Walo was already at the water’s edge. He had his deerhorn pipe in hand. As the two bears came closer, he began to play. Behind me the crowd scattered. They scurried away, then turned at a safe distance to see what would happen next.
Madi and Modi came ashore side by side. They shook themselves, spraying water in all directions from their soaking coats, and looked around. They had grown into hulking brutes that could easily break a man’s back with a single swipe from their great paws. Modi yawned, and the great pink gaping gullet caused several gasps of fear from the handful of the bolder spectators who had stayed for a closer look. In the distance there was the clink and rattle of pebbles as the more prudent onlookers retreated even further up the beach.
Walo advanced towards the bears until he was no more than an arm’s length away. Facing them, he continued to play his usual simple tune. The bears stood on the shoreline, their great pointed muzzles swinging from side to side. They were curious about what was happening. Carefully, Walo began pacing backwards, still facing the bears and playing his pipe.
The two bears padded after him. Walo backed away, step by slow step, towards the open door of the boat shed, and then inside. For a heart-stopping moment the bears halted at the dark entrance to the shed. They turned and faced outward, their small eyes inspecting the crowd of onlookers. I held my breath, knowing that if they chose to charge and attack, nothing could stop them.
Then the music worked its lure and they went inside. A shipwright darted forward, about to slam the door behind them. I grabbed him by the shirt and held him back. ‘Don’t startle the bears. Let them grow accustomed to their new home.’
The man could not have understood exactly what I said, but the message was clear. He waited beside me while we listened to the soothing sound of Walo’s music for a few more minutes. Then together we went forward and softly half-closed the door, leaving a gap large enough for Walo to slip out when he judged the moment was right.
Osric let out a sigh of relief. ‘We should have guessed that ice bears are good swimmers,’ he said to me.
‘A pity we can’t say the same about the aurochs,’ I replied.
The words were scarcely out of my mouth when there was another buzz of astonishment from the crowd. Everyone was gazing out to where the setting sun cast a long reddish-gold path across the mirror-calm of the sea. The head of the aurochs showed black against the red. The beast was swimming to land, more slowly than the bears, following them.
My heart leaped into my mouth. I had witnessed the creature’s rage as it smashed Walo’s father, Vulfard, to bloody pulp. Now I shuddered to think what carnage it might inflict on the crowd on the beach. To add to my alarm, the crowd was less fearful than when they had seen the bears approaching. To them, the aurochs looked little different from a common farm bull at that distance. They failed to note its great size and the menacing forward sweep of the deadly horns. There was a mutter of interest, but nothing like the general panic the bears had created.
I ran towards the crowd. ‘Get back! Get back! I shouted, waving my arms frantically. I was met with stares of curiosity and incomprehension.
Osric joined me, gesturing at the crowd, trying to move them away. But the spectators dawdled, reluctant to leave.
The aurochs reached the shallows, and began to emerge from the water. There was a collective, appalled gasp. The creature was monstrous. It paused with half its huge body still under water and the great dark shoulders and neck gleaming wet. Then it lifted the great head, stretched its neck so that the muzzle pointed to the sky, and uttered a massive bellow that echoed around the cliffs.
At that moment Protis redeemed himself. The young man raced down the beach. He had a scrap of cloth in one hand as he dashed directly at the aurochs. I thought he had lost his mind. He sprinted into the shallows, tripping and almost falling as his feet hit the water. The aurochs immediately lowered its head and lunged at him with the deadly horns. Protis swerved and slipped past the attack. He flung himself against the creature’s shoulder, and whipped the rag around its massive head, covering its eyes.
The aurochs tossed its head in amazement. Protis threw an arm over the creature’s neck and managed to cling on. The beast shook its head angrily, and I was reminded sickeningly of the horror as Vulfard’s spitted corpse had been thrashed from side to side. But Protis was behind the horns, and he hung on grimly until the shaking stopped and he had time to loop the rag in place. The great beast halted, confused and blind.
A vague memory stirred. I recalled my father’s ploughmen coaxing reluctant oxen into their stalls.
‘We need a heavy rope!’ I called to Osric. He looked at me for an instant, and then understanding dawned. Together we ran to where the shipwrights had their gear, selected a length of heavy cable, and hurried down the beach, circling behind the aurochs. Abram and his two men joined us and together we stretched the rope and brought it against the aurochs’ hindquarters. The sudden touch of the rope made the blindfolded beast start forward. It walked out of the water and, by keeping up the pressure on the rope, we guided it towards the line of boat sheds.
Two local men saw what we intended. They ran ahead and swung open the doors to the stoutest shed. All the time Protis stayed beside the beast’s neck, matching it stride for stride, making sure the blindfold stayed in place. Together we somehow succeeded in steering the aurochs into its temporary home, then heaved shut the heavy door as Protis darted out to safety.
‘The boat shed won’t hold the beast for long. Ask the villagers to fetch fodder and water,’ I said to Abram.
Protis was white-faced and trembling with relief. I thought he was about to faint.
‘That was very courageous,’ I congratulated him. ‘I hope your grandfather gets to hear how you saved the day.’
He summoned up a shaky smile. ‘The old man won’t forgive me for losing the family’s last and only ship.’
He looked past me to where his vessel was no longer to be seen. The sea was empty. The vessel must have slipped beneath the waves. The young Greek’s eyes filled with tears. ‘My family does not have the resources to build a new ship. And the moneylenders will think that somehow we are cursed with bad luck.’
‘What will you do?’ I asked softly.
‘My men can find work on other ships, and I will have to hire myself out as a common sailor,’ he answered.
He looked so downcast that I reached out and gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. ‘Your bravery saved the day. You’d be more than welcome to travel on to Rome with us.’
He lifted his chin as a trace of his former pride returned. ‘I was hired to deliver you and your animals to Rome, and I will fulfil my side of the bargain.’
Chapter Eleven
ROME
*
Abram’s Itinerarium marked a road running parallel to the coast that would eventually bring us to Rome. The dragoman’s attendants had brought the map ashore, along with my precious copy of the Book of Beasts and our other valuables, but all the travelling furniture – the folding tables and chairs, the tents and camping equipment – had been lost with the ship. As a replacement the ever-resourceful Protis, now once more bubbling with self-confidence, devised two houses on wheels for us – moving homes. He boasted these contraptions would save us from having to stay overnight in the hospitia, the flea-ridden hostels designed for pilgrims on the way to the Holy City. Equally practical and ingenious were the wheeled cages the shipwrights put together for the aurochs and the ice bears. The carpenters held a stock of curved timbers, normally used for the ribs of ships. They adapted them as bars for the cages so that our large animals travelled in elegant creations like skeletons of upturned boats. The effect was, as Osric remarked, to make our little procession along the road resemble a travelling circus.