After finding sleep eventually, I awoke early to find a very calm world indeed. The brisk wind had vanished completely and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. The sea stretched away without a ripple to the horizon on the west and to a distant rocky shore on the east. Away to our south I could see a group of two or three fishing boats, they had no wind either and their small sails hung limply from the booms. Although still early, the air felt warm, warm enough for the middle of a summer’s day at home.
Then I smelled it, the unmistakable smell of a large number of people with severe stomach problems. I looked down to the water around us. As we were becalmed, our ship was sitting in our own filth, the smell wafted up almost made my stomach heave.
I remembered the water. That strange acidic taste, as thirsty as I had been I’d found it nauseating and refused it. So the old man, or perhaps his wife, had taken some revenge after all. I was pleased, but being this close to the problem I was also concerned.
I turned away from the gunwale and looked inboard, there were ashen faced men all over. Even Brent looked miserably at the world through red-rimmed eyes, he was alone on the master’s deck. The steersmen must be stricken as well.
I looked around the litter on the deck and eventually found what I needed. A wine skin with a good bit still inside it, an unusual commodity amongst this bunch. The owner offered no complaint as I drew deeply on it, the sharpness of the fruit flavours slaked my thirst and I used some more to wash out my mouth. I felt much better and very hungry, we’d missed our evening meal the day before. Fresh fruits, bread and cheese were in abundance, so I helped myself to my fill. The best meal that I’d had in nearly a half-year.
It seemed strange that the water had taken so much effect so quickly. These men were all quite fit, despite their habits, and most had the constitutions of a smithy’s anvil. The water must have been poisoned. Perhaps news of our deeds had travelled ahead of us and the newly initiated widow had taken her revenge. Or, and I thought this more likely, the water casks had been laced with a common poison before the old man came back to us. He surely must have had a good idea of the response he’d get. He was poor, not stupid. But he’d done it anyway. Perhaps it had all been done at the encouragement of his wife, as he’d told us. But I thought the plan was probably quite simple, he’d poisoned the water as advance revenge in case he didn’t get paid.
He must have had some sort of contingency plan though, in case all had gone well for him. If I had been him, I thought, I’d have had at least one cask left pure, to offer as a test for quality. In which case I thought, he may have made a mark on one of them.
Quickly I dropped through the hatch to the space below the main deck, the stink was almost smothering. Brent mumbled something as I passed him, I didn’t catch it though, and he didn’t look as though he was going to repeat it. In the gloom I could make out the casks in the slants of sunlight that filtered through cracks and the large hatch. None of them were marked. At least not as far as I could see. I looked at the one that had been in use, it was almost empty and the residue smelled strongly of a metallic odour.
‘Damnation!’ I said aloud wiping the sweat from my face.
Then I noticed some traces of white chalk on my hand. I lifted the opened cask lid again. Around the edge, as neat as you like, was a chalk line. A glance was all I needed, to see that it was the only one. I lifted the lid on another barrel, it was clean. I tasted it and it was untainted. I sat back against the frames of the ship and breathed a sigh of relief. I shouldn’t perish through the effects of thirst at any rate.
‘No-man, what are you up to.’ came Brent’s unmistakable voice from my elbow.
‘I had a theory about the water, and wanted to test it out.’ I answered.
He sniffed the newly broached tub and his eye twinkled as he looked at me.
‘Did you know the water was bad.’ he said, the sharpness of accusation in his croaky voice.
‘How could I have known sir.’ I ventured cautiously. ‘It tasted strange to me yesterday and I refused it.’
‘Everyone is sick, some worse than others.’ he groaned and clutched his belly. ‘In fact, me and you are the only ones who’re on our feet.’
‘I think, that in these cases, the people should have plenty to drink, cow’s milk if possible, and no solids for a whole day and a night.’ I said.
‘I don’t really think that most of my people want to eat. In fact drinking may be difficult for some of them.’ said Brent.
‘I think it’ll be their best hope. I have a small amount of herb medication in my bag. Nowhere near enough for everyone though.’
We went back on deck immediately I sensed a difference. It was still calm and the sun was warm. A haze had formed on the seaward horizon, but towards the coast was the biggest, blackest tower of cloud that I’ve ever seen.
‘We’re about to hit a change.’ I said to Brent, nodding towards the recently hospitable looking coast.
‘That’s all we need.’ he groaned. ‘There’s nothing else for it, you’ll have to help me manage the ship.’
‘Be glad to sir.’ I answered with more civility than I felt, but he missed the sarcasm.
I wondered how the mighty commander would turn this event into glory for his chronicle.
