BooksBarbecue
Back A Night of Flames Save as PDF
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise forMATTHEW HARFFY
  3. BY MATTHEW HARFFY
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright
  6. Dedication
  7. Maps
  8. Epigraph
  9. Contents
  10. Place Names
  11. One
  12. Two
  13. Three
  14. Four
  15. Five
  16. Six
  17. Seven
  18. Eight
  19. Nine
  20. Ten
  21. Eleven
  22. Twelve
  23. Thirteen
  24. Fourteen
  25. Fifteen
  26. Sixteen
  27. Seventeen
  28. Eighteen
  29. Nineteen
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Twenty-Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Twenty-Six
  37. Twenty-Seven
  38. Twenty-Eight
  39. Twenty-Nine
  40. Thirty
  41. Thirty-One
  42. Thirty-Two
  43. Thirty-Three
  44. Thirty-Four
  45. Thirty-Five
  46. Thirty-Six
  47. Thirty-Seven
  48. Thirty-Eight
  49. Thirty-Nine
  50. Forty
  51. Forty-One
  52. Forty-Two
  53. Forty-Three
  54. Forty-Four
  55. Forty-Five
  56. Forty-Six
  57. Forty-Seven
  58. Forty-Eight
  59. Forty-Nine
  60. Fifty
  61. Fifty-One
  62. Fifty-Two
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Sixty-Two
  73. Author’s Note
  74. Acknowledgements
  75. About the Author
  76. An Invitation from the Publisher

The ways of the ship opened up in my mind like a new language. I longed to learn more of its syntax and grammar. How should a sail be adjusted so that the ship did not need to sail directly away from the wind? What was the secret to steering such a massive vessel by leaning or pulling on the steerboard. I recalled the thrumming of the tiller in my hands and hoped that Runolf would teach me all there was to know about steering a ship. I marvelled that such a long ship could be manoeuvred so well with nothing more than the small oaken rudder and the pull of the oars. In spite of the crew’s general inexperience, while we were far enough out to sea to run no risk of collision, Runolf had taught us how to turn the vessel and how to row as one. We still had much to learn and we were not as quick to respond to his shouted commands as Runolf would like, and yet we had still managed to control the ship well enough after some practice. The banks of long oars did not yet rise and fall with the grace of a swan’s wings, as I had witnessed on the Norse ships that attacked Lindisfarnae or Gyruum, but even so, we were able to steer her alongside the wharf we had built downriver from the dangerous jagged bones of the partially submerged ship that jutted from the murky water; a sombre reminder of what could happen to an unlucky vessel.

The sun had already touched the western horizon as I walked to the wharf and climbed aboard the moored Brymsteda. The riverside was calm and quiet. Most of the men were up at the hall, and the others had retired to their homes further upstream and inland. I had volunteered for guard duty. My body was aching and tired, but my head was filled with thoughts and concerns. I did not relish the idea of drinking ale with the rest of the men, but I knew it would be some time before they quietened enough for me to begin to contemplate finding sleep.

I reached up and ran my hand over the finely carved prow beast, tracing with my fingers the curls of the horse’s mane, as I stared out to sea. A small flock of dunlin fluttered at the river’s edge, lifting and circling in the air every time a wave washed their stretch of mud, before they landed again moments later, only to repeat the motion with the next wave. Out over the grey Whale Road, a pair of puffins darted straight and low over the surf.

“I thought I might find you here.”

The voice startled me and I anticipated the criticism and comments about my lack of attentiveness while on watch. After the previous night’s embarrassment, the taunting would be unrelenting.