The Marquis Read Online Free PDF Page B

into the sails, tearing them to shreds.
    The Samrian vessels had inadvertently come in too close to shore, and as expected they had come in between the barges and the land. The barges were now filling the bay with smoke and reducing visibility. Both reduced the ability of the vessels to turn out to sea; and the lead vessel didn’t see the rope that lay between two barges and land; and as it connected with the rope it slowed, but not before the momentum tore the barges from their anchors and drawing the two bonfires into the lead vessels. It wouldn’t be long before it too was on fire. By this time the fishing boats, armed and dangerous, arrived from the north, and the vessels were met with a volley of arrows as the sloops sped past. Any Ancuman wiga, the main targets, fell with more than one arrow. The rest dived for cover; Samrian were not to die unless unavoidable.
    Chaos resulted; the catapults then did their bit; they pelted the vessels with mud balls filled with clay pots of the most disgusting odours and stinging lotions that Conn could create with the materials he could find. As they smashed into decks, it didn’t take long for the ships to become non-functional, hard to do your work if your eyes and nose are assaulted with vile if not lethal fumes, and you itch like mad. Men jumped overboard and swam to shore.
    Under the cover of the smoke, Conn and Derryth were by now on a rowboat heading for the largest boat; it had been second on the convoy and had slowed to a stop; it was now trying to manoeuvre itself into an escape route. As they neared the end of the cog, unseen, they threw grappling hooks to the deck, and reefed themselves aboard.
    Dressed in black tabards with face masks to ward against the fumes, no one on the deck knew they were there until it was too late. Their first encounters were hand to hand – they simply tossed Samrian wiga they found into the ocean. As the vessel started to move again and the smoke started to clear, Conn and Derryth headed to the wheel.
    An Ancuman wiga standing guard over the helmsman died with arrows from Derryth, while Conn then tossed the Samrian over the side; several others jumped at the point of his sword. Conn hoped that they could swim long enough for his rowboat to collect them.
    Another Ancuman standing toward the front, supervising bowmen suddenly noticed that the ship was turning towards the shore, and started yelling instructions to the helmsman. With no response, two Ancuman wiga raced back to the wheel yelling abuse. They stopped in surprise when they saw Conn waiting for them.
    ‘In the Gyden’s name, who are you?’ one demanded – as if that would change their circumstance. They brought their swords out in from of them.
    ‘Conn il Taransay, formally of Meshech. Now of Subari...’
    They looked knowingly at each other. ‘The Feorrancund…what is the Feorrancund doing in Samria?’ 
    ‘I was going to ask you the same question. Now you have attacked a demesne of mine – my latest. Bad idea … did you not know?’ Conn stepped down the stairs on to the main deck. Derryth had lashed the wheel and stood with his bow.
    They shrugged as they circled him.
    ‘That is not for us to know. We kill or die as ordered.’
    ‘You could surrender. The day is lost.’
    The laughed. ‘The Axum do not surrender. They kill.’ They then attacked, but as always, they were simply not quick enough. On the small deck and unstable standing, Conn fought with the wakizashi and katana, against the longswords of the Axum wiga. He parried their strike and using his superior strength, speed and dexterity was able to keep them from killing him until he killed them; the first with the wakizashi imbedded in his chest and the other as the katana almost severed his neck.
    With both dead on the deck, and the ship at a standstill having slowed sufficiently to avoid ramming into the docks, Conn observed the aftermath of the battle. All ships were now under his control; his fishing sloops