The bow-maker thought for a moment, then shrugged indifferently. ‘Now you mention it, I was asked what guests were at the fortress. I told them nothing but I wondered why I was asked?’
‘You say the Saxon ship waited at the jetty all night?’
‘I presume it was waiting for the morning tide.’
Fidelma sighed. Had Aescwine landed specifically to abduct Grella and been disappointed, because Glaisne had taken her to safety? She tried to make herself comfortable. Good slaves were valuable in the Gewisse culture, but it was not a happy prospect. She glanced around and looked back at her fellow prisoner. ‘We will have to be on the watch for an opportunity to escape.’
‘Show me a path of escape and I shall be happy to follow it,’ the bow-maker replied with a dry laugh. ‘There are thirty crewmen on this ship that I can count. Thirty who man the oars and deal with the sail. Then there are at least a dozen warriors, who can also man the oars when they are not needed to use their crossbows. So that is forty or so Saxons warriors against two bound prisoners – in case you have not noticed.’
‘I can count, Áed,’ she said, trying not to sound sarcastic. ‘Have you observed anything useful about how this ship is run?’
The bow-maker frowned. ‘In what way? You mean, how do the Saxons work their ship?’
‘Just so.’
‘How would that help us?’
‘All knowledge is helpful at some point.’
‘Then … they are content to let the wind do most of the work. The ship is fast; it drives well before the wind. The men handle the sail well. The captain seems to have a good eye and some knowledge of the Uí Liatháin coast. The second in command – I think his name is Beorhtric – is also a good sailor. They were able to avoid two of our warships that were at anchor in the Great River. They gave chase once we were spotted coming out into the estuary and I watched in agony how the Saxon gave them the slip. They thought he would turn east for home but he avoided them by turning west, hiding in an inlet. By the time they realised the ruse, it was too late for them to turn and follow.’
Fidelma’s brow wrinkled for a moment. ‘But that presents an interesting possibility. Those ships might still be waiting as we sail back past the estuary. This ship still has to sail east to their country.’
‘That encounter was a couple of days ago. The Saxon hides now and then in coves along the coast. The warships have probably given up looking for him.’
‘Where does he get his knowledge of these waters? The tall man in black? You said he was not a Saxon?’
‘Well, he is not an Uí Liatháin.’ Áed shrugged. ‘However, it is possible.’
‘But also, from what you say, this Aescwine is a good sailing master?’
‘That is a fact. He is a good sailor. I say so, even though I hate to admit good of these people. And when the winds are contrary and it is too much effort to tack, he can simply order the sails lowered and rely on his oarsmen to make headway.’
‘You say there is never more than half the crew attending the oars?’ Fidelma asked thoughtfully.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘He never has to use all his men to tend to the oars? That means there are always warriors who constantly watch us prisoners?’
Áed understood what she was getting at and smiled briefly. ‘There is no need to watch us. There are enough warriors to overwhelm us even if, by some miracle, we escaped and had weapons to confront them.’
Fidelma sighed and sat back. ‘At least I know the worst of the situation. Now one has to find the best.’
Áed chuckled. ‘You are an optimist, lady.’
Fidelma grimaced: ‘Est locus ad optimo interpretatio semper.’
‘What does that mean?’ queried the bow-maker.
‘There is always room for the best interpretation. If you are not an optimist, then there is no future.’ As she sat back, she suddenly saw the tall religieux emerge from a cabin-like construction near the prow. He was talking urgently to Aescwine. Fidelma tensed for a moment as memory came back and she realised abruptly where she had seen him before.
One of the Saxon seamen was standing nearby. She paused, trying to summon what fluency she had with Eadulf’s tongue.
‘Who is that religieux? The tall man with the black robes and the cowl? I am sure I have seen him in Finnbarr’s Abbey.’
The Saxon seaman just ignored her.
Suddenly one of the crew, from a position halfway up the main mast, gave a shout. He was pointing towards the stern of the ship.
