Keepers of the Western Forest

by Chris Kennedy

  Chapter 27

   

  Darin turned his face to the wind and gazed back at the dwindling cove they were leaving behind. Above his head, gulls were screaming and crying; a wonderful elation took hold of him.

  “To think, today is the first time I’ve ever even seen the sea, let alone sailed on it!” he exclaimed to Broderic, who stood beside him on the afterdeck.

  The captain, who stood next to him manning the steering-oar, laughed at this. “Never seen the sea,” he echoed. “Just fancy.”

  “How do you plan your route?” Darin asked.

  “Easy. See that coastline up ahead?”

  Darin nodded. The faint line on the horizon he had seen as they set sail was now recognizable as land.

  “Well, when we get a little nearer, we turn and head south, keeping the land always in view on the larboard.”

  “Larboard?”

  “The left side of the ship,” said Broderic. He pointed to the steering-oar mounted on the right gunwale. “Opposite the steer-board.”

  The captain turned his gaunt, tanned face in his direction. “Ah, so you know something about the sea.”

  “I’ve made this crossing before. My uncle has land along the coast over there.”

  Darin stared ahead. The ship was divided into three parts: the deck he was standing on, then a lower section mid-ships where the ribs of the hull were plainly visible and where the mast was fixed and finally another raised deck leading to the prow. Dart and River stood in the lower part of the vessel, tethered to iron rings at the edge of the foredeck; they seemed remarkably unconcerned about their unusual surroundings. Supplies the crew had loaded that day, covered with cloth treated with pitch to keep them dry, occupied most of the rest of the space between mast and foredeck. Of the six crewmen who had rowed them out of harbour, standing at their oars on the front deck, the two whom the captain referred to as his mates were now busy trimming the sail while the others rested, sitting on sleeping-bags of the same pitch-covered material.

  Suddenly restless, Darin made his way forward, swaying a little with the unfamiliar motion of the deck beneath his feet, until he stood right at the prow of the ship. Holding onto the gunwale and gazing out over the waters ahead, he gave himself up to memories of the last days he had spent with Shayla.

  He had no doubts any more. He loved her—and she him. Fears for the future of Camelot, for the safety of all of them, had been forgotten in the pain of their parting. She had lifted up her face and he had kissed her; he could still feel her tears against his cheek. When he returned from this quest, he would marry her.

  Leaving his mother had been hard too. Those great grey eyes he had known all his life could hold mysteries in their depths he had no words for, but never had he seen such sorrow and tenderness. His father had been stern. Embracing him, he had wished him success on his mission before striding away to join King Arthur in the council chamber.

  Darin tightened his grip on the side of the ship and lifted his eyes to the horizon. His father was right—the mission was everything. The most important adventure of his life was begun. If he and Broderic could return with the axe, they might save Arthur’s kingdom from annihilation at the hands of Morgan and the rebels.

   

  Beneath the deck where Darin stood, Brynn lay dozing fitfully. Time had gone slowly for him while the ship was still in dock. He had lain there listening as the men loaded provisions, brought the horses on board and tethered them close to his hiding-place. Dart and River were understandably restive, so when the sounds of activity died away and it seemed the crew was ashore for the time being, he crept closer and whispered their names. Both horses knew him well; they nosed under the foredeck. He stroked their soft muzzles, murmuring comforting sounds.

  “Shh!” he whispered. “You be quiet now, we don’t want to draw attention to this end of the boat!” As he felt their warm breath on his arm, he revelled in a delicious sense of conspiracy; it was good to have friends nearby.

  At last, the ship got under way. He heard the sailors shifting their feet about on the deck above his head as they strained at their oars and then the sound of the sail unfurling and catching the breeze. He crept over to comfort the horses again as they showed some alarm at these new developments, then lay back and let the gentle rolling of the ship lull him into a half-sleep.

