by C. K. Brooke
For the rest of the week and well into the next, Johanna was violently ill. While being with child and ship-bound was its own unique misery, the voyage itself provided a perfect cover-up she couldn’t have manufactured elsewhere.
“Worst bout o’ seasickness I ever saw,” she’d overhead the steward reporting to the soldiers stationed outside her door. The patient old seaman, along with Bram and her brother Ludwig, had seen to her cool cloths and vomit-filled chamber pots. She was past the mortification by then.
Toward the close of the second week, she was only grateful it had finally stopped. She lay in bed, regaining her strength. The cook prepared for her a tray of bland toast and tea, and she ate like a beggar. He brought in two more servings before whipping up a batch of eggs, tomato and ham, and calling it a breakfast. But it wasn’t until the present evening when she finally felt strong enough to rejoin her party above decks.
She climbed the companionway on Bram’s arm, taking each step with care. Her muscles were sore, but it was a relief to stretch them. As she emerged, she was startled by how nippy the air was. She wrapped her cloak around herself more snugly. Lanterns and sconces were lit along the bulkheads, casting a world of shadows around her. She peered over the gunnels into a black, starry sky reflected in the opaque waters below. They had sailed far from civilization, into a mystery.
Music drifted from the stern, more than just Ludwig’s violin. The sailors played fiddles, racing to see who could saw out the notes faster. Bram led her to the gathering. Two dozen men sat around, balancing dinner plates on their knees, laughing and downing their mugs. A few tossed spoiled fish overboard, competing to see who could throw the farthest.
Soldiers and sailors alike rabbled when they saw her. “Oh, fortuity! Joni’s here.” Rylon shoved his mug aside and got to his feet. “Glad you’re well again. We’ve been in dire need of a lady to dance with!”
“Oh, I’m not sure if I….”
He disregarded her protests, pulling her from Bram’s arm as the fiddlers struck a familiar tune. Johanna twisted back a smile, and the men chuckled knowingly. “Now, how did you all know I can’t resist this one?” she cooed.
The fiddlers stalled over the next measure, waiting for her to assume her stance. Rylon took her right arm, and a sailor she didn’t know held her left. The music resumed with a snap, and Johanna gyrated between her partners, raising her arms in a diamond peak overhead.
Her sailor grinned, turning with her. She swung her hip to touch his and seized him by the wrists. Rylon reeled her back to himself and she swayed around him, evading his grip, teasing him.
Someone wolf-whistled. “My, I’ve never seen a proper lady dance like that before!”
Laughter poured from her lips. “It’s an old gipsia dance,” she grinned. “My mother hated it.”
“I can see why.” The sailor blushed as she brushed up against him.
“You know,” Rylon reached for her, “you needn’t dance covered up like that.” Before she knew it, he was pulling at the ties of her cloak.
Johanna moved back, shoving his hand away.
“Come on,” Officer Milo egged her, his eyes bleary. “Take it off.”
“You’ve never been modest before,” Rylon muttered, trying again to unfasten her cloak. Johanna’s eyes shot to Bram; he was already reaching for his sword.
She didn’t want to start a brawl. There’d been too much drinking already, and things could get ugly. At that moment, however, she was rescued by the commander heading their way. Rylon backed off, and Bram released his hilt.
“Good evening, gentlemen. My lords?” The commander addressed her brothers. Drew looked up from his card game and Ludwig lowered his bow. “The captain’s just sent me. He’s growing increasingly concerned about ice in the North Sea.”
Drew blinked. “But it’s the middle of spring.”
The old man removed his cap. “Indeed, sir, but these waters are proving colder than anticipated for the season. He’s no longer confident in our route.”
Johanna’s brow furrowed.
“The captain suggests we detour east,” explained the commander, “and cycle around to the stopover on the Ekianic. It may take an extra week, but at least we’ll be clear of any potential dangers here.”
“What dangers?” Drew held out a hand to the air. “It’s warm enough. Certainly above freezing.”
“Drew,” said Ludwig, “m-m-maybe we ought to heed….”