Aescwine came hurrying back and climbed with agility to the deck that formed the roof under which they sat. He was quickly joined by Beorhtric, his second in command. Something was happening astern – Fidelma could hear some loud exchanges among the Saxons, but she could not interpret exactly what was being said. She was aware of the creaking of the tiller and the movement of the vessel, which was veering slightly off its course due east towards a more south-easterly direction. There were more shouted instructions from Beorhtric and the seamen began adjusting the larger mainsail.
‘What is happening?’ Fidelma shouted at one of the Saxon sailors, but once again she was ignored.
She cursed the fact that she and the other prisoner were cooped up without any view of what was going on behind them.
‘Something has disturbed them,’ Áed suggested. ‘They’ve seen something they don’t like behind us.’
‘That much is for sure,’ agreed Fidelma, ‘but what? Could those warships of which you spoke have sailed down the coast and managed to come up behind this vessel?’
‘It’s possible but not probable,’ Áed reflected.
‘What disturbs them then?’
‘Whatever it is, they are changing course to run from it. There’s one problem: there’s been a change in the direction of the wind. Didn’t you notice the way the sails were barely filled before they ordered the change? Now they fill, but not in the right direction. The wind is now against us. That might be to our advantage.’
‘To our advantage?’ frowned Fidelma.
‘I mean to the advantage of us prisoners.’
Fécho, on board the Tonn Cliodhna, was also disturbed. He was leaning against the side rail watching his ship’s sail being buffeted by the contrary winds.
‘I can hardly hold her on this course,’ he called to Eadulf, raising his voice to be heard. ‘We’ve had a good run with the wind behind us but it’s veered and is contrary to us now. This is a coastal vessel, not built for the deeper seas. It won’t stand this weather for long.’
Eadulf, whose eyes had been on the distant black speck of the Saxon ship, reluctantly turned his attention to the captain. He was aware of the dangerously tipping deck as angry white waves began to strike at the sides of their vessel.
‘Maybe the wind will just die away,’ he called back.
The boatman seemed to give a cynical laugh but the sound was lost in a gust of wind.
‘The wind has veered so it is blowing against us.’
‘But what is bad for us is surely also bad for the Saxons? Look! Haven’t they changed their course?’
‘True enough. But they have a bank of oars to help them. Can you see that headland in front of us, those shadows in the distance? They are heading out to sea to try to pass that headland. If they are able to round it, then they can lay close inshore and turn to follow the coast on a north-easterly course. The headline will shelter them for a while as it sticks out into the Southern Sea a full kilometre. Of course, they need luck. There are hidden rocks which break the tides. But once round the headland, they will be safe enough – from us and from the contrary wind.’
Eadulf examined the dark, rocky coastline. ‘Is there nothing beyond that will stop or slow them?’ he pressed.
Fécho shrugged. ‘There is a promontory fort a short distance beyond but Glaisne ceased to place warriors in it a long time ago. They might encounter warships sailing out of the estuary of the Great River, from Eochaill, but if the Saxon captai
n knows the coast, he will steer a course out of sight of land.’
‘So we must stop them before they reach the headland,’ cried Eadulf in desperation.
Enda had made his way back to where Eadulf was standing next to Fécho. The warrior used as many handholds as he could. His face was grim.
‘This does not look good, friend Eadulf,’ he called. ‘One of the men told me we should put in closer to shore until the wind abates.’
‘True enough,’ Fécho shouted. ‘I’ve said that we can’t hold this course much longer. We’ll have to get the sail down, before the contrary winds rip it to shreds.’
Eadulf stood in frustrated indecision. He was no sailor but even he realised that the ship was veering dangerously and with its shallow bottom, built mainly for deep rivers and calm inner seas, he saw the danger of it capsizing. It was an agonising decision.
‘Very well,’ he shouted to Fécho. ‘Do as you must.’
Fécho needed no other prompting. He began shouting orders to Iffernán, the helmsman, and relaying orders to his crew. They began slackening the mainsail and the ship began to turn, helped now by the wind. It was not long, however, before the wind slackened, almost to nothing. Seeing Eadulf’s puzzled look, Fécho explained.
