Carack

Ch2 p3

The horses slipped a little in the mud and there were oozing sucking sounds with every step they took. Gerent was glad that after all he was not walking in the mire of that road surface. The few houses that clustered around the inn were left behind them. The glowing candle lit windows were lost in the darkness when a roaring noise began to fill the air. Gerent recognised the sound of a raging river. It was just like a spring flood at home. He had found it thrilling to stand on the bank to watch the gorged brown water. But this noise was far angrier and more frightening than he remembered. The black night and the unfamiliar surroundings made the crashing sound block out ever other nois and even his thoughts. It grew even louder as they turned the corner of the lane. Ahead Gerent could see lights from several lanterns. Some were being held high by people on foot and some were swinging from wagons. The shouts of the watchers were being washed away in the noise of the river.

‘What’s going on?’ Gerent called to Wampa.

‘It look’s like its farmers bringing their stuff to safety. Must of had to leave their homes because of the flooding and it don’t look like the horses are too happy crossing that bridge. We’d best hurry ourselves that bridge won’t last fer long I’m thinking.’

Gerent stared out into the darkness. He saw that the hedges on either side had disapeared and ahead of him was a flat, open, wooden bridge that was almost indistinguishable from the mud. Just underneath the level of the bridge the dark surging water roared through. A booming torrent of threatening black menace. It snatched a reflection of lantern light every so often and tore it away.

A horse had come to a stop on the planks in the middle of the bridge. Men were slapping it and trying to pull it forward towards Wampa and Gerent. The bridge was creaking and complaining against the onslaught of the churning current. Wampa spurred their own horses onto the bridge despite the animals sidling with unease. They trotted past the men struggling to get the cart horse off the bridge. Gerent could see that the wagon it pulled was piled high with furniture and bundles. On the top there sat the figure of a small girl who was clutching a doll tight to her.

The two of them were safe on the other side when they heard a tearing sound from the bridge. Gerent looked back and saw that people were scattering and running off the bridge in the direction of the village. The wagon had been abandoned. As the men reached the road they stopped and turned to look back at the bridge. Gerent could see that the wooden structure had weakened and had begun buckling upward, planks twisting.

‘Ia! My girl! Ia!’ Gerent just heard the scream from a woman on the opposite side. She was held back from rushing to go to the child on the wagon.

‘No woman! The child is lost. Let her be a sacrifice to the Buccas. May she appease their anger!’ the man who held her shouted. The woman screamed and struggled to get free.

Gerent could not believe that no one was going to even attempt to save the child left on top of the wagon. Then he heard the girl’s desperate yell above the noise of the tearing, rending bridge.

‘Mammaaaa!’ she wailed.

‘Ia!’ shouted the woman in return. Without thinking Gerent slipped from his horse. Wampa was engaged in watching the unfolding horror and did not notice what he had done. Gerent ran onto the bridge.

‘Master Hugh No!’ Gerent heard Wampa’s shout but he was on the bridge and almost beside the wagon. A horrendous tearing and shrieking noise rent the air as the bridge gave up its grip on the bank. It flung one side of itself up into the air while the raging water smashed the other. The wagon was tossed into the inky black, the child screamed. Gerent was thrown upward and pulled down under the raging current.

His ears filled with water that muffled the rumbling, his lungs felt that they would burst. The pressure of the water hurt his ribs as he was rolled and tossed about in the muddy tasting surge. He knew that he was being dragged downstream at quite a rate.

‘I could do with waking up about now,’ he thought as he struggled to reach the surface of the river and gasp in a breath. The dull roaring in his ears suddenly became loud and gurgling again, he realised he was in the air again. He drew in a long deep breath at once. Then, very near him, he heared the voice of a child.

‘Help me! Mammaa!’

Gerent reached out toward the anguished sound. He tried to swim towards it. The current swept him along. It was too strong and bent upon raging forward. He was pulled under once more and tossed around in the tomb of water. Several times he broke surface and gasped in desperate lungfuls of air. The speed of the water and the noise seemed to grow louder again and Gerent glimpsed the bank rising on either side as the flow rushed him along. He tried to keep on the surface as the water tried to drag him under. Something brushed against him in the water as it was churned past. Gerent grabbed at it hoping that it was something that would keep him afloat. It was the child. He took hold of her with both hands and managed to pull her to him. They went under together. She clamped her arms tight around his neck. Gerent thought he would choke as well as drown. He tried to loosen her grip. The child resisted and screamed.

Together they were pulled along, dragged under and thrown up again by the water. Branches and debris swirled around them. Dreading being hit by something Gerent struggled to keep them both above water.

The racing floodwater tore them downstream. Gerent crashed into a standing stone. The impact sent pain shooting through his arm. The collision jarred his whole body. Water pounded against them crushing them against the granite. His pain was so intense that Gerent thought he was going to pass out. He resisted knowing that if he gave in to it they would both drown. He gritted his teeth, swore and tried to get footholds to climb upout of the river. He lost his grip and were swept away fromt the stone. Gerent felt their only chance of survival had been lost.

Semi concious Gerent sensed that the speed of the river water began to slow. They were no longer being tossed around. He could see stars overhead. With a huge effort he tried to get right out of the main current. The slackened flow rate allowed him to make headway and he kicked in the direction he hoped the bank would be in. The girl hung from him like a dead weight. He tried to get her to move her around onto his back.

‘Little girl,’ he rasped. ‘You must move, slide round onto my back. I shall be able to swim towards the bank.’ But she just clung to him tighter.

‘No! No! You’ll let me go! I don’t want to drown!’ she screamed.

‘I promise I won’t let you go. You’re safe with me. Trust me. If you don’t we’ll both drown!’ said Gerent. His strength ebbing and he became desperate, feeling that this might be their only and last chance of gaining safety. With awkward struggling the child manoeuvred herself onto Gerent’s back. He was able to kick his legs. Using his one good arm he tried swiming. His luck held and it was not long before Gerent felt his tired knees hit a soft mud. He was in shallow water. He kicked some more and felt down with his hand. He touched blades of grass with his fingers. He put his feet down. Shaking and unsteady he stood up. The water came up to his waist. The girl had her head buried in his back and he could tell she was crying.