devilstone chronicles 01 - devils band (14 page)

“Sail astern!” hollered the lookout and every man on board ran to the ship’s rail to get a better look at the small but sleek, square rigged vessel that seemed to be following them.

“By the barnacles on King Neptune’s balls she’s a balinger,” cursed one the sailors shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare with a weather beaten hand. Thomas scoffed at
the threat from such a small boat but the sailor informed the passengers that balingers were coastal craft and didn’t normally venture this far out to sea unless they were up to no good. Nagel asked the sailor if they could outrun their pursuers but the seaman shook his head and assured them a balinger could run down a kogge faster than a greyhound coursing a hare but another sailor was more hopeful.

“Don’t listen to that gloomy old sod, he’s not had a good word to say about anything these last twenty years! To be sure a balinger’s faster than a kogge in daylight but it will be dark in a few hours, perhaps we can lose her during the night,” said the more optimistic seaman. The captain seemed to have heard him and ordered his crew to put on more sail in an attempt to outpace their shadow.

The kogge duly increased her speed but she was built to carry Flemish cloth and Rhenish wine safely rather than quickly. The heavy cargo ship couldn’t outrun the sleeker balinger and by the time the sun touched the horizon, the gap between the two vessels had closed to a few hundred yards. There could be no doubt that the balinger’s crew had hostile intentions so
The Steffen’s
captain summoned his men to the main deck and addressed them from the stern castle’s rail.

“Those bastards mean to take this ship, so I want every man armed and ready. If they try and jump us during the night we’ll give them such a hot welcome the fires of hell will be a blessed relief!” said Captain Shobery. Nagel tried to protest that his orders shouldn’t apply to passengers but no one was listening. The main deck of
The Steffen
had become a hive of muffled activity as the crew loaded their
cannon with a lethal mix of nails, sharp stones and anything else that could shred human flesh.

“If there’s a fight, stay out of it Thomas you hold the fate of kingdoms in your hand and you’re too valuable to be killed in some pointless skirmish,” said Nagel, taking hold of the Englishman’s sleeve.

“What are you talking about trumpet player, I won’t run from a fight!” Thomas said.

“But you must, the White Rose knows you have Leonardo’s notebook with the secrets of the war machines and he has great need of one of these devices. Build it, help him regain his throne and Richard will reward you above all other men,” Nagel whispered. This revelation left Thomas more than a little shocked. Ever since he’d taken the book from the dying Leonardo’s study, he’d been careful to tell no one he possessed the precious volume, let alone what it contained, and he couldn’t begin to fathom how the White Rose had learned of his secret. He could feel the book, wrapped in cloth and hidden in his shirt, but for the moment he thought it prudent to keep Nagel guessing.

“Maybe I have it and maybe I don’t. You must forgive my reticence, Master Nagel, but by your own admission you’ve taken Wolsey’s gold in the past so, until I can be sure where your true loyalties lie, I shall keep what I know to myself,” he said and before the musician could protest, Thomas had joined the other men sharpening their weapons.

The ship was soon filled with the sound of whetstones scraping against steel as every man aboard knew that his life depended on the sharpness of both his wits and his
blade. Once their swords, boarding axes and halberds had been honed as keen as razors, the crew hid and waited whilst the shadows cast by the ship’s masts lengthened and faded into the night. The sky became lit by myriad stars but there was no moon and the darkness magnified the sounds of creaking spars, flapping canvas and rushing water that were the only noises disturbing the night time ocean.

After an hour, those with the sharpest ears heard a faint change in the sound of the waves breaking along the ship’s side. The surf ’s cheerful chatter was being answered by a similar sound off
The Steffen’s
port beam and Thomas watched a ripple of hand signals spread along the lines of sailors crouched behind the ship’s gunwale. With his heart pounding, Thomas peered through a knothole in the planks and saw the balinger silhouetted against the starry sky. Inch by inch, the pirate boat drew alongside until the two vessels were sailing parallel with each other, less than a rope’s length apart.

“Now!” yelled Captain Shobery and the stillness of the night was shattered by hellish thunderclaps. Like wyverns spitting death, fire leapt from the muzzles of
The Steffen’s
two port-side canon and in the brief moment that the pirate ship was illuminated, Thomas saw its deck was crammed with armed men. Suddenly there was a third explosion as the kogge’s masthead gun sprayed the balinger with another deadly rain of shot and the night became filled with screams and curses of broken men.

“Board ‘em!” yelled Shobery and a dozen grappling irons flew through air to land on the pirate ship’s deck.
Some
The Steffen’s
crew heaved on the grapnel ropes whilst the others loosed arrows or hauled lanterns to the masthead to spill an eerie yellow light over both vessels.

Like scorpions in a death dance the two enemies became locked together whereupon the men on the kogge gave a great cheer and leapt aboard the pirate boat. Thomas landed on the balinger’s deck near its bow and he immediately dropped into a crouch as one of the pirates, blood streaming down his lacerated face, emerged from the shadows. The brute thrust a short boarding pike at where he thought his enemy’s head should be but the point passed harmlessly through empty air. In reply Thomas sprang forward, swung his sword and smashed the pike’s steel tip from its shaft. The pirate stared at the emasculated tip of his weapon and dropped the useless length of wood.

“Quarter!” he screamed but Thomas was deaf to his pleas, again the sword flashed and the pirate’s head was separated from his neck. Elsewhere, Thomas’ companions were enjoying similar success. The hatred and rage they’d felt for their gaolers was now turned against the pirates and the men of the balinger were doomed. Bos smashed a great antique battle-axe into one man’s skull whilst Prometheus eviscerated another with a deft sweep of his sword. Quintana fenced awhile with a foe before running the man through and once they’d dealt with these opponents they despatched three more pirates with the same ruthless efficiency of a warrener killing rabbits.

