He spotted Croa heading toward the prow of the vessel, still clutching Ailinn. Turning to the men gathered around, Magnus cried. “Help me. He’s going to throw the woman overboard.”
No one moved. All gazed at him with expressionless faces. Finally, one of them said, “It might appease the storm gods. And if nothing else, it’s less cargo for the ship to carry.”
Magnus was filled with blinding fury. He wanted to grab the man who’d spoken and throw him overboard. Somehow he had to force Croa to relinquish Ailinn before he dumped her in the sea.
He thought of his sword, safely stored away in his sea chest on the other side of the ship. There wasn’t time to get it. He reached down for his eating knife, then realized he’d dropped it in the struggle below. Panic overtook him.
All at once, someone grabbed his arm. He turned and saw Asgar. “Here,” Asgar said. “You’ll need this.” He held out an axe.
Magnus seized the weapon and hurried after Croa.
* * *
Helpless rage and frustration overwhelmed Ailinn as Croa dragged her to the far end of the prow. She’d tried her best to escape Croa, but she hadn’t been strong enough. Now, this monster was going to throw her into the sea. She would slip beneath the churning, white-capped waves and disappear forever.
As she observed the boiling, seething water all around the ship, she told herself it would be a less painful death than what her father and brothers had endured. It would also be much quicker than drowning in the cold darkness of the hold. She thought of Brina and the other women and said a quick prayer for them, hoping death came rapidly for them as well.
Then she saw Magnus advancing toward the prow with an axe in his hand and his face ablaze with determination. How fine he looked, all fierce blue eyes and massive, broad-shouldered strength. The sight of him gave her hope and her will to fight returned. She wouldn’t go meekly. If she were going to drown, she would drag this monstrous Norseman down with her!
She fought Croa’s iron-like grip on her wrist, twisting and turning to wrest herself free. He cursed, then struck her face. Her vision went black, then returned in a dazzle of stars. She fought through the pain and confusion and heard Magnus and Croa arguing.
“Come closer and I’ll throw her into the sea,” Croa shouted.
“Do that, and I’ll cleave your ugly face in two.” Magnus brandished the axe.
“One chance, that’s all you’ll have,” Croa taunted. “If you miss, I’ll kill you with my bare hands and rip your liver out with my teeth.”
The brutal threat of his words penetrated Ailinn’s hazy thoughts. She couldn’t let Croa win! Couldn’t let him destroy this proud young warrior who’d risked so much to aid her!
Maybe she could throw Croa off balance, although there was every likelihood they would both fall overboard. But at least that way Magnus would be safe. The ship shifted and lurched beneath them. Ailinn lunged to the side and felt Croa lose his footing. She braced herself for the fall.
“Ailinn!” Magnus cried out. Ailinn twisted around, struggling to see his face one last time. Something whizzed through the air and struck Croa. He gave a loud bellow and released her. Ailinn shoved with all her strength. Croa wobbled. The ship lurched downwards. Slowly, and with an odd kind of grace, Croa fell over the side.
For a heartbeat, Ailinn stood frozen. Then she felt Magnus’s arms around her, pulling her away from her precarious position on the narrow prow. She melted into him, weak with relief.
It felt wonderful to have his big, strong body next to her. Although she was weary beyond belief and her jaw throbbed with pain, she thought she’d never known such contentment. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of him.
Her idyll ended when he murmured, “We must get you to safety.”
Abruptly, she remembered her companions. “Gormlaith!” she cried. “I have to help Gormlaith!”
“I’ll see to her,” Magnus said. “But first we must get you somewhere safe.”
Ailinn wanted to protest, but then she realized how shaky and light-headed she felt. “You promise you’ll look after Gormlaith?” she asked Magnus. “And the other women?”
“Aye. I promise.”
There he went again, Magnus thought, vowing to do something that might not be possible. But he had managed to free Ailinn from Croa. A surge of wild exhilaration swept through him. Against enormous odds, he’d killed Croa and freed Ailinn. But how long would her freedom last? Would some other man on the ship try to claim control of her? Thorvald, perhaps?
