Read Online A King's Ransom by Sharon Kay Penman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharon Kay Penman
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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the surf. At last the shoreline came into view, greenish grey under an overcast, dull sky. The pirates were manning the oars again. As soon as they reached the shallows, they plunged into the water to beach the galley. The ground was marshy and they sank into it almost to the tops of their boots, but even a quagmire seemed like Eden to them after their ordeal on the Sea-Serpent .
The pirates were positioning the anchors to keep the galley from being caught in the next high tide and cursing among themselves as they confirmed that the rudder had indeed broken off. The wind had a bite and the men began to shiver. A silence fell as they looked around at the most barren, bleak landscape any had ever seen. No trees. No vegetation, just salty marsh grass. No sounds but the surging of the surf, not even the cries of seabirds. No signs of life.
Richard spoke for them all when he said at last, “Where in God’s holy name are we?”
CHAPTER THREE
DECEMBER 1192
Istrian Coast
T hey’d had to trudge several miles inland to find solid ground and fuel. By then, it was dark and once they got several fires going, the men rolled into their blankets and slept, too exhausted for hunger. The next morning, they were heartened by fleeting glimpses of the sun, the first time in days that the sky had not been smothered in storm clouds. After consulting with the Sea-Serpent ’s helmsman and studying their best map, Richard sent several men in search of civilization, and then they settled down to wait.
Richard was seated cross-legged on the ground, staring intently at the map as if it would provide the answers he needed if only he studied it long enough. He glanced up briefly as Warin and Morgan joined him, then resumed his scrutiny of the map. Warin leaned closer to see. “Are you sure Spyro is right about where we are, my lord?”
Richard’s shoulders twitched in a shrug. “He claims his sailing needle always points to the north, and so he concluded we’ve come ashore somewhere between Venice and Aquileia.”
They both peered over his shoulder at the map. They already knew the route they would be taking—east toward Hungary. Assuming they could find horses to buy. Assuming they did not run into any enemy patrols, for they were in hostile territory now. Unlike Ragusa, the writ of the Holy Roman Emperor ran here. To keep from dwelling on these troubling thoughts, Morgan asked, “Do you know what the pirates intend, sire?”
“Petros says they will replace the rudder and patch up the Sea-Serpent as best they can, then hug the coast to Venice, where they’ll get her recaulked and repair the sails. They are not willing to brave the winter storms by taking her out into the open sea, so they’ll likely pass the next few months whoring and drinking in some safe harbor port.” Richard gave them a quick smile that never reached his eyes. “So if any of you want to turn pirate, I’ll understand.”
“The whoring and drinking sound tempting, I admit,” Morgan agreed, striving to match his cousin’s bantering tone. “But I’d sooner take holy vows ere I set foot on shipboard again.”
Warin could never resist a game of one-upmanship and started to say he’d drink goat’s piss ere he’d sail again, but he’d lost his audience. Richard was getting to his feet as Petros and Georgios approached.
Petros kept his eyes averted and his head down, putting Richard on the alert. “Lord . . . Georgios thinks you ought to pay more than the two hundred marks. He says he did not expect that both of his ships would be damaged on this voyage.”
“Well, I did not expect to be set ashore in a Godforsaken bog,” Richard countered coolly. “Does this look like Zadar to him?”
When Petros translated the English king’s reply, the pirate chieftain scowled. He started to argue, but Richard’s expression was unyielding and, instead, he turned on his heel and stalked off. With an apologetic glance over his shoulder, Petros followed.
Once
The pirates were positioning the anchors to keep the galley from being caught in the next high tide and cursing among themselves as they confirmed that the rudder had indeed broken off. The wind had a bite and the men began to shiver. A silence fell as they looked around at the most barren, bleak landscape any had ever seen. No trees. No vegetation, just salty marsh grass. No sounds but the surging of the surf, not even the cries of seabirds. No signs of life.
Richard spoke for them all when he said at last, “Where in God’s holy name are we?”
CHAPTER THREE
DECEMBER 1192
Istrian Coast
T hey’d had to trudge several miles inland to find solid ground and fuel. By then, it was dark and once they got several fires going, the men rolled into their blankets and slept, too exhausted for hunger. The next morning, they were heartened by fleeting glimpses of the sun, the first time in days that the sky had not been smothered in storm clouds. After consulting with the Sea-Serpent ’s helmsman and studying their best map, Richard sent several men in search of civilization, and then they settled down to wait.
Richard was seated cross-legged on the ground, staring intently at the map as if it would provide the answers he needed if only he studied it long enough. He glanced up briefly as Warin and Morgan joined him, then resumed his scrutiny of the map. Warin leaned closer to see. “Are you sure Spyro is right about where we are, my lord?”
Richard’s shoulders twitched in a shrug. “He claims his sailing needle always points to the north, and so he concluded we’ve come ashore somewhere between Venice and Aquileia.”
They both peered over his shoulder at the map. They already knew the route they would be taking—east toward Hungary. Assuming they could find horses to buy. Assuming they did not run into any enemy patrols, for they were in hostile territory now. Unlike Ragusa, the writ of the Holy Roman Emperor ran here. To keep from dwelling on these troubling thoughts, Morgan asked, “Do you know what the pirates intend, sire?”
“Petros says they will replace the rudder and patch up the Sea-Serpent as best they can, then hug the coast to Venice, where they’ll get her recaulked and repair the sails. They are not willing to brave the winter storms by taking her out into the open sea, so they’ll likely pass the next few months whoring and drinking in some safe harbor port.” Richard gave them a quick smile that never reached his eyes. “So if any of you want to turn pirate, I’ll understand.”
“The whoring and drinking sound tempting, I admit,” Morgan agreed, striving to match his cousin’s bantering tone. “But I’d sooner take holy vows ere I set foot on shipboard again.”
Warin could never resist a game of one-upmanship and started to say he’d drink goat’s piss ere he’d sail again, but he’d lost his audience. Richard was getting to his feet as Petros and Georgios approached.
Petros kept his eyes averted and his head down, putting Richard on the alert. “Lord . . . Georgios thinks you ought to pay more than the two hundred marks. He says he did not expect that both of his ships would be damaged on this voyage.”
“Well, I did not expect to be set ashore in a Godforsaken bog,” Richard countered coolly. “Does this look like Zadar to him?”
When Petros translated the English king’s reply, the pirate chieftain scowled. He started to argue, but Richard’s expression was unyielding and, instead, he turned on his heel and stalked off. With an apologetic glance over his shoulder, Petros followed.
Once
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