Drew spoke over him. “I don’t see any reason for concern, Commander. I advise you tell the captain to keep sailing as planned.”
The commander fidgeted with his cap.
“Andrew.” Johanna stepped in. “I think the captain would be the expert on the matter.”
Her brother rose to confront her. “Have you ever run a business, sister?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Oh, that’s right. You haven’t. Because if you had, you’d know that time is money. The emperor is funding this mission and we won’t squander his generosity. The more time we waste at sea, the less time we’re doing what we ought.” To the commander, he affirmed, “Due north.”
Johanna cast a helpless glance at the old man.
“Yes, sir.” He bowed his head, retreating.
Ludwig rested his instrument and joined his brother. “You r-really think you made a wise decision?” he inquired. The others were watching too, unease etched across their faces.
Drew sighed, exasperated, as though all of them were fools. “The captain’s not with the navy. He’s been contracted to sail this ship. Right?” He looked down his crooked nose at the sailors, and they shrugged in agreement. “So the longer he keeps us aboard, the more he gets paid.” He tapped his temple. “Think with your heads. Greedy mariner’s only trying to exploit the royal family for more coin.”
Johanna was offended. “You talk so much rubbish, Drew, I’m surprised a bin doesn’t fall out of your mouth.”
He scoffed. “Oh yes, and I’m sure our parents don’t turn in their graves every time you dance like a little—”
“Stop it.” Ludwig held up a hand. “You’re both g-giving me a headache.”
Drew glanced around. “Anyone else find it ironic that the violinist should accuse us of inducing headaches?”
Johanna was already feeling winded. Her company was only getting drunker, and she could handle her brother but in small doses. “I’m going back to bed,” she announced.
KNOCK, KNOCK.
Johanna’s eyes flew open. Her pulse was already escalating before her ears registered the tumult and shouting above deck. Judging by the darkness in her stateroom, it wasn’t anywhere near dawn. She sat up.
“Johanna?” More knocking. “It’s Bram. Please open up. We need to leave now.”
Leave? She hurried out of bed and threw on her night robe. With haste, she unlatched the door.
Bram stood in his uniform, a single strand of hair falling out of place over his forehead. Johanna fought a sudden urge to smooth it back. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“The captain was right.” He grimaced. “Ice. Tore right through the hull. The boiler room’s flooded. There’s no hope for the ship.”
Johanna’s heart banged like a snare drum. “What do we do?”
“Evacuate. The crew is readying the lifeboats and we insist you be first to board.”
“Oh, dear.” She clutched her robe around her neck. “This is really happening. I’m going to die.”
“You are not going to die,” said Bram matter-of-factly. “And anyway, the Royal Guard would perish first before we’d let that happen.”
A rush of gratitude soothed Johanna’s throbbing veins. “Do I have a moment to change?” she asked weakly.
“Only a moment,” he assented. “Do dress warmly. It’s cold out there.”
She thanked him, closed the door, and rushed to her trunk. She thrust open the
lid and rifled through stacks of folded garments, practical yet lovely numbers she would never get to see, much less wear, again. She found her most comfortable ensemble—a petticoat skirt and shirtwaist, far less fuss than a dress—and changed into it. She draped on her warmest cloak, stepped into her boots, and stole a final glance at herself in the mirror. All she saw was the fear in her eyes.
She opened the door to rejoin Bram, and was soothed by his quiet serenity. “Aren’t you frightened?” She clutched his arm as they climbed the companionway together.
“Panicking never solved anything.” He solemnly guided her above deck, where the crew was preparing the lifeboats. The boats looked much larger up close than they had hanging down the side of the ship.
“In you go, my lady,” said Officer Merriweather, taking her hand while the sailor she’d danced with just that evening took the crook of her elbow, helping her up.
“I…already?” She stumbled forward. The gap between the side of the ship and the lifeboat was greater than she would’ve fancied. She glanced down at the black waves freeboard, floating with chunks of ice, and her stomach gave a churn.
“Why don’t I get in first, and Officer Bram can pass you to me?” suggested Merriweather.
She looked around. “Where are my brothers?” The sailors and soldