The Grail Murders(64)

'Roger, it's been holed!'



I let the pole slip and crouched, plunging my hand into the bottom of the barge. My heart jumped in fear as I felt an inch of icy water. I put the pole down and clambered on hands and knees round the barge, looking for the hole.



Now this is where my skill as a bargeman saved our lives. You see, on the Broads of Norfolk and Suffolk such accidents are common and the unwary make one of two mistakes, or even both. They try to reach the place they are heading for or else turn back to the shore. Sometimes, due to panic and fear, they try both. But take Old Shallot's advice: if you are in a boat or barge which has been holed, particularly one where the damage is malicious, stop rowing and block that hole for any further movement of the barge simply helps the water rush in.



At last I found it in the stern of the barge, a hole the size of a man's fist as if someone had taken a hammer and smashed through the bottom. I took off my cloak and immediately began to thread the fabric through the hole. My master, who had found a similar one on the port side, first tried his cloak but then cursed as it went into the lake and he had to stop the hole with the heel of his boot. For a few seconds, and it seemed like hours, we just crouched, looking at each other, as the barge danced on the glassy surface. I glanced quickly towards the island where the siren light still beckoned us on.



'I am sorry, Master,' I wailed.

'Oh, shut up, Roger!' he hissed.



I kept my hand pressed to the bottom of the boat, my fingers freezing in the icy water swilling round us, but I noticed it grew no deeper.



'Master?'



'Yes,' Benjamin hissed. 'Now, Roger, my friend, turn this barge round and pull us to the shore, swiftly, with all your skill. If there's another hole and the water swamps us, we will not survive for long in these icy waters.'



Now you know Old Shallot. My heart was pounding, my stomach spinning like a child's top. I wanted to cry, weep and beg the Almighty for mercy. I seized that bloody pole, swinging the barge round even as I felt the water beneath me slop and gurgle as if maliciously laughing at me, waiting to embrace us in its frozen grasp. The barge turned. I closed my eyes and began to pole.



'Roger!' my master screamed. 'You are going the wrong way!'



I opened my eyes and realised the barge had only half-turned and we were now running parallel to both the island and the shore. I began to pole and pray with a vigour which would have astonished any monk. In between snatches of prayer I cursed, using every filthy word I knew, until that bloody barge was heading straight back to the bank. The water lapped round my ankles. We had failed to discover a third or even fourth hole and still the water was rising.



My master manoeuvred himself round, using his hand to scoop out the icy water, shouting at me to pole faster. We skimmed across the surface of that sodding lake whilst all around us gathered the dark hosts of hell. The water rose higher but then, just as Old Shallot's courage began to crumble into blind panic, the barge shuddered to a stop; both my master and I ran ashore, grateful to fall sobbing on to the snow-soaked bank.

My master crouched, breathing in deeply to calm himself, whilst Old Shallot dealt with the threat in his usual formidable way.



'Bastards!' I screamed, jumping up and down on the bank, shaking my fist at the island. 'You murdering, sodding bastards! Come on, Master!' I seized Benjamin by the arm.



He trotted breathlessly beside me as I strode like a madman through the snow, back to that accursed manor.



'Roger, what are you going to do?'

'I am going to slit that bitch's throat for a start!'

'Roger, don't!'



'All right, I'll cut her head off! Master, I don't mind being shot at, hunted, trapped, attacked - but to die on a frozen lake at the dead of night!'



'Roger.' Benjamin grabbed me by my doublet. 'Listen! Mathilda will be well away now. Do you think she's going to wait for you to come back? There was always the possibility you might escape. No, listen, I know who the murderer is. I know where the Grail and Arthur's Sword could be.'



I stopped. 'Why didn't you tell me this before?'



‘I had to wait. I suspected the murderer would strike at us, and what happened on that lake proved it. Now, Roger, I beg you, let us go back to our chamber, warm ourselves, snatch a few hours of sleep and tomorrow, as we break fast in the hall, I shall confront the murderer.'



Of course my master had his way. Anyway, by the time we reached our chambers my anger had been replaced by sheer terror at the danger we had just escaped. All the old signs appeared: I wanted to be sick, my knees kept quivering, and it took three deep-bowled cups of claret before I could even remember what day of the week it was. Naturally, I taxed my master on what he had learnt. He merely sat on the only chair in my room, shook his head and told me to sleep, and that it would be best if we shared the same chamber that night.