Ambrose, Prince of Wessex; Trader of Kiev.

by Bruce Corbett

  Because of the nearby surf, the sound of Ambrose's approach and rush was effectively masked. Successful in closing the distance undetected, Ambrose swung the club and then watched with satisfaction as Lars slid silently onto the sand.

  Just as Ambrose hit a hundred and started forward, Polonius started and was forced to stop. His target had stepped into the faint light of a flickering torch, and was relieving himself.

  The youth obviously heard something, for he called out to his companion. "What in the name of Odin's good eye are you doing, Lars? Did you drink too much of Canute's good ale?"

  The sentry had turned away from Polonius when he heard the slight sound. While his victim was thus distracted, Polonius rushed to close the distance. Kiarr only caught Polonius' movement in his peripheral vision at the last moment. While he half turned back, Polonius brought the flat of his axe down upon the unfortunate man's pate. Because he had twisted, however, the axe slipped off his head, and sliced into his arm, bringing a dark welling of blood.

  Finished with his target, Ambrose ran to Phillip's side. His sharp sax sliced the rawhide thongs that had kept the thane immobilized and in a semi-standing position. As the last bonds parted, Phillip started to slide in an unconscious heap to the ground.

  Even before he hit the ground, however, Polonius arrived. Between the two of them, they were able to drag Phillip, a heavy and inert burden, away from the village and to where the horse was tethered.

  They lashed Phillip across the horse's back, as he was quite unable to stay mounted by himself. Quietly then, the strange caravan wended its way clear of the village and along hunting paths well-known to Ambrose and Polonius. They skirted open fields until, having crossed the neck of the little peninsula, they arrived at the boat.

  After launching the little sailboat and stepping the mast, the two friends got hold of Phillip and dragged the giant through the shallows. With a last mighty effort, the two companions heaved him into the boat.

  Ambrose went back to slap the mare's rump and send her off, while Polonius tried to manoeuvre the boat into deeper water. Only after Ambrose had joined Polonius were they able to successfully float the vessel. They were none too early, as the tide had turned and was beginning to recede.

  Polonius spoke quietly but urgently to Ambrose. "Quickly, Master! Let us hoist the sail and get under way. It might not even be remiss to bend our backs and man the oars, for the accursed wind has dropped, and in these latitudes the sun rises early!"

  Once the boat was free of the shelter of the headland, the ocean breezes picked up, and the trim vessel, of almost twenty foot lengths, slid joyously through the waves. Polonius sat by the steering oar, aimed the vessel straight west, and held that course.

  Puzzled by his choice of direction, Ambrose questioned the Byzantine scholar. "Polonius, why do you steer us thus? In the direction you have chosen lies only open ocean, and then the edge of the world!"

  Phillip, who had been lying supine and had appeared oblivious to the events of the night, roused himself enough to croak a response to his rescuers.

  "For myself, I'd as soon die by falling off the edge of the world as hanging from a bloody oak branch! But please, for your sakes, return while you can. Live! I have no wish to be the cause of both your deaths."

  Polonius responded. "Good Phillip, don't worry. We are well provisioned, and we have the sun and the North Star to guide us. We will be out of sight of land before the dawning of the day.

  Think, my friends. We could coast northward, but we would be spotted by every passing vessel, and probably a lot of sentries. Eventually we would come to the Skagerrak. After turning there, we would pass through a maze of islands, the inhabitants of which are all loyal to the king of the Danes. Further, the Viking long-ships, if the villagers choose to pursue us, are far more swift than us. If they did not catch us on the way, they would only have to wait at the islands until we arrive.

  Alternately, we could turn south. We know there is an entire Danish fleet between us and your homeland. We saw the soldiers marching to their ships. Again we are likely to be spotted and run down long before we can reach friendly shores.

  So, my friends, our choices are limited. I thought we might sail for the open sea, where even the mighty dragon ships hesitate to go. Far out of sight of land, we can cut back north, and then, once we think we have reached the Skagerrak, we can head back for the coast and, God willing, the Viking Sea."