But if the ship sank, it wouldn’t matter if Ailinn were no longer Croa’s captive. She would drown along with the rest of them.
With that sobering thought in mind, he helped Ailinn negotiate the crowded deck back toward the stern. As they reached the mid-section of the ship, he realized that most of the crew were watching them. He looked back at them and shouted, “See this woman? No one is to touch her! She’s under my protection! If any of you goes near her, I’ll kill you as I did Croa!”
“But she caused the storm,” a man named Lodur shouted back. “As long as she’s on ship, we’re all in danger.”
Magnus’s mind raced as he tried to think of an argument to spare Ailinn. Before he could speak, Asgar pointed to Ailinn and said, “If she’s a witch, then throwing her overboard seems very foolish. Before she drowns, there’s no telling what she might call upon her gods to do to us.”
All the men stared at Ailinn. She stared back, green eyes glittering. Observing her cold, furious expression, Magnus felt a little uneasy himself. In the back of his mind he wondered if maybe she didn’t have some special powers. There were certainly times when he felt as if she’d put a spell on him.
“We’re wasting time,” interjected Bragi, his broad face twisted into a scowl. “Instead of arguing about the woman, we should be getting rid of cargo so the ship doesn’t sink. If we don’t do something soon, we’re all going down.” He turned and headed toward the hold. Asgar and two other men followed him.
Magnus helped Ailinn past the mast to the tent on that side of the deck. When they reached the hide shelter, Magnus pulled aside the opening. Thorvald was inside. Magnus was startled. Did Croa’s nephew know what had happened to his uncle?
“Croa’s dead,” he told Thorvald. “I killed him.”
Thorvald nodded, his face expressionless.
“I need this tent for the women.”
Thorvald gazed at him a moment, then grabbed a beverage skin and crawled out.
As Magnus held up the opening, Ailinn crawled into the hide structure and sank down wearily. She looked very pale, except for the left side of her face, which was red where Croa had struck her. Magnus felt a jolt of fury. A pity Croa had died so quickly. He would have liked to have seen him suffer a little more.
“Don’t leave this shelter,” he told her. “I’ll get the other women and bring them here. If anyone bothers you, just threaten to curse them as you did Croa. The men who believe in the curse won’t risk angering you, and those who don’t will have no reason to disturb you.” He felt no certainty his words were true, and yet he knew he had no choice but to leave her for a time. He must help the other men offload the cargo or they might all drown.
Still, it was wrenching to leave her. He took her hands in his. “I’ll come back as soon as I can. I promise.” He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but there wasn’t time. Releasing her, he staggered back along the pitching deck.
When he reached the opening to the hold, a group of men were gathered there. They eyed Magnus warily as he lowered himself down.
He landed with a splash. The water was deeper than ever. He immediately saw Asgar, who said, “Hafgrim’s down here trying to separate the cargo from the supplies.”
“I thought he was Croa’s man,” said Magnus.
Asgar shrugged. “I guess he’s not so loyal now that he’s dead.”
Bragi joined them. “Without the ladder, it’s going to be difficult to get the cargo out,” he said.
Magnus glanced around the hold, wondering what to start with. Abruptly he remembered his promise to Ailinn to rescue her companions. “Let’s get the women first,” he said.
“Aye, the women,” said Asgar. “It would be a waste if they were to drown.”
Magnus made his way into the cargo area, where he could make out two limp forms huddled against the pile of wooden casks. He picked up the first woman. She groaned and muttered something about dying, then fell silent. He carried her back to the opening. “Here.” He handed her to Asgar.
Asgar grunted as Magnus transferred his burden to him. “This one weighs at least as much as a barrel of fish.”
“Hold her up so Bragi or one of the other men can grab her.”
Magnus went back for the second woman. She was much lighter, weighing scarce more than a child. When he handed her to Asgar, the other man said, “By Freya, this wench is a pretty little thing.”
