Beyond the Sea Mist

by Mary Gillgannon

  The thought came to her like a bolt from the heavens. The box she’d seen Thorvald stow on other side of the hold must still be down there. She was certain it contained something very valuable. If she could retrieve it and hide it away, she might have the means to buy her freedom.

  Magnus had convinced her that there were Norsemen who were honorable and decent. If she could find one of them and pay him to take her back to Ireland...then use the rest of the treasure to hire warriors to fight for her...

  For the first time since her father’s dun had been overrun, Ailinn experienced a sense of hope and possibility. The rest of her life need not be filled with hopeless misery. She had a purpose, a goal. It was wonderfully freeing.

  “What are you thinking, Ailinn? You look so strange.” Brina’s soft voice interrupted Ailinn’s reverie.

  Ailinn smiled. “I’m thinking that perhaps everything is not so hopeless after all.”

  “Of course it’s not, lady. I have no doubt that Magnus will wed with you...well, perhaps not that, but he will treat you very decently. And if you must be a bed slave, surely it’s not such a hardship when the man is fine to look upon. I think he cares for you enough that you can convince him not to sell us either. Our lives won’t really change so much, although we will probably have to live in some Norse longphort...but even that won’t be a great hardship...”

  Brina prattled on. Ailinn let her. There was much to do to put her plan in motion, and many things that must go right for her to have any possibility of realizing her dream. But it was attainable, she felt certain. She had survived so much already; there was no reason she couldn’t shape the rest of her destiny.

  She knew a little twinge of doubt, thinking of Magnus. He’d risked a great deal to save her, and she didn’t think it would please him to lose the prize he’d fought so hard for. But she had her own goals to consider. Having finally gotten free from Croa, she didn’t mean to give up control of her life ever again, not even to her glorious Norse hero, Magnus.

  Chapter 10

  Ailinn crawled out of the tent, and crouching down, made her way around the mast to the entrance to the hold. No one on this end of the ship appeared to be up yet. This was her chance.

  She sat on the edge of the hold. It seemed a very long way down, but she was determined. Lowering her body into the opening, she let go and jumped.

  She landed with a splash. The impact jarred her legs. She looked up. It wouldn’t be easy climbing out by herself, but if she stood on one of the barrels, she should be able to manage. Now to find the box.

  The hold was almost empty. The crew had apparently thrown most of the cargo overboard during the storm. But she felt certain the box was still there.

  She made her way into the stern-end cargo area, wishing she had a lamp or torch. But perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered. Her instincts told her she must search for the box by feel. Thorvald would have hidden it in some small nook or cranny where no one would think to look.

  * * *

  Magnus came awake slowly and tried to recall where he was. A fine job he’d done at staying alert. If Thorvald or any of the other crewman had wanted to get rid of him, they could have stabbed him in the back or cut his throat at any time during the night. Then he thought of Ailinn. He felt certain she’d been with him. The memory of holding her in his arms was too vivid to be a dream. But where was she now? Why would she seek him out while he slept and then vanish in the morning?

  He got to his feet and looked around. The sun was shining brightly and most of the crew were already up. He wished he hadn’t been so late in rising. If he wanted the men to accept him as captain, he must begin acting as if he were in charge. To that end, he decided to seek out Vibold, the ancient seaman who manned the steering oar.

  He put on his swordbelt and sheathed his sword, then made his way to the end of the stern. Magnus nodded to Vibold and asked, “Do you know where we are, Vibold? Can you tell how far off course we’ve been blown?”

  Vibold glanced up at the vivid blue sky. “I looked through the bearing stone this morning, and my guess is that we’re west of Albion and should tack to the east. Unfortunately, with the sea so calm, we won’t be able to travel very fast.”

  “Would you say we were closer to Ireland than York?” Magnus asked.

  Vibold squinted out at the horizon. “Maybe. But it’s a good distance to either place.” He met Magnus’s gaze. “If you can’t find a way to pay the men when we reach our destination, you’re going to have problems.”