  Ambrose swallowed twice. What Polonius proposed was incredibly frightening. On the other hand, however, he knew what would happen to all three of them if the Danes caught them.

  The prince spoke. "You are right, Polonius, our choices are limited. But even if we find the Skagerrak without being spotted, we must still travel through the maze of islands. As you said, it would be an excellent place for a long-ship to wait for us and catch us."

  "That is where the greatest danger lies, Prince. Once we reach the islands, we will have to hide by day and travel exclusively by night."

  Ambrose, leader of the expedition by right of birth, looked at the dark waters surrounding their little vessel, and then nodded assent. "What you propose scares me more than you can know, Polonius, but it is a viable plan. I can certainly propose nothing better."

  Phillip, after being cleaned and having salve rubbed into his wounds, had begun to recover. Though he still slept most of the time, he remained awake and coherent for varying periods of time. After sipping some water, he spoke.

  "My lords, though I be not a man of learning, yet I wonder if it would it not be wiser for us to sail as far as the west coast of the Norse tribes. From there we can cross overland to our destination. Well can I see Canute's map of the Danish islands before me, in my mind's eye, and I fear that it would be impossible to travel past so many islands without being spotted."

  Polonius responded. "An interesting suggestion, Phillip. Some Danish sailors once told me that there are trails, though long and arduous, that connect the Norse homeland with the Viking Sea.

  We speak the language, have money, and there is no reason for the Norse to mistrust us. I think it unlikely that the Danes will search for us on the Norse coast. In truth, I think it a wise suggestion, old friend. If our young lord agrees, we will do it!"

  Ambrose looked nervously at the dark waters surrounding him, but nodded assent. The rising sun found the small vessel far from shore. Polonius kept it aimed west and north, until the contrary winds shifted enough that the sail became a liability.

  Polonius spoke. "We have, Prince, another problem. The prevailing winds of this latitude are from the west to the north and east. I fear it behooves us to man the oars, as we can count no more on off-shore breezes this far from land, and it is imperative that we keep moving further out to sea."

  Phillip attempted to rise, but Ambrose spoke sharply, "Phillip, you have to lie still and regain your strength for the long journey to come. We will need your mighty strength later. For now, you are to do no more than eat and sleep! Polonius, do you agree?"

  "You took the very words from my mouth, my prince."

  Thus, with Ambrose and Polonius each manning a pair of oars whenever the vessel was too close-hauled for the wind to fill its sail, the little ship ventured ever further to the north and west.

  As Polonius pulled the lines that raised their triangular sail, he couldn't help but comment to Ambrose. "Master, it is well that the Vikings patterned their long-ship sails on the ancient Roman style, for their great square sails are only useful if they have the wind more-or-less at their back. This vessel, with its rigging, is far more useful when one wants to sail into the face of the wind. Only if they know we have taken this tack, and wish to man their oars until the blisters burst, can they overtake us."

  Ambrose, in the throes of throwing the boom over and trying to get the sail to fill, close hauled as the boat was, could only once again nod assent.

  CHAPTER 10.

  They Sail North, and East.

  Phillip, now recovered enough to mo
ve about, crawled to the stern where Polonius sat. Although his face hurt from the beatings he had taken, he smiled at the Byzantine who had risked his own life in a crazy gamble to save him. "Move aside, Greek, and I will spell you for a while."

  "Rest, old friend! You should be lying down. You have been through a lot."

  "Nay, my Byzantine scholar, I am tired of resting. I am alive and free, thanks to what you and Ambrose have done. I think I am recovered enough to hang onto a steering oar."

  Polonius grinned in return. "In that case, Saxon, the steering oar is all yours."

  Phillip was now seated facing the bow. He had been asleep or unconscious for the better part of two days, and had only recently roused enough to know what was going on around him. He questioned his friend even as his eyes scanned the horizon. "Has there been any hint of land?"

