Magnus Mills: Explorers of the New Century

“Presumably he’ll be aware of our presence?”

“No doubt at all. There’s only one navigable approach to that coast, so he must have seen our vessel. Besides, he was bound to make use of the blockhouse.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Johns knows we’re here all right.”

Thegn did not pursue the conversation further, as he was now obliged to help encourage the mules to enter a deep cleft where the river banks converged. The visibility was rather poor here, and only after some careful handling by Snaebjorn were they induced into the narrow opening. At this point the sand gave way to sedimentary rock, suggesting that at one time a strong torrent had funnelled through the gap. Tostig watched as the last mule hesitated, pulling back on its rope before finally plunging forth to join the others.

“They’ll have to get accustomed to this gloom sooner or later,” he remarked to Guthrum. “We’ll be travelling in near darkness very shortly.”

“How many days’ sunlight are there left?” Guthrum enquired.

“Fourteen, according to Thorsson’s calculations.”

“And then the real test will begin.”

“Quite.”

Snaebjorn had taken over the leading of the mule train. He cajoled his charges painstakingly along the gorge, avoiding fallen rocks that lay scattered in their path. The river bed soon became sandy again, but it was clear the journey had entered a new phase. In place of crumbling banks there rose on either side steep walls that echoed to every sound.

“So now we are fully committed to our course,” said Tostig. “Henceforward we need not worry whether the route we have chosen is the correct one or not. The topography of the region has made that decision for us, and we can do nothing about it. Instead we must concentrate all our efforts into moving ahead rapidly and efficiently.”

Each of Tostig’s mules had a small bronze bell hung from a collar around the neck. These bells jingled in unison as the little troop wove its way onwards, the march not ceasing until the pervasive dullness had faded into a premature dusk. Then, at last, Tostig gave orders to make camp. Lanterns were lit and the tents erected in a straight row, side by side, at the foot of the rock wall. Meanwhile, Snaebjorn set about preparing supper.

“There’ll be no need to tether the mules tonight,” Tostig announced. “Not in this dismal place. Just turn them loose and they’ll keep near us. Now Guthrum and I are going for a short exploratory stroll.”

A little later, Snaebjorn came out of the supply tent and crossed to the cooking area. Then he returned to the tent once more. Emerging a second time, he was met by Thegn.

“Yes?” he said.

“Looking for these?” asked Thegn. He was holding a set of miniature weighing scales.

“As a matter of fact I am,” replied Snaebjorn. “I’ve been searching all over the place.”

“My apologies.”

“What are you doing with them?”

“I’ve been pursuing a line of enquiry,” said Thegn. “I borrowed them to try something out.”

“I see.”

“You know, it’s marvellous the organisation that’s gone into this voyage of ours. Quite exhaustive! Every aspect was planned beforehand, right down to the finest detail. For example, how do you think the weight of a water canister compares with a tin of biscuits?”

“No idea,” said Snaebjorn.

“Have a guess.”

“I’ve just told you I don’t know.”

“Identical,” Thegn announced. “They both weigh exactly the same.”

“Really.”

“Within an ounce. Apparently there were such huge logistical demands to be met that for purposes of simplification all items were classified in fixed units of weight. You could substitute a folded tent, say, with a coiled rope and it would make no difference to the overall load. The exact method used is described in the Ship’s Manual, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll bear it in mind.”

“Appendix B.”

Snaebjorn took the scales and held them up for examination. “You’re very well informed considering you were such a latecomer,” he remarked. “Everything was stowed by the time you came on board.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Thegn answered. “I arrived as quickly as I could.”

“That’s no excuse for borrowing the scales without permission.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

“They’re for measuring out portions, not conducting experiments.”

“All right, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

There was a movement in the dark and Tostig appeared.

“How’s supper going?” he enquired.

“Won’t be long,” said Snaebjorn. “I’ve broken open the new pouches.”

“The dried food?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, good,” said Tostig. “Here, Thegn, you should find this most interesting. Come and look.”

They followed Snaebjorn to the cooking area, where a large pot of water was just coming to the boil.

“Dried food is the undoubted miracle of our times,” Tostig continued. “It provides the key to long-distance travel, and removes the need for all those heavy sacks we used to have to carry. Our supplies are the results of limited research, but even at this preliminary stage we’ve managed to make huge reductions. In the near future a whole meal will be stored in a cube no bigger than a gaming dice.”

“Sounds invaluable,” said Thegn.

“Certainly it’s invaluable,” agreed Tostig. “And, of course, there are hidden advantages as well. It means we’ll be spared from having to dine with people we can’t abide. We can simply take our cube and eat alone. What do you say, Snaebjorn?”

“Invaluable,” murmured Snaebjorn, before disappearing into the gloom. Returning with a small linen pouch, he poured the contents into the pot.

“Is that it?” asked Thegn.

“That’s it,” said Tostig. “A meal for five. Better call the others.”

“We’re here,” said Guthrum.

♦

Under normal conditions it took five minutes for a pocket tent to be taken down, folded up and packed away. In twilight the task tended to take a little longer, but nevertheless Tostig insisted that it be practised daily as a precaution in case they ever needed to leave an area quickly. Only Snaebjorn could do it in less than five. The others seldom witnessed this feat because he was always the earliest to rise and he would put his tent away immediately. Their first morning in the gorge found him pacing around as the darkness gradually gave way to a pale dawn light. Having already fed the mules and put the pan on for breakfast, he could now only wait until his companions awoke. He’d found the mules gathered together at the very edge of the camp, a place they’d occupied throughout the long hours of night. During that time the occasional jingling of a bell had indicated one or another of them moving to what it thought was a more comfortable position, before again settling down to rest. Like Snaebjorn, the mules, too, were waiting. After a while he wandered over to the rock wall. Finding a foothold, he climbed a short distance on to a ledge, where he sat for several minutes gazing at the silent row of tents below him. Nothing stirred. No birds. No insects. Nothing. With some difficulty, he got down again and then glanced at the palms of his hands. These now bore a slight blue stain. He was still studying them when Guthrum appeared at the entrance of his tent. Emerging fully clothed, he stood up and put his cap squarely on his head. Then he saw Snaebjorn and gave him a nod. “How are your two stars suiting you?” Snaebjorn enquired.

“They suit me well enough,” replied Guthrum. “How does your one star suit you?”

“It’s all right.”

“Get any sleep?”

“Four hours.”

“Plenty enough for you.”