  How long could he hold out like this, hidden away beneath the deck? He knew he would have to stay there long enough to be sure that Broderic and Darin would not immediately order the ship back to harbour and put him ashore. At the same time, however, he was anxious to tell them about Sir Agravain. Surely then they would see how useful he could be to them on this voyage?

  All at once it was very dark; he realized he had been asleep. For a moment, he was not sure where he was, but the creak of the overlapping planks of the ship’s hull soon brought his situation back to him. Suddenly, he was aware of another sound—a voice, whispering urgently in the darkness. Someone was sitting close by. He strained his ears to listen.

  “But didn’t you say these knights are travelling under the king’s seal?” the voice was saying. “Isn’t it all a bit too risky?”

  “Haven’t you heard there’s a war coming?” said a second voice. “King Arthur is going to have his hands too full to bother with the likes of us. Besides, I have no intention of going back to Logres. We can stop at any port we like with all that gold and live like lords until the war is over. Who knows what the situation back home might be by then?” There was a pause. “Don’t tell the crew anything about that royal seal business, though.”

  “Yes, what about them? What are they going to think about all this?”

  Brynn jumped—this third voice was very close by. Three of them—probably the captain and the two mates he had heard him mention to Broderic on the pier. What treachery were they planning?

  “Two of them I know well. They’ll be happy to come in with us,” replied the voice Brynn took to be the captain’s. “I’ll have a little word with them tomorrow. As for the new fellows, well, we’ll do it while they’re sleeping. They won’t have much to say about it once it’s done. If they do, we’ll chuck them over the side to keep the two knights company!” He chuckled. “You should have seen that bag of gold when they paid for the supplies!”

  “Good,” said the voice nearest to Brynn. “When shall we do it?”

  “Tomorrow night when they’re asleep,” answered the captain. “We’ll use hammers. Bash ‘em on the head, both at once. We don’t want either of them waking up. If they are King Arthur’s men, they’ll be pretty handy with those swords they’re wearing, young though they be!”

  Brynn heard the captain stand up. “Let’s all get some sleep now, it’s been a long day.” The three men moved softly away.

  Brynn lay for a long time thinking about what he had just heard. There was apparently no danger until the next night, but he had better take action before the captain had time to get any more of the crew involved in his treacherous plot. He must warn his friends before daybreak.

  After giving ample time for the three conspirators to fall asleep, he poked his head cautiously out from under the deck. One of the horses snorted softly, but showed no further sign of agitation. Although there was no light but that of the stars, Brynn could see quite well after the pitch darkness of his hiding place. A lone seaman stood on the afterdeck, his hand on the steering-oar; some of the crew lay huddled in their bags on the deck beside him, the rest slept near the mast in the lower section of the ship. Slightly apart from the rest, two figures lay sleeping just in front of the afterdeck. Beside one of them, Brynn could see the dim gleam of a long blade. He remembered Broderic telling him how Darin would always sleep with his sword within easy reach.

  Keeping the horses between himself and the sailor on steering duty, he crept out from under the deck and crawled along the shadowy space between the provisions and the side of the ship. The gap separating him from the sleeping knights was now not more than five or six
yards, but it was clearly visible from the afterdeck. He lay still, awaiting his opportunity.

  After some minutes, the seaman let go of the oar, shook his arms and stretched. Then he turned and took a few steps towards the stern of the ship, where he stood with his hand on the gunwale, staring out down the long wake behind them. It took Brynn but a few seconds to cross the starlit stretch of lower deck; he lay down next to Darin’s sleeping form and pulled his hood over his head. If I lie perfectly still, I’ll not be noticed, he thought. Then he settled into waiting again.

  The faint grey light that comes an hour before dawn was stealing over the ship when Darin sighed and moved his head a little. Brynn whispered his name and saw his eyelids flicker; suddenly the young knight was wide-awake, a startled look in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Brynn clapped his hand over it. Whispering in Darin’s ear, he told the whole story of the last day and night, as the Petrel and her sleeping crew ploughed steadily on through the dark waters.