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Authors: Tim Severin
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and aching shoulders after an exhausted sleep. At first I blamed my hard pillow, the saddlebag packed with silver, but the moment I stretched and felt
the soreness in my muscles, I recalled the hours spent hauling on a sweep. I could hear the muffled sounds of distant activity and sunlight was pouring into the hold through the open hatchway. I
rose gingerly and made my way to the foot of the ladder to the deck. Fresh blisters on my palms made me wince as I hauled myself up the rungs and emerged into a fine, bright morning. There was not
a breath of wind. The fog had gone completely.
Turning to look over the bow, I blinked in surprise.
We were anchored within a stone’s throw of a landing beach. In dense fog Redwald had managed to guide the cog into a broad, sheltered inlet. It was little wonder that his crew had such
confidence in their captain.
A couple of dozen boats lay drawn up in an uneven line on the shingle. They ranged from two-man skiffs to middling-sized cargo vessels. Their crews must have been ashore, for these boats were
empty and unattended. Three much larger ships were berthed alongside a rough stone jetty and here the day’s work was already well underway. Men were hoisting cargo from the holds, carrying
sacks and packages ashore, rolling barrels down gangplanks. At the root of the jetty stood a stocky, shaggy pony. It was harnessed to a wooden sledge already heaped with boxes, and the
animal’s master was tying down the ropes that held the load in place. As I watched, a mongrel wandered up, circled the pony cautiously, and made as if to cock its leg. Someone must have
thrown a stone, for suddenly the mongrel yelped and ran, tail between its legs. I wondered if it was the same dog that had barked the previous evening.
‘Kaupang must be just over there,’ said Osric. My friend was already on deck, leaning on the ship’s rail. He pointed inland to where a rough track led past a couple of
weather-beaten shacks and over a small ridge. ‘Seems as though our captain’s expected.’
A small open boat was coming to us, rowed by two men while a third stood in the stern. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. ‘Redwald! The knorr leaves for Dunwich at noon.
You can have her space alongside as soon as she’s gone.’
Redwald shouted back, ‘I’ve got passengers you can take ashore for me right away!’
I was surprised that Redwald was being so obliging. ‘There’s no hurry. Osric and I can wait till later,’ I said to him.
‘I want you off my ship,’ he grunted. He jerked a thumb towards the jetty. ‘See that big vessel? That’s the knorr. Her captain will want to come aboard and have a chat
before he sets sail.’ When I made no move to step away from the ship’s rail, Redwald shot me a meaningful look from his pale blue eyes and added, ‘Dunwich is a port on the English
coast. Part of King Offa’s domain. Gossip spreads fast.’
There was a slight bump as the rowing boat came alongside.
‘But Walo stays aboard,’ I said.
Redwald scowled. ‘Then tell him to keep out of sight.’
I was about to climb down into the waiting skiff when the shipmaster laid a hand on my shoulder. He slipped his sailor’s knife and its sheath from his belt and held it out to me.
‘Here, take this, and don’t loiter in Kaupang after dark. Come back to the ship before dusk. The knorr will be gone by then.’
I took his knife without a word and lowered myself into the skiff. Osric followed, and as we were rowed ashore I looked back at the cog, wondering what to make of Redwald. He had ordered me off
his ship because he wanted to avoid trouble with King Offa. Yet he seemed genuinely concerned for my safety ashore. He also knew that we were carrying a fortune in silver. I fretted that Walo was
not the right person to have left on guard. At the landing place a man was melting tar in a cauldron over a driftwood fire. The unmistakable smell of hot pitch hung in the still air and a
the soreness in my muscles, I recalled the hours spent hauling on a sweep. I could hear the muffled sounds of distant activity and sunlight was pouring into the hold through the open hatchway. I
rose gingerly and made my way to the foot of the ladder to the deck. Fresh blisters on my palms made me wince as I hauled myself up the rungs and emerged into a fine, bright morning. There was not
a breath of wind. The fog had gone completely.
Turning to look over the bow, I blinked in surprise.
We were anchored within a stone’s throw of a landing beach. In dense fog Redwald had managed to guide the cog into a broad, sheltered inlet. It was little wonder that his crew had such
confidence in their captain.
A couple of dozen boats lay drawn up in an uneven line on the shingle. They ranged from two-man skiffs to middling-sized cargo vessels. Their crews must have been ashore, for these boats were
empty and unattended. Three much larger ships were berthed alongside a rough stone jetty and here the day’s work was already well underway. Men were hoisting cargo from the holds, carrying
sacks and packages ashore, rolling barrels down gangplanks. At the root of the jetty stood a stocky, shaggy pony. It was harnessed to a wooden sledge already heaped with boxes, and the
animal’s master was tying down the ropes that held the load in place. As I watched, a mongrel wandered up, circled the pony cautiously, and made as if to cock its leg. Someone must have
thrown a stone, for suddenly the mongrel yelped and ran, tail between its legs. I wondered if it was the same dog that had barked the previous evening.
‘Kaupang must be just over there,’ said Osric. My friend was already on deck, leaning on the ship’s rail. He pointed inland to where a rough track led past a couple of
weather-beaten shacks and over a small ridge. ‘Seems as though our captain’s expected.’
A small open boat was coming to us, rowed by two men while a third stood in the stern. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. ‘Redwald! The knorr leaves for Dunwich at noon.
You can have her space alongside as soon as she’s gone.’
Redwald shouted back, ‘I’ve got passengers you can take ashore for me right away!’
I was surprised that Redwald was being so obliging. ‘There’s no hurry. Osric and I can wait till later,’ I said to him.
‘I want you off my ship,’ he grunted. He jerked a thumb towards the jetty. ‘See that big vessel? That’s the knorr. Her captain will want to come aboard and have a chat
before he sets sail.’ When I made no move to step away from the ship’s rail, Redwald shot me a meaningful look from his pale blue eyes and added, ‘Dunwich is a port on the English
coast. Part of King Offa’s domain. Gossip spreads fast.’
There was a slight bump as the rowing boat came alongside.
‘But Walo stays aboard,’ I said.
Redwald scowled. ‘Then tell him to keep out of sight.’
I was about to climb down into the waiting skiff when the shipmaster laid a hand on my shoulder. He slipped his sailor’s knife and its sheath from his belt and held it out to me.
‘Here, take this, and don’t loiter in Kaupang after dark. Come back to the ship before dusk. The knorr will be gone by then.’
I took his knife without a word and lowered myself into the skiff. Osric followed, and as we were rowed ashore I looked back at the cog, wondering what to make of Redwald. He had ordered me off
his ship because he wanted to avoid trouble with King Offa. Yet he seemed genuinely concerned for my safety ashore. He also knew that we were carrying a fortune in silver. I fretted that Walo was
not the right person to have left on guard. At the landing place a man was melting tar in a cauldron over a driftwood fire. The unmistakable smell of hot pitch hung in the still air and a
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