Brotherband 3: The Hunters (38 page)

He looked now at the twins, and at Stefan and Jesper. ‘That means that sail handling and trimming are going to be vital. We can’t afford mistakes. We’ll have to get in close – although not as close as Zavac will want us – and then get out again. So you four have to be on your toes.’

They all nodded, serious now, and he turned his gaze on Ulf and Wulf.

‘And that means no arguing. Is that clear?’

Ulf and Wulf exchanged a quick glance. Then they both said in unison, ‘You can count on us, Hal.’

Hal felt a momentary surprise that they had come up with exactly the same words at exactly the same time. He noted it away. Twins, he thought. There was a lot more to them than people ever realised.

‘Will we be using fire bolts?’ Ingvar asked. In the attack on Limmat, they had used fire bolts – bolts from the Mangler with their heads wrapped in oil-soaked rags and set on fire – to great effect.

But Hal shook his head. ‘I thought about that. But we’ll be twisting and turning and heeling all the time. The decks will be unsteady and I don’t want an open fire on board. Besides, if we make a mistake and Zavac gets alongside us, we could be in big trouble. At Limmat there was no other ship near us. But here, it’s just too big a risk.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ Thorn said. Like most experienced sailors, the idea of a source of fire on board ship was a terrifying prospect.

‘We’ve got visitors,’ Stig said, looking down the jetty.

The others followed his gaze. There were three soldiers approaching, wearing the purple and green livery of the Korpal. One marched ahead of the others. His armour and equipment marked him as an officer. He paused as he came level with the
Heron
, looking down on her decks from the jetty.

‘Are you the Skandian crew?’ he asked, although it was obvious that they were. Hal stood and walked to the rail. The jetty was a metre or so higher than the ship’s bulwarks, so he had to look up at the officer.

‘We are,’ he said. ‘Do you want to come on board?’

The officer shook his head. He looked distastefully at the little ship. He didn’t like walking on anything that seemed to move of its own accord and he could see the decks slowly rising and falling with the small waves of the harbour.

‘No need for that. I’m here to tell you the conditions for this duel of yours. Then I’ll be on my way.’

Hal made a gesture indicating that the man should continue. ‘Let’s hear it then,’ he said. The captain reached inside his tunic and produced a sheet of paper. He consulted it for several seconds, then spoke.

‘The wind is from the north-east,’ he said. ‘Korpaljo Mihaly has had a square fighting area marked with buoys outside the harbour, in the bay. Both ships will begin with the wind on their beams.’ He frowned. He was a landsman and he had no idea what that meant. But he noticed that the young Skandian was nodding so he assumed he had got it right.

‘The Korpaljo drew straws for positions. Your ship will start from the western side of the square. The Magyarans will begin from the east. You’ll be escorted out of the harbour by one of our longboats, and another will be anchored at the spot where you’ll begin. All told, four longboats will monitor the battle.’

And what do they plan to do, Thorn thought sarcastically. The longboats could indicate the starting positions for the two ships. But once the battle began, they could have little effect. However, if it gave Mihaly a false sense of being in control, that was no problem to him.

‘The longboat will arrive to escort you out of harbour at the ninth hour,’ the officer said. There was a final note to his voice that indicated he had said everything he had to say. ‘Any questions?’

Hal shrugged. ‘It all sounds clear to me.’ He turned to Thorn. ‘Thorn? How about you?’

Thorn grimaced. ‘No. It’s all pretty straightforward.’

Hal turned back to the officer. ‘No questions,’ he said and the man folded the sheet and replaced it inside his tunic. He called a curt order to his two escorts, who came to attention. But he was stopped by Jesper.

‘I’ve got a question,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you going to wish us good luck?’

The man stiffened at the mocking tone in Jesper’s voice. ‘I’ve got ten korona wagered on the Magyarans. They’re favoured three to one to win,’ he said. Then he turned and marched away, followed by his men.

