The Betrothed Sister (3 page)

She steadied herself and leaned against the ship wall. Edging along it slowly, she managed to reach the bucket. With great difficulty, she squatted down behind a curtain that had been hung like a tent from a hook projecting from the stern. The bucket stank of foul odours, of vomit and excrement both.

Moments later she rose and allowed her gown to fall around her ankles again. Despite the ship's roll she managed to extract a ball of lavender that hung from her belt along with her needle-purse and scissors. Trying hard to get the lid back on the bucket with one hand, the lavender ball in the other clutched to her nose, she managed to elbow away the coarse curtain. A moment later she had tripped over, falling into the arms of one of Edmund's helmeted house coerls. His sword scabbard dug into her thighs.

‘Sweet Mary, let me free,' she cried out.

‘What, my lady, taking the Virgin's name …'

‘Move your great leather-clad hulk now.'

‘Steady, my lady, steady now. Get back with the other women.'

An arrow hissed past her to bury itself in the ship's wall.

‘That is a warning,' he added. ‘It was meant to miss its mark. You women are more valuable as slaves than dead. Next time we might not be so lucky. Keep down and take a look.'

She twisted her head around to see a ship with two black sails gliding out of an inlet, fast catching them up. A crescent moon was painted on one of them.

‘Normans?' she said.

‘No, Moorish pirates come into our waters from the south.' He tightened his grip on her arm. ‘Go back. None of us are safe. They'll be looking for captives and ransoms.'

Edmund had come up behind the Dane. ‘That's right, Gunor.' He reached out and helped Thea to step around him. ‘Get back to Grandmother and do not move.' He glanced over at the privy with its flapping leather curtain. ‘Not even for that.'

A slew of arrows arched from the pirate ship and hissed their way, but went amiss, hitting the ship's sides. For a moment the onslaught stopped. Edmund gave her a gentle push. Bent over almost double she retreated. When she paused, she straightened up again, unable to resist looking out to sea, where she discovered the reason for the brief reprieve. Godwin had set up a response from the
Wave-Prancer
which he had deftly manoeuvred between the
Sea-Dragon
and the enemy. The pirate ship was only yards behind them, gaining on both of their vessels. She bent down again and scuttled back to her place amongst the frightened women, their shivering children and her grandmother. The women clutched each other, then pulled the children under their mantles and ducked low as the pirates returned fire.

‘I need the bucket,' Gytha said imperiously, rising from her furs.

‘You can't, Grandmother,' she heard herself shrieking. ‘We are being attacked! Edmund says …'

‘Never mind what Edmund says, what is necessary is unavoidable. Help me to it. Take my arm, girl.'

Despite protests from Aunt Hilda, who was greening at the gills, Gytha dragged her frightened granddaughter back into the danger zone.

‘Grandmother,' yelled Edmund, ‘you can't.'

‘I can and I must.' Gytha clutched at the wooden rail, pulled herself behind the makeshift curtain and ordered Thea to hold it closed for her.

Thea's legs felt weak. She was shaking. She could hardly hold on. ‘Hurry, Grandmother, hurry,' she hissed through her teeth.

It seemed to take Grandmother an age. Curses crossed the water followed by the swish of returned arrow fire from the
Wave-Prancer
. Thea heard screams as men were hit. The battle was beginning in earnest; arrows were fired to kill. Gunor and Edmund shouted orders past the women crouched down behind the coffers, holding their children close, petrified.

The oarsmen momentarily stopped rowing. Gunor came weaving his way past them followed by Padar who had climbed down from the mast. He spoke to Edmund who nodded. Gunor handed him his arrow quill. Agile as a squirrel Padar scurried up the pole again towards the opened sail and nimbly worked his way above it. He lashed himself to the top of the mast, withdrew his bow, plucked an arrow from the quill, set it, pulled back the bowstring and let it fly.

The arrow sped like summer lightning over the
Wave-Prancer
and straight into the enemy's mast. Thea could not see how it landed but she heard Padar's yell of success and their crew's applauding cheer. Gunor stood below Padar and struck a flint into a spark. Once he had set fire to another arrow he thrust it up towards the skald. He followed Padar up the mast. Padar leaned down and grabbed it. Within another intake of breath, he had set the burning arrow into his bowstring.

‘Aim for their sail this time,' Gunor yelled up.

Padar was light and fast. A moment later, he had let the flaming arrow fly towards the mast of the Moorish vessel so that it caught the very top of the sail. The wind would do the rest.

