One of the deckhands who had been keeping watch frantically beckoned to the captain, who was at his side in an instant, peering out towards the land. It was dark now and only the tiny red rubies of flame strung across the rise above the marshes marked out the village fires. The deckhand was pointing at something out on the marsh, and the captain nodded. He raised a lantern, allowing the light to shine out over the rail before lowering it hastily, repeating the signal several times in quick succession.
Then, sidling across to where Faramond and the other men sat, he shook the nearest man awake.
'Boats are on their way. So be ready to move quickly. And not a sound, not till they tell you it's safe. The marsh has many ears.'
As quietly as they could, Faramond and the others fastened their cloaks ready, and checked for the hundredth time that their scrips and bundles were securely fastened. They were travelling light, no papers, only a few spare clothes, and a bite or two to eat. They carried nothing which could slow them down if they had to run, except the round flat silver ingots strapped to their chests inside their shirts. Those were cumbersome, and already chafing the skin. But they were indispensable; men would have to be paid and paid well.
The captain, motioning them to keep low, beckoned them across to the gap in the rail, where a rope ladder was already being rolled out. Faramond was so stiff from the cold he could hardly stand up, never mind keep his balance on the rolling deck. In the end he dropped to his knees and crawled across it. Reaching the safety of the rail, he crouched, peering through the gap.
As his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness, he saw three shapes below moving across the water towards the ship. He couldn't hear the oars of the little craft entering the water above the noise of wind singing through the rigging of the ship and the constant slapping of the waves against her hold. But the oarsmen were plainly skilled at their craft and that knowledge at least gave him comfort.
His stomach had tightened so much it hurt. He glanced over the rail. The rope ladder was flapping wildly against the boat each time she yawed. It seemed a very long way down. In the darkness, it looked as if the ship was riding upon a vast mass of writhing black maggots feeding on some gigantic beast that lay dead beneath. Faramond shivered, and not just from the cold.
The first of the boats was drawing alongside. A man was standing up at the back of the craft, rowing with a single oar that he rocked from side to side, trying to bring the little boat level so that the man in the bow could catch the rope from the ship. Just as the deckhand was about to toss it down to him, there was a sudden sharp pip-pip-pip call like that of a plover from the boat behind. Then Faramond saw to his alarm that just as swiftly as they had drawn alongside, the boats were retreating back into the darkness.
'Wait, where are you going?' Faramond yelled, completely forgetting the captain's warning for silence, but the captain was standing transfixed, staring up the haven towards the channel between the island of Yarmouth and the mainland.
He began barking orders. Before he realized what was happening, Faramond felt himself in the grip of powerful hands, being forced towards an open hatch.
'Get in there, hide, hide!'
He was pushed down the rickety wooden ladder with such force that he lost his footing half-way down and fell, landing in thick, slimy water. It was only a foot or so deep, but the planks beneath were so slippery he couldn't get a footing to stand up. For a moment he thought the fall had blinded him for he had rarely known such complete darkness, but he could hear the curses of his companions as they splashed around him in the filth. A foul stench engulfed him, making him choke. It was as if he had been thrown into a lake of rotten eggs. The air was rasping in his chest as he struggled to breathe. Then he heard the grating over his head being pushed back into place.
A voice that he recognized as the captain's yelled down, 'If you want to live, keep as still and quiet as dead men. There's a ship, one of