‘It is proof of God’s providence,’ he gasped at length. That wasn’t quite how I saw it. But this was more a distraction than a lesson, and I nodded eagerly. ‘It is a sign of God’s boundless love for the world,’ he added. I painted on a smile of agreement, and cast round for some appropriate text from Scripture. ‘But, Master, surely God has abandoned me,’ he wailed, going straight off the path I’d appointed for him.
I sighed. Unless I could think of something fast, we’d be back to the confused ramblings of our journey through the grey, mountainous waters that lay beyond the Narrow Straits. Then, barely noticing myself, I’d forced him into my own heated cot, and plied him with soup and encouraging words, as he’d snivelled on about the torments that surely waited for him beyond the grave. Edward hadn’t been at all pleased: I, after all, was the one who had to be kept alive. In truth, I’d been pretty pissed off at times. I didn’t fancy any return to that.
Chapter 8
I was saved from having to deliver another lecture on theodicy and teleology by a loud crash over on the right. Someone had cut another of the dangling ropes, and the block it was supporting now fell heavily on to the deck. His spasm over, his reflections on the coming fires of Hell forgotten for the moment, Wilfred sat up and looked round. That was my chance. I got my arms about his chest and dragged him to his feet. I guided him over to the side of the ship and got him to breathe in and out. In and out, in and out, he breathed. I could feel the return of his limited strength. Relieved, I looked over at the shore.
And this was Cartenna. I could have no doubts of that. I shaded my eyes and again tried to look through the glare of the morning sun to see the details of the place. There were a few trading ships in the harbour, and I could see the two churches. I could say nothing beyond that. The city might still be a busy port. Just as easily, it might be as derelict and as empty of people as everywhere else we’d touched on this voyage.
‘Look, Master!’ Wilfred cried weakly.
I followed his shaking finger. Fifty yards over on the right from the direction I’d been looking, there was the rowing boat the northerners had seized during one of their supply raids on the French coast. With a couple of the biggest northerners to pull on the oars, Edward and Hrothgar had set out for the shore. Edward sat very still, his body radiating sullen hostility. Hrothgar’s voice had its slurred, nagging tone about it. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. But I had no doubt there’d be another beating tonight. Bad luck, Edward, I thought complacently. Still, until he faded to a blur, Edward looked most fetching in his white tunic. It wasn’t just his Latin that had blossomed since leaving Jarrow. In that fairly short time, he’d grown from pretty boy into a rather scary beauty.
And I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. It didn’t take perfect vision to see how the northerners currently on deck had left off their work and were leaning over the side, the lust plain on their horrid faces. Forget the lack of any pilot, I told myself: this alone would be trouble for Hrothgar. None of it, sadly, would be of my making. When I was younger, I believed the conventional wisdom that lust is abolished by age. I then found that, if lust may be dulled, all that really goes is the ready means of satisfying it.
‘I suppose we need more supplies,’ I said, trying not to sound as morose as I suddenly felt. ‘Since it’s just the two of them, we can assume some intention to pay. I wonder why we’ve anchored so far out, rather than gone in to dock?’ I looked again into the harbour. If the exchange was to be made here, I was surely worth a convoy for taking back to Constantinople. There wasn’t so much as a single Imperial galley moored against the docks. It probably was just a matter of supplies.
But I pulled myself together. I plucked at Wilfred’s sleeve. I tried to ignore how loose it hung on his arm. If possible, he might have been still smaller now than he’d been three years before, when he’d been sent to me with Bede to improve his Latin. I pointed at my slippers that I’d left beside the bowl, and waited for him to struggle back to his knees and get them on to my feet. We were going on another of the slow circuits of this ship that served for my daily exercise. Since the boards were new and not properly planed, I had no wish to pick up any more splinters.
‘Listen,’ I said, ‘this is our first proper time alone in over a month. It may well be our last. There are things we need to discuss. It’s pretty obvious I’ve been lifted by the Emperor, and we’re on our way to Constantinople. What will happen there with me is impossible to say. But the moment we dock and the palace officials take charge of me, your own value as a hostage will be at least diminished. When that happens, I want you to grab the first excuse for a getaway. This time, I rather hope you’ll be a little faster than you were in Jarrow. I want you to get yourself to the Nunnery of the Blessed Theodora. It’s where the main wall joins the Golden Horn. The Abbess there is the great-niece of someone I knew well in the old days. Tell her I sent you. She’ll see you come to no harm. Whether you see Jarrow again, or even Rome, is another matter. But that much I can do for you.’
‘Surely, Master,’ came the predictable reply, ‘surely, I shall never see Constantinople or anywhere else. Long before then, I shall be paying for my sins.’
I thought of bringing him to his senses with a hard poke in the chest. But that might easily have knocked him to the deck. Besides, his face was taking on a more cheerful look.
‘And,’ he began again, ‘I remember how, the Easter before last, we were visited in the monastery by the Emperor’s representatives. You told me then that they had made fair promises. Whatever refusal you made at the time, I cannot see how the objective circumstances will have changed. Your state of health could not be known in Constantinople. If you are wanted for punishment, it would make better sense to have killed you in Jarrow. If you are now going back, therefore, it is unlikely to be for punishment.’
It was a fair point. I thought again of that clerical shitbag Alexius. Silly of me to have supposed he was the last I’d hear from the Empire. Certainly, if I’d paid attention to him then, we’d not be here now. I stopped and took hold of the ship’s rail. We hadn’t gone far from my daybed. Now, guessing my wishes, Wilfred went back for my cup. He brought it back invitingly full. Sadly, it carried more promise of cheer than performance – one part wine, three of water. I pulled a face. Edward was far more generous about refills. But I smiled and looked into the bright if sunken eyes.
‘You could be right,’ I said. ‘I haven’t discounted that possibility. At the same time, we do need to prepare for the worst.’ I looked hard at the boy. What was the worst? I wondered. I changed the subject. ‘Is there anything you can tell me about Edward I don’t already know?’ I asked. Wilfred looked steadily back at me. He waited for me to continue. ‘I know,’ I said, ‘he really is English. But can you tell me anything about how he fell in with these northerners? Has he said anything to you that we can spin into actual knowledge?’
‘I have heard him speaking English with Hrothgar,’ came the reply.
That was interesting. I hadn’t been able to catch anything of their conversations beyond the shrill cries for mercy. Was there a blood relationship? They didn’t look very alike, though that was no bar to the hypothesis. I pressed Wilfred on the nature of their conversations. But they’d mostly been connected with the day-to-day running of the ship and keeping four dozen dangerous wild beasts from tearing us all limb from limb.
Otherwise, there wasn’t much Wilfred could give me from Jarrow that I didn’t know for myself. Edward had turned up at the monastery after the last harvest, and been taken in by Benedict without questions. He’d maintained an appearance of plodding idleness that had raised no suspicions with anyone. Since then, his manner had changed markedly. Whatever conversations he and Wilfred had managed out of my hearing, though, were entirely about grammar and history and all else he’d evaded in class. He hadn’t boasted about the brilliance needed to keep up his pose. He hadn’t even gloried in the horrid end that might await the pair of us. This wasn’t the place for dispassionate judgements. But I had to admire the boy. If only! I thought again. If only!