Vallon looked up. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘The sergeant. I can’t see him.’
Vallon whirled and froze. Raul seemed to run in two directions at once, then scrambled for the dangling rope.
‘No time!’ Vallon shouted. ‘Break down the door.’
Raul attacked the bolt with blows that shivered the tower.
‘Hurry!’
The bolt splintered and Raul kicked the door open. He and Vallon charged through it shoulder to shoulder and grabbed their weapons.
‘What about me?’ Hero cried.
‘Climb down. Don’t wait for us. When you reach the ground, run.’
Hero heard their feet clattering on the steps, dying away. He peered in terror down the steep pitch of the roof. He knew he didn’t have the strength to climb down unaided. From the belly of the building came a muffled shout. There was a long interval of silence, then the sound of someone running from the tower, followed by a furious clanking, both noises fading away up the street. A shutter opened somewhere and a voice called out. Hero dithered, losing time, until he realised that he had no choice but to take the stairs. He slid down to the beam, burning his hands, and dropped to the floor. The guard who’d fallen asleep playing chequers still lay slumped over the table. Hero tiptoed to the door and looked down into the soldiers’ sleeping quarters. The stairs were empty and two of the guards lay in drugged abandon on their pallets. Hero crept down step by step, one hand brushing the wall. When he reached the next floor, he listened as hard as he could, then went through the door. Halfway down the next flight the sergeant lay spread-eagled with his head cleft from crown to neck. At the bottom another soldier slumped half decapitated against the door-jamb. Blood everywhere — sprayed up the walls, pooled on the floor. Hero’s feet slipped in it. Behind the door sat another soldier, holding his stomach. He was still alive. When he saw Hero, his lips moved.
‘Help me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Hero whimpered. ‘I’m sorry.’
The guardhouse was empty, the brazier still burning, the dice lying as they had fallen. One of the soldiers sprawled face down outside the entrance. Hero found Vallon struggling to lift the beam barring the gates. He swung round, his face freckled with blood. ‘Take the other end.’
‘Where’s Raul?’
‘One of the soldiers got away. Raul went after him.’
Between them they lifted the beam. Vallon barged the doors open. There was a jangling up the street and he spun and raised his sword. Raul staggered towards them clutching his side, still wearing manacles and dragging the severed chain. ‘Lost him,’ he gasped.
Shouts carried from the city centre.
‘Let’s go,’ Vallon said, then checked. ‘Did you bring the mules?’
‘They’re with Wayland.’
‘How many?’
‘Two.’
‘Not enough. We won’t get clear on foot.’ Vallon made for the stable at a dead run. ‘Raul, give me a hand. Hero, watch the street.’
Hero was dimly aware of shutters opening and householders crying out in alarm. He kept seeing the pleading stare of the dying soldier on the stair. Someone touched his arm. Wayland had materialised out of the dark. He gestured with his chin at the guard lying near the entrance.
‘There are more inside. It’s a charnel house.’ Hero’s stomach heaved.
Vallon and Raul ran two saddled horses out of the stable. Lights were beginning to spark on the castle ramparts. A bugle blew.
‘They’re coming,’ Vallon said. He helped Hero on to one of the mules, then mounted his horse. ‘Ride like the devil.’
They galloped clear of the town, Vallon dragging Hero’s mule by its reins. They reached a river and forded it, the water cold to their knees. On the other side Vallon pulled up. The city cast a shadow in the night, three columns of lights crawling out from its base.
‘It isn’t just Drogo now,’ said Vallon. ‘The Normans won’t leave a rock unturned until they’ve caught us. They’ll be watching all the ports. We’ll have to turn west, lie up in a forest.’
‘We found the ship.’
‘You found it! Where?’
‘Wayland will tell you.’
‘It’s damaged,’ the falconer muttered.
Vallon’s jaw dropped. ‘He spoke. Am I dreaming? Is this a night of miracles?’ He grasped Wayland’s arm. ‘Damaged, you say. How badly? How long to make it seaworthy?’
‘I don’t know. Days, Snorri said.’
‘We don’t have days,’ Raul said. ‘Drogo will find out about the ship from the moneylender.’
Vallon thought about it. ‘Aaron won’t admit to knowing about the ship, and even Drogo will think twice about harming one of the King’s money-spinners.’ He turned back to Wayland. ‘Where’s the ship berthed?’
‘It’s not in a harbour. It’s hidden in the marshes.’
One of the torchlit columns was bobbing in their direction. ‘Better get moving,’ Raul said.
‘Ride on,’ Vallon said. He heeled his horse alongside Hero. The moon emerged from the clouds, lighting one side of his blood-spattered face. He spread his arms in an embrace, but Hero beat them away.
‘We had to kill the soldiers,’ Vallon told him. ‘If we hadn’t, all three of us would be dead. We wouldn’t have suffered clean deaths. Before they hanged us they would have broken us on the rack. They would have wound ropes around our temples until our eyes sprang from their sockets and our brains leaked from our ears.’
‘This isn’t why I came back,’ Hero shouted.
‘And that’s why I sent you away.’
Tears and snot ran down Hero’s face. ‘I was going to be a doctor. I was going to save lives.’
Vallon shook him. ‘You have. You saved mine. You saved Raul’s. You saved yourself.’ He wrenched at his reins. ‘Now shut up and ride.’
XIII
Sunset was gilding the reed tops as Snorri ferried the last of the fugitives to the island. Euphoria had given way to gloom. It seemed to Vallon that they’d reached a dead end rather than a sanctuary. All their hopes rested on a crippled ship and a man of barely human form. Even if the ship was salvageable, Vallon couldn’t see how they could float it out of the marsh. And if they did manage to reach the sea, they still had to find a crew. Wherever Vallon looked, he saw problems. No shelter except for a rotting lean-to. No wood for fuel, no fresh water except what little they’d brought with them. And, having left the horses and mules hobbled behind Snorri’s shack, they had only the punt for transport.
While Raul and Richard stripped the ship of its camouflage, Snorri scuttled about showing off its features.
The knarr was a sturdy workhorse, fifty feet from stem to stern and more than thirteen across the beam. Amidships was a hold with space for fifteen tons of cargo and two small half-decks at each end that could be used for shelter and cooking in foul weather. Stored upside down across the hold was the ship’s boat, about fifteen feet long. Thirteen overlapping strakes made up each side of