‘The big cliffs there, the headland, have blocked the south-west wind that we were encountering full on. So now we are in calmer waters but still not out of danger.’
‘The black cliffs of the coast here certainly do not look like they provide safe anchorage,’ observed Enda.
‘True enough. We call that point the Place of the Grey Rocks but behind is a small anchorage called Gaibhlín, the Little Fork in the Cliffs. We can shelter there. We need to steer carefully for this whole coastline is full of rocks – some you can see but others are hidden.’
One of the crew was now able to climb up to loosen a rope that was blocking the complete lowering of the mainsail. Eadulf, not being wise to such things, had not even noticed that the sail had been positioned precariously on the masthead. The sailor seemed to be looking towards where they had last seen the Saxon vessel. Now he came shinning down the mast and made his way to Fécho.
‘The Saxon did not make it round the headland, skipper,’ he reported.
Eadulf went cold as he overheard the man. ‘Do you mean the Saxon ship has foundered?’ he demanded.
‘No, but they have been driven back into the shelter of the cliffs. Not even their oars could pull them around the point of the headland.’
New hope surged in Eadulf’s mind. ‘Does that mean they won’t be able to move until the winds die down or change?’
‘That is so,’ agreed Fécho without enthusiasm. ‘And what applies to them also applies to us. Winds are contrary things, blowing from one direction at one moment and then from another the next. Who knows how long the wind will keep them from moving in the right direction?’
‘Maybe we can close on him?’ Enda suggested.
Fécho shrugged sceptically. ‘Then what? Ask the Saxons politely to release their prisoner? There are many armed warriors on that ship – I can see only one warrior on this ship and he is wounded.’
Eadulf was well aware that Enda’s arrow wound had started to ooze blood.
‘It does not hurt,’ Enda said at once. ‘I can manage.’
Eadulf compressed his lips. He glanced at the dark rocky cliffs that they were now sailing parallel to. They seemed to be passing through a narrow passage between the rocky cliffs on one side and some rocks, just hidden under the white frothing waves, on the other.
‘Is there a sheltered spot further on?’ he asked. ‘Anywhere that would place us closer to the Saxons without being observed by them?’
Fécho, carefully watching the passage of his ship between the rocks, did not reply at first. Eadulf realised it was no time to distract the man. Enda leant forward and said softly: ‘I think it is lucky that this ship does not have a deep draught or those rocks would have ripped out our bottom before now.’ It was a diplomatic way of telling Eadulf to be quiet until Fécho was able to stop concentrating.
After some time, Fécho looked at them and gave a rueful smile.
‘We are out of the worst,’ he said with a sigh. ‘All we have to do now is keep away from that rocky shore.’ Then he paused and examined Eadulf for a moment. ‘There is a spot which might serve us. As you see, the coastline here forms a sharp forty-five-degree angle with the headland. Right in the corner of the angle is a sandy cove which provides a sheltered spot to heave to in. If the weather is clear, we can probably observe the Saxon ship from there if they attempt to take shelter anywhere along the cliffs.’
‘Where is this cove?’ asked Enda.
‘Not far ahead, just beyond that point on our port side.’ Fécho pointed forward. ‘It’s called Baile an Stratha; as the name suggests, it is low flat land by a river, with a few cabins there. Its curious position makes it a good shelter.’
Enda shot an astonished glance at Eadulf. ‘Baile an Stratha? That’s where –?’ he began.
‘Can you send one of your men to the masthead to see if there is any further sign of the Saxon ship?’ Eadulf interrupted sharply.
Fécho raised his eyebrows. He turned and gave the order to the sailor who had originally reported the movements of the Saxon vessel. The man was certainly agile – he made his way easily up the mast and it was not long before he was back.
‘Their ship has managed to turn under the shelter of the cliffs. They’ve been blown quite a way from the point of the headland. It looks as though they are putting into a sheltered cove not so far from here. I know that place. It’s just a deep sheltered inlet between two large rocky cliffs,’ he reported.
