Although Conqueror William had conquered England under the Pope's banner—a banner he borrowed by promising to place the English Church under papal authority—the Normans were the most pragmatic people in all of Europe.
After ascending the throne, while William did not forget the Pope's great assistance—amassing vast amounts of gold and silver to send to him—he failed to honor a single word of his promise. As a result, the English Church was in an even more precarious position than it had been under King Canute.
So when Philip told Eric that the Church still had a way to send people overseas for their studies, he was somewhat surprised. It seemed the English Church still had a few tricks up its sleeve.
「Dawn. A small cove near King's Bridge Monastery」
Eric stared blankly at the wooden boat—no more than thirteen feet from bow to stern—his jaw nearly hitting the ground.
Standing in the boat was a boy of about fifteen, barely tall enough to reach Eric's shoulder. He held two oars. Apparently, this youth was to be the helmsman and oarsman for Eric's entire journey across the sea.
"You call this the will of the English Church? Are you trying to get me drowned in the Channel?" Eric snarled, grabbing Philip by the collar.
He'd known something was wrong this morning when Philip led him not toward the port, but through the woods to a river cove.
"Calm down! Because of the Viking Pirates, hardly any ships have been built in England for years. It's not easy to find a skilled shipwright these days. Don't worry, Hessin is an excellent shipwright and oarsman. He's successfully reached Normandy before."
"His father was the best shipwright around here. Besides, there are favorable tailwinds recently, so it shouldn't take much effort. Eric, you must believe that God protects all who thirst for truth," Philip said earnestly, patting Eric's shoulder.
Hearing the mention of tailwinds, Hessin, still standing in the boat, gave the sail a tug. 'To think a boat this small actually has a sail,' Eric mused.
"I'm so very grateful."
Eric smiled and squeezed Philip's shoulder—hard. The sharp pain made Philip wince.
'If I get on this thing, I'm afraid God will get the wrong idea and think I'm trying to enter His embrace ahead of schedule.'
In the end, however, Eric got into the boat.
'He understood, more or less. This was probably the best boat the Church could get its hands on. Conqueror William really had done a number on them.'
Hessin untied the rope, gave a hard shove against the bank with an oar, and the small boat broke free from the mud, officially setting sail.
Hessin sat back down and began rowing with practiced, standard strokes. The small boat moved steadily away. His movements were fluid; it seemed Philip hadn't been lying.
"Eric, you have to come back alive! You still haven't finished transcribing the Organon!"
Philip ran a few steps along the bank, following the boat.
"And I still insist that universals are real! Eric, you'd better figure out how you're going to refute me next time!"
"Damn it, don't jinx me with a death flag like that!"
Eric instantly jumped up, planting his feet on the stern and looking back at Philip.
But they were already some distance away, and Philip didn't seem to hear him.
"Damn it all! When I get back, I'll bring you the original Greek text! And you, you bastard, don't you dare get sick and die on me!"
Eric yelled at the top of his lungs.
He was so loud that Hessin, beside him, covered his ears.
As it was dawn, a fog began to obscure their vision not long after they left the shore. Eric noticed a familiar figure on the bank not far away.
It was Cecilia.
She seemed to be saying something, but at this distance, Eric couldn't hear her at all.
The fog enveloped everything, erasing the world that was, as if he had been plunged into an entirely new one.
Eric sat back down in his spot, picked up the spare oar, and began to help Hessin with the work.
The English Channel isn't particularly wide. At its broadest, it's just over a hundred miles, and at its narrowest, a mere twenty—a distance one could almost swim. However, since they were setting out from Hereford, they would have to sail around Cornwall. Even under these circumstances, with a favorable wind, the journey should only take about a day.
"Don't you worry, Priest. My boat is famously fast. Once we're around Cornwall, the seasonal winds will carry us quickly to Rouen. If all goes well, we might even reach our destination by nightfall."
"Let's hope so. What if the wind and waves are too strong? Believe me, I mean no offense, but this boat doesn't seem particularly sturdy."
Eric noticed a finely crafted axe by his feet. It looked less like a craftsman's tool and more like a weapon.
"Trust me, Priest. Trust this boat. If this boat can't make it to Rouen, I don't believe any other could. It was modified from a Viking pirate ship. The only real difference is that I didn't add the ornate, useless dragon head."
Hessin took a deep breath and then exhaled. Now that they were fully away from the shore, the sea wind had picked up, forcing them to speak loudly.
"A Viking pirate ship?"
"Yes. Two years ago, on Midsummer's Day, it washed ashore, beached on the sand. The dragon head was broken and the hull was damaged, but the keel was intact. A massive, protruding keel running from bow to stern... any skilled shipwright would have marveled at it."
A hint of sorrow crept into Hessin's words.
"How fortunate. A well-made Viking longship can easily cross the entire North Sea, and even travel to the world beyond."
'The Norwegians should have settled Greenland by now,' Eric thought.
"It seemed like a blessing at first. But looking back, perhaps Christ was trying to tell me something even then. It didn't take me long to build this boat, and I was overjoyed with such an excellent vessel. But as a master craftsman, my thoughts weren't about selling it. I was thinking that I could finally be with her."
"Her name was Adelle. I loved her, even though she was a married woman. She was beautiful, smart, and kind. I planned to run away with her; I had secured a job and a house in Cornwall. With this boat, I could easily make our plan a reality. I was so incredibly happy then." His voice choked with emotion.
"And then what happened?" Eric sighed.
Eric took a piece of black bread from his tunic, used the axe to slice off a small chunk, and popped it into his mouth to chew.
'The bread, which usually tasted like wax, somehow tasted much better now.'
"The day we planned to elope, the Viking pirates came. God... I had just set sail to meet her when I saw the dragon ship. I fled back to town to report the news to the bishop, then I ran for her house, not caring about anything else."
"But it was too late. They caught her. I desperately grabbed his axe and killed him, but Adelle... she was already dead. I went mad. I just kept striking his head again and again, chopping it into a pulp. But what good did that do?"
"That night, I lost my love, and I lost my father. When my mother asked me where I had been, I couldn't answer. I didn't save anyone, and I became a sinner. The bishop said that the souls of those killed by pagans can find no peace, no salvation."
"The Lord does not blame those who cannot help their circumstances. The Lord loves mercy. Salvation comes from grace, and grace is a gift that mankind cannot earn, based solely on the Lord's mercy. Neither pagan nor pious bishop can hinder or influence it."
"If Adelle was a good person, then I assure you, the Lord will grant her salvation."
"Chopped into a pulp?"
Eric looked at the axe and fell into thought.
"AAAAAAAHHH!!!" Suddenly, Hessin screamed.
"What is it?"
"A ship! A dragon ship!" Hessin suddenly screamed, pointing behind Eric.
On the misty surface of the sea, the wind suddenly gusted, and the head of a monster was gradually revealed. Under the dim light of the sky, a hull appeared, as immense and imposing as a mountain—a behemoth that even the wild roars and churning waves could not shake.
It was as terrifying as the sea beast Leviathan from the Bible. Then another Viking ship appeared, followed by a third, a fourth... ten ships in total! A swift southwesterly wind filled their taut sails, and the nimble vessels sliced rapidly through the waves.
Ten dragon ships, carrying at least five hundred men!
The decks were crammed with men—their ferocious faces and limbs covered in strange tattoos, all of them brandishing war axes.
Hessin grabbed the axe and was about to charge, but Eric tackled him, pinning him to the floor of the boat.