13
The ground swayed beneath me. The buzzing in my ears had given way to dull, leaden ringing-like that of a poorly-cast bell. My head throbbed with a fiercely hostile ache. I could not feel my legs, nor my hands. The sky was still dark, and all was quiet. I heard the low mutter of whispered voices somewhere nearby, but they sounded like the clucking of ducks and I could make no sense of it. The air was close and warm, and breathing painful.
I made to rise. The sky burst into flaming jagged fragments of searing light. Nausea rolled over me in a wave and I slumped back again, panting with the effort.
A memory fought its way into my sluggish, half-sleeping awareness: a tiny bubble rising in a great black vat- only to burst at the moment of surfacing. What was it? What…what?
I heard a scream. The sound brought me to my senses as memory broke upon me with the force of an ocean wave crashing over a rock. I remembered the attack.
Eyes pressed tight against the pain, I struggled up. My shoulders and arms were swathed in heavy cloths. Shaking my arms, twisting this way and that, I fought free of the bindings-my own cloak and mantle-and threw off my cowl.
Daylight streamed into my eyes; throwing a hand before my face, I found myself gazing into the strong red glare of the rising sun. The scream sounded again and I looked up into a clear blue sky to see a white gull gliding serenely high above me. The ship's mast swayed into view.
The ship's mast! I reached for the rail above me and hauled myself shakily to my feet.
My stomach heaved again, and I vomited over the rail. When I had finished, I dragged my sleeve across my mouth and then slowly raised my eyes-this time with unutterable dread-to my new surroundings: a barbarian ship with Sea Wolves for companions. They were occupied with rowing, and paid me no attention. One brute in brown buskins, belt, and a sleeveless sheepskin mantle stood a pace or two away, his back to me. He seemed intensely interested in the distant eastern horizon where the red-risen sun was gathering its day's strength and filling the sky with light.
One of the rowers, glancing up from his oar, saw me, and called something to the brown-belted one who turned, took one look at my gaping, vomit-flecked mouth, smiled broadly, and went back to his duty. I turned my head to see what he was looking at and saw, far away, the ragged grey coastal hills of Armorica. It took me a moment to work out that we were proceeding in a northerly direction over grey-green billowy waves.
The Sea Wolf ship was long and narrow, with a high-swept prow and stern: a strong, sharp-keeled vessel. There were twenty or so rowers, with small benches for more. Behind the slender mast a platform had been established, and this was overarched with bent poles and the whole framework covered with oxhides to form a sort of enclosed stall or tent. A wisp of smoke emanated from beneath the hides, and flattened on the brisk easterly breeze.
Pain blurred my vision but there was nothing much to see anyway-a dull expanse of slate-grey water to the right of me, a dull featureless coast to the left-so I sat down again, drawing air deep into my lungs to help clear my head. I tried to think. My brain, however, refused to respond to the small demands I made upon it; all that came to me was that I was a captive.
Captive. The word engrossed me for an inordinate time. I savoured each lonely, helpless syllable, repeating them over and over again until the word lost all meaning. What would happen to me? What did Sea Wolves do with their captives? Slaughtered them, most likely, I concluded gloomily.
Regarding my captors, they were a filthy, noisome pack: smeared with mud and blood, and reeking of worse. When the seabreeze gusted, I could smell them and the stench made me gag.
There were twenty and two barbarians in sight; I made an accurate count. They were dressed in skins and leather, and wore broad belts of various kinds-leather mostly, but I saw several with copper and silver discs as well; most had knives or daggers tucked into their belts. Two or three wore short siarcs, or tunics, of close-woven cloth dyed pale yellow or brown. They seemed immoderately proud of their shaggy manes of hair: all wore their moustaches and beards long: some kept their locks in braids; some tied them back with leather thongs; others allowed their tresses to fly loose. More than half of them had some ornament worked into their hair-a bit of gold wire, a carved comb or silver trinket of some kind: a leaf, fish, bird, or hand.