Jesper turned to his friends and pouted. ‘Well, that’s hardly encouraging.’

A
little before the ninth hour, the longboat that was to be their escort arrived, pulling smoothly round the end of the jetty.

She was nearly as long as
Heron
and packed with men. Without the need for rigging or a mast, she could fit six oars down each side. In addition to the twelve men rowing, Hal could count another eight men aboard her, all armed and wearing chain mail and helmets. As she came level with
Heron
, she pivoted neatly and allowed the wind to drift her in closer, until she was four or five metres away. Her helmsman cupped his hands around his mouth and called to them.

‘Aboard the
Heron
! Are you ready?’

They had been ready for well over half an hour, with all surplus gear stowed away and just a bow and stern line holding the ship alongside. Stig looked interrogatively at Hal, who was standing by the tiller. The skirl nodded and Stig bellowed in reply:

‘Ready!’

‘Then follow us! Keep station ten metres astern.’ He spoke in a lower tone, giving an order to his rowers, and the oars went forward, lowered, then began a slow stroke. The longboat moved smoothly away.

While this was happening, Stig leapt up to the jetty and cast off the bow and stern ropes, jumping lightly down to the deck once he had done so.

‘Oars,’ Hal called quietly and the crew ran out their oars. The two for’ard rowers on the port side fended off from the jetty so that
Heron
’s bow swung to face clear water. Stig scrambled down to his rowing bench and ran his oar out. He and Hal made eye contact and Stig called to the others.

‘Give way all! Stroke . . . stroke . . . stroke . . .’

He set a slow pace for the rowers and
Heron
glided away from the jetty, down the narrow fairway to the main channel. As ever, Hal felt a thrill of excitement as the tiller came alive and the water began to chuckle down the length of the hull. At the same time, his stomach was balled in a tight knot – as it always was before they went into action.

He glanced along the twin lines of rowers. Their faces were set and pale and he realised they were feeling the same pre-combat nerves that he was. Only Thorn, standing in his usual position by the keel box, and wearing his massive horned helmet, seemed unconcerned. Hal realised they were overhauling the longboat, moving faster than she was. He waited until they were just over ten metres astern of her and called to Stig.

‘Slow it a little.’

His voice was tight and his throat felt dry. It sounded more high-pitched than he had intended and he hoped the others hadn’t noticed. Stig didn’t seem to. He began to call the stroke again, more slowly this time, and the ship settled into her position astern of the longboat.

‘Good,’ Hal said. He didn’t trust his voice for more than one word. He licked his dry lips and swallowed nervously.

They turned into the main channel leading to the sea. They passed ships on either side, all of them with their crews lining the sides and watching. Interest in the coming duel was high among the people of Raguza. Several men on ships they passed called out greetings and good wishes. He guessed they were men who had wagered on the
Heron
, taking advantage of the three to one odds offered. Depressingly, they were a minority. Most of the sailors watched them in silence as they passed by. Hal had elected to row out of the harbour, as it was crowded with so many ships at anchor and the channel was relatively narrow. Once they reached the harbour mouth, he’d set the sail and let the crew relax a little.

They glided on. He heard a bell in a tower ashore chiming the ninth hour. He glanced up at the wind telltale. It was streaming out steadily in the north-easterly breeze. That was to the good, he thought. The wind was brisk enough so that they could use their speed under sail, without being so strong that it would cause them problems. The sky was clear and blue, with a few scattered clouds sliding across it.

A beautiful day for a duel, he thought. He met Thorn’s eyes and the old sea wolf nodded reassuringly. But something was amiss, Hal thought. He looked more closely and realised with surprise that Thorn was wearing his grasping hook, not the massive club that Hal had made for him. He pointed to it and cocked his head in a question. Thorn glanced down, then walked slowly aft to stand beside him.

‘The shaft of the club has a rather nasty crack in it,’ he explained. ‘Only noticed it this morning when I was getting ready. Must have done it the other night in that alley.’

