“Let’s go over to where Brina is,” she told the other women.
“Why?” Ullach asked, looking surprised. “I thought you despised dicing and board games.”
“We’ve nothing better to do,” Ailinn answered.
Her plan was working. As soon as she and Gormlaith and Ullach reached the area of the dice game, other members of the crew gathered around them. When one of them moved near to Ullach and smiled at her, Ailinn wondered if Asgar—who’d gone into the settlement with Magnus—might not have some competition. A small swarthy seaman was also standing very close to Gormlaith.
Ailinn left the group and continued on to the stern end of the ship. She paused by the steering oar. The ancient seaman who usually manned it was nowhere around.
Ailinn went to the side of the vessel and gazed out at the settlement beyond. Other men had arrived on the dock and begun conversing with the few men from the Dragonsbreath and the Seawolf who remained. Ailinn guessed the crew was telling the men from York about the storm, Croa’s demise and the rest of what had happened. She saw the men from York eyeing the two ships. Were they assessing Magnus’s hold on his crew and whether they could wrest control of the ships from him? A chill went down Ailinn’s spine. What if something happened to Magnus while he was in the settlement? Despite his size and battle skill, he suddenly seemed very vulnerable. The only certain ally he had was Orm. The rest of these men could turn against him at any time.
She began to feel guilty about her plan to steal a piece of the metalwork. Then she told herself that taking one armband or amulet wouldn’t make a difference in Magnus’s fate, although it might alter hers.
Her determination to acquire a portion of the treasure returned. After all, if it wasn’t for her, Magnus wouldn’t even know about it. But she must wait for the right moment to make her move. Although Orm’s attention was mostly occupied by Brina and the dice game, he still glanced around every little while, as if recalling his responsibility to look after things while Magnus was gone. What she needed was a more serious distraction. Perhaps when Magnus returned, Orm would leave the ship to speak to him. She would have to bide her time until then.
* * *
“These are very fine pieces.” The metalsmith, named Njall, looked up from examining the gold armband inset with brilliant enamel designs of horse heads and swirling shapes. He put down the bracelet and hefted a jewel-encrusted dagger. “Not only are they made from nearly pure metal, but the workmanship is excellent.”
“How much for the lot?” Magnus asked.
Njall, a slender man with hair so fair it was nearly silver, looked up at Magnus with his pale blue eyes. “Are you certain you want to sell me these things? They’d fetch much more in a bigger market like Hedeby or Kaupang. There you might be able to barter directly with some jarl or king.”
Magnus shook his head impatiently. “I need silver to pay my crew. Unless I pay them, I have no means of traveling elsewhere.”
Njall nodded. “Very well. I’ll fetch the silver.” The metalsmith rose and motioned to a brawny slave standing nearby. The two men went to a door in the back wall, and Njall took out a key and unlocked it so they could enter the back chamber of the shop. Hearing a click, Magnus realized the metalsmith had locked the door behind them. He must have a whole cache of precious metal stashed in that room.
Magnus glanced around the small shop and noticed a second well-muscled slave watching him from near the forge. The metalsmith depended on these thralls for protection. They both looked well-fed and healthy, and Magnus supposed they had relatively easy lives for slaves. They didn’t have to work in the fields or do hard labor.
He wondered how they had come to be thralls, and where they were from. Both of them looked Norse. Had their families been unable to feed them and sold them into slavery when they were boys? Or had they been taken captive during a battle or other skirmish? Magnus had never given slaves much thought before. Now he wondered at the vagaries of fate that caused one man to end up as the property of another. The unfairness and randomness of it made him uncomfortable. He knew he couldn’t bear being a slave; he’d rather die than be at the mercy of some other man. And Ailinn felt the same way.
Ailinn. He’d been so busy with the details of landing in York and selling off the cargo he’d been able to avoid thinking about her for most of the day. But now his awareness of her returned as intensely as ever. He still felt bitterness when he considered how she’d tried to manipulate him, but his anger was fading. In light of the circumstances she’d endured, her shrewd, cautious attitude was understandable. She’d to try to protect herself and to use what advantages she had to regain control over her life. He would do the same if he were in her situation. Her inability to trust him was only natural.
Still, it galled him she was able to regard him with such cold detachment. Only when he was kissing her and touching her and bringing her to her peak—only then was he able to penetrate her frosty demeanor. Perhaps that was the answer. He must make love to her until she forgot to be wary and calculating.
His loins stirred with arousal as he contemplated finding a house in York where they could be alone. Even after he paid the crew, he should easily have enough for such a venture. The place didn’t have to be large, but it must have a real bed with linen sheets and a straw mattress. He’d purchase food...and wine. Ailinn would want to bathe, which meant a tub with hot water...and soap. He would have to have help with these details. Perhaps he could find a house that came with servants. Surely there was some wealthy man who had a house in York he only used when he was visiting the settlement. He would ask the metalsmith when he came back.
Even as he had the thought, the click of a lock roused Magnus from his musings. Njall re-entered the shop, followed by the slave carrying a large cloth bag in his arms. Magnus’s eyes widened. The bag was nearly as large as a cat, and undoubtedly weighed a good deal more.