Thea was as mesmerised as if she had been watching an archery contest at old King Edward's court. She moved from her post in front of the privy and scrambled up onto a chest. She leaned over and clung to the ship's wall. A second arrow arched. Within a heartbeat it was gone. The
Wave-Prancer
was just to the left of the flaming arrow's trajectory. She prayed that none of the burning arrows would catch Godwin's sail. With amazing accuracy three flaming arrows hit their mark and she let go a breath of relief. As the enemy's sail billowed out it seemed as if it had scooped up a fat fireball.

The pirates tried desperately to throw buckets of seawater up at the gathering flames. A continuous stream of what now looked like wide, burning, linen ribbons floated briefly in the air, turned into skinny black rags and descended to be tossed about and swallowed by the foaming waves.

The
Sea-Dragon
lurched, as with dangerous speed the oarsmen began to row forwards.

There was a roar of complaint from the privy. The wind-filled curtain flapped open allowing a full view of Grandmother Gytha's red woven leggings, tied at her knees, and her bunched-up brown undergown. Gytha pulled herself from the bucket and banged its lid back down with a crash. Straightening her clothing, Countess Gytha emerged grumbling, ‘How dare they attack us? Mark this, Edmund, after this wave-dancing and enemy-dodging is over, a seaman must be dispatched up here to empty that bucket. It reeks of pig's innards.'

Edmund yelled back, ‘Grandmother, get back, we are not safe yet.'

Thea clambered down from her perch by the privy and handed Gytha the lavender ball to hold to her nose. She dragged her grandmother back from danger to shelter again behind the chests where the terrified children were shrieking. Their mothers sobbed as they clung to their children and to each other.

If St Theodosia abandoned them, if the pirates were able to put out the flames and retaliate and their ships were captured, Thea swore an oath. She would kill herself rather than become a hostage or a slave.

Drawing her seax from its sheath, she grasped it tightly under her mantle. Her grandmother pulled her into her bony arms and whispered, ‘Thea, there will be no need. We shall outrun them. Those bastards are fighting a fire. Anyway, they will not dare attack further into Normandy's waters, not if a Norman fleet is out.'

‘But will the Normans attack us too?'

‘They dare not. They promised us safe passage. The Norman bastards will protect their shores, believe me. Besides, Godwin and the
Wave-Prancer
will be more than the enemy's match. He will divert the pirate scum from our ship to give us a chance to get up into the Narrow Sea between Normandy and England. Once we are past Brittany's coast, the devils will retreat.'

‘That puts Godwin in danger.'

‘He is used to it. Godwin has better marksmen and faster oarsmen than they have on that ship with its ruined sail. By tomorrow morning we shall be breaking our fast by the hearth in a Flanders inn.'

The countess's words proved true. The pirate ship
was
retreating. The
Wave-Prancer
would hold the mid-channel until the threat vanished into the southern horizon.

Edmund ordered bread and buttermilk for the women. He followed the servant back to the stern and crouched beside Aunt Hilda. Pale with shock, their aunt was gabbling prayers as fast as a feast-day goose running around a yard. ‘It is over,' he said to her quietly. ‘You can put your cross away, Aunt Hilda. God has listened to your prayers. Please eat and drink. We have another day's sea journey ahead.'

Aunt Hilda shook her head but her mouth shaped a wisp of a smile. ‘No food, just water.' She studied Edmund for a moment. ‘I have come to a decision. Once we are safe in Flanders I shall seek a life of contemplation.'

Countess Gytha reached her jewelled hand out of the covers and accepted the bread the servant offered. She turned to Hilda and remarked with an edge to her tone. ‘So God steals another of our Godwin women to be his handmaiden. Well, so be it, if that is your choice, Hilda, my daughter.'

3

St Omer, 1068

The September sun was beginning to streak the sky with gold and pink as late in the afternoon the two ships slid into the shelter of a Flanders bay.

The ships sailed around a shallow grey headland where tufts of sea grass waved in the breeze. Beyond the headland a shore of lichen-encrusted stones served as a beach. A large jetty pushed out into deep water where they could anchor and tie up the ships. Sails were quickly lowered and safely secured on the decks. Their oarsmen rowed the dragon vessels close to the pier so that one man from each ship was able to climb over and moor them.

