Michael Jecks - The Death Ship of Dartmouth

‘I cannot swim,’ Pierre confessed. ‘I never had the skill.’

Hamund frowned. ‘Then what can we do?’

‘I have an idea!’ Pierre was staring down at where the paviours were shovelling gravel into a hole. ‘Come!’

Pattering along, Hamund had the feeling that he was being led on an adventure. He felt like a squire to a great knight who was showing his quality by hunting a dragon or rescuing a woman from unimaginable dangers. At any moment he might be confronted by a great beast … No. This was enough of an adventure without thinking of mysterious animals. For the first time in his life, he was truly living, and it was all thanks to this man with him, Sieur Pierre de Caen. He hurried to catch up as the Frenchman reached the paviours at their task.

‘My friends. You helped me yesterday, and I am most grateful to you for that.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Law demanded.

Bill gave a wry smile. ‘Thought you were safe.’

‘We would be, except …’

‘We heard,’ Bill acknowledged.

‘No! I will not have this!’ Alred expostulated. ‘We cannot risk ourselves on your behalf, sir. No! You must go before someone sees you here.’

‘I would be very grateful if you could help us again.’

‘Didn’t you hear me?’

‘What do you want?’ Law asked.

‘Law, I said-’

‘Al, shut up, all right?’ Bill said wearily. ‘You know what I did before. This helps me feel that I’m making some sort of compensation for that man. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to join in, but if I can save this man’s life, it’s worth it.’

‘Go ahead, then!’ Alred exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. ‘Don’t worry about me or this contract, will you? You don’t know this man, nor what he’s done — nothing! But you’ll drop me in it, won’t you. Fine. Just go, then!’

‘Sorry, Al,’ Bill muttered.

He and Law clambered from the hole, and strode to where Pierre stood.

‘Wait!’

Flushed and angry, Alred followed them. He stood before the Frenchman and stared angrily at him, hands on his hips, head jutting truculently. ‘I hope you’re proud of yourself, that’s all I can say. Just for you, the people of Dartmouth are going to have to wait longer for their road to be mended. Hah! Well? What are you waiting for?’

Baldwin poured himself some wine. ‘So the crew will soon be released?’

‘Yes. But their ship will have some problems being prepared for sea, I think.’

‘Let us hope that it will be enough. I would not have the man arrested and then executed. I think I was misled about him. By Walter.’

‘For my part, I know he saved my life. I do not care what another says of him, I would not see him harmed. I don’t understand Walter’s part in all this, though.’

‘Nor I,’ Baldwin said. He looked up as a knock came at the door.

Simon shouted, ‘Yes!’

Stephen pushed the door wide, and entered anxiously. ‘Bailiff, the men in the gaol … they are gone!’

Even as he asked, ‘How can they be?’ Simon was rising and grabbing for his sword.

‘I heard that they had a messenger, a man with the Despenser’s shield on his breast. He asked where the gaol was, and went straight there. He showed Ivo a parchment that demanded their immediate freedom, and the sergeant let them loose. He had no choice!’

Baldwin clenched his jaw. ‘Come, Simon. We have to make sure that our friends are not molested.’

The way to the shingle was barred. Law went first, on his own. He had tried an alleyway, and could get to the shore itself, but once there he found his way blocked by sailors. They looked him up and down and decided he was not worth their bother, but everywhere he looked, he saw more men lounging, watching the roads with care.

‘I can see no way past them,’ he reported back to the other four.

‘Even if we could slip past, they would soon catch us on the shore,’ Hamund said. He had a vague memory of the beach in his mind. ‘How is the tide, Master Lawrence?’

‘It’s out just now, so to reach the boats you have to run along the mud.’

‘We cannot manage this,’ Hamund said. This was less an adventure, more of a nightmare.

‘There must be a way,’ Pierre said.

Hamund tentatively murmured, ‘Perhaps, if we crossed to Hardness and took a boat from there … we could row to the ship and avoid all the men waiting here.’ In his mind’s eye he saw the line of buildings as he rowed the ship over the smooth waters towards the Saint Denis . The mill’s great wheel, the line of little workshops and tradesmen’s sheds, the drying and salting trestles set out for the day’s catch … and then back.

Bill was saying, ‘If we try to cross over that bridge, they’ll see us for certain!’

‘Hamo the cooper showed me a way,’ Hamund said suddenly. ‘If we can get in there, we’ll be safe enough.’

Hamund led them along the street until he found the last alley. Taking them down this, he told them to wait for him. ‘I’ll have to get Hamo to open up the way and let us through.’

‘How do you know he’ll help?’ Alred demanded suspiciously. ‘If he’s got half a brain, he’ll turn us in and collect any bounty.’

‘His friend was the gaoler, Will. When I tell him that the gaoler’s murderer is the man who seeks Pierre’s death, he’ll help us.’

Hamund was convincing, but Bill pulled him aside before he left them.

‘In case they recognise you, friend, take this,’ he said, and pulled off his cowl and hood, setting them on Hamund’s shoulders. With that drawn over his head, he looked very different.

Once back down the alley to the shoreline, he made for the cooper’s works. Groups of sailors stared at him as he passed, but none recognised him, apparently, with his simple disguise.

‘Master?’

The cooper was tapping rings of steel down about the staves of a barrel, and he scarcely looked up as Hamund appeared.

‘Do you remember me from last night?’

Hamo peered under his hood and laughed. ‘The drowned rat, eh? What’re you doing back here?’

‘You know your friend who died?’

‘Will, aye. Poor sod.’

‘It was the man who killed him who seeks my death also, and that of my companion. Will you help us?’

‘It sounds like a dangerous sport, aiding you. What should I do that for?’

Quickly Hamund explained what he needed, and the cooper nodded slowly, but grimly. ‘If that’s all you want, I don’t see why I shouldn’t let you through to open up the yard’s gate. I could give you a lift too, if you wish. My boat is down below us.’

Hamund gasped out his thanks. This was more than he had hoped for — he’d imagined he would have to borrow a boat from a fisherman, but this would be much safer. After expressing his gratitude, he hurried through the cooperage, through the chamber at the rear, and into the yard. Throwing the gate wide, he looked up and down the alley. Seeing Alred at the corner, he whistled and beckoned, and soon the others were with him. They slipped through the gate, then made their way to the workshop.

Hamo was still knocking the hoop down over the barrel, but he looked up and nodded briefly as he saw the men.

‘Master Cooper, we owe you our thanks,’ Pierre said stiffly.

‘That’s good. Any enemy of the man who killed Will can’t be all bad.’ Hamo set down his hammer, pulled his leather apron from his neck, and jerked his head towards the waiting ship. ‘Reckon you want to be going, eh? I’d best help you.’

They set off to the flat pavement before his shop, then went down the slippery ladder to the shingle. Here Alred and his men left them as they trod, squelching, towards the boat. It was some way, and they must avoid the thicker pools of mud which oozed glutinously as they stepped in it. Suddenly, they heard a cry, then a long-drawn-out call, and Hamund threw a fearful look over his shoulder as he wondered what this meant. It was clear enough in a moment.