A surprising number wore chains of gold around their thick necks, and everyone, from the greatest to the least, boasted other costly ornaments of various types: gold and silver rings, armbands, bracelets, brooches, and chains.
All were huge men. The smallest among them was taller than me, and the largest were bigger than Dugal.
Dugal! Oh, what had happened to him? What had become of my friends? Distracted by my own troubles, I had not spared a single thought for those I had left behind. For all I knew, the entire settlement had been slain in the attack. They might all be lying in their own blood at this very moment, the sun rising on their death-day.
Kyrie eleison, I prayed fervently to myself. Lord have mercy! Spread your loving arms around those who call upon your name in their time of need. Heal their hurt, and protect them from all harm. Please, Lord, be merciful to your people. Forgive my selfishness and pride, Lord. Save your servants…Have mercy, Lord, have mercy…
Someone shouted a gruff command. I broke off my prayer and raised my head. A fair-haired Sea Wolf with a yellow beard was standing on the platform; he shouted again, and three or four barbarians quickly pulled in their oars and hastened to where he stood. The pilot gave out a cry and two others leapt to the ropes and began raising the sail. I thought this meant that we would now be heading further out to sea, and further away from Armorica. Once under sail, the Sea Wolves shipped oars and then gathered around the tented platform. The ship held course mean-while, running parallel to the coast. After a time, however, I saw that my first judgement was not accurate for we were, in fact, heading obliquely towards land, drawing slightly closer with every roll of the waves.
I sat huddled in my place at the prow, watching the shore. It came into my mind that I might throw myself overboard. I had no great wish to drown, but reasoned that if I chose the place carefully I might be able to swim to freedom. I could be over the side and away before anyone stopped me.
The barbarian pilot-he of the brown buskins and sheepskin jerkin-bellowed a strange word that sounded like vik to my unaccustomed ear. Whereupon, the sail was instantly struck and the rowers returned to their benches and oars. Though I observed the nearing coastland keenly, I could not see any hint of a settlement, nor indeed, anything at all worthy of attention. Still, as the boat drew swiftly closer, I watched and waited for a chance to make my escape.
This came much sooner than I expected, for as the ship drew close to land, the sea grew rapidly more shallow. Soon, I could see the pebbled bottom showing beneath the waves, though we were still a goodly way off. I would never have a better opportunity.
I drew a deep breath, stood quickly, and, before anyone had noticed, hurled myself over the rail. I struck the water with a splash and regretted my hasty decision at once. The sea was cold and I sank like a stone, quickly touching the bottom with my knee. Gathering my legs beneath me, I pushed away. Unfortunately, I had badly misjudged my ill-advised leap and I surfaced alongside the ship-right between the hull and the oarblades.
Seeing my mistake, I drew a deep breath and dived. Whether my plunge was not deep or quick enough, I do not know, but I felt myself caught and, though I flailed all my arms and legs with utmost effort, I could not get free. I surfaced, gasping, the end of my cloak tight in a Sea Wolf's unrelenting grip. The barbarian had simply leaned over the rail and snagged me by a trailing edge of garment.
He dragged me half-way out of the water, and then held me there-much to the delight of his barbarian friends. They all roared with mirth to see me dangling like a fish from the side of the boat. Their laughter, like their voices, was crude and rough, and it hurt my ears to hear it.
The ship drew into a small, shallow cove and turned as it came in to land. As the ship turned, I saw what the pilot already knew to be there: a river-not wide, but deep enough to admit the keel. Without pause or hesitation, the ship slid across the little bay and into the river mouth. The oarsmen pulled in their oars and used them as poles to push the boat further up the river. Oh, these were canny Sea Wolves, indeed. And strong. Only when the ship had come to rest on a broad pebbled shoal was I released-thrown back into the water like a catch deemed too pathetic to keep.
The Sea Wolf who had prevented my escape leaped into the water with me. Grasping my cloak, he stood me upright in the water, turned me to face him and shaking his head slowly, spoke to me in a warning tone of voice while shaking a dripping finger in my face. Although I could not comprehend a word he said, I understood perfectly
