Historical Setting: At sea, 794 C.E.
Following the shoreline, we seem to have reached either a wide bay or open sea. Cloothar believes it a bay and we will shorten our journey to cut across. I’m on this rower’s seat, the empty chest with Cloothar’s dream to fill it with the trade of the stinky wools, now soaked in spring showers because the tarp doesn’t cover the stuff added from our stop at Ludonwec.
This is a mission of greed. This little boat is always a hefty row but now we sit ever lower in the water. Woe be to us if we should meet a storm at sea. And neither of us knows anything of these waters or even which skies will gather the storm clouds.
All through the night we are at sea with no view of land since Cloothar became impatient and chose to let go of the view of the coastline to cut across a supposed mouth of a bay. He tells me Iona should be straight up the shoreline, but when he saw the land curve to the North, he assumed it was only the inside curve of this bay. I fear we’ve strayed. He probably does too, but he says he is sure we are making better time this way.
He takes a short shift at the oars, as darkness comes down on us. And now in a stillness in the winds, the row to the west is a bit easier for him. I see we have only four dried fish for food left — enough for two meals, maybe. But then, we still have a half a keg of ale. I could eat and drink all of it and still have hunger pangs. But I’ll wait to share.
The wind rises again, lightly from the Northeast, so he raises the sail, and I can sleep for a few moments with Cloother at the tiller tacking us ever westward.
I awake to lightning flashes in the Western sky. Cloothar is scouring every illumination for the revelation of land. The flashes glimpse nothing but sea and the wide horizon.
Dear God, thank you for staying close with us on this journey. I know you recognize the danger we are in, two men at sea in a heavily loaded little river boat. I know you know of the storm rising in the western skies. Thank you for keeping a close watch and may my next silence be in gratitude for a safe journey. Amen.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 