  "Not a sign; not even any coastal birds, but from what I was able to glean from our former masters, there is no land if we continue northward and a little westwards. The last thing we want at this time is to be spotted by Danes coasting the shores."

  On the morning of the third day, Polonius called out to Ambrose, who was taking his turn at the tiller. "I think it is about time, my lord."

  "About time for what, Polonius?"

  "About time to put the wind at our stern. If we have truly travelled as far as I suspect, should be due east of the land of the Norse. If so, it is time to run for their coast."

  Ambrose spoke. "And if we have not gone far enough north and hit the mouth of the Viking Sea?"

  "We can try to slip unseen between the islands, but Canute said there were many, and some are garrisoned. If the townsmen have come north looking for us and have left a description, then I would guess that we would soon all be hanging from some oak tree."

  "Then, Polonius, pray to God. We go east!"

  The little vessel came about smartly, and Phillip, who was still weak and fallen asleep again, roused a little. "What is the matter, Prince?"

  "Nothing, Weapons-master. We are turning east for the coast."

  Now able to relax as the fresh wind pushed the bobbing vessel eastward, Ambrose, Phillip and Polonius took great delight in imagining what great epics were ahead of them. One point they all stressed again and again - they three were free of slavery, and would do their best to remain so.

  Ambrose, secure in his new military skills, and knowing Phillip's colossal strength when recovered, felt confident that they could remain free. Only the iron band that encircled the Weapons-master's neck connected them with their former servitude. Ambrose spoke to his two companions.

  "Without tools to remove that cursed band of metal, Phillip, we must let on when we go ashore that you are my thrall, brought along to serve me. When we reach the land of the Rus, we will get it struck from your neck!"

  Phillip responded. "My lord, with or without a collar, I am your man, and will stay by you even unto death."

  Phillip's declaration touched Ambrose more deeply then he could put into words. With misted eyes, the prince scanned the far horizons, which shifted from a few feet, when a trough swallowed the craft, to several Roman miles when the boat rode the crests.

  Suddenly his wandering attention was attracted by something unknown, but which had broken the unvarying expanse of blue-green waters stretching in all directions. Ambrose's voice was anguished.

  "There's something out there, a few fingers off this side of the bow!"

  Polonius leapt into action, and within seconds their sail was released and lowered.

  Three tense faces scanned where Ambrose had pointed. As the vessel was tossed to the crest of a great roller, all three could see the mysterious object. There, a leisurely hour's row away in distance, sailed a long-ship."

  Polonius spoke tersely. "At ease, my friends. A bare mast is not as easy to see as a long-ship's great square sail. With luck, she will pass in front of us, and never be the wiser. Besides, from her direction, it's likely that she is a Norse vessel, perhaps returning from Irish-land, for I've heard that the Norse are making inroads there. That would mean that even if she spotted us, she would probably be friendly, and certainly not be scouring the seas for three simple escaped slaves."

  Polonius' prophecy was valid, and the sleek long-ship, its square sail held turgid by the wind almost directly astern, skipped by on its own eastern course. Oddly, its crew must have been asleep, for the vessel closed the triangle until it seemed impossible for any watchers to not see the smaller ship bobbing on the rollers little more than a half hour's row in distance. All three fugitives heaved a deep sigh of relief when the square sail, its brilliant red and white horizontal stripes melting into pink, indicated that the vessel was past and disappearing rapidly.

  "Thank the merciful God!' Polonius said, 'that the lookouts chose to sleep on their journey home. For more than a moment I thought I imagined the ship veering towards us on a ramming course. And yet, what, aside from the monsters of the deep, would a ship's watch be looking for? This sea belongs to the Vikings, and no other ship would dare sail it, even if they could force the crewmen to sail beyond sight of land."

  Once again, within minutes, Ambrose raised the danger cry. This time, however, the several dark shapes resolved themselves into whales; leviathans of the deep and no menace to the small boat. Within the range of no more than an easy spear cast, the giant creatures surfaced and spouted. The three travellers were filled with awe at the size of the marine giants.