Fécho was reflective. ‘I think I remember that place. It’s a good spot to shelter and wait the turning of the wind and tide if one is attempting to round the headland.’
‘Is it a place where they can land ashore?’ Eadulf asked anxiously.
‘I am afraid not. The cliffs are precipitous. So you can’t approach the Saxon ship from the shore.’
‘How close can we approach it from the sea without being spotted?’
Fécho looked surprised. He paused and studied the winds for a moment. ‘We might be able to get to the next bay under these conditions.’
Eadulf suddenly turned to Enda. ‘Can you swim?’
The warrior raised his brows. ‘You mean, in these seas? I grew up swimming in the calm waters of the river and the lakes. Just look at the waters here.’
‘The sea is fairly sheltered here but still choppy,’ Fécho intervened. ‘There are hidden tides and currents along a rocky coast, and strong undertows.’ He regarded Eadulf with amusement. ‘Are you still expecting us to attack a Saxon warship with a few men armed with a few knives?’ he sneered.
‘I am not,’ Eadulf retorted. ‘All I want is for you to get me to a place within swimming distance of the vessel.’
Now the boatman’s face really showed astonishment.
‘Then you are mad! Are you saying that if I get you to the next bay, you will try to swim to Saxon vessel and then … do what? Ask them to hand over their prisoner, the lady Fidelma?’
‘Something like that,’ admitted Eadulf, ‘except that I won’t be asking them.’
Enda was shaking his head. ‘Friend Eadulf, I admire your courage but …’ he pointed to the waters around them. ‘These aren’t the waters of some calm lake or even the flowing waters of a river.’
‘I am fully aware of what they are, Enda,’ Eadulf said grimly before turning back to the owner of the Tonn Cliodhna. ‘Fécho, can you do what I ask?’
Fécho regarded him almost with pity.
‘Drop you at a point within swimming distance?’ he mused. ‘How good a swimmer are you and can you deal with waters such as these?’
‘That is for me to find out. I have swum great distances before.’ He was thinking of the time he and Fidelma had had to jump overboard when the merchant ship they had been travelling on, returning from
the great church council at Autun, had been attacked off the coast of Morbihan and they had swum to a distant island for safety. It was then he discovered that Fidelma was a brilliant swimmer, learning to swim almost as soon as she could take her first footsteps in the rushing waters of the local river near Cashel. Eadulf was not a bad swimmer, but he knew she was far better. He hesitated and then repeated: ‘Can you bring me within swimming distance of the Saxon warship?’
‘I can probably put this ship into a tiny sheltered inlet almost next to where the Saxon is. It’s not far.’
‘Not far? How far is that?’
‘The closest I can go in is forty forach.’
It sounded quite a distance to Eadulf as he tried to work it out in measurements that he was familiar with.
He estimated that even if the water was not too rough it would still be a long swim.
‘Do you think you could make it?’ Fécho asked.
‘Even if you did,’ Enda said, ‘then what? You are hardly likely to overpower the crew single-handed.’
‘I do not intend to try to overpower anyone,’ Eadulf replied. ‘If I could get on board unobserved, then I might find a way of releasing Fidelma before they realise it and we could swim for it. She is a strong swimmer, I know.’
‘Friend Eadulf, I don’t think this is a good plan.’
‘I am open to a better one.’
Enda glanced at Fécho and shrugged. ‘As of this time, I can think of no plan at all.’
‘Then it is settled,’ Eadulf said. ‘If there is no plan but one, then it is the only plan.’
‘Do you know anything about these Saxon ships?’ demanded Fécho. ‘Do you know their strengths and weaknesses? Do you even know the best way to get on board undetected?’
‘I am an Angle from the Ham of Seaxmund, which is near the coast. I have seen many such ships in our harbours and have even been aboard them. I am no stranger to their construction.’
Fécho looked impressed. ‘You will need a distraction when you climb aboard. These Saxons are not stupid.’
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