  Magnus nodded, feeling grim. He thought of all the valuable cargo they’d tossed overboard. The women were the main things of value remaining on the ship. Since he couldn’t sell them, he had no means of paying the crew. And Vibold was right. If he couldn’t pay the crew, some other man would end up as captain, and Ailinn and the other women would belong to him.

  Magnus struggled with the dilemma as he made his way to where the other men were gathered, breaking their fast. Although he didn’t have an answer yet, he would keep searching. In the meantime, he must demonstrate to the crew that he was looking to the future and making plans.

  When he reached the men, several of them nodded to him in greeting. Asgar pointed to the remainder of a round cheese, a pottery bowl of salted fish and a pile of hard biscuits on one of the sea chests. “You must be hungry after your work yesterday.”

  Magnus reached for his eating knife to cut a piece of cheese and realized he’d lost it when he was down in the hold. Seeing Magnus’s situation, Bragi handed him his own knife. “Where did the food come from?” Magnus asked.

  “Hafgrim brought it up,” Bragi answered.

  Magnus glanced around but didn’t see Hafgrim. “Where is he now?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Asgar.

  That was one of the things about a large ship, Magnus thought with a hint of unease. “I talked to Vibold. He says we’re west of Albion. As soon as the wind comes up, we must raise the sail and tack to the east.”

  All the men nodded in agreement. It was clear they had great respect for Vibold and his navigation skills. “But where are we headed?” asked Lodur. “Are we still sailing for York? I’m not certain it’s worth making such a long journey, now that we have no cargo to sell.”

  Magnus’s body prickled with warning. He must say something to divert attention from this line of thought. Before he could think of anything, Bragi said, “I wonder if the other ships made it through the storm.” Magnus thought anxiously of Orm. Before the storm, the Seawolf and the Serpent were always in sight. Now there was no sign of them.

  “They’re much smaller vessels,” said Oleif responded. “Which might mean they’re more likely to go down.”

  Magnus grimaced.

  “I disagree,” Bragi put in. “The fact that they’re smaller makes it more likely they were able to ride out the storm.”

  “Unless, like us, all the heavy cargo dragged them down,” said Asgar. “If we hadn’t jettisoned most of our load, we’d have foundered for certain.”

  “But now we have nothing to sell when we reach port,” Lodar said in a peevish voice.

  Magnus quickly interjected, “Shouldn’t we search for the other ships?”

  “How would we know where to look?” asked Bragi. He shook his head. “They’ll have to find their way to land on their own. If they survived, that is.”

  The other men seemed to be mulling over their circumstances, the same as he was. They’d survived the storm, but the future was uncertain. Especially his future. Any of these men might decide to challenge him for control of the ship. And the man with the best claim to do that was Thorvald

  He cast a worried glance in the direction of the tent. “Where’s Thorvald?” he asked.

  “Haven’t seen him this morning,” said Asgar.

  Magnus got to his feet. He needed to keep an eye on his potential adversary. Reluctantly passing the tent, he made his way to the other side of the mast. Hafgrim, Thorvald and the remaining half dozen of the crew were gathered
there, eating. He nodded a greeting to them. Hafgrim nodded back, but Thorvald just stared at him, his face expressionless. Magnus felt a tingling unease down his spine. It seemed likely he’d have to confront Croa’s nephew. But before that time came, he wanted to check on Ailinn. He started toward the tent.

  * * *

  Down in the hold, Ailinn had felt all along the sides of the vessel and found nothing. She was growing frustrated when she heard a cat mewing. The poor animal must have gotten trapped down here during the storm. When the cat mewed again, she followed the sound to the far end of the hold. Locating the cat, she pulled it from its perch high up on the curved end of the ship. As she did so, something fell into the water. She placed the panicked cat on a barrel, then sought out the object that had fallen. It was a wooden box.