‘You should have told me. I could have repaired it,’ Hal said, but Thorn shook his head.

‘There wasn’t time. It’s no problem. I’ll use a sword and fight left-handed. I can hold a shield in this hook of yours.’

‘If you say so,’ Hal said doubtfully. He hoped this wasn’t some kind of omen. Thorn seemed to read his thoughts and smiled grimly.

‘I do. I have done this before, you know,’ he said, with a faint smile.

Hal forced a smile in reply. ‘So I’ve heard.’

Thorn nodded, the horns on his helmet bobbing as he did, then returned to his station by the keel box. The fin was still raised. They’d lower it when they hauled the sail up.

‘Hullo,’ called Stig. ‘Look who’s joined us.’

Hal turned and looked astern. Two hundred metres behind them, following its own escort, was the sinister black shape of the
Raven
. Looking carefully, he could see the disturbance of white water at her bow where her ram protruded, just below the surface.

The knot in his stomach wound itself a little tighter. He faced forward. Jesper, intent on getting a look at their enemy, miscued his stroke, the oar blade splashing awkwardly. The ship faltered and Hal had to make a small adjustment to the tiller to compensate for the error. He glared at Jesper but, before he could say anything, Stig was on the job.

‘Pay attention to what you’re doing!’ he rasped. Jesper flushed, muttered an apology, and bent over his oar, avoiding the gaze of his skirl and the first mate. Hal felt a small glow of warmth towards his best friend. Stig was the ideal first mate, he thought. He was always ready to catch any small lapse of discipline or seamanship, freeing Hal up for the larger decisions that needed to be made. And he could step in and take over the tiller at any time. Hal looked down at Stig to signal his thanks, but Stig wasn’t looking at him. Then he realised there was no need for thanks. Stig was simply doing his job. He’d expect no thanks for that.

They were coming up to the harbour mouth now, a twenty-metre opening between two stone moles. On the left-hand side, a wooden watch tower stood. He noticed that it was currently flying a huge blue and red flag. He’d never noticed that before.

He glanced at it with idle curiosity, then turned his attention to negotiating the entrance. There was plenty of room but he had a sudden horrifying vision of misjudging it and scraping the
Heron
’s sleek flanks along the rough stone of the harbour walls.

They slid smoothly out into open water and he felt the breeze pick up as they did. The telltale now streamed out in a straight line as Hal surveyed what lay ahead of them.

Raguza was situated at the very end of the Dan River, on a huge gulf that opened out, in turn, to the Constant Sea. There was a slight swell running and he felt
Heron
lift to it, momentarily pressing more firmly against the soles of his feet, then sinking away into the low trough. He loved feeling her move beneath him. For perhaps the thousandth time, he thought it made her feel like a living being.

The longboat was swinging out in an arc to head back towards them.

‘Easy all,’ he said. Stig repeated the order so the crew could hear it clearly, and they rested on their oars, the shafts parallel to the surface, the blades clear of the water. The longboat came alongside, facing back towards the harbour. The two craft were separated by the length of their respective oars. The helmsman cupped his hands once more.

‘Aboard the
Heron
! D’you see the longboat to the east, flying the blue flag?’

He pointed and Hal stepped lightly up onto the bulwark to follow the line he was indicating. About two kilometres offshore, he could make out a dark, low-lying shape, and see a flicker of blue above her.

‘I see it,’ he replied.

‘That’s your start position.
Raven
will start here, by the boat with the red flag.’

He indicated another longboat, a hundred metres away. Hal nodded. There was no need to reply. The helmsman of the longboat continued.

‘The signal to start is when the red and blue flag on the watch tower comes down. Understood?’

‘Understood!’ Hal shouted. Once again, he was annoyed at the high-pitched tone of his own voice. Get over it, he told himself. Now he realised the significance of that red and blue flag on the tower. The helmsman pointed to the distant longboat under the blue flag.