  Ambrose was fascinated watching the huge animals break the surface, blow, and then dive, but when one broached particularly close to the sailboat, he felt very nervous. "By the sweet beard of Jesus, Polonius, each creature is the length of a long-ship, and more! Are you sure that we are safe from their attention?"

  "In truth, my lord', Polonius answered, 'my experience is limited to their smaller cousins, which are often to be seen in the Roman Sea, not far from the city of Constantinople, but 'tis said by our most learned men that these huge animals are warm-blooded, like us, and eat only tiny things their teeth strain from the water."

  They stared in awe as individual members of the pod of whales surfaced and then slipped beneath the waves. Ambrose was clearly puzzled by Polonius' statement.

  "Surely that is an old wives' tale, Polonius. How would such leviathans survive if they ate only tiny fish and plants? If I was of that size, I would eat great pieces of meat, or quickly starve to death."

  "Of that I know not, Prince, but I think I prefer to believe Polonius's tale," responded Phillip, now much recovered and taking his second turn steering the ship. Whichever theory was correct, the whales continued to ignore the puny vessel, and their superior speed soon drew the pod far ahead of the boat.

  For the rest of the day, nothing broke the monotonous pattern of sea and sky, until the sun slipped low. It then cast a metallic golden sheen across the endless water. Gradually the sky turned crimson, and then the base of the fiery orb seemed to expand far beyond the width of the top as it slid into the sea. As it finally sank, it left only dilated pupils and sudden darkness.

  The numbing routine of the voyage was broken after dark when the three companions paused to break their fast. They drew sparingly upon their limited supply of fresh water. Steering by the North Star, Phillip kept the vessel on course; until the star became almost totally obliterated by a thin haze. Polonius finally broke the silence.

  "My friends, see you the ring of mist that infects the moon? . . . I fear that it means that we shall soon receive rough weather. I am afraid that we have a choice to make."

  Polonius sensed rather than saw the two expectant faces that pivoted to stare at his faint outline.

  "We can sail all night, and hope that the wind is steady and can guide us in the absence of our directional star. Yet before sunset I saw some shore birds, and I fear that they auger a shore close by. In the dark, we could easily flounder upon the coast, and I was once told that the coast we are approaching is one of the most savage and rocky in the world. Alternatively, we could
lower the sail and wait for dawn to resume our progress. Doing that, however, increases the odds of us being caught out here in a major storm. What say you?"

  In his youthful faith, Ambrose answered. "Old Canute would say that our fate is in the hands of the three Norns. I prefer to think, my learned friend, that we are in the hands of Almighty God. Let us continue on our journey, but slacken speed and keep an attentive ear for breakers."

  Phillip, by choice and logic a steadfast landsman, made no coherent answer, except to grunt, and let a moan escape from the depth of his tortured stomach. Both Ambrose and Polonius responded with wild gales of laughter.

  "At least, Polonius, 'laughed Ambrose, 'Phillip has recovered enough to once again feel the sickness of the sea!"

  Thus with light hearts, and, in the case of Phillip, a sodden stomach, they pressed on through the darkness. The waves, encouraged by the gusty winds, foamed and grew ever larger, until the stout craft seemed no more than a mere walnut-shell floating upon a world of waves. The distance in height from trough to crest became enough that when the ship slipped into a trough, it was surrounded by enormous walls of water that stretched almost three body lengths above the ship.

  The God of the Christians appeared more powerful than that of the sacrifice-cheated Odin, for the rains held off. Even so, it was an exhausting chore to bail the ship, as gusts of winds hitting the wave-tops seized foaming peaks and dumped them into the boat at a prodigious rate.

  All through the night the three of them bailed desperately to keep the vessel afloat. By exposing only a small portion of the sail, the ship scudded along at a great speed, but under at least a semblance of control. Several times the three of them were afraid that the boat might break up when a maverick wave smote the boat. The very boards of the hull bent and let in the sea. Nevertheless, Canute had built his fishing boat well, and the boat escaped unscathed except for a considerable amount of missing caulking.