“It’s mostly coin,” Njall said. He nodded to the slave, who carried the bag over to a work table. The slave loosened the drawstring on the bag and dumped out a portion of the contents. Magnus went over and examined the variety of metal objects spilling out of the bag—coins of all sorts, lumps of melted down silver, bits of chain, rings, parts of armbands and amulets, even some silver hinges that must have once adorned some elegant box or other container.
Magnus wondered if he should have the slave dump out the entire contents of the bag. There was always the possibility the metalsmith would try to cheat him by filling the bottom portion with baser metal. But he decided to trust the man. It was clear from the smoke-stained roof and the weathered walls of the shop that the metalsmith had been here for some time. If he were dishonest, word would spread and he wouldn’t be able to stay in business.
Magnus nodded in acceptance of the payment and the slave refilled the bag. After tightening the drawstring, the slave handed the bag to Magnus. Even after having seen the slave straining to carry it, Magnus was amazed by the weight of the bag.
He started toward the door, then remembered his plan. “Another thing, Njall,” he began. “I would like to hire a house for a night or two. Someplace fine, with a bed and all the other comforts you would find in a wealthy man’s household.”
Njall nodded. “I know of such a place. It belongs to a trader who’s off at sea right now, traveling to Novorgard for furs and spices from the east. He left a man in charge of the house. His name is Aevar Helgasson.”
“Where can I find this Aevar?”
“I could have one of my servants take you to him.”
“First, I must take the silver back to the ship,” Magnus said, hefting the bag over his shoulder. “Then I’ll return.”
Njall nodded in farewell and Magnus left the shop. When he got outside, Bragi, Floki, Lodur and Asgar—the men he’d brought along for protection--gaped at the bag. “Loki’s balls!” exclaimed Asgar. “You said you had a few pieces of jewelry to sell. What were they made of—solid gold?”
“You might want to keep you
r voice down,” muttered Magnus. “The street appears deserted, but you never know who might be listening. If I were a thief, this is the very place where I would stalk unwary travelers.”
“Aye,” agreed Asgar. “We looked around a bit while you were with the smith. All along here are shops where they sell metalwork, combs and beads—things that would be easy to steal and carry off.”
Magnus nodded. The man he’d hired the cart from had told him if he wanted to trade luxury items, he should go to Coppergate, the street where the finer commodities were made and exchanged.
The metalsmith’s shop was behind his house, so they had to make their way between his house and the next to get back to the street. The path was very narrow and Magnus was forced to turn sideways to squeeze through with the sack of silver. Reaching the street, they started back toward the dock.
* * *
Ailinn watched from the ship as Magnus and his guard returned. He seemed to be carrying a bag of something over his shoulder. Ailinn wondered what was inside, but she didn’t pay too much attention. The rest of the men on the Dragonsbreath— including Orm—were disembarking. This was her chance.
She moved stealthily to Magnus’s sea chest and opened it. Digging beneath his cloak and other spare garments, she found a beverage skin and leather containers used for storing food. All of them were empty. At the bottom of the chest were some heavy cowhide boots, a dagger wrapped in a hank of raw wool and a cloth bag containing several pieces of jewelry, all of it simply made and fashioned of bronze and silver.
Ailinn returned the items to the chest and sat back on her heels. Where was the treasure? What had he done—taken all of it into the settlement to trade?
“Looking for something?”
She started as someone spoke from behind her. It was the old seaman, Vibold. She’d assumed he’d had left the ship with the rest of the crew. He fixed her with a shrewd look. “I doubt Magnus would begrudge you anything he owns. Still, I find it strange you waited until this moment to search his sea chest.”
Ailinn knew her face must be flaming with guilt. No matter what excuse she gave, it was likely Vibold would tell Magnus what he’d seen her doing, and Magnus would know exactly what she had been searching for. “I was looking for something to eat,” she said. “But all his food stores appear to be gone.”
“We broke our fast today the same as always,” Vibold pointed out. “If you wished for more, you could have asked Magnus then.”
“I was hoping he had some berries left. I tire of the eating the same food every meal.” Ailinn stood as tall as she could, hoping to intimidate the man and remind him of her status.
A whisper of a smile touched Vibold‘s leathery face. “You’re a poor liar. If I were you I would avoid situations that require it.” He gave her a hard look, then left her.
As Vibold started down the plank walkway to the dock, Ailinn felt herself go cold with dread. Once Magnus learned what she’d been doing, he would be certain to sell her.
After closing the lid of the chest, she went to the side of the ship and looked down at the dock. The men were milling around, talking and laughing and making plans. In the center of the gathering stood Magnus, holding the cloth sack in one hand. As she watched, Magnus reached in the sack and drew out some pieces of silver and handed them to the men. Ailinn felt more discouraged than ever. Gauging from the amount of silver in the sack, Magnus must have taken all the metalwork into the settlement and traded it.
All at once, as if he sensed her watching him, Magnus looked up. Their gazes met and Ailinn found herself breathlessly examining his features, searching for a hint of what he was feeling. She could swear she saw yearning in his eyes. But then she remembered what she’d just done, and her heart sank. In a moment, Vibold would go to him and tell him she’d been searching his sea chest, and all Magnus’s tender feelings for her would turn to loathing.
