Beyond the Sea Mist (13 page)

The thought aroused an answering response in her own body. She was drawn to him. Indeed, she
wanted
to lie with him.

The realization shocked her. Then she gave in to the beguiling thought and allowed herself to fantasize about what it might be like.
He’d find some place for them to be alone together, a room with a real bed, feather mattress and linen sheets. They’d both have bathed in hot water scented with meadowsweet and lavender, like Brina used to prepare for her on feast days. He would walk toward her, wearing only his trews. She would see his massive chest, broad shoulders and muscular neck. He’d smile at her, his teeth white and strong, his blue eyes regarding her with fierce intensity...

She repressed a moan and told herself she was being a lackwit. But then another part of her mind took over. What did it hurt to indulge in a few moments of reverie? Her life had been so grim and dark the past month. Why should she not experience a little happiness—even if it was only in her mind?

She stood near the bed wearing a thin linen kirtle. Her hair was loose and combed to glossy smoothness. It fell in a silky curtain down her back. His expression changed as he approached, his smile turning into something altogether different than it had before, a yearning, a deep, deep need. His blue eyes darkened. He took her in his arms and carried her to the bed. After laying her down on the soft sheets, he stretched out beside her. His gaze moved over her, hot and hungry. Then he bent his head and kissed her.

Another sigh of longing filled Ailinn’s throat and tears pricked her eyes. A dream, it was. So sweet, and yet so absurd. She hardly knew the Norseman. Even if they did lie together, why should imagine he would treat her with such gentle reverence? Her mother had told her what to expect on her wedding night, and it had little to do with the man gazing on the woman worshipfully and treating her like she was some rare wonderful thing.

What was it about the Norseman that seemed to arouse such ridiculous fancies in her mind? Was it because this whole scheme of his was so preposterous? No man sought to rescue a woman he didn’t even know. Her first thought of him must be the truth. He must mean to sell her for a profit.

She hardened her heart once again. It was pure foolishness to do otherwise. She couldn’t bear to endure more disappointment and despair. It was better to expect the worst...and to trust no one but herself and her companions.

* * *

“Well, I did it,” Asgar told Magnus as they stood together in the prow the next day. Magnus had been on fire to find out what had happened, but knowing they must be careful. he’d waited until mid-morning to approach Asgar. In the meantime, Asgar had exchanged words with a half-dozen other men. There would be no reason for Croa to connect Asgar’s nighttime visit to the hold with him.

“Did she appear well?” Magnus asked.

“Aye. Unlike the other women. I didn’t even get to see them. They were too sick. Your wench is the only one I got a look at. She is comely, although not to my taste. Hardly such a beauty I would risk my life over.”

Magnus didn’t know whether to feel relieved or insulted. He didn’t want Asgar to desire Ailinn, but the way he dismissed her...as if she were far inferior to what he’d expected... It made Magnus feel like defending her and pointing out that in daylight, Ailinn’s eyes were the most fascinating, magical hue, her hair as rich and dazzling as polished bronze. That he’d never seen a woman with such a fine, graceful form. But then he realized it would be ridiculous to say such things.

“How did she respond when you told her I was on the ship?” he asked.

Asgar shrugged. “She asked how far it was to York.”

A vague disappointment afflicted him. He’d thought she’d be excited and pleased to learn she wasn’t alone, that there was some hope she might be rescued. Didn’t she realize what he’d risked in following her onto the ship? But perhaps he expected too much of her. In asking about York, she was merely being practical. He couldn’t fault her for that.

“I appreciate what you’ve done,” he told Asgar. “I’ll try to find some way to repay you.”

“Aye. It got a bit sticky when Croa saw me climbing out of the hold. But I can bluff my way out of pretty much anything. As for repaying me, we’ll leave that up to Lady Ailinn’s companions.” Asgar winked.

Magnus knew another twinge of unease at the thought of how Ailinn would react if anything happened to the other women. But that was probably the least of his worries. First, he had to get them away from Croa. “Does that mean you’d consider helping me free the women when we get to York?” he asked Asgar.

