike. Declan tried to bring up his heavy axe, knowing that he could not do so in time. But the expected blows did not come. Instead the men were looking past him, their mouths wide open. One of them dropped his weapon to the deck, cried out in fear, turned and jumped over the stern into the sea. The others followed, including those who had been attacking Brian and Tomas. He heard them shouting to the other craft as they jumped back into their own boats or the water alongside. By the time he had climbed to his feet, Ma'el's bright blue light had died, but the darkness was not complete because the moon had cleared the clouds again.
It gave enough light for him to see that the ship was clear of boarders, the ropes attached to the grappling hooks had been released so that they trailed loose in the water, and the attacking craft were being rowed hurriedly back toward the beach while their frightened crews shouted fearfully to each other.
'What the…' said Declan, searching his aching brain for an oath colorful enough to suit the occasion without finding it, 'What happened?'
'Like you,' said Brian, laughing, 'we were too busy looking aft to see…'
'That was well done, men, all of you,' the voice of the captain broke in. 'It was a close-fought thing even with the magical intervention. Seamus! Lower the foresail. All men able to row, man the oars. Helmsman, steer us back to the weather shelter of the bay and drop anchor.'
He broke off to laugh loudly and long before going on, 'Set a double watch to keep an eye on the Romans, but I very much doubt that they will trouble us again this night.'
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
From Ma'el Report. Day 112,455…
It was not necessary to slay any Earth person. On the ship their survival was due to the intervention of minor and nonviolent Taelon science in conjunction with human ingenuity. It begins to concern me that such a high level of intuitive intelligence is available to a species with only the rudiments of technical education or support.
'This incident illustrates my difficulty in continuing to treat these people merely as subjects for investigation…'
–
By first light the storm had abated to a stiff breeze and they had resumed the voyage because Ma'el, in his clear if partly incomprehensible words, had informed the captain that the troublesome low had moved north into Skandia and was being replaced by a high-pressure system that was deepening over the continental land mass, and that this would ensure favorable winds and weather over the ensuing four or five days. But the emotional weather in and around the shelters of Declan and Sinead continued rough, and its far from calm storm center was the healer.
Sinead had been tending the previous night's wounded without pause during the hours of daylight, so that she was both tired and short-tempered. She insisted, and her words were backed up gently by Ma'el, that Declan remain in his shelter instead of stumbling about the deck like a drunken man and perhaps falling over the side, that he rest as much as possible but not fall asleep in case he went into a coma and did not wake again, and that the compress she had given him for the enormous lump on his head must be kept wetted even if the cold water did run down his neck.
When he objected she said that last night's blow to the head might have permanently addled his brain, and that rest and the reduction of the swelling was the only treatment she knew short of opening his head, a procedure which she had never attempted before. She asked Brian to relieve Declan's boredom and to ensure that he remained awake.
But Brian wanted only to talk about the fearsome monster conjured by Ma'el. He was being eaten alive by his own curiosity, he said, but the healer and everyone he had asked about the magical beast would not talk about it. With the crew numbers reduced by wounded, they had said that they were too busy with other duties and that Seamus would have hard words or even harder fists for them if they stopped for idle chatter. Declan had replied truthfully that he, too, had seen nothing. In the end Brian changed the subject to that of Ma'el himself, seeking out scraps of information about the old man which, because of Declan's possibly addled wits, he might be able to pry loose. In the event he was unsuccessful because Declan had no new information to give him. But Brian at least made the hours pass quickly until Sinead arrived to say that it was time to join the captain.
It was a quiet and hurried meal because there was only one subject that Captain Nolan and Seamus wanted to discuss, but good manners forbade them from bringing it up over food. When the platters were cleared away, the captain said, 'Healer, what of our wounded?'
'Apart from general bruising and scrapes that are of little consequence,' Sinead replied in a voice self-assured beyond her tender years, 'there are seven of which I shall speak in the reverse order of their severity. First there is Declan, who sustained a heavy blow to his head which could well have led to a coma and death or at least to seriously addled wits. Fortunately he is able to converse, has not fallen asleep and his wits do not seem to be addled, at least…' she smiled '… no more than is usual with him. If or when required, he is able to take an oar…'
'Thank you, healer,' said Declan in an angry undertone.