  She carried the box over to the opening in the deck where there was light and set it down on a barrel. Her fingers trembled as she pried off the lid. She gasped in amazement as the contents were revealed. The box was full of gold and silver: brooches, armbands and rings. Mingled among the fabulous ornaments were two daggers. Ailinn had never seen such beautiful things. She’d been hoping for treasure and she’d found it.

  * * *

  Reaching the tent, Magnus lifted the flap. The red-haired and younger women were sitting up. The injured woman named Gormlaith lay beside them. But there was no sign of Ailinn.

  “Where’s Ailinn?” he demanded.

  The red-haired woman shook her head and said something in Irish. When she didn’t look alarmed, Magnus’s anxiety eased. If any of the men had taken Ailinn, this woman wouldn’t appear so calm. But where was she? The only place left to look was the hold. But what was she doing down there?

  He approached the opening in the deck. Sitting down, he lowered himself halfway down, then jumped into the ankle-deep water.

  * * *

  Ailinn admired the brooch at the bottom of the box. The piece portrayed a stag surrounded by the curving shapes of foliage. Although she’d seen similar designs before, she’d never seen them in a piece made entirely of gold. As she bent down to examine the precious stone that formed the stag’s eye, she heard a noise. Someone was coming down into the hold!

  Panic slammed through her. She dropped the brooch back in the box and closed the lid. Then she crouched down next to the barrel.

  * * *

  “Ailinn?” Magnus called. “Are you down here?”

  When he heard no answer, Maelgwn felt afraid. While he was asleep, the men might have thrown Ailinn off the ship. If she were lost, then everything he’d endured would be for naught. The memory of her face, her scent, the feel of her delicate body would haunt him the rest of his life.

  Heart pounding, he peered into the cargo area toward the prow. “Ailinn?” he called again.

  “I’m here, Magnus,” she answered.

  Relief swept through him. He moved a little deeper into the hold. “What are you doing down here? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m fetching the cat,” she called back. A moment later, she appeared, crawling out from the cargo area with the animal in her arms. “I didn’t want to leave it trapped down here.”

  Magnus was puzzled. “You came down here because you were worried about the cat?”

  “Nay. I came down here because I wanted to see if I could salvage any of our possessions, or if they were all ruined by water. Then I heard the cat meowing and went looking for it.”

  “You shouldn’t be down here by yourself. I don’t trust some of the crew. You need to stay on deck where I can protect you. If you want to search the water for your things, I can help you.”

  “Nay!” She spoke so sharply that he was startled. “I...I’ve already searched and there’s nothing we can save. Can you please help me up on deck now?”

  “Of course.” He took the cat from her and threw the animal up onto the deck. Then he turned to boost her up. As he grasped her around the waist, desire pulsed through him. At last they were alone, with no danger immediately threatening. He stared at her, admiring her mysterious gold-green eyes and remembering how she’d come to him in the night. Surely that meant she welcomed his attentions. He leaned down to kiss her.

  She shifted away from him. “I’m cold, Magnus. Please help me up so I can go to the tent and get warm.”

  “I know a way I could warm you,” he said.

  She drew back even more. “I really should get back and check on Gormlaith and the other women.”

  She looked so pleading and desperate. How could he refuse her? “Very well,” he said, repressing a sigh. He boosted her up on the deck.

  * * *

  Ailinn started toward the tent, her stomach in knots. Magnus had been on the verge of kissing her. She’d wanted him to, wanted it desperately. But all she could think of was getting him out of the hold as quickly as possible. There hadn’t been time to put the box of treasure back in the hiding spot and she’d had to leave it on top of a barrel. If he took a few more steps into the hold, he might have see it.

  Now she realized how foolish her fears were. If she’d let him kiss her and caress her, he would have been too distracted to notice the treasure. She’d missed her chance to show him how grateful she was for rescuing her from Croa.

  Then again, if she’d given into to him, he would think she was willing to let him bed her and make her his leman. Although the idea was tantalizing in some ways, she had to maintain her independence as much as possible.