Chapter 16
Magnus stood on the dock by the ship and tried to control his restlessness. As eager as he was to make arrangements for the house and his time alone with Ailinn, he couldn’t put his plan into motion yet. After paying the men their share of silver, he’d given most of them—including Orm—leave to go into the settlement. With only a handful of crew left to guard the vessels, he knew he must be one of them.
The men who stayed behind were mostly older fellows who’d visited many longphorts and were willing to wait for their chance at hot food and the other pleasures of going ashore, especially when Magnus had offered them each an extra bit of silver for their patience. Vibold was one of those who’d agreed to stay with the ships. He approached Magnus now. “I need to speak to you.”
Something in the tone of his voice made Magnus tense. “Aye. What is it?”
Vibold met Magnus’s gaze. “The woman...that fine little beauty you fancy... I caught her digging around in your sea chest as if she were looking for something. Now, I’m no fool. I know Croa had some sort of treasure stashed on the ship, besides the regular cargo. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have had the means to pay the men. If there’s anything left of the hoard, you might think about where you’ve hidden it, for the wench is after it.”
Magnus waited for the familiar anger to come over him, but he didn’t feel it this time. He already knew what Ailinn was capable of and it didn’t matter. He couldn’t give her up.
Meeting Vibold’s gaze, he said, “She doesn’t understand that I mean to take care of her and keep her safe. She still feels like a helpless prisoner and behaves as if she must see to her own survival.”
Vibold nodded. “Aye, that’s my thought as well. Still, you’d best guard your wealth until you’ve convinced her of these things.”
“I will.” Magnus waited until Vibold had turned away, then unobtrusively touched the side of his tunic where Gyda had sewn a hidden pouch to hold valuables. Once again, he blessed his sister-by-marriage for her shrewdness. The pouch was the perfect spot to hide Croa’s treasure.
In addition to the three amulets in the pouch, he had a dagger stuck in his belt, as well two armbands around his left arm under his tunic. While it wasn’t particularly comfortable to carry around so much metalwork, it seemed like the only certain way to protect what remained of the cache. Ailinn wouldn’t learn where the treasure was until he removed his clothing, and at that point, he intended to make certain she was occupied doing other things and would have no time or inclination to rob him.
Heat spread over his body as he imagined it: a private dwelling lit by beeswax candles, their soft, glowing light revealing Ailinn’s slim, exquisite body. He would lay her back on the bed cushioned with sheepskins and covered with fine linen sheets, and then he would...
“Magnus?”
The sound of Orm’s voice jerked him from his musings. With effort, Magnus shook off the haze of lust and turned to face the younger man. “Why are you back so soon, Orm? I thought you’d spend the night in the settlement.”
A grin split Orm’s thin face. “Despite the silver in my pouch, I decided I’m unlikely to find any arrangement in York as promising as the one I have here.” He lifted his arms to indicate the things he carried. “I’ve brought food and wine...and a little bronze trinket I picked up on Coppergate. I thought that would please Brina.”
“You seem quite serious about making her happy.”
“I’m doing everything in hopes she’ll make me happy.” Orm winked. “What about you? What are your plans for your Irish wench?”
Magnus smiled back. “My plans are the same as yours. Although perhaps more extravagant.” He explained his goal of finding a house where he and Ailinn could be alone.
“So,” Orm said. “Despite everything, you’re still smitten with her.”
“Aye. I understand why she does what she does, and I believe if I make her feel safe and cared for, she’ll give up her scheming and deception.”
Orm cocked his head. “But is that what she wants, to feel safe? While that’s what most women seek, you’ve reminded me several times that
she isn’t like most women.”
Magnus knew a twinge of doubt. What if Ailinn wanted more than a man who loved her and sought to make her happy? What if all he could offer wasn’t enough to satisfy her? An unnerving thought, but he wouldn’t let it deter him from his plan.
He forced himself to smile, pretending he shared Orm’s light-hearted outlook. “If I spend a night in bed with her, and she still wishes to have nothing to do with me, then at least I will have had the satisfaction of that one night.”
Orm grinned back. “Aye. You’ll have that. Perhaps you should go into the settlement and set your plan in motion. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility, especially if you’re distracted.” Magnus fixed him with a grim look. “What if there’s trouble?”
Orm motioned to the tent. “Asgar came with me. He’s talking to Ullach now. Between the two of us, we should be able to handle anything. Vibold will also be watching out. He’ll alert us if there’s a need.”
Magnus was tempted. If he made arrangements for the house now, he could come back for Ailinn and have the whole night with her. He nodded. “York doesn’t seem as rough and dangerous as Dublin. King Guthfrith obviously has the area well under control.”
“Perhaps he’s farther away from his potential enemies. I’ve heard that the Saxons who once held this region have given up attempting to rebel, and the Danes haven’t yet cast their greedy gaze on this part of Albion.”
“Very well,” Magnus said. “I’m off to visit York. For pleasure this time, rather than for business. I’m leaving you in charge,” he added sternly. “And depending on you to watch over the ships and the women.”
Beyond the Sea Mist Page 19
