The Lion of Justice - Plaidy Jean - Страница 67

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‘I am to sail in the White Ship,’ he told his cousin. ‘You will accompany me, will you not?’

‘With pleasure,’ replied Stephen. ‘She is the greatest ship in the fleet. I wonder your father does not sail in her.’

‘Fitz-Stephen asked that he might take me and my father will sail with his soldiers. He wishes to show them that he appreciates all they have done in Normandy. So I am choosing my companions. I shall ask Richard and the Countess of Perche. That will please my father.’

Stephen nodded. Richard and the Countess Matilda of Perche belonged to the King’s numerous family and it always pleased Henry to see them honoured.

William then began to enumerate the friends he had decided to take with him on the White Ship. They were all young men. He said: ‘We will have a very merry time and there shall be much revelry aboard.’

Because he wished the crew to know how delighted he was to sail with them he ordered three casks of wine to be sent on board for them before they started.

Consequently there was much merrymaking on the White Ship all that day and every sailor drank the Prince’s health not once but many times.

* * * * *

‘The afternoon was coming to its end.

Stephen went on board. He could hear the sounds of singing coming from below. The ship reeked of wine.

He found William and said: ‘Many of the crew are drunk. They are in no fit state to take the ship across the sea.’

‘Nay,’ cried William, ‘we have the best ship in the fleet.’

‘Of what use a fine ship with a drunken crew?’

‘Fitz-Stephen is the best captain afloat. Are you suggesting he cannot manage his ship? His father took the Conqueror across on that all famous occasion.’

‘I’ll warrant the crew of the Mora were not drunk.’

William laughed aloud. ‘By all I hear of my grandfather he himself was never in that state.’

‘Nay, and he was said to be the wisest of men.’ Stephen was thoughtful. ‘I have changed my mind, William. I shall not sail on the White Ship.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘I like not to sail with a drunken crew.’

‘They will stop their merrymaking when we sail.’

‘They’ll be too fuddled for anything by the look of them. Nay, William, I’ll not sail on the White Ship and if you are wise now you will wait until tomorrow.’

‘What mean you? I have promised myself that we shall be the first to reach England.’

Stephen shrugged his shoulders. ‘I wish you a good voyage.’

‘You cannot really mean you are leaving us!’

‘I shall join the King’s ship.’

‘What has come over you?’

‘Just the notion that I will not sail this time in the White Ship:

‘You’re joking. I know you.’

‘Nay, I shall leave you now.’

‘You’ll be back before we sail. Don’t leave it too long, Stephen.’

Stephen did not answer but went ashore.

When he turned and looked at the vessel he thought it-looked like a ghost ship.

* * * * *

‘Come,’ cried William. ‘I have sworn we shall be the first to reach England. Is she not the finest ship in the fleet?’

‘She is my lord,’ said the Captain. ‘But she is doing all she can.’

‘She’ll be beaten at this rate. I have promised the men...I have promised myself. The oars must increase their speed.’

‘Not easy, my lord.’

‘But they must.’

In ten minutes the order had been given. All the sails were out; the oarsmen were pulling with all their might.

The Captain was disturbed, for he believed this high speed was putting the ship into danger.

He tried to remonstrate but the Prince and his young friends were delighting in the speed. They were taking wagers as to by how long they would beat the rest of the fleet.

The distracted Captain urged them to be reasonable. The White Ship was known to be the fleetest on the seas. She would be home first. He was sure of it.

‘Captain.’ cried Richard, son of the King, ‘I have a wager with the Countess my sister on this. I cannot afford to lose. For my pocket and the honour of the ship do not slow her down.’

‘My lords, my lords.’ cried the distraught Captain. ‘We are not yet free of the rocks. I beg of you do not ask me to act against my judgment.’

But it was already too late for the White Ship had struck one of the sharpest of the rocks.

‘The Catte raze!’ cried the Captain. ‘By God, my ship will founder.’

He called: ‘To the boats.’ His one thought was to save the life of the heir to the throne.

The ship was filling rapidly with water; she would sink at any moment. There was no hope of saving everyone on board. But the Prince must be saved.

With great relief the Captain saw one of the boats lowered and the Prince with some of his companions climb into it.

‘Get away fast!’ shouted Fitz-Stephen. ‘Back to Barfleur. You can do it.’

They were away.

* * * * *

William looked back in dismay at the sinking ship.

The men were pulling at the oars trying to get clear of the vessel, knowing that if they could do so in time there was a chance of saving their lives.

William could hear the sound of crying.

‘It is terrible.’ he said to his brother Richard. ‘We are safe but those souls are in danger.’

‘Look.’ said Richard, ‘there is our sister.’

It was true. The Countess of Perche was clinging to the rail on a deck which would be swamped at any moment.

‘Brothers! William...Richard...’ Pier arms were stretched out appealingly.

‘We dare not go back, my lords.’ said one of the boat men. ‘We’ll be caught up and dragged down if we attempt it.’

‘But we cannot leave my sister I’ cried William.

‘‘Tis death to attempt to go back, sir. We ourselves are in danger even now. We must get away from the ship without a second’s delay if we are to save our lives.’

‘Nay,’ replied William. ‘We cannot leave her. We must do our best to save her.’

‘‘Tis death, sir. ‘Tis death, I tell you.’

‘Turn back,’ commanded William. ‘We shall not leave my sister.’

The Countess saw that they were rowing towards her.

‘God bless you, William...’ she called.

‘We are coming,’ shouted William. ‘Soon now, sister...’

But he never reached her for at that moment the ship went down taking the Countess with it, and the small boat carrying the heir to the throne was swallowed up in the wake of the White Ship.

* * * * *

Captain Fitz-Stephen was clinging to a broken spar. There was nothing but sound and fury all about him. He had lost his ship but he believed he had saved the heir to the throne. The boat carrying him and his friends could reach the coast of France for they were not far out. At least he had done his duty.

How foolish to have allowed the Prince to make his sailors drunk! How wrong to have followed the boyish wish to exceed a safe speed I Oh God, he prayed, if I could but live the last hours of my life again. But his consolation was that he had saved the Prince.

Clinging to the top of the mast which was just visible above the water was a man.

The Captain called to him.

‘Hi, man, who are you?’

‘I am Berthould, Captain, the butcher.’

‘Are you the only one there?’

‘Yes, Captain, I climbed here right at the start. So far I am safe.’

‘The Prince got away. Did you see him go?’

‘Ay, sir. But he came back for the Countess of Perche and the boat went down with the ship.’

The Captain cried: ‘It cannot be. I saw him leave. He would have got away.’

‘I saw him, Captain. Went down with the ship! The

Countess too and the Princes. Everyone, sir. You and I, Captain, are the only ones left.’

The Captain’s hands were limp on the spar. They felt cold and dead.

How could he face the King? How could he tell him: ‘I have lost the White Ship and the White Hope of England.’

The waters swirled about him; he was exhausted.

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