Decision of Change, Pt. 4

Author's note: I have been noticing recently that my writing is composed of a lot of thought... Is it overwhelming?

John was so relieved when he saw the cliffs of Carrickfergus Castle approach in the distance. Even though he didn’t get sick after spending time on the ship, he still hated being in one.

For one, the constant noise and bustle was so aggravating, and his soldiers and advisors were crushed together as if they were in a vise, unable to move. That was what life was on a ship, though. Claustrophobic. Noisy. Dizzy. Altogether completely uncomfortable.

It wasn’t the first time he had been on a ship, though. He could stand the discomfort of sea-travel. But he wasn’t the only one there. Three hundred handpicked soldiers accompanied him on a few ships close by.

He remembered clearly the ordeal that they had to go through to get their horses on. Eyes white with fear. Legs limp, yet trembling in their intense shock. Being on the ship itself wasn’t as bad as just getting them on to begin with.

Because it was so difficult, the captain limited them to only a few horses. John’s was one of those few, of course. There was no way he was going to journey to Ireland, leaving his prized Spanish horse in the hands of someone else. It could be replaced if something happened to it on the journey back to his home, but he was sentimentally attached to it as well. The only other horses allowed were those of important advisors and a few key soldiers whose duty surpassed that of the others.

So he had to wait patiently while they swam the horses over, and then after fastening a huge leather sling underneath the horses, they were raised up onto the ship. It was quite the task, and frightened the horses so much that they were paralyzed in fear for the entire voyage. But John didn’t really care about that. At least they weren’t making any noise.

Once they finally were aboard and cast off from the land, he was able to settle down in the front forecastle, where he could be at least some distance away from the noise and seasick soldiers. He was fine without being around puking men, throwing up over the side. But sometimes they didn’t quite make it and after a while, there were a few men running about the bottom of the ship in disgust, attempting rather unsuccessfully to get it off them.

John was glad they had been separated.

He leaned against the railing and took a deep breath in, smelling the scent of the sea. He loved watching the calm ocean. So tranquil and beautiful, as if it had never been touched by anything save for the finger of God. There were no politics to argue about in the ocean; no bitter struggles for power. There was only the water, and there was him. And nothing else seemed to matter in those few moments.

But it didn’t last long. The moment passed when the noise from the hull below crowded out his thoughts. Yet another reason why he like being alone, in solitude. He could actually think. And on a Nef, surrounded by water on all sides, it was difficult to think properly. Especially with the grunting and shouting from the hull below.

When he caught sight of the castle, relief washed through him. Even though it had only been a few hours since they embarked, it felt more like a few days. They hadn’t ever really lost sight of land. Ireland was that close to England. But his keen eyes were searching for that point on the horizon. The steep castle walls on the edge of the sea. Searching for him. Waiting for him. Beckoning to him.

The rock walls looked like they were hewn from the cliff face itself, rising out of the sea like a forbidding evil lair. And that was what the castle was. John knew the main reason why the fortress had been built. Their position in Ireland was fragile, as fragile as the ship hat John stood on. One false move by the English. One opportunity given to the Irish for revolt, and it would all be lost.

The castle had been built as a symbol. A symbol of the English’s might. Something that said we would squish you like an ant far more than words could ever do.

Two drum-like towers rose up out of the castle. The rock wall made a multi-colored pattern of different stones, all hewed from mountain faces and quarry cliffs. They were impenetrable. Undefeatable.

Save for one spot.

Even though he couldn’t see it, John knew it was there. The weak link of the castle. The one and only place where people got in or out. Between the two towers, in a place that attackers would go directly to, lay the doors. Monstrous oaken beams beaten together until they formed a single sheaf of wood. The only weak point of the castle, as it could be burned, chopped, or smashed down.

John didn’t know why he was taking in all of the castles defenses and judging it. After all, he wasn’t really in a battle. Was he? Would he have to fight off the Irish countrymen? Hold back mobs of patriotic farmers? He hoped not. Above all things, starting a war was not something that he wanted. And it was definitely not something that would prove his worth to his father.

The captain pulled the rudder to the side and the ship shifted ever so slightly, altering its course to come in perfectly, avoiding the cliffs and coming in at the rocky shore. They were going slower now, as they were going at the wrong angle to the wind. But he didn’t care that much. He knew that Richard would probably have gotten an anxiety attack waiting for the ship to reach the shore, but he was content to watch it come slowly. After all, he wasn’t looking forward to his duties with that much relish.

They were duties. A job. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“We are nearly there, your majesty.”

John searched for the speaker, but it was hard to locate him amongst the noise in the background. Hard to pinpoint his location.

“Your majesty?”

It was the Captain, of course. The man closest to him and the one most likely to give him a useless piece of information like that. Of course they were nearly there! He could see the shores of Ireland that were mere minutes away!

But he hesitated to tell that to the Captain. He was only doing his duty, and it probably wasn’t the best idea to say rude, mocking replies to everyone that spoke to him, attempting to make conversation.

So instead, he merely said, “Yes we are.”

He winced inwardly, realizing how lame and uncaring that sounded. After trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter—that it wasn’t relevant that he make friends with the captain. That he didn’t have to earn his respect. That it was only normal for Prince John to be blunt—he inwardly shook his head.

Yes, it did matter! No matter how much John detested Richard for being such a goody-goody, there was one thing that he did envy in him. His ability to converse easily with anyone, even those below his stature of life. His ability to always find words to say; words that instantly make the hearer his friend.

“You have done an excellent job getting us here.” Well that didn’t sound as bad, but it still sounded lame. Why couldn’t he think of something good? And why was his voice so monotone? It wasn’t as if he wanted his voice to seethe emotion, but everything he said just seemed so… uncaring.

“Thank you.” At least that was honest. He was thankful for the captain’s successful endeavor to get him across in one piece. And the fact that he set aside a place for John apart from his seasick soldiers had truly earned his gratitude. There weren’t many things he hated more than being around puking men.

The captain smiled, his eyes twinkling merrily. He seemed to understand what was going through Johns head. The struggle and the endeavor to be friendly. At least it seemed that way. “You’re welcome, your majesty,” was all he said. But the friendly wink he gave him before he turned away said so much more.

John had actually made a friend.