“I didn’t notice,” answered Magnus.
Now there was only the one called Gormlaith to worry about. Magnus wondered if she were even alive. When Croa dropped her, she’d fallen hard.
He called up to Bragi, “We need a lamp to see what we’re doing. Is there any way you can get one lit in this gale?”
“Aye,” Bragi answered. “I’ll take the flint and tinder into the tent where it’s sheltered.” Magnus knew a moment’s unease at the thought of the warrior being alone with Ailinn. Then he decided he could trust Bragi not to be distracted. The man was all business.
While he waited for the lamp, Magnus went back to the area where the women had been and gathered up the sodden leather bags containing their possessions.
He returned to the cargo opening and hoisted the bags onto the deck. “Don’t throw these overboard,” he called out to the man waiting there, named Esbjorn. “Take them to the tent and give them to Lady Ailinn.” He fixed the lanky young warrior with a fierce look.
“You think he’ll do it?” Magnus asked Asgar, when Esbjorn had left.
“Oh, aye. He’ll fear the witch will curse him if he throws her things overboard.” Asgar grinned.
“Do the men really think she’s a witch?”
Asgar nodded. “At least some of them. Trust me. It’s better this way. They’ll steer clear of her...and her companions. Which leaves things wide open for us.” Asgar’s grin broadened.
A moment later, Hafgrim appeared. To Magnus’s surprise, he was carrying Gormlaith. “I found her near the foot of the mast. She’s alive, but only barely.”
Magnus took the limp woman and lifted her up to a man on the deck. “Get her to the tent,” he shouted.
Bragi appeared at the opening just as Magnus finished handing Gormlaith up. As he passed a lighted lamp down to Magnus, he grumbled, “You’ve wasted a lot of time rescuing those wenches.”
Ignoring this comment, Magnus asked, “Do we have enough men up there to form a line to start throwing cargo off the side of the deck.”
“Aye. We’re ready and waiting.”
Another very tall crewman named Yngvar climbed down into the hold. “I thought I could be of use in handing things up,” he said.
Magnus nodded in acknowledgement and they began their task.
Using the lamp, Hafgrim motioned to the barrels he’d dragged out of the stern end of the hold. “These contain wine, and I’ll wager it’s fine stuff.. A pity it’s going to end up at the bottom of the sea.”
Asgar grunted. “Better these barrels than us.”
They began rolling the wine barrels to the opening. Then two of them would heave a barrel up to the men on deck, who passed it from man to man until it was finally pitched over the side of the deck.
In addition to the many barrels of wine, Magnus handed up several boxes of glassware, piles of water-soaked fleeces and bags of grain. The muscles of his shoulders and arms burned with fatigue. He longed to go up on deck and see how Ailinn was faring. But while the storm raged, he dare not abandon his task. The Dragonsbreath still rode perilously low in the water, and waves continued to roll over her deck and shower down into the hold. The ship might still founder, and then they would all die.
Chapter 9
“Oh, Gormlaith! What did Croa do to you?” Ailinn cried in dismay as she gazed down on the young woman’s unmoving form. Gormlaith’s normally dusky complexion matched Brina’s pallor, and her skin felt like ice. When the burly, blond warrior brought Gormlaith to the tent, Ailinn couldn’t tell if the young woman was still alive. Only by holding her ear near Gormlaith’s mouth had she been able to detect the woman’s shallow breathing.
Poor Gormlaith, Ailinn thought. And poor Brina and Ullach. They weren’t much better off. Although Brina had roused briefly after being brought to the tent, she still appeared far gone in the throes of seasickness. Ullach was the same. And all of them—including Ailinn—were soaked to the skin.
They desperately needed dry clothing, but there was none to be had. What spare garments they possessed were in the flooded hold and would take days to dry. Ailinn took off her cloak and spread it over Gormlaith. Now she was colder than ever. Huddling next to the other two women, she rubbed her arms to try to warm up.