The Steffen’s
crew had the advantage of complete surprise and the presence of four seasoned swordsmen in their
ranks ensured the result of the battle was never in doubt. Within minutes, the balinger’s narrow deck had become slippery with blood and whilst the smell of spilt entrails served to embolden the attackers it spread fear among the attacked. The pirate chief, dressed in a scarlet cloak, tried to rally his men and make a last stand in his boat’s stern but when he saw only Thomas and his companions standing in front of him, he threw sword to the deck and raised his hands.

The victors fell upon the only surviving pirate, trussed him like a chicken and dragged the brigand back on board
The Steffen
, whilst the rest of the kogge’s crew heaved the dead into the sea and searched for plunder. Apart from a few kegs of maggoty salt pork, the balinger’s hold was empty but despite the lack of loot the sailors were still well pleased with their night’s work. When sold the captured boat would earn each sailor a handsome prize, enough to keep a poor seaman in beer until his liver rotted clean away.

“Are you insane Thomas? The conquest of England is more important than capturing this leaky tub,” Nagel cried when he saw the man he’d risked life and limb to save clambering over
The Steffen’s
side. The trumpet player was standing on the main deck and though he was holding a sword in his hand and sweating it was clear he’d taken no part in the fighting.

“By the untouched tits of Saint Cecilia, you mewl like an old woman, would you have me do nothing and wait to be captured? Anyway, look what we’ve found, I’ll wager this poor fish hoped to find more than wool aboard this
ship so let’s see what he knows,” said Thomas pointing at the pirate chief who’d been deposited at the feet of Captain Shobery.

Having finished their search of the balinger,
The Steffen’s
crew crowded around the pirate chief shouting and jeering at the helpless prisoner. Several of their sailors showed what they thought of pirates by punching and kicking the man until his face was a pulp of blood and bruises.

“Hang the miserable bastard,” the sailors cried and the captain was about to order the prisoner to be strung up, as the laws of the sea demanded, when Thomas intervened. He wanted to know why the pirates had chosen to attack a vessel under the protection of The Hanseatic League and offered to plead with the captain of
The Steffen
on the prisoner’s behalf if he told the truth. The pirate chief glanced around him nervously and spoke.

“My name is William Callice and I was an honest Kent smuggler until a man with a warrant bearing Cardinal Wolsey’s own seal offered us twenty shillings apiece if we boarded a Hansa ship called
The Steffen
heading for the Rhine and killed the four fugitives from the King’s Justice on board.”

“By all the herring in Frau Luther’s barrel, I didn’t think the cardinal would let us go so easily,” muttered Bos grimly.

“So rather than risk The League’s wrath, Wolsey has used pirates as his assassins!” said Prometheus.

“I thought a priest was meant to reform sinners not employ them,” added Quintana.

“Have you done with him?” asked Captain Shobery and when Thomas nodded, he gave the order for Callice to be hanged.

“You promised …” cried the pirate but his words were cut short by a noose thrown around his neck.

“I lied,” said Thomas with a shrug. With the rope tight around his throat, Callice could only gurgle with rage as four burly seamen seized him and held him tight whilst the rope’s loose end was passed through a block attached to the mast. A moment later the sailors’ jeers and catcalls reached a crescendo as Callice was hauled off the deck and began to kick away what remained of his miserable life. The smuggler was strong, and he fought valiantly against the inevitable, but eventually his face turned blue, his eyes bulged from his head and his swollen tongue lolled from his mouth.

“That’s it, he’s turned off, shall we cut him down?” a sailor asked the captain.

“No. Leave him for the gulls, perhaps they can stomach a rat’s flesh, said Shobery. Nagel certainly couldn’t. In death the pirate chief had fouled himself and the dead man’s ordure started dripping onto the deck. The stench and the rolling of the ship in the swell sent the trumpet player running for the ship’s rail.

The Steffen
sailed beneath its gruesome banner all the way to the mouth of the Rhine and just as Shobery had supposed, the seagulls had no compunction about consuming a pirate’s flesh. As the kogge entered the great
river’s estuary, a flock of flying vermin wheeled and screeched around the masthead as they fought to peck at Callice’s dangling corpse.

The river now seemed to lose its way in the labyrinth of reed filled channels that formed the Rhine’s vast estuary but ships like Hansa kogges had been specifically designed for such waters.
The Steffen
slipped easily over the treacherous shoals and sandbanks and soon entered the broad channel of the River Waal. Beyond the Hansa town of Nijmegen, the Waal joined the other branches of the estuary to form the Lower Rhine.

It was here the seagull’s razor sharp beaks severed the last tendons holding William Callice’s head to his body. Without warning, the dead pirate’s rotting remains fell to the deck and the putrefying corpse burst, spilling maggoty, stinking entrails over the spotless planks. The crew had to use shovels to dump the grisly remains over the side yet Thomas watched the pirate’s mangled corpse disappear beneath the river’s murky water and felt a great sense of relief. Now he could begin his revenge

Thomas plan was simple: he would use
The Munich Handbook
to recover all he’d lost but he would not rely on the magical spells and enchantments contained in its pages. Instead he would use the designs Leonardo da Vinci had sketched in the
grimoire’s
margins and end papers to build the war machines that would restore Richard de la Pole to the throne of England.

All that stood between him and the gratitude of the House of York was the code Leonardo had used to keep the method of each invention’s construction secret so,
whilst the others idled away the journey, Thomas excused himself and set to work to unravel the conundrum. For hours he sat in the forecastle’s cramped cabin studying the sepia diagrams and symbols however nothing he tried revealed the answer to the cipher. After two days, Thomas decided he needed a break from his labours so he ventured on deck and saw that
The Steffen
was approaching the Rhine city of Coblenz.