'The most important part of it is that it lets us sail into the wind,' Gundar told them.
'Into the wind?' Halt said. 'How can that be possible?'
Gundar puckered his face in a frown. He was reluctant to admit any shortcoming in his ship, but he knew that if he didn't answer truthfully, his audience would see through his boasting eventually.
'Not really into the wind,' he admitted. 'We can sail across it, gradually making ground against it. We're able to move at an angle to the wind so we can still make progress when it's on our bow. No square-rigged ship can do that.'
'So that's why you were constantly changing direction yesterday when the wind was against us?' Selethen asked.
'That's right. We move diagonally to the wind. Then after a while, we switch and go the other way, gradually zigzagging in the direction we want. We call it tacking.'
'Why?' Alyss asked and he frowned again. He'd never queried why the manoeuvre he'd described was called tacking. Gundar was an accepting person, with a non-inquiring mind.
'Because…that's what it's called,' he said. 'Tacking.'
Wisely, Alyss pursued the matter no further. Will hid a small smile with his hand. He knew Alyss and knew that Gundar's answer was totally inadequate to her inquisitive mind. He thought it best they should move on.
'So how does it actually work?' he asked. Gundar looked at him gratefully. This part he could explain.
'Well, the young Skandian lad who designed it,' he glared quickly at Halt, daring him to challenge the inventor's nationality again, 'had spent a lot of time studying seabirds, particularly the shape of their wings. He thought it might be a good idea to stiffen the front edge of the sail like a bird's wing, and shape the sail itself so it was triangular, not square.
'So he shortened the main mast, then designed that flexible curved boom you see that sits on top. The boom strengthens and supports the leading edge of the sail so that we can face it into the wind. A traditional square-rigged sail would simply flutter and vibrate and lose its shape. But with the boom, the sail forms a smooth curve so that we can redirect the driving force of the wind much more efficiently. The result is, the ship can move at an angle to the direction the wind is blowing from. In effect, we can sail against the wind.'
He paused, seeing a few questioning faces, then amended his statement. 'All right. Across the wind. But it's a huge improvement on the old square sail. That's unusable once the wind is any farther forward than dead abeam.'
'But you've duplicated that thin top boom and the sail,' Evanlyn said. And she was right. On the deck, lying fore and aft, was another boom, with its sail furled around it. It lay on the opposite side of the mast to the boom that was currently in place.
Gundar favoured her with a smile. 'That's the beauty of this design,' he told her. 'As you can see, the sail is currently on the starboard side of the mast, with the wind coming from the port side, so it's blown away from the mast into a perfect curve. When we tack…' He glanced quickly at Alyss but she kept her expression blank. 'The wind will be on the starboard side, forcing the sail against the mast, so that the perfect wing shape would be spoiled. So we rig another boom and sail on the port side. Then, when we tack, we lower the starboard sail and raise the port sail. The two are linked by rope through a pulley at the masthead, so that the weight of one coming down actually helps us raise the other one.'
'Ingenious,' Halt said at length.
Gundar Hardstriker smiled modestly. 'Well…most of us Skandians are.'
Shukin held up a hand and the small party of horsemen drew rein, stopping in the central cleared space among the houses.
The villagers were wary, but with the long-ingrained habit of respect for the Senshi class, they waited silently for the newcomers to state their business.
They edged a little closer, forming a loose circle around the horses. Some of the villagers, Horace noted, were carrying heavy blackwood staffs, while others held axes loosely. But none of the makeshift weapons were being brandished in threatening gestures. They were simply kept close at hand while the villagers waited to see what might happen next.
Shukin, who had been riding a few metres ahead of the group, turned in the saddle.
'Come forward and join me, please, cousin,' he said quietly to Shigeru.
Shigeru urged his horse forward until he and Shukin were on their own, in the middle of the group of waiting Kikori. It was a courageous move on the part of the Emperor, Horace thought. Up till that moment, he had been safely surrounded by his group of warriors. Now, if trouble started, he was vulnerable to attack from all sides and his escort would not be able to reach him in time to save him.
The rain began to mist down again, pattering softly on the thatched roofs and forming misty haloes around the hanging lanterns under the eaves of the verandahs that fronted the cabins. A cold trickle ran down the back of Horace's collar and he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. It was only a small movement but even so, a dozen pairs of eyes swung to him instantly. He settled back in his saddle and remained still. Gradually, the wary eyes returned to Shukin and Shigeru.
'Kikori people,' Shukin began. His voice was deep and authoritative. He didn't speak loudly, but such was the timbre of his voice that his words carried clearly to everyone in the clearing. 'Today, a great honour has come to your village.'
He paused, his gaze scanning the waiting timber workers and their families. He felt a twinge of disappointment as he saw the disbelief in their eyes. They were cynical of any Senshi warrior who told them they were about to receive a great honour. Usually such statements were the prelude to a series of demands on their homes, their food, their time and their wellbeing. Be honoured because you can give us whatever we ask for – after all, we plan to take it anyway.
Sad to say, it was the way the world had always been between the two classes.
He sought for the words necessary to convince them that he and his men were not seeking to impose themselves on the village. They were asking for hospitality and shelter, yes. But they would pay. They would treat the villagers fairly. Any such reassurance would likely fall on deaf ears, he knew. The Kikori had years of experience of arrogant treatment at the hands of the Senshi and no number of soft words could change that.
As he hesitated, he felt a light touch on his forearm.
'Perhaps I should talk to them, cousin,' said Shigeru.
Shukin hesitated. Even in such humble surroundings, Shigeru should be accorded a certain level of esteem. And that meant that he should be announced properly, with all his titles and honours, so that the people could greet him respectfully.
He drew breath to say something along those lines when he realised that Shigeru was already swinging down from the saddle. The Emperor grinned at the man nearest to him, a heavily muscled, thickset type who had obviously spent his lifetime swinging the massive axe that he held loosely in his right hand. The man's face was set in a stubborn, unsmiling expression. He had the look of a leader about him. He was the one to win over, Shigeru knew.
'Aaaah!' the Emperor said, with deep relief as he rubbed his buttocks. 'That feels so good!'
The timber worker couldn't help a small, surprised smile forming. He was disarmed by Shigeru's ingenuous statement and informal manner. They were far removed from the haughty demeanour of the Senshi that the timber worker had encountered in the past.
Shukin watched anxiously from his saddle, his eyes fixed on that massive axe. He desperately wanted to move his hand closer to the hilt of his sword but he knew that would be a mistake – possibly a fatal one. At the slightest sign of aggression, this tableau could explode into bloodshed.
Shigeru, however, seemed to have no such misgivings. He stepped closer to the man, bowed to him, and held out his hand in greeting.
'What's your name?' he asked.