A large crowd soon gathered to gape at the newcomers and an arrangement was brokered with fishermen who were watching their arrival from the quayside. Ladders were raised against the
Sea-Dragon
's walls and the women safely disembarked. Once on firm ground, Thea peered past the onlookers and over the low harbour walls beyond the jetty. There, a decrepit town of assorted thatched wooden and stone buildings stretched around the harbour in a semi-circular shape. The town's church spire poked up towards pale yellow puffs of clouds that hung in the sky like unwashed sheep's wool.

A florid-faced man with a head shaped like a turnip pushed forward through the quayside gathering to greet them. His leather apron suggested him to be an artisan. He stared at Thea, Countess Gytha and Aunt Hilda. ‘By St Christopher, your women seem weary. I hazard a guess that you are all travellers, pilgrims?' He raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Or could you be exiles in search of a place to rest your heads? You would not be the first. You will not be the last now William of Normandy is king in England.'

Their languages were similar enough for them to understand each other's tongues. Thea waited patiently with Gytha and the other women. It was true. They all needed to rest. They could not spend another night on the ship, nor were they fit to travel on to Bruges.

For the time it takes a hunting dog to draw in a breath, let it out and bark, Godwin had taken a step forward, his hand on his sword hilt. ‘You are correct. We are from England. Our women are destined for King Baldwin's court.' He surveyed the red-faced artisan. ‘So, my good man, who are you?'

The man bowed. ‘My lords, I am a humble man, Luc, master shipwright.

Despite his acclaimed humility, master shipwright Luc wasted no time opening up negotiations with Godwin and Edmund concerning lodgings for the night. He pointed to one of the larger stone buildings in front of the church, a hall house with an upstairs chamber reached by an outer staircase. ‘My own dwelling is a spacious hall.' Bowing low to them, Master Luc declared his intention. ‘I would be pleased to offer my hospitality in exchange for coin.'

‘State your price,' Godwin said. ‘The ladies can rest here or on board our vessels depending on the cost.'

Gytha leaned on her eagle-headed stick and grunted impatiently through the negotiations until Godwin and the shipwright slapped hands and a deal was concluded. ‘The cargo,' the countess said, pointing her stick at Godwin. ‘What shall we do? It must be kept safe.'

My grandmother looks like a cunning woman, the way she wields that stick. She will have us all accused of sorcery. I wish it did not possess the eagle's head. I wish she would just rest her hands on it.

Godwin broke into Thea's thoughts. ‘I shall stay with our cargo, I and the house coerls; no need to worry. Any threats and they will have my swordsmen to reckon with.' Shaking his long, yellow hair he gave Master Luc an icy stare. The message he intended reached its mark because Master Luc looked anxious and retreated, allowing them to conduct their discussion in private.

Godwin turned to the countess. ‘Tomorrow we shall purchase horses. Padar will accompany you, Grandmother, to the convent of St Omer. It is only an hour's ride. If Padar rides on to Bruges, in no time at all Baldwin will send an escort to the abbey to fetch you.'

He asked Gytha, Thea and Hilda to walk with him along the quay, away from Flemish wagging ears. For a moment, Thea felt a sense of foreboding. What if Count Baldwin did not expect them after all? What would they do? They left Edmund and Padar waiting with the other women and children as Godwin guided the royal women further back down the jetty.

He glanced over at the
Sea-Dragon
and nodded at the
Wave-Prancer
. ‘We shall watch over your chests, Grandmother, yours and those of the other women, until we know what Baldwin intends. Tell Padar to return to us here the moment an escort reaches you. Only then shall we leave the ships with Gunor and travel on with you to Bruges. Only when we know you will be received by Baldwin shall we bring you the ladies' valuables and the treasure chests.'

Gytha nodded. ‘Godwin, keep half of our treasure for your use in Denmark. I shall need a quarter for my own use. Another quarter must be set aside for Thea's dowry.'

‘I shall do right by my sister. She will have her portion in silver, gold and jewels, tapestries and our father's precious library. I swear it.' He took Thea's hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed his sister's fingers. Thea felt his strength. She would trust her brothers with her life. If they made her a promise they would abide by it. He smiled, squeezed her hand, dropped it and turned back to the countess. ‘Now, Grandmother, this is my plan. Tonight, after the midnight bells ring, we shall take the ships around the headland. We can set up camp up on the cliffs we saw as we entered the bay.' He pointed up towards the grey headland. ‘That is where Padar will find us.'