Brent went among the men and eventually found six who, with some encouragement and cajoling, managed to stagger to their feet.
‘First we must get the great sail hoisted and reefed in as far as it will. And we must do it swiftly before the storm breaks on us.’ he ordered, swaying like a drunk.
The men that he had roused out were all experienced crew and knew their jobs well. Considering the circumstances, we had the sail up, shortened-in and secured, in very quick time. There was still no telltale sign of roughened water to warn of the advancing storm when we had finished. The heavy woollen fabric of the brightly striped sail hung limply in the still and humid air. In the distance we could hear the groaning crackle of thunder, somewhere over the sweeping farmlands a deluge was emptying and it was coming visibly closer. I had read that these storms seem to feed on the air and suck up enormous quantities. This makes the wind seem as though it’s blowing in all directions at once. On the edge where we were, it was likely that an onshore wind would eventually find us.
Brent retired to the steering position to keep lookout he said, but I thought he looked near to exhaustion. Two of the crewmen helped me to make as many of the men as comfortable as we could. Some were certainly in a bad way, so much so, that I thought several probably wouldn’t make it. I only had a limited number of treatments from my little bag of the famous, powdered Sanicle root and would have to decide who should get its aid.
Often, a man’s condition will improve if he is convinced that he has been treated with a remedy. With this in mind, I cleaned out two buckets and filled them with clean water from a fresh barrel. Carefully I sprinkled the contents of my precious packet of grey-white powder onto the surface of one of them and stirred it until it dissolved. I teased out a thread of wool from a piece of rag and tied it about the handle of the treated bucket. With a small wooden bowl I made my way around the men. Some got the medication. Others, unashamedly got a cup of sweet, fresh water. They all got a few words of reassurance, primitive barbarians they might be, but they were still human.
I had just finished the task and offered the final dregs to Brent. He was about to shake his head in refusal, but I pressed the small cup into his hand.
Quickly he explained the job of steering, balancing the ship’s course with the wind direction. Trimming the slant of the sail to best effect to enable some degree of manoeuvre and he gave me a stern warning to keep a close eye on any gathering sea. It could come stretching towards us from storms that were over a week old, springing out of nowhere. In which case I must try like the devil to keep the bow pointing cleanly into the teeth of the foaming tops.
‘Let her draw off and we’ll roll over for sure.’ he said with a hint of some dark past experience. ‘Be sure now.’ he said, as I climbed onto the higher deck platform. ‘Most of the time it will be boring, long spells of the same thing. But let me catch your attention wandering too far and you will never stand there again.’
Brent sat, propped against the side and drew a heavy fur rug over himself. ‘Wake me immediately any change takes us.’ he mumbled and was almost immediately asleep, snoring softly as his body relaxed its cramping muscles.
From my lofty position I looked about the ship and the sparkling surface of the sea. The storm clouds looked to be closer and they seemed taller towering majestically, high above us. The thunder still rolled, louder and longer now. The men, some of them anyway, were convinced that it signified the approach of their god, Thor. While I was handing out the medicated water, they told me that he was coming to avenge them against the townsfolk at Lisbon. The town, they said, would be pelted with thunderbolts struck from Thor’s hammer and those that survived would be washed into the river by the floods.
I hoped that the storm wouldn’t be that severe, because it was approaching us fast. A line was marked on the surface of the sea, on our side it sparkled cheerfully, on the other it was a cold, steely-grey and building into white crested waves which seemed to be sweeping toward us with the speed of a horse.
When the line of weather reached us, it was heralded by a blast of cold wind that felt almost like a living wall. It flew at us from the south west and tried to swing the ship about and hurl it at the land, into the centre of the hungry storm. I strained with the handle of the steering oar as the lee gunwale was forced almost to water level. Fearfully I called to Brent. His experienced eye took it all in, in a moment and calmly he said,
‘Well done No-man. Hold her steady and, when I tell you, ease her away towards the west.’ he pointed his arm in the direction of the far seaward horizon.
He threw off his sleeping rug and with the nimbleness of a fit man, hopped down to the braces that held the boom in position against the wind. He slackened one side and leaned back on the other as it began to flap and kick. The mounting sea began to break across the weather bow, sending sheets of foamy spray into the wind and across the fearful, sick crew.
I watched Brent for his signal, but it was more by intuition that I heaved on the tiller bar to make the plunging bow slowly swing through the eye of the wind and to take up a heading towards the safety of open water. Brent secured the sail with its right hand corner sheeted down well back, but with a deal of slackness to enable the more severe gusts to spill. Breathing heavily and staggering slightly he climbed back up onto the master’s deck.
