Read Online New Found Land by John Christopher - Free Book Online Page B

widened.
    â€œMan the oars,” Bos shouted.
    As he took an oar, Simon saw two axe blowsstrike Curtius simultaneously; he dropped again, and this time there could be no getting up. At least he had got the battle he had been pining for and the death he would have chosen. There was no more time for reflection. Simon concentrated on rowing.
    He had wondered whether Lundiga would take advantage of their preoccupation and jump into the water to swim back: there was nothing that could be done about it if she did. But she simply sat staring into the night. The Vikings, on the other hand, were wasting no time; within seconds they were piling into the remaining longships and casting off. Visibility was excellent across the silvery bay; the moon, for which they had waited so impatiently, was an enemy now.
    â€œPull!” Bos roared. “For your lives . . .”
    Heaving on his oar, Simon was aware of the hopelessness of it. There were three of them against dozens in the other two longships. The leading one was closing; within minutes it would be alongside, with Vikings pouring across. He envied Curtius the blood lust which had marked his last few moments; all he himself felt was the icy bite of fear.
    The men in the following ships were yelling inanticipation, but suddenly the tone changed. There were cries of bewilderment. Pulling on the oar, Simon thought he noticed something different about the longship nearest to them. Was it lower in the water? And the gap between them—it was no longer narrowing, but widening.
    The pursuing dragon’s head rose sharply, as though it were a wingless beast trying to fly. The cries changed to a clamour of despair. The head stood right up, for a moment blacking out the moon. Only for a moment; then, with a giant’s gurgle, it slid beneath the water.
    Astern of it, the second ship was also tilting. Simon said: “How did that happen?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” Brad said, “but I think I have an idea.”
    They had all stopped rowing. He looked across at Bos, whose teeth gleamed in a grin.
    â€œThat little reconnaissance you insisted on making . . . it didn’t by any chance include coming down to the quay to loosen a timber or two?”
    â€œLeave nothing to chance,” Bos said. “It is the first thing a gladiator learns. Otherwise he does not live to learn anything else.”
    He released his oar and stood up, stretching out a hand. “A fair breeze, and from the right quarter. Let us get that sail up.”
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    Their first intention had been to head for the nearest point on the mainland, but once they were clear of the harbour and in open sea, Bos had another idea. The wind was from the northeast, filling the longship’s sail. Brad had said this coast was of great extent: why not aim for a point further south, out of winter’s grip?
    Brad at first argued against it, but when Simon strongly supported Bos he did not press his objection. Two to one was a clear majority anyway; Lundiga sat huddled and silent, paying little attention to her surroundings. It was understandable that the double shock, of seeing her father struck down in combat and of leaving the small island which was the only place she had known, should have subdued her.
    The others, too, once the initial excitement of the escape was over, were hit by the realization of Curtius’s death. It was a loss that affected all of them, but especially Bos. Curtius had been closer to him in age, and they had shared more of a commonbackground; although born a barbarian, Bos had been captured and brought south at an early age. What had happened made him more deeply aware of the distance he had travelled from familiar places and people, leaving him bewildered and unhappy. Simon and Brad did their best to cheer him up, but to little effect. Of course, Bos believed they were heading towards their own country, while he was all the