LXVI

The trials and testing of the White Ship were due to start in a week’s time, but first we had to have the launching ceremony, a tradition at Barfleur. FitzStephen invited me to attend, as long as I kept out of the way.

Thirty ruffians from Caen – they looked like jailbirds, but I was told they were regular oarsmen – turned up the day before with a mountainous keeper who was to be the galley-master. They had all rowed before under various captains, most of them piratical ones by the look of them.

It was considered good luck to splash a jugful of wine across the bows and for someone to christen the vessel. There was no titled lady in residence in the town, so we used the prettiest girl we could find, Lisette, the barmaid at The Seabass.

A crowd gathered for the launching: fishermen and foragers and quartermasters from the armies; and publicans and sinners like me. The priest turned up too, because priests never like to be kept out of things, and a couple of friars who happened to be passing. There was rumour that there would be wine later.

Lisette grasped the jug of wine and cracked it across the lovely blonde prow of the vessel. ‘I name this ship the White Ship. May God bless her,’ she cried.

Then the priest said a prayer, and the two friars said two more prayers, and Lisette kissed everyone, and the great ship slid into the water, causing a big wave to form that nearly pulled over the men who were holding the ropes. There was more cheering when she was finally tied up at the jetty and FitzStephen declared her ready for action. Then it started raining and we all went back to the inn.

The following week, we all formed up again on the jetty for the first day of the trial. FitzStephen had explained to me that they do not normally trial a ship, they just put her in the water and if she doesn’t sink, they sail her, but this was a special ship – a ship for a king: everything had to work perfectly.

The White Ship was trim and taking in no water. She sat there easily in the harbour, like a seabird. The oarsmen – looking surprisingly fresh considering the amount they had been putting away the night before – were first on board followed by their enormous galley-master who, with a practised eye, allotted each man his particular place.

‘It is a great s-s-skill,’ FitzStephen whispered, excitedly, ‘the ordering of the rowers. You don’t just sit them down any way. This Sigebert is the best galley-master I know. He could drive his crew across dry land if I told him to.’

‘He looks as if he could scull the ship single-handed,’ I replied.

We walked on board. The rest of FitzStephen’s crew was assembled – some forty useful-looking men, most of them sailors, but interspersed with carpenters and fitters. He addressed them and I could see the respect he commanded. He did not suffer fools gladly. He told them to look sharp and do their duty. It would be their honour to take the highest in the land as passengers.

Finally, telling me to stick close to him, he took the tiller. His foreman cast off, the sail was raised, and we were away. Soon the regular chanting of the galley-master, calling the time for the oarsmen, could be heard above the mutter of the sails and we were moving through the water at speed. You could feel the power of her as she sliced through the water, making for the open sea beyond the Raz de Barfleur.

‘The ship is incredibly fast,’ I said to FitzStephen, caught up in the excitement of the moment. He let me take the helm, and I felt her quiver under me. It really was the most beautiful ship; more than mere wood, she was like a racehorse. She trembled to go faster.

‘We are only using half the complement of oarsmen,’ he said. ‘It is safer to take things slowly as we try her out. We will sail close to the wind, we will sail into the wind, we will turn fast about, we will run with the wind behind us at more speed, we will sail on a lee shore, we will manoeuvre, we will stop and start again, we will run with tide and outstrip the incoming flood; we will practise every eventuality, and only when I am confident will I offer her to the Duke.’

And so we tried her, that day and thereafter, on fair days and foul days, sometimes with me at the helm under his watchful eye, when great waves curled around the prow and the spray punched our faces, back and forth, round the Sound, across the Bay, starting and stopping, taking the wind side on and fully behind us, defying it with our oars. One day we even ventured as far as Alderney, this time with a full complement of oarsmen so that I felt the ship almost take to the air she was so quick through the water. The craftsmen tinkered with the ship when we returned, making little alterations which they first discussed with FitzStephen, and then addressed far into the night so that the vessel was ready for her trial next day. We lived with the smell of wood and paint, of sailcloth and sweat – for the men below decks were less fresh than a fish and twice as smelly.

FitzStephen addressed the galley-master on this issue for, said he, we shall be taking gentlefolk and fair ladies who must not be offended with rank odours. They were instructed to wash under the pump both before and after each voyage, which instruction indeed occasioned some muttering. The galley-master was so impressed next morning, he called in his daughters for a sample ride, and both young women expressed themselves well satisfied, especially at the sight of all those brawny midriffs.

Finally, at the end of the first ten days in November, the shipwright declared that he was happy.

‘I have word,’ he said, ‘that the Duke is now at Gisors, talking to the Pope’s legate and concluding business there. He will shortly leave Gisors and make his way slowly, with his oldest friends and advisers, across Normandy to Barfleur. He should arrive here by the twenty-fifth of the month. Then let our business begin! I shall surely be the happiest man alive.’

He would also, with any luck, be able to pay off some of his creditors. His accounts were in a fearful muddle, and I had tried to make some sense out of his tangled affairs. I had seen some of the figures that he was in hock for, and I was nervous for him, but if the Duke smiled on the White Ship there was no doubt that all would be well. It was a gamble, but it would surely be worth it.