Pip Vaughan-Hughes - Relics

'And now is the time to tell your story, before the wine sends you to sleep for another three days,' Gilles said, filling our goblets once more.

And so I told them. Beginning with Sir Hugh's golden trap at the Crozier and the next evening's horror in the cathedral, I let the tale unfold. And indeed, now that I was looking back on things and not living them, I found that it all seemed like invention, more a tale than reality. The memory of the deacon's blood made me pause. The knife that had killed him was now at my belt, and I wondered at the grim circles that fate drew with men's lives. I hastened over Will's death, but then I was explaining my escape, and my long days of travel, and finally my return to the abbey. De Montalhac interrupted to ask about Adric, but Gilles silenced him with a raised finger. I glossed over the final stretch of my journey. In those early days I was filled with a confusion of emotions: sorrow for my lost future; mourning for Will; burning regret; and a creeping sense of shame at my flight. My body would knit fast, but these other hurts would be long in the healing. So now I hastened on to my stay under the graveyard tree, and my audience had the good grace to laugh at how the gravediggers provided me with lunch. 'And the rest you know,' I finished.

'That is by no means true,' said the Captain. 'But you are tired. We have overtaxed you already. Sleep will heal your wounds and spread a little balm over past horrors.'

And indeed, I had not realised the depth of my fatigue. I made to stand, but my legs had no strength and I would have collapsed onto the table if Gilles had not caught me round the waist. To my great embarrassment, he swung me over his shoulder and carried me from the cabin as a hunter carries a fresh-killed deer. But there was no censure in the Captain's eyes as he watched us leave the cabin, only concern – or perhaps sadness. And then we were on deck, in the strong salt of the wind. It was late in the afternoon, and low clouds were scudding across a pale sky. The great sail was full and straining, and sailors were passing to and fro, attending to their mysterious duties and sparing us not even a glance. Gilles carried me below. A pallet had been laid out in the sharp angle of the bow. Eyes closed, I sank into the sweet, fresh straw and barely felt Gilles cover me with a soft and heavy blanket. For a minute or so I felt the ship heave and fidget under me and felt myself speeding along, head first, like a seabird over the water. Then came sleep, and no dreams.

I awoke to dim light, the rushing of water beneath me and a crushing weight on my chest. Opening my eyes, I found another pair of eyes staring back at me. They were large and golden, and set rather close together. I realised I was pinned down by a gigantic cat. Judging by the cosy warmth of our two bodies, and the contented look upon its furry face, it had been there for some time. The creature was truly enormous. It was covered in long, grey-golden hair, which fanned out around its head. Its ears were pointed and topped by long tufts of hair. In amongst all this fur, the animal's face seemed oddly small, and its close-set eyes above a small black nose gave it a sweetly intelligent look, like a quizzical monkey. I raised a cautious hand to stroke its head, and a great paw stretched out and touched me gently on the chin. I rubbed behind the tufted ears and it began to purr. I could feel the vibrations right down to my liver. 'Good morning,' I ventured.

The beast yawned, and its whiskers tickled my neck. Who might you be?' I persisted. The cat stood up and stretched, unfurling its plumed tail. It leaned down and butted my face in a friendly sort of way, turned and picked its way down my body, and trotted off into the gloom, still purring.

I rose and, following the cat, climbed up on deck. The sun was bright and the air, cold and damp, blew away the last rags of sleep. As always, men were hard at work all around, scrubbing the decks, mending sails and doing all manner of other things that looked completely baffling. No one greeted me, or even looked my way, so I decided to have a look around. Yesterday had passed in a blur, but now the ship began to form itself as a definite presence around me.

It was a great, wide thing. From where I stood under the mast, which reared up in what seemed to be the dead centre of the deck, the ship seemed to curve up both front and back. In front, the deck rose and met in a sharp point, and above this stood a kind of large wooden hut, sturdily built and topped with a circlet of crenellations. Beyond this jutted a short mast that pointed our way through the green and white sea. Behind me the deck ended in a wooden wall, in which was set the door to the Captain's cabin. Above this was another, smaller deck, surmounted again by crenellations. I confess that I, a landsman used to stone walls, found the effect of all these slightly ridiculous. A little castle, made of wood. A little wooden castle afloat on the sea. Even the mast was topped with a fortress in miniature, a turret the size of a big half-barrel. Then I looked about some more and noticed weapons stacked neatly here and there: pikes and ugly, wicked-looking halberds that sprouted notched hooks like talons; big, gnarled grappling irons. And the crew: they were all shapes and sizes, some fair, some dark. All were burned by the sun, and all seemed grim. Any one of them looked ready to take up one of those savage halberds and split heads apart like firewood. I shuddered, but then the ship gave a lurch, the sail flapped and snapped overhead, and everyone looked up from their tasks, alert and ready. Then I saw that I had mistaken grimness for concentration, that these were men who lived in a world encompassed by these wooden walls and who had mastered their world completely. This really was a fortress and would be defended to the last drop of blood.

The wind seemed to have shifted slightly. Commands were passed to and fro, and ropes were hauled on until the great square of cloth filled once more. I was in the way, although I might have been a lifeless piece of cargo for all the attention the crew gave me. Dodging between them, I made my way to the back of the ship, where a kind of ladder led up to the little fortress atop the Captain's cabin. I climbed up and found myself in a small, enclosed space. The wooden battlements were much more formidable close-to: thick, scarred and as high as my head. And there in the middle of the deck stood a figure, legs braced wide, seemingly bonded to a great spar that quivered and jerked in his grasp. The sun was behind him, and in my eyes. I had exchanged the frenzy below for an audience with a shadowed giant. Turning back to the ladder, I collided with the Captain, who fended me off, laughing. Awake and about, Petroc? How did you sleep?'

I told him my night had been dark and dreamless. 'But who,' I added, 'was the monstrous creature who woke me?'

De Montalhac frowned. 'Monstrous, you say – not Dimitri, the master-at-arms?'

Now it was my turn to laugh. 'No human creature, sir. This one had four legs, lion's teeth and a tail like a fox. Unless that was indeed your Dimitri.'

'Aha. Fafner found you. Bigger than the master-at-arms, although not as fierce. He is a skaukatt, one of those cats that live in the forests of Norway, that mate with the wild lynx. We had him as a runty kitten. Rassoul took him off a market-woman in Trondheim who was set on his drowning. Sweet as a baby and clever as an ape. I've seen him swallow a rat in one gulp.' 'I believe he could have done the same to my head.'

'Like as not. But I see you are curious about our ship. That is good. What have you noticed?'

'I have seen sailors who look like warriors, wooden castles and…' I lowered my voice and motioned over my shoulder to the figure behind me, 'and that one.'