Ullmann had taken his turn tied to the barge like some draught animal, walking along the bank and helping to guide it along. Everyone had, except Vulfar who’d broken at least a couple of ribs and was lucky not to have pierced a lung. They’d laid him out in the cabin, and just got on with the job. Ohlhauser had proved to be as strong as an ox, a lifetime of lifting and carrying, ploughing and reaping meant he thought little of wrapping a rope over his shoulders and leaning into the load. He reminded Ullmann of the father he’d left behind in Over-Carinthia, perhaps a little too much. Crossing the Enn had proved difficult, but, once again, Ullmann had swum across and guided the barge to the other side. With the boat safely tied up and not showing any lights, Vulfar felt he’d earned his florins. Ullmann wasn’t so sure about the bargemaster, but his crew certainly had, as also had the Bavarians, and Manfred and Horst, who’d cheerfully done everything asked of them and more. He closed the hold doors, and lit one of the lanterns.
