The Ravens’ Banquet Read Free Page B

Eventually, my ruminations gave way to sleep, and before long I woke to the shouts and noisy toiling of the crew as the Artemis came to life once again.
    Such went the voyage for the next few days, the weather fair, the sea seven shades of grey. A hundred sail I saw in that time though none ever threatened us even when we skirted that pirate’s nest of Dunkirk, our swivel guns primed and at the ready. An endless sprawl of white sandy beaches filled my view of the shore, desolate and scrub-specked with wind-ravaged rushes. I grew bored of cards and dice and prayed that the voyage would soon end so I would be spared the sound of Samuel’s retching.
    The air was so sweet coming up the Elbe River; I shall never forget it. The tang of the sea fast disappeared as we ran in with the tide, carrying us with speed toward Hamburg. The river remained wide – near half a mile – as we made our way south. The land on either side was fertile green and rolling; the smell of grass and farmland was strong in my nostrils, so welcome after near twelve days at sea. Windmills, which sat here and there across either side of the river, welcomed us with their flailing arms.
    Artemis was far from alone that summer of 1625; other vessels plied the river, coming and going, and the waterway seemed to become swollen with craft the closer we came to the port. We sighted church spires and reduced sail further, running with only a bit of topsail to take us in. Hamburg lay on an island in front of us, the Elbe swinging away to the right, the Aelster canal to our left. A full twenty large merchantmen were at anchor in harbour, smaller barges and countless galleys in their number besides.
    I stood at the taffrail with Samuel at my side as we slowly came to an open space to drop anchor. Samuel's eyes were like agates as he gawped at the spectacle before him. The jutting copper-clad spire of St. Nicholas, sombre and green with age, stood guard over its sprawling brood of houses. From the warehouses on the docks up into the city, near every roof was shod in red-coloured tiles, the whole of the town bright white. It reminded me much of Amsterdam, even in the detail of its canals, of which I could spy two from our mooring, packed tight with every manner of thing that could float.
    The crew spread out into the rigging tying the sheets, Trask storming about the deck below, bellowing out his commands. I could see a boat pulling towards us from the quayside. In the pocket of the lining of my grey doublet, next to my heart, was a sealed letter from my father to one Colonel Nells, a regimental commander of the Danish Horse. There too, was another letter that I was to give to my father's banker in town. During the voyage, I had also secreted away ten pieces of gold in the lining of my boot tops, sewing them in fast so as they would not jangle when I walked. If all else failed, I could count on this money to get me passage home.
    The wherry soon pulled alongside and after a short exchange between the occupants and Trask, we found ourselves climbing down over the side and into the boat. My chests were lowered down, Trask gave some final orders to the mate, and we began pulling towards the docks. Samuel clambered out first, and took my sword and baldric while I followed up onto the quay side. It was the strangest sensation to be on land once again; the ground under my feet was pitching so badly it was like trying to stand up on a feather bed. Samuel's pegs looked none too steady either as he helped with the chests, swaying and stumbling like some drunken fool.
    “I'll summon you a cartman,” said Trask, shaking his head at Stone’s plight. “Where are you to put up?”
    “Afraid I don’t know yet,” I replied. “I was of a mind to ask you which inn we might try.”
    Trask waved his arms at a man with a hand-cart. “It matters not, Master Treadwell, every a one like the other. Same food, same drink, same whores. There be three inns just along here,” he said,