This same lightning was the only source of illumination as he peered through the darkness searching for a landfall on the island of Samos. Apart from the rain, there were none of the usual, reassuring shipboard sounds. No creaks of easing planks or hempen ropes. The wind had died when the rain came and now the ship ghosted fitfully, the lateen sail hung mournfully unruffled and there was no cheerful gurgle at the forefoot to mark even the slightest progress. Despite this, and being soaked to the skin, Cadfael ap Meilyr, for it was he who stood the silent watch, was happy. He treasured these moments of solitude – there were few enough on a crowded trading vessel. Much of the ship’s round hull was given over to cargo so the crew lived cheek-by-jowl under the foredeck. Even the Captain enjoyed no special privilege in this regard, the blunt stern housed no cabins or accommodation. It was here that the charcoal brazier of the cook stood and the long tiller. The ship was old. It was. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t shout. But if the lot of ya would do your job without me telling you to, I fucking wouldn’t!” Alfred quickly swept a cloth over one of the tables in the corner. “Just.. get going, alright?” He felt stressed out and slightly overwhelmed. Tonight a whole host of people would be arriving at his inn. Alfred had gotten the letters announcing their arrivals weeks ago, all pretty curly letters, written in some expensive ink on pretty snow-white parchment. The moment he held them in his hands he knew they aught to be royal letters and sure enough, when he opened them, they were. Not only was the Eastern Queen Petunia coming to bless his humble home. Her brother and arch rival mind you, King Edmund of the West was coming as well. They’d been fighting a bloody war for years now, all for who was the rightful heir to all the lands. Fucking stupid, Alfred thought. He’d been a pirate most his life and when he unexpectedly found himself living at the age of forty he.
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