Best Laid Plans (19 page)

The black hulk of a ship was now visible off the bow and another was coming alongside. Shader ran back to the aftcastle and saw a third light trailing them at a distance. It seemed Podesta was fully conversant with Imperial tactics.

‘Sabas!’ The Captain’s call was scattered by the wind.

Shader strolled back down to the quarterdeck with his fingers stroking the hilt of the gladius.

‘Captain?’ the black man’s deep voice rolled up from the galley.

‘Cheesy bread. All this excitement’s making me hungry.’ Podesta gave Shader a half-smile. For all his bravado, the Captain was clearly anxious.

Grapples were thrown from the starboard galleon, and after a few minutes of barked orders the
Aura Placida
was boarded by a surly looking officer in a Sahulian bicorn, light breeches, and a heavily brocaded tailcoat. He was flanked by four troops in leather armour with cutlasses hanging from their belts. Behind them Shader could see a long line of crossbows resting on the galleon’s rail, lamplight glinting from the tips of quarrels.

Shader’s eyes darted about in an attempt to locate the best cover. He shuffled in the direction of the mainmast. More lamps burst into light about the deck as the crew of the
Aura Placida
emerged to gauge the threat.

The officer swept off his bicorn and gave a formal bow. Podesta did the same, with an elaborate flourish of his tricorn. The officer lunged and Shader half-drew his gladius, but stopped himself when Podesta’s arms opened wide and he crushed the man in a huge bear hug.

‘Benson, you old lubber! What are you doing onboard ship?’

Benson pulled back and held Podesta at arm’s length.

‘Amidio Podesta, you salty old scallywag. All this fresh sea air and you still smell like a cow’s arse.’

Podesta made a show of sniffing his armpits. ‘Well, my friend, you would be the expert on such things, eh?’

Podesta’s hand moved behind his back and he made a twisting gesture with his wrist that could only have been intended for Shader. Suddenly getting his meaning, Shader buttoned his coat to conceal his Nousian tabard.

‘Bit late for setting sail,’ Benson said.

‘Ah, my friend,’ Podesta put an arm around his shoulder and led him towards the galley, ‘this is why you’re not a sailor. You don’t understand these things. What did you do wrong for Hagalle to send you to sea?’

Benson chuckled. ‘If he builds any more ships I reckon we’ll all be sailors. Someone needs to crew them.’

The two passed from sight into the galley. Sabas’s booming voice sounded in greeting. Clearly Podesta wasn’t the only one who knew the officer. Benson’s guards visibly relaxed and the
Aura Placida’s
crew stepped forward to greet them. The crossbowmen stood down and muffled voices came from the galleon to mingle with the lapping of the waves.

***

Prayer was getting tough again.

Shader shut the Liber and threw it on top of his folded coat. His knees hurt from sitting cross-legged on the deck, and his eyes were sore from reading in the dim lamplight.

Podesta had worked his magic with Benson and the
Aura Placida
was granted passage unhampered as she rode the waves towards the Anglesh Isles. It had taken Benson’s men over an hour to load all the food, wine, and tobacco Podesta had gifted him. Shader shook his head and let the tiniest curl of a smile touch his lips. Podesta must have been playing both sides for years: smuggling for the Templum and supplying what the Sahulian navy lacked. It was a dangerous game; everybody apparently knew what was going on, but nobody cared. It reminded Shader of what they used to say in Gallia when he was on campaign: cheating on your wife was OK, providing you didn’t get caught. He’d not seen the funny side at the time, but travelling with Podesta was giving him a whole new perspective.

Shader sighed and pulled the knotted prayer cord over his head. His own problem was fidelity to rules, not people. He wasn’t so much concerned with others finding out; he was more worried about his own reaction. No matter how he justified it, he still couldn’t quite see himself as holy unless he followed the Templum’s moral code. Most of the other knights he’d known mitigated the Rule. It was common knowledge that even the priests took lovers, but Shader wasn’t that kind of man. And that was a bloody nuisance as far as he was concerned.

It had been difficult seeing Rhiannon again at the templum. The white robes hadn’t quite suited her. It was like covering a beautiful painting with an old sheet. He was sure it wouldn’t last. Rhiannon was as much suited to the life of a priest as he was. The difference was that she already had a natural goodness, an easy way of being simply whatever it was Ain had made her. Shader knew he had to work at it, just as he’d had to work at everything else—all the philosophy with Aristodeus, the conduct becoming to an Elect knight, and especially unquestioning obedience to his superiors. The only thing that came naturally to him was killing, but that was perhaps to be expected, being raised by one of the hardest men in Britannia.

That was the only similarity between Shader and his father, though. If it hadn’t been for their shared excellence with the sword, no one would have guessed they were related. Jarl was as straight as they came, an uncompromising man of action. In his way, he was as natural and earthy as Rhiannon. Shader, however, was too much of a thinker, a trait that often led to long spells of melancholy and self-doubt.

He stretched out his legs and tried to rub some feeling back into them. Taking up the prayer cord, he started working on the first knot whilst conjugating the Aeternam verb for “love”—
amare
. He’d simplified the practice from the endless litanies he’d been taught as a novice, whittled it down to one word that captured the essence of Ain. At least it would if he could focus.

‘Thought you could use a whiskey.’

Shader was startled by the grating voice. He half expected to feel a knife at his throat, but instead Cleto crouched down beside him and held out a bottle. Shader took it without letting his eyes drop from the sailor’s stubbly face. Cleto had clearly been in the wars and had probably survived his fair share of pestilence judging by the craters marking his skin.

‘Peace offering,’ Cleto said. ‘For what I done last time. Got to thinking about it. Reckon it’s about as low as a man can get, stealing from his shipmates.’