Water, fresh and salt, for the rain was falling in sheets, ran down our necks and faces. Brent pulled out a couple of capes, he pulled one about his own shoulders then, taking the helm, he passed me the other. While I dragged the stiff, heavy cloak about my shoulders Brent trimmed the steering and demonstrated how the sail would shiver and begin to back if the course were to change overmuch. Then he gave me the handle of the steering oar and wedged himself into the pointed stern behind me, to my left.
Until I got the feel of the thing, we wandered regularly off a straight course first to one side then to the other. The sail shivered and snapped its impatience at such a ham-fisted learner. But I learned, despite the contrary efforts of the storm. Although the steering effect was sluggishly slow, it had to be done with a certain delicacy, a sympathy. No wonder ships were always referred to as a she I thought with a grin.
Before the storm had abated, and it passed almost as quickly as it had fallen upon us, my shoulder muscles ached with a fire that rivalled the tiredness in my back and legs. It wasn’t until the lowering sun streamed its dying rays of bright gold under the flattening base of the storm clouds, that I realised how long I had been fighting with the will of the weather.
In the sudden near-calm, Brent’s voice sounded unnaturally loud. ‘I could believe that you had some wizardry in your bones No-man.’ he said seriously. ‘Steering a longship, such as this, is not easy, yet you have mastered it passing well.’
He moved forward to stand at the front of the raised deck.
‘And look at the men.’ he gestured towards the lower deck. ‘With the aid of your potions, most are recovered.’
‘Yes sir, it’s good news with the men.’ I said, then with an easy lightness, I added. ‘If I were really a magician, I would be safe at home.’
But, the crewmen and the warriors did seem to have improved and they would probably be quite recovered after a night’s sleep. The steersman that relieved me, although pale and weak, was strong enough. I still insisted though that they should not eat anything solid until the morning. Some of them found something to nibble on, though most felt too sore yet to even think of filling their stomachs.
Later, when Ivar and Brent walked the deck speaking to the men, they found that four men had died during the afternoon and one more was showing signs of following them. As usual, the dead were consigned to the sea with no ceremony or emotion. The sun flashed a red farewell before it sank into the horizon and the freshly washed air blew gently cool about us. The sail had been reset and we were now rolling over a quartering swell and heading in a generally south-eastern direction.
One of the four dead men had been a savage henchman of Brent’s. But more than that, he had also been one of the three steersmen that took it in turns to steer the ship.
While I was bailing out the bilge-well, I overheard a snippet of conversation between Ivar and Brent that grabbed my attention.
‘Course, slowed down by this poison business and that damned storm it will probably mean that a messenger from Lisbon will have arrived ahead of us at Silves. So we could get a hot welcome.’ said Ivar, his voice sounded strained and tired.
‘That’s so. But it’s on the trading route for goods from the North African merchants. And it is in these, that we will make the most of our profits. We can double or even treble the value of our silver by trading with them.’
‘You’re right of course. But the risk could be great.’ cautioned Ivar.
‘It’s worth the risk. We’ll try it carefully, if there is going to be trouble we’ll find out early on, as we enter the river. Then we’ll bide our time, let the men loose and, when they’ve had enough, we’ll just take what we want.’ Brent said fiercely.
They continued walking the deck for a while, sometimes silent, but mostly in deep confidential discussions that I couldn’t hear. I settled into a corner to rest and closed my eyes.
‘Come No-man. The saga. We have some catching up to do.’
We worked by lamplight for a while and for once, Brent tired before I did.
‘You’d better get some sleep now. You reckon you’re so good, you can take a trick at the steering board at first light.’ he said, yawning.
And that was it. I had the chance of a whole night’s sleep and I was plagued with dream-devils that kept me awake for most of it with thoughts of home, our next landing and the events of a couple of days ago. Lisbon showed me how an enclosed dock could as well act as a fortress as it could an exclusion barrier. If they’d had troop positions at the top of the wall it might have been different, maybe they didn’t have the men or perhaps, more usually, didn’t have any trouble. But then, most of it had been of their own making, greed had driven the peasant to attempt an impossible bargain. The town official should have stamped on the problem and made the old man toe-the-line, but very likely, the town’s councillors were in line to receive a share of the profits.
The morning arrived and I was woken from a deep sleep that left my head throbbing and eyes dazed. My back and shoulders creaked as I stood up, the first part of my duty was going to be painful. But I was really learning now. The sun climbed steadily into a sky studded with soft, white balls of cloud. The wind, although still fresh, was conveniently westerly and drove us nicely through the regular, smooth ocean swell on our roughly eastern way.