“I don’t know if I’d go so far as that. We’ll have to see what happens.” He motioned to the darkening sky. “First we have to get to York, and with the weather we’re about to sail into, arriving there is no sure thing.”

A chill of warning went through Magnus as he surveyed the clouds building on the horizon. “You think we’re in for a bad storm?”

“Bad enough.”

“But a big ship like this should be able to weather almost anything.”

“You might think that the bigger the vessel, the better she’d ride the waves. But that isn’t true. All the cargo on this ship is going to slow us down.” He motioned. “Take a look at the other two vessels. See how much higher they ride the waves? They don’t carry a fraction of the cargo we do. There’s several dozen casks of wine in the hold, along with other heavy cargo.”

“If things get too bad, maybe Croa will have to throw some cargo overboard.”

“Perhaps,” Asgar answered, sounding dubious. “But I suspect it will be a last resort with Croa. He’s a greedy sort. Look at all the trouble he’s gone to with the women. I’m sure he could have sold them for a good price in Dublin, but he obviously thinks he can get more in York. If they were my merchandise, I’d have taken the first offer and been rid of the lot of them. Slaves are a huge nuisance. They have to be fed and clothed, and guarded and watched every moment. They’ll defy you and try to escape all the time.”

“Well, can you blame them?” Magnus asked. “What would you do if you were taken captive and forced to serve another man?”

Asgar looked at him. “I would cut my own throat before submitting to such humiliation. Or, more likely, I would die fighting anyone who tried to capture me.”

Magnus nodded. “I would do the same. But it’s different for women. They have no means of resisting.”

Asgar laughed. “You’re a peculiar man to consider such things.” He punched Magnus in the shoulder. “No offense intended.”

Magnus smiled sheepishly, then joined Asgar in perusing the heavens. As he observed the ominous greenish-gray hue of the sky, he experienced a new anxiety. Asgar was right. The weather was definitely changing for the worse.

As the ship crested a wave, Ailinn tensed in anticipation of the downward crash that would follow. When it came, the force sent the women’s pallets sliding into the barrels behind them. Gormlaith screamed. Ailinn gritted her teeth to keep from doing likewise. She’d never been so afraid, not even when her family and household were being attacked. At the time, she’d been too filled with helpless rage to experience fear. This was different. The ship that had seemed so huge when moored at the dock was now being tossed about on the waves like a twig.

“Are we going to die?” Ullach’s voice barely carried above the sound of the wind and the groan of the ship’s timbers.

“Of course not,” Ailinn responded, although she didn’t really believe it. They would indeed be lucky not to perish. At least they were down here in the hold rather than clinging to the deck above. How did the men manage to stay aboard as the ship pitched and tossed so violently? She thought of Magnus and wondered how he was faring. If not for her, he wouldn’t even be on this ship.

She shivered. Her cloak and kirtle were soaked. A new fear beset her. If it continued to rain and seawater continued to splash onto the deck, the hold would soon fill with water.

Reaching out for Brina, she shook her. “Brina, you must sit up. The water is rising. Ullach, try and get Gormlaith upright as well.”

Brina groaned as Ailinn sought to prop her against one of the wooden casks.

“Christos save us,” exclaimed Ullach as she helped Gormlaith to a sitting position. “We're going to drown!”

“The water isn’t so high yet,” Ailinn answered, trying to convince herself. “If it does keep rising, we can climb on the casks and keep our heads above water that way.”

“Ohhh,” Brina moaned again. She appeared beyond speech, as if the sickness had robbed her of all normal faculties. Perhaps that was a blessing. Brina was too ill to understand the danger they faced. At the same time, Ailinn greatly missed the comfort of Brina’s reassuring voice. Her maid had always seemed able to find some glimmer of hope in any situation. This storm would be a challenge even for Brina’s cheerful nature. As the ship tilted upwards on another massive wave, Ailinn closed her eyes and began to pray.

