body a little less worn. Instead he felt overcome with an enveloping lassitude.
‘But the King’s laws …’ he muttered.
‘Here we have the Earl’s laws,’ Hamadus said, his voice showing that he was concentrating on other things. ‘Well, usually. If a ship is wrecked, it’s not the King’s. It may be the Prior’s, and it may be the earldom’s, but if Ranulph claims it, the earldom won’t argue. Ballocks! It’ll probably never even hear of it!’
His voice seemed to come from a long way away. Simon knew that the hand was gone, but he didn’t care. For the first time in weeks he felt secure. In Spain he had suffered from illness and wounds; while travelling he had been constantly on his guard, worried that a sailor might rob him, or a footpad cut his purse, and this felt a soothing, reassuring place in which to rest. ‘Sleep well,’ were the last words he heard.
Chapter Six
Therehad been no such calm voice speaking to Jean de Conket when he finally felt secure enough to drop exhausted on the thwart and cover himself with a blanket. He was asleep almost before the thick blanket had settled over him.
Waking in the warmth of the noonday sun, Jean stared about him with confusion. His men were still, for the most part, sitting at their rowing positions, backs bent over their oars, snoring, some of them, fit to raise the dead from the deeps. But they were alive. A stabbing pain made Jean wince and snap his eyes shut. It was awful, but he had once been told that the worse the pain, the better the wound. Worst of all was a cut that felt fine, but when you touched the skin, you could feel the fever burning beneath. No, the fact that it hurt like hell was good. It meant that something was going on. The flesh was living still.
It was good, so good, to feel the sun on his face when he had not honestly expected to live to see another morning. Jean stood and peered about him. To one side was a quiet, tiny island, which must surely be uninhabited, except by birds. Southwards the view changed dramatically. Here was a broad expanse of land, a low-lying, flat place with few trees, none of which was more than a few feet tall, and much long grass. The shoreline was all vicious rocks, black with water. They could not go there for provisions. At least the mast could be mended, Jean thought sombrely. Last night it had cracked some thirty feet up with a noise like a cannon, and the top had sagged. It had taken a great deal of effort to rescue it, preventing it falling into the sea and dragging much of their rigging with it. By hard effort and with great good fortune, his men had saved it.
The sooner they were away from here, the better. Jean began assessing the work to be done before he would be happy that his shipwas ready for the open sea again. There was no point in a voyage when Jean was unhappy with the ship’s worthiness. He wouldn’t risk her and his men so lightly. First they had to make the mast usable, and Jean wasn’t sure how, yet; there must be some way of strengthening what was left. Arnarld was a competent carpenter. When the man woke, Jean would ask his advice.
Jean himself was a cheerful man. A quirk of nature made him smile at any adversity, and his apparently easygoing character had led some enemies or business competitors to misjudge him. Most of them had later had cause to regret their mistake as they realised that the smile could remain on a man’s face as he killed another.
His woman would wonder what had happened to him. She would know that the storm had been worse than they could have expected, of course, but that was the nature of the sea. Sometimes it threw up worse weather than a man had reason to fear, and that was when the real mariners earned their reputations. At least Jean’s woman had seen him return after similar storms. She would know that he could win over it and get home. If he didn’t, he wondered now what would happen to her and their four sons. She’d probably have to
‘But the King’s laws …’ he muttered.
‘Here we have the Earl’s laws,’ Hamadus said, his voice showing that he was concentrating on other things. ‘Well, usually. If a ship is wrecked, it’s not the King’s. It may be the Prior’s, and it may be the earldom’s, but if Ranulph claims it, the earldom won’t argue. Ballocks! It’ll probably never even hear of it!’
His voice seemed to come from a long way away. Simon knew that the hand was gone, but he didn’t care. For the first time in weeks he felt secure. In Spain he had suffered from illness and wounds; while travelling he had been constantly on his guard, worried that a sailor might rob him, or a footpad cut his purse, and this felt a soothing, reassuring place in which to rest. ‘Sleep well,’ were the last words he heard.
Chapter Six
Therehad been no such calm voice speaking to Jean de Conket when he finally felt secure enough to drop exhausted on the thwart and cover himself with a blanket. He was asleep almost before the thick blanket had settled over him.
Waking in the warmth of the noonday sun, Jean stared about him with confusion. His men were still, for the most part, sitting at their rowing positions, backs bent over their oars, snoring, some of them, fit to raise the dead from the deeps. But they were alive. A stabbing pain made Jean wince and snap his eyes shut. It was awful, but he had once been told that the worse the pain, the better the wound. Worst of all was a cut that felt fine, but when you touched the skin, you could feel the fever burning beneath. No, the fact that it hurt like hell was good. It meant that something was going on. The flesh was living still.
It was good, so good, to feel the sun on his face when he had not honestly expected to live to see another morning. Jean stood and peered about him. To one side was a quiet, tiny island, which must surely be uninhabited, except by birds. Southwards the view changed dramatically. Here was a broad expanse of land, a low-lying, flat place with few trees, none of which was more than a few feet tall, and much long grass. The shoreline was all vicious rocks, black with water. They could not go there for provisions. At least the mast could be mended, Jean thought sombrely. Last night it had cracked some thirty feet up with a noise like a cannon, and the top had sagged. It had taken a great deal of effort to rescue it, preventing it falling into the sea and dragging much of their rigging with it. By hard effort and with great good fortune, his men had saved it.
The sooner they were away from here, the better. Jean began assessing the work to be done before he would be happy that his shipwas ready for the open sea again. There was no point in a voyage when Jean was unhappy with the ship’s worthiness. He wouldn’t risk her and his men so lightly. First they had to make the mast usable, and Jean wasn’t sure how, yet; there must be some way of strengthening what was left. Arnarld was a competent carpenter. When the man woke, Jean would ask his advice.
Jean himself was a cheerful man. A quirk of nature made him smile at any adversity, and his apparently easygoing character had led some enemies or business competitors to misjudge him. Most of them had later had cause to regret their mistake as they realised that the smile could remain on a man’s face as he killed another.
His woman would wonder what had happened to him. She would know that the storm had been worse than they could have expected, of course, but that was the nature of the sea. Sometimes it threw up worse weather than a man had reason to fear, and that was when the real mariners earned their reputations. At least Jean’s woman had seen him return after similar storms. She would know that he could win over it and get home. If he didn’t, he wondered now what would happen to her and their four sons. She’d probably have to
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