Jack Whyte - The Saxon Shore

As I knelt there, catching my breath, I became aware again, for the first time since it had happened, of the heavy ache in my balls caused by the blow from Dedalus's elbow, and then a gust of wind set me shivering with cold. I forced myself to my feet and looked about, seeing my men and horses all around me, most of the men already loosening the cinches and removing the heavy, waterlogged saddles from the beasts' backs. I saw our two herd- boys, too, one of them clutching the bridles of the matched chestnut roans that were my gift to Athol. The stallion wore Quintus's saddle on its back, but the mare was unencumbered. The other boy was running among the men and animals, gathering up and herding the extra horses, many of which were laden with bundles of our baggage and supplies, and I wondered briefly how much had been spoiled by sea water.

We were on a small, sheltered, steeply sloping, crescent-shaped beach with tree-covered arms sweeping out to sea on either side. The upper edge of the beach was less than the height of a man below the level of the surrounding ground. Beyond that rim, the land seemed to stretch level for a distance before sweeping sharply upward, covered completely with trees as far as the eye could reach before the low clouds obscured the view. I turned towards the sea behind me, and there was Logan's galley, riding calmly less than fifty paces distant, held in place by an occasional backward or forward sweep of a few oars on either side. I could see Logan himself up on the forward platform, gazing towards us; I waved to him and received an answering wave. I heard someone approaching me and turned to see Donuil walking head down, tugging at his clothing. He had already divested himself of his cuirass, leggings and helmet.

"Well," he said, peering down at a knot he was attempting to undo, "we're all safe ashore."

Behind him, I saw Dedalus and a couple of others lifting Quintus down from the back of the big white that had ferried him safely.

"How's Quintus, do you know?"

"Aye, he's as well as he can be, I suppose, but I wish Lucanus were with us. His leg is badly mangled. Bone right through the flesh. We'll have to set it and splint it, although I don't know where we'll find decent splints. There!" The knot at which he had been tugging came loose, and he stripped off his tunic, leaving himself naked except for a breech cloth. His huge chest was covered with goose bumps and his skin had a bluish tinge to it. "Now we have to light a fire."

"With what? You'd have to go up off the beach to find kindling and no one is strolling off alone until we're sure there's no enemy up there watching us and waiting for us to be stupid. That means you stay here until we are organized and that, my friend, is a direct command. Anyway, it would be futile—everything will be soaked from the fog." I glanced up towards the sky, surprised to see bright blue up there. The fog had vanished and the sun hung low in the sky above the horizon to the east. "It may take some time for the sun to develop enough heat to dry things out, so we will simply have to settle for being cold for a spell."

Now Donuil looked directly into my eyes, smiling. "Ach, Commander, you are in the hands of an Erseman now, in his homeland. We can always find dry moss, even in a downpour Besides, I wouldn't go alone. Let me take Ded and Rufio with me, and I'll have a fire going before you have time to grow another goose bump." He broke off and looked at the impenetrable trees surrounding the beach. "I wonder where we are exactly? Best we make no smoke until we know for certain. I'll fetch my fire-making tools and a knife, and then I'll get started. Can I go?"

I glowered at him, stifling the urge to laugh at his audacity, yet thinking that if there were enemies up there among the trees, we would be better off knowing now.

"Take four men, all of you armed, and be careful."

He grinned at me and nodded, then turned and loped away, heading back towards the pile of gear and armour he had cast off on landing. I was shivering with cold and knew that movement was what I needed. I turned and climbed the sloping beach, feeling the sand cling heavily to my sodden footwear as I trudged towards the overhang of a little cliff that rimmed the inlet. Once there, I leaned an elbow on the hard, grass-stubbled ground and peered towards the trees.

Behind me, I heard the sounds of someone approaching and I assumed it to be Donuil, but it was Rufio. Donuil followed behind him, leading Philip, Benedict, Paulus and Cyrus, all of them except Donuil still fully armoured. Almost naked, but carrying a sword and an axe, Donuil paused at the top of the bank, looking at me. "I would suggest you too strip off, Commander, before you freeze or rust solid. Then move around. The sun will warm you, and the quicker you get warm, the sooner you'll be prepared for any company that might come by." He disappeared into the fringe of trees, followed by the others in his party, and Rufio and I watched them go, then waited for any sound of conflict that might follow. None did, and I eventually decided we were alone. I hauled myself up onto the level ground and turned back to Rufio, pulling him up beside me.

"Donuil's right. Wet clothes and wet armour over cold bodies will cripple us. Better to warm ourselves first and then put on damp clothes again over the warmth if we have to." Quickly, with a minimum of effort, we helped each other remove our armour, each undoing the other's wet and slippery buckled straps, and then we undressed completely. The others on the beach, seeing where we were and what we were doing, began to move up to join us until only Dedalus was left, kneeling over the shape of Quintus. The horses, too, remained on the beach, most of them rolling in the sand, drying the sea water from their coats. They would have no way of climbing up to where we were until we created a causeway of some kind for them.

Donuil had returned without my noticing, and now I smelled the tang of smoke. I looked behind me and saw him crouched on his knees, blowing gently and lovingly on a tiny tendril of smoke. As I looked, he knelt up straighter and began to lay twigs carefully across the crackling grass and moss and bits of bark he had ignited, and the flames began to leap higher. The mere sight of it, and the promise it contained, put heart in all of us, and my sense of purpose found its feet again.

Less than an hour later, three large, roaring fires were ablaze, surrounded by steaming clothes and armour, all stretched out upon an amazing array of dead branches and sticks. Logan's galley had anchored alongside one of the protecting arms of the small bay, so that his warriors could land and form a perimeter about our small encampment, standing guard against unwelcome visitors until our clothes and armour were dry and we were fit to take care of ourselves.

Benedict and I had set and splinted Quintus's broken leg between two narrow lengths of heavy planking, split and trimmed to size with a hand axe. I had been assisted by four of our biggest men, who had had trouble holding Quintus down until he passed out from the pain of the procedure. Now the worst was over, and his wounded leg was clean, washed out and scoured by the salt water. I had hopes that he would recover, and Logan, who had provided clean, dry cloth to bind the leg, had agreed to transport him on his galley to our destination. Logan's ship had also provided us with food, a porridge made of ground, salted oats, and pots in which to cook it, and we were all feeling much better and stronger. A team of ten men, some of them ours, most of them Logan's, all strong swimmers, had dived down to the sunken barge and prised loose a number of whole deck planks, bringing them ashore and lashing them together, after which they had returned and salvaged almost everything that we had lost. Before beginning that operation, however, two of them had retrieved the corpse of poor Metellus, towing him between them to the beach, and I set two more of my men to digging a grave for him, up on the solid land far from the water. While that was happening, another group of men had laboured to break down the lip of the bank at its weakest spot, creating a ramp for the horses to climb up from below. Most of the horses' grain supply was ruined, but there was enough grazing nearby to sustain them, and they themselves had been thoroughly dried and groomed. Within another hour, I estimated, we would be self-sufficient again: rested, well fed, dried out, re-armoured—although a little stiffly and uncomfortably—and remounted.