* * *

Magnus crouched on the deck and braced himself against the sea chest as the ship rolled through the swells. He was soaked to the skin despite the oiled leather tunic he’d put over his woolen one. It protected him from the lashing rain, but couldn’t shield his body from the water splashing over the deck. There was more and more of it, sweeping across the wooden surface and soaking everything.

A good measure of the water was filling the hold. He thought of the Irishwoman and how wet and cold she must be. If the water rose too high, there was a chance she and her companions would drown. Of course, Magnus thought grimly, by the time things reached that state, they’d all be doomed. The ship was well-built and sturdy, but no vessel could stay afloat if its hold were swamped, especially when loaded with cargo.

Croa should give the order to begin bailing. But Croa was hiding away in the tent. Magnus felt a stab of fury at his adversary. He’d never been in a storm this intense, but he knew if Sigurd were commanding this ship, he wouldn’t be huddling under a shelter. Nay, his former captain would be moving around on the deck, checking on his men and making the necessary decisions to safely ride out the gale.

He moved to the other side of the sea chest and shouted over to Asgar, “Shouldn’t we be doing something besides clinging to the ship and waiting for it to founder?”

To Magnus’s surprise, it was Oleif who answered. He appeared to be making his way along the deck toward his own sea chest. “Croa’s worthless,” Oleif said, then spat on the deck for emphasis. “Cowering away in the tent like a woman.”

“Did you speak to him?” Asgar asked.

“Aye. But he hardly responded. His face was as white as whey and from the way he clutched the Thor’s hammer he wears around his neck, it’s clear he believes the only thing that can save us is the mercy of the gods.” Oleif grimaced in disgust.

“Then we’re going to have to do what needs to be done on our own,” said Magnus. “Let’s start bailing out the hold.”

Oleif didn’t respond, but Asgar said, “Magnus’s right. We can’t wait for Croa to give the order to start bailing. If we wait too long, we may find ourselves arguing these matters with water up to our necks.”

With a nod to Magnus, Asgar started forward. Magnus followed. When he looked back, he saw that Oleif was behind them as well.

Moving from sea chest to sea chest, the three men struggled across the deck of the ship. Along the way, they stopped to talk with several other men. All of them responded with angry glances toward the tent and some joined them. The crewmen finally reached the mast and huddled around the foot of it. While the sail had long since been taken down, the huge timber creaked and swayed in the storm.

Magnus shouted to be heard above the gale. “Oleif says he tried to talk Croa and he didn’t respond. I don’t see how we can wait for him to give the order to begin bailing. By the time he decides to take action, it may be too late. We have to start bailing now.”

“What’s wrong with Croa?” someone asked.

“It’s the curse,” a man named Bragi shouted back. “Croa thinks the storm arose because the Irishwoman cursed him.”

“What Irishwoman?” asked a man everyone called Bluetooth because of his bad teeth. “What curse?”

Bragi gestured toward the hold. “There’s a half dozen women thralls down there. One of them cursed Croa, told him she was calling on her gods to cause a storm that would send this ship to the bottom of the sea.”

“Aye, I heard the tale,” another man said. “Croa told the whole alehouse about it. Thought it was a huge jest. But he wasn’t laughing a while later when he found out that his warehouse had caught fire and his men were attacked by a grendel.”

“If it’s the witch’s curse that caused this, maybe we should throw her overboard,” Bluetooth suggested.

Panic gripped Magnus. If the whole crew decided to get rid of Ailinn, there was no way he’d be able to stop them.

But Asgar scoffed, “Why would the woman call down a storm to sink the ship she’s on? Rather than worrying about the woman, let’s get some buckets and pots and begin bailing out the hold.”

“That’s the sensible thing to do,” Magnus said.

“Aye,” another man responded.

“Aye,” said a second.

“But while we’re down there, there’s no reason we shouldn’t grab the woman and toss her overboard,” said Bluetooth. “That might help us.”