Shader took the bottle and drank deeply. ‘You asking for forgiveness?’ he said, passing the whiskey back to Cleto.

‘Nah. Shog that Nousian shit, excuse my Gallic. What’s done can’t be undone. Just want you to know I got your back now. You’re one of us.’

Shader put the prayer cord back around his neck and blew the air through his lips. ‘Don’t know about that, Cleto. I’m a passenger, not a crewman.’

‘Captain says otherwise, and I’m inclined to take what he says a wee bit seriously.’

Shader nodded and looked down at the deck.

‘You don’t want to be sitting there too long,’ Cleto said. ‘You’ll get piles.’

With that he was gone, back into the darkness. Shader suspected he was always there, always watching and waiting for his moment. At least this time he might be watching for less nefarious reasons. Assuming his word was as good as his liquor.

***

The sun came up behind the
Aura Placida
, casting a red swathe over the sea that set Shader thinking about the battle he’d left behind. The smell of bacon and strong coffee wafted up from the galley where Sabas was singing a sea shanty in a rumbling bass.

Shader ached all over from spending the night on the deck with only his coat as a pillow.

Elpidio passed him on his way to the crow’s nest and stopped to hand him a tin mug full to the brim with black coffee. ‘Sabas said you’d need it,’ the lad said, with a wrinkling of his nose. ‘Can’t see why people drink the stuff.’

Shader smiled his thanks and took the cup, sipping the steaming contents.

‘On lookout again?’ he asked.

‘Got the best eyes,’ Elpidio said, ‘and by the looks of it Travid’s fallen asleep.’ His eyes turned to the crow’s nest where there was a decided lack of activity.

Elpidio hurried away and started to climb the mainmast as the others emerged on deck. Captain Podesta staggered past and stood at the rail to relieve himself. He shook off the drops and gave a shudder, then turned to Shader as he fastened his trousers.

‘By the gods of the Great Green I need a coffee,’ he croaked before stumbling off towards the galley.

A slovenly looking youth came down from the mainmast like a sack of potatoes being lowered. It was a wonder he didn’t fall, the way he swung from limp arms without any care for where he put his feet. Shader supposed this must be Travid, and judging by the gaping yawns he made no effort to suppress, it seemed unlikely that he’d seen anything during his watch besides his own dreams.

‘Morning,’ he groaned as he passed Shader and stumbled in the direction of the cabins.

‘Ship ahoy!’ Elpidio hollered from the crow’s nest.

Travid stopped in his tracks and raised his palms. ‘Weren’t nothing there a moment ago. I swear.’

The galley door swung open and Podesta strode out, fully alert, with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

‘Captain,’ Elpidio called. ‘Two ships off the bow. One of them’s a reaver.’

Grim murmurs sounded amongst the crew and men swarmed to the prow to look out over the bowsprit. Podesta swilled his coffee overboard and handed the empty cup to Travid. As the lad took it, Podesta cuffed him on the ear, eliciting a loud squeal.

‘You know what that’s for, boy,’ the Captain said, hopping to the base of the mainmast and pulling a spyglass from his jacket.

‘That’s a reaver all right. Looks like they’ve caught themselves a Sahulian merchantman.’ He handed Shader the spyglass. ‘Just there, to the right of the bowsprit. You see, eh?’

Shader squinted and then the ships came into focus. One was a caravel, not dissimilar to the
Dolphin
, but the markings were different and it flew the Sahulian flag—a flightless bird set against the backdrop of a clenched fist.

‘Reckon we’ve found our
Ghost
, eh?’ Podesta said. ‘Back home in Sahulian waters. Seems some people will take any job.’

The second ship was large—a galleon by the looks of it. The hull was dark as pitch and there were four masts, each rigged with billowing black sails.

‘Good boy, Elpidio,’ Podesta called up to the crow’s nest. ‘All hands on deck!’

Shader handed the spyglass back. ‘Is it mawgs?’

Podesta locked his eyes to Shader’s. There was a grim set to his jaw. ‘Aye. And not a few of them either. Ship that size will be packed with hundreds of the shoggers. Every man grab a weapon!’ he yelled.

Sailors ran for the cabins and came back with cutlasses, knives, and hatchets. A few had crossbows. None of it reassured Shader that they’d have a chance against a horde of mawgs. If they didn’t turn about and flee back to Port Sarum the mawgs would swarm over them like a plague of locusts, picking the bones of every crewman clean and disgorging the remains overboard for the sharks to finish.

‘Are we running? Shader asked.

‘That’s exactly what they’d want. After finishing off the merchantman they’d catch us in open water. The
Aura Placida’s
a good ship,’ Podesta slapped the mast, ‘but she’s not as fast as a galleon.’

‘But if they board us…’

Podesta leaned in close, the blood draining from his face. ‘I know. You forget, I’ve seen what the bastards can do. But the crew doesn’t need to know, eh?’ Podesta raised the spyglass again. ‘They’re pulling away from the other ship. They must think this is their lucky day, uh?’

Shader drew the gladius and ran his thumb along the edge of the blade. He’d neglected it somewhat, hadn’t even taken a whetstone to it, but it never seemed to blunt.

‘Someone’s crossing over to the reaver,’ Elpidio shouted.

Podesta took a look through the spyglass and then passed it to Shader. ‘Fit the description?’

Shader could see a small figure in a hooded cloak swinging from the doomed merchantman to the deck of the galleon. He landed nimbly as a mass of mawgs rushed towards him. The little man’s skin was pale, his short hair white. As the mawgs surrounded him, he held up an object and they moved back. Without a doubt, it was the serpent statue.

‘Shadrak,’ Shader said, handing the spyglass back to Podesta.