  It was an impossible dilemma. Made all the more difficult because she desired him as fiercely as he seemed to desire her. But she couldn’t let the urges of her body interfere with her plan. She must concentrate on her goal, which meant she had to go back to the hold as soon as possible and find a better place to hide the treasure.

  With that thought, she drew aside the tent flap and was relieved when she saw Gormlaith sitting up.

  * * *

  Magnus’s muscles were rigid with tension. He’d asked the whole crew to meet with him on the stern of the ship. They’d done so, even Thorvald and Hafgrim. But now, despite their apparent acceptance of him, he knew that at any moment, one—or several—of these men might decide to challenge him.

  “This morning I consulted with Vibold.” Magnus motioned to the weathered steersman. “He says we were blown to the west of Albion. There’s not much of a breeze, but we might as well raise the sail and see if we can make some progress to the east.”

  “So, you think you’re giving orders now, do you?” Lodur’s tone was contemptuous.

  Magnus tensed. “Someone must be in charge,” he said, trying to sound calm and reasonable.

  “Aye,” Lodur responded. “But why you, who has little experience in sailing? You must depend on Vibold to read the bearing stone. And I doubt you even know how to set the lines and adjust the sail to steer the ship in the proper direction.”

  “Croa had even less skill regarding a ship than I do,” Magnus pointed out. “Yet, you accepted his authority.”

  “Aye, and he almost caused our deaths.” It was Thorjorb who spoke this time, his blue eyes glittering with resentment. “Perhaps we should choose a captain who knows something about sailing.”

  “And who would that be?” asked Asgar. He motioned to Vibold. “This man has the most knowledge and experience on the sea as any of us. Do you desire that he be our captain? And what about when we reach York? Will you expect Vibold to deal with the merchants in selling what cargo we have left?” Asgar shook his head. “I’ve served under many men, and I know what makes a good captain. A captain doesn’t have to possess great knowledge of sea travel, only be willing to listen to those men of his crew who are skilled in such things. While Croa hid in his tent and let the ship nearly founder, Magnus took action and did what needed to be done.”

  “Aye,” said Bragi. “If not for Magnus, there’s a good chance we would all be dead. Someone had to kill Croa, who was too stupid to admit the danger and get rid of the cargo. I’ll admit I didn’t have the courage to confront Croa.
But Magnus did, and for that reason, I’m willing to take orders from him. If the rest of you wish to choose another captain, then do so now. Then have the man you choose fight Magnus in fair combat, and we’ll see who prevails.”

  The men glanced around at each other. Several of them focused their gaze on Thorvald. “What about you, Thorvald?” Oleif asked. “Croa was your uncle, so by the Norse laws of inheritance, the ship is now your property. Are you willing to fight Magnus for it?”

  Thorvald looked at Magnus. There was a hint of resentment and anger in his expression, but also wariness. “Nay. I don’t want to fight.”

  “Anyone else?” Asgar asked.

  No one spoke for a time. Then Oleif said, “I’m willing to accept any leader who gets me safely back to land and pays me what I was promised.”

  “I’m the same.”

  “I, also.”

  “I’ll throw in with that.”

  “Aye. It sounds like a reasonable plan.”

  As the other men gave their assent, Magnus breathed a quick sigh of relief. While he was fairly confident he could best any of these men in combat, he’d rather not fight if he didn’t have to. As for the problem of paying the men, there were still some barrels and boxes in the hold. Surely a few of them contained something he could sell when they arrived in York. He would have to return there and see what he could find.

  Magnus gave the order to raise the sail and the men began the process of hauling up the huge, rain-soaked piece of fabric. As Magnus lent his strength to the task, he thought of Ailinn. He was so uncertain about what she felt for him. Did she have any feelings for him beyond gratitude that he’d killed Croa and freed her?

  But had he freed her? If he couldn’t pay the crew, they might well turn against him and choose some other man as their captain. Then he would have no say in what happened to her.