Outside the tent, the storm still raged, lashing the ship with huge waves. Croa might be dead, but there was every chance they would soon follow him into the pitiless sea. Unless Magnus was able to save them from that fate, just as he’d saved her from Croa.
Ailinn felt a sense of awe as she recalled how expertly he’d thrown the axe, managing to strike Croa in a vital spot and miss her altogether. Of course, she’d done her part as well, judging the moment when Croa was off balance and giving him the shove that sent him crashing into the sea. Remembering the moment, she experienced a deep sense of satisfaction.
Jesu, I must be going mad! How can I feel pleased at a time like this? We may all die soon. But she couldn’t repress the exhilaration bubbling up inside her. Croa was gone, and she was free! She owed Magnus so much. Although she’d dismissed him in the beginning, he’d turned out to be as brave and valiant as a hero in the old tales.
An awful thought came to her, dampening her mood. What if the ship went down and she never had a chance to thank him for what he’d done? After all he’d risked for her, it would be a terrible thing if she didn’t let him know how courageous and bold she thought he was. As she recalled some of the things she’d said to him, she felt ashamed. He must have thought her very haughty and rude. Yet, despite her attitude, he’d continued to try and help her.
Her conscience pricked with guilt. She didn’t deserve his kindness and concern. She was a shrew, and a proud, ungrateful one at that. Somehow she would make it up to him. But in order to do that, they must survive this storm, and that was something that seemed less and less likely.
Confronting the possibility of the ship going down, she made up her mind. She wouldn’t wait. She would go to Magnus now and tell him all the things she should have told him after he’d killed Croa.
She went to the tent opening and pulled it aside. It was still raining and the sky was a dark, heavy gray. Water continued to sweep across the deck. Ailinn felt a sense of dread. The ship was so small compared the vast waves lashing it. This might be her only chance to speak to Magnus. To tell him how grateful she was. To let him know she thought him strong and brave, kind and wonderful. He deserved some sort of reward. What could she give him?
A kiss. That was something she could offer to let him know how she felt. She touched her lips, and realized he would find no pleasure in the kiss if she were as cold as an icicle. She let the tent flap fall and intensified
her efforts to get warm, rubbing her hands together frantically, trying to get the blood flowing through them.
Time passed and she made little progress. The chill seemed to have reached deep within her, as if her insides were frozen. Meanwhile, the ship might go down at any moment and she still hadn’t spoken to Magnus. There was no help for it. She must go to him now.
She climbed out of the tent, moving stiffly. Everything around her seemed hazy and she felt confused. But she wouldn’t let that deter her. She was determined to fulfill her plan. But what was it? She searched her mind, trying to recall what had seemed so important earlier. Oh, aye, a kiss. She was going to give Magnus a kiss.
She made her way across the ship, struggling against the wind. The rain and sea spray stung her face and penetrated her already soaked kirtle. She fell. Clutching wildly at a nearby pile of rope, she used it to get to her feet. Only a little farther. She knew Magnus was in the hold, because he’d rescued Gormlaith and the others. Blessed Jesu, that was another thing she must thank him for. Without his efforts, her companions would all have drowned.
She managed to get past the mast of the ship and reach the opening to the hold. There was no sign of Magnus, although there were nearly a dozen men there, arranged in a line. She tried to figure out what they were doing and couldn’t. “M-m-magnus!” she called out. Her teeth were chattering so much that the word came out all muddled. “I’m-m-m l-l-l-looking for M-m-m-magnus!”
The nearest man gestured toward the opening in the deck. She started toward it, then another man grabbed her. “Watch it. You’ll fall in and then Magnus will stick an axe in my chest like he did Croa.” The man gave her a lop-sided grin. Ailinn shook her head, trying to clear it. She couldn’t understand what he was talking about.
The man continued to hold her arm while he called down for Magnus. Magnus must have answered, for the man yelled, “She’s up here! Do you want me to help her down, or are you coming up?”
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