The Scribe(129)
“I think the same,” Hoos interjected, joining the conversation. “There can’t be many, or they would’ve already struck.”
Alcuin and the commander turned to look at the newcomer. “When I need an opinion I’ll ask for it. Stick to your tasks,” Izam replied.
“Right you are,” said Hoos, withdrawing.
“Do you know him?” asked Alcuin.
“From Aquis-Granum, though not well. All I know is that he knows these parts better than all those soldiers put together. And now, if you don’t mind, I must prepare my men.”
Alcuin nodded and made for the place where the oxen were resting. At that moment all he cared about was protecting his belongings, and there would be more opportunities to do that near the animals. He noticed that Izam was dividing the crew into two groups. It appeared he had changed his mind about the number of men who should fetch the provisions. Hoos and Theresa were instructed to stay.
“Listen carefully,” the engineer requested. “It is possible that there are bandits behind those trees, and if there are, we must hurry. Those of you going back for the cargo, keep your eyes open and walk on the ice in the middle of the river. You three take care of the equipment. The rest of you the provisions. If you have not returned in one hour, we will leave without you.”
The men selected to retrieve the provisions set off. Alcuin and Flavio went with them. The rest tried to return the ship to the water, but with several shoves they barely moved it the width of a hand. Izam organized their defenses with barrels of arrows on each side of the ship. Then he positioned himself at the prow, ensuring that Theresa was onboard, taking cover behind a pile of sacks.
He was pondering the situation when suddenly he made out a dark object upriver floating among the ice plaques. He was unable to identify it, for the current quickly dragged it under, but gradually the blot slid toward the prow of the ship.
Izam took a harpoon, jumped overboard and stood on one of the ice plaques until the blot floated near. Then he thrust the harpoon at it, feeling it sink into something. Sharply pulling on the shaft, he cried out in horror when he realized the blot was the head of the lookout, horribly mutilated.
The hour was almost up when the first crewmen appeared in the distance carrying the provisions. They were slowly trudging along when one of the oxen gave out a low bellow and then collapsed as if it had been struck by lightning.
Izam knew the attack had begun. He immediately ordered his men to ready themselves in their positions behind their bows. The returning group took cover behind their sleds. Izam’s archers released a volley that crossed paths with another volley launched by their assailants from the banks. A couple of men left the cover provided by the oxen and started running toward the ship, but both were brought down within a few paces. Alcuin and Flavio crouched behind the sled. Hoos managed to crawl from the ship over to them. “Stay here until I say otherwise,” he ordered.
Alcuin and Flavio nodded.
Hoos ducked down behind the wounded ox and cut the tether that bound it to the healthy one. Then he called to the clerics. “Let’s go! Get behind the ox. When I strike it, run alongside it, using it as your barricade.”
“Flavio won’t be able to,” Alcuin objected.
Hoos looked at Flavio and saw that an arrow had pierced his thigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,” he said, handing Alcuin the rope that was attached to the ox. “Let’s go, quickly.”
“And the provisions? asked Alcuin, seeing that Hoos had cut the harnesses.
Hoos crouched behind the sacks as arrows rained down on them from all sides. “I’ll drag them with us. Now run,” he said, and he struck the beast on the back.
The animal bolted off with Alcuin hanging on to its rope. Hoos shouted to him to take cover and the monk obeyed. One of the oarsmen tried to follow the animal, too, but just as he was about to reach it, a spear knocked him off his feet.
Hoos called to another man to help him. Flavio lay on the sled, protected by some wooden boards. Then, crouching down, the remaining men started pushing it in the direction of the ship.
“Those bastards are bombarding us!” bellowed Hoos as they approached the boat.
“Is Flavio all right?” asked Izam from the deck.
“Just a scratch on the thigh.”
“And the provisions?”
“In the carts,” he said, pointing behind him toward another group of men now arriving under the cover of two wagons.
“Good. Make haste! Load up the supplies and let’s push the boat off.”
Though he was exhausted, Alcuin joined the men who were trying to refloat the boat from the port side. Hoos and the rest of the group soon joined them.
“Get Flavio onboard! He’s badly wounded,” cried Izam, with the arrows continuing to rain down on them.
Some oarsmen hoisted the provisions on board, made Flavio comfortable on the deck, then went below to continue to push the boat.
“For God’s sake! Push, you wretched bastards!” screamed Izam.
The men heeded his instruction and on the second attempt, the ship moved.
“Again! Harder! Push!”
Suddenly the ice started breaking up with a deafening crunch. The men leapt away, terrified, and the boat began sinking as though the Devil were dragging it to hell.
“Get back quickly! Get away!”
At that moment the surface opened up and the boat plunged into the water down to the gunwale. Several oarsmen fell into the river, tangled in the ropes.