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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 man’s a fool!” shouted Runolf over the scream of the gale. “Get that reefed sail aloft!” The urgency in his voice was as sharp as the axe he wielded in battle, but the men needed no encouragement. Under Alf’s command, the Midship crew – bolstered by his brother, Mantat, and Drosten, who came back from the Tack position to help – frantically worked at the ropes and the sodden sail. There was no time to mourn. They knew as well as all of us that without that sail, we would all soon join Gwawrddur and Eadmaer in the cold darkness beneath the waves.

The wind, rain and waves battered Brymsteda. Several more men vomited, some over the side, but most onto the deck, where the contents of their voided stomachs was quickly sluiced away by the spray and breaking waves.

My stomach turned as the ship yawed and rolled, and all the while I scanned the waters around us. I felt the first stabs of grief for the loss of Gwawrddur. I was not sure how I felt about Eadmaer. He was clearly a fool, as Runolf had said, for what man would throw his life away for another so recklessly? But if he was a fool, he was surely a brave one. And had I not also thrown myself into danger to protect others? I gripped the smooth, slick wood of the top strake tightly. Should I not have jumped after my friend? I dismissed my thoughts as truly mad. I could not swim, and even if I could, what good would it do if I simply followed Gwawrddur to his death at the bottom of the North Sea?

“Anything?” asked a voice behind me.

Turning, I saw it was Mancas, his face as pale as the foam on the waves.

I shook my head, continuing to scour the water.

Mancas said nothing more, but I sensed his fear. Apart from the frantic activity amidships, a stillness settled over the rest of the crew. Some clung on to the rigging, others peered over the port side, searching for the two men who had disappeared. A few men retched and spat. I saw more than one make the sign of the cross, but gone now were the shouts and cries, replaced by the muttered prayers and tense communication between the men working on the sail. The rest of us waited and prayed, and a dark mood of despondency and despair fell over us all.

“Ready!” shouted Alf, and with his cry, some of the tension ebbed from the crew.

“All hands!” bellowed Runolf. “Raise the yard!”