Kingdom Come prologue
The Catharga was a proud ship. On a fine day her shining white sails would billow softly in the breeze. The two masts would stand proud and straight, just as if they where still deeprooted trees, uncut and unmarked by any hand or tool.The dark wooden planks of the outher hull would gracefully allow the shallow waves to kiss its polished surface, the wet wood reflecting the sun glittering on the calm water. And altough it was a rather small ship, only the foolish and the ignorant would deny that it was amongst the finest ships that strode upon the waters in these parts of the world.
This day however, was not a fine day. The sky was pale grey without any change in tone nor shade as far as the eye could see. A slow rain fell from that grey sky, cold and wet and relentless. The sails and the ropes and the wood and everything else on board was drenched. Without the slightest breeze, the heavy white sails hung motionless. And with the dead quiet that lay over the ship, the tension in the air about the ship seemed even more clear. In this tension was the kind of silence that seems to grow ever louder when straining so badly to hear a sound and yet fearing to hear it at last.
The few men on deck stood stiff from cold and something else, staring blankly into the fading grey about them. One man was up in the crows nest, but he saw no more then the men below him.
Thus the day dragged on. No wind came. The rain kept on falling. The silence grew.
As the light of day slowly begann to fade, the grey curtain of rain seemed to draw closer to the ship. Suddenly a cry rang through the evening, ripping apart the thick silence like crackling paper: "ship in sight!"
More men stumbled on deck. There was a deep tiredness on their faces as can sometimes be seen in the eyes of game that has been chased to the end of its strength and finally lies down, awaiting the hunter and the deadly blow. For a moment now something else could be seen in their faces. Fear and hope and anticipation. They watched the ship come closer. When it had finally come close enough that they could hear the drum rythm of the oarmen, a flag was unraveld on the oncoming ship. The crew suddenly broke into a hectic rush when their worst fears came true: The flag showed the king´s crest.
This day however, was not a fine day. The sky was pale grey without any change in tone nor shade as far as the eye could see. A slow rain fell from that grey sky, cold and wet and relentless. The sails and the ropes and the wood and everything else on board was drenched. Without the slightest breeze, the heavy white sails hung motionless. And with the dead quiet that lay over the ship, the tension in the air about the ship seemed even more clear. In this tension was the kind of silence that seems to grow ever louder when straining so badly to hear a sound and yet fearing to hear it at last.
The few men on deck stood stiff from cold and something else, staring blankly into the fading grey about them. One man was up in the crows nest, but he saw no more then the men below him.
Thus the day dragged on. No wind came. The rain kept on falling. The silence grew.
As the light of day slowly begann to fade, the grey curtain of rain seemed to draw closer to the ship. Suddenly a cry rang through the evening, ripping apart the thick silence like crackling paper: "ship in sight!"
More men stumbled on deck. There was a deep tiredness on their faces as can sometimes be seen in the eyes of game that has been chased to the end of its strength and finally lies down, awaiting the hunter and the deadly blow. For a moment now something else could be seen in their faces. Fear and hope and anticipation. They watched the ship come closer. When it had finally come close enough that they could hear the drum rythm of the oarmen, a flag was unraveld on the oncoming ship. The crew suddenly broke into a hectic rush when their worst fears came true: The flag showed the king´s crest.
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