But long before the ship reached the shore something seemed to reach up out of the water, a blackened claw that pierced the hull and dragged at the vessel as it passed. The Gryphon tipped over onto its right-hand side, its mast dipping to the water almost elegantly. Men and horses tumbled into the water screaming, their oars and weapons and bales of clothing and food falling with them.
And then a swarm of arrows flew into the air from the shore, like bees. They seemed to come out of nowhere. They fell on the men and animals struggling in the water, and the screaming intensified. There were shouts of anger from the other ships. Shields were raised, and a few arrows were loosed in return, to fall uselessly in the water.
‘So there are defenders,’ Qirum snarled.
‘A tree stump,’ Bren murmured.
‘What?’
‘A tree stump. That’s all it was — all that was needed. Upended, stuck in the beach, the roots sharpened. Covered over by the sea at high tide, they knew we would have to come in on the high tide, and it would rip open the hull of any ship trying to land. Simple but effective. And then the defenders on the land just pick off any survivors. I told you it would be like this. All the way along the coast.’
Qirum snarled, ‘Except for the one weak point you will guide us to.’
‘Not far now.’ Bren smiled, utterly confident.
And Qirum’s eye was caught by a spark of light, rising into the air from the green coast. It was like a firefly, but he had seen no such insects in this part of the world.
Erishum called from the prow. ‘Fire! Lord Qirum, it is a fire arrow!’
Qirum could do nothing. The arrow fell, swooping straight down towards the Lion, and hit the sail. The woven fabric began to burn immediately. The men yelled and scrambled.
‘Cut it down!’ Erishum, fast to react as ever, strode forward, yelling. ‘Cut the sail down! Get it over the side!’ He slashed at the rigging with his own sword. It was a chaotic scene for a few heartbeats as the men hauled at the burning cloth and kicked it into the river. At last the sail was overboard, still burning, drifting on the water’s surface.
Qirum, breathing hard, stood amidships and surveyed his crew. None had been lost, and only one seemed badly burned. And there were no more arrows coming; there was no need for the shields. ‘Back to your stations. To your oars! No more sails. Who needs the strength of the wind? From now on we drive ourselves hard and strong all the way to our landing on the Northland shore!’
He was rewarded with a roar of anger and determination. The men moved to their places, scrambling for their oars in the bilge. The drummer took his place in the prow, and, facing the men, began a steady one-two beat. It took only a few strokes for the men to settle into their rhythm. Soon the oars were cutting into the water, and the Lion surged forward.
Erishum came back to speak to Qirum. ‘We were lucky.’
‘We shouldn’t have been in range. I blame myself for that.’
‘We were at the limit of an archer’s reach. It was a good shot. And aimed to pick us out.’
Qirum considered. ‘They recognised me.’
‘Or perhaps him.’ Erishum gestured at the traitor. ‘You could recognise that ludicrous feather cloak half a day’s walk away.’
Bren looked up, huddled in his cloak. ‘You may take this as a warning of the campaign your opponents will wage. With cunning and stealth and intelligence.’
‘Cunning they may be, but we’ve no obligation to help them. Be done with this ludicrous thing.’ Qirum bent down, grabbed the man’s cloak by the scruff, hauled it off his back and cast it away into the water. Loose black feathers fluttered in the air. Dressed only in tunic and kilt, Bren looked diminished — fragile, old. He wrapped his arms around his chest.
Qirum looked back at his fleet. More drums were sounding now; more oars were being lowered into the water, more sails furled, as the crews followed his lead. The ships surged through the water, energetic, as if angered themselves by the loss of their fellow. ‘How much longer to this landing place, traitor? How long?’
Deri lay with Nago and Mi in the long grass. They were with a party of two dozen, some Northlanders, some Hatti scouts and warriors. Looking out over the ocean, they watched Qirum’s flagship recover from the burning of its sail, and its renewed surge through the water. It was at the head of a navy that had been barely touched by the Northlanders’ defence measures so far.
Deri clapped Mi on the back. The girl still had her bow on the grass beside her. ‘Good shooting, kid.’
‘I’m not a kid, uncle.’ Mi spoke with a thick Kirike’s Land accent. She was fourteen years old now, but looked younger.
‘Well, whatever you are, you did your job well. I’ve never seen an arrow fly so far!’
‘Medoc taught me.’
Deri nodded. ‘My father was a good man, and I could use him at my side right now. If we’d had any luck we’d have sunk that ship and taken out fifty men, Qirum himself, and that worm Bren in the process.’
‘It was him, wasn’t it?’ Nago asked.
‘You could hardly mistake that Jackdaw cloak. The arrogance of the man in wearing it is beyond belief. Yet he thought he was safe, out on the water, I suppose.’
‘So he told them about our beach defences,’ Nago said ruefully. ‘They knew to avoid the shore. We only got the one ship. All that work wasted. And all because of one man, because of Bren.’
Deri rubbed his face. ‘He hasn’t won yet. Nor has Qirum.’
‘But he must have told them about-’
‘About Shark Bay. I know. The one place the Trojans can land.’ Deri was determined not to look downcast; he forced a grin. ‘But every setback brings an opportunity. At least we know where they will land. And we can be ready to face them.
‘There’s nothing more we can do here.’ He stood and turned to the wider party, and snapped out orders in their own tongue to the Hatti scouts; the men ran to their horses and galloped off. ‘The tracks are good along this coast. If we make good time we can be ready to give these Trojans a warm welcome. And don’t forget your bow, Mi. I have a feeling you will be very useful in what’s to come.’
48
The inlet Bren called Shark Bay was the outflow of a minor river. A narrow valley with walls of eroded chalk led inland from the beach.
As the ship turned to face the shore, as the landing at last approached, Qirum gave up his place at the steering oar to his pilot, grabbed his weapons and armour, and made for the prow, Erishum at his side. The two boats following were commanded by Protis and the Spider, his two basileis, and were filled with their best fighters. These three boats, the hardened spear-point of the entire force, would make the first landings, and the heroes they carried were ready to win the day for the Trojan force.
Bren pointed out the features of the shore. ‘The Annids decided that the whole coast could not be rendered impassable. We Northlanders do rely on trade. This place was chosen as a safe landing. It was thought well enough defended naturally, by its sandbanks. Can you see?’ The sandbanks were visible as a maze of pale brown shadows under the water. ‘If you don’t know this coast, any experienced sailor would avoid this inlet.’
‘But if you do know it, there is a way through.’
‘Yes, as I told your pilot-’
‘Then get back to the stern and tell him anew. I don’t want any mistakes now we’re so close.’
The traitor hurried back.
The rowers worked more gingerly now as the pilots carefully guided the ships through the banks. As they passed the men threw out markers, pigs’ bladders weighted with rocks, to guide the ships following.
Erishum pointed to the shore. ‘They’re ready for us.’
Qirum peered that way, and saw the glint of metal, a fence of spears, just inland from the water’s edge. The enemy at last, silently waiting. He grinned. ‘Good. We need a fight to sharpen our wits. It’s too many days since I killed a man-’
An arrow hissed through the air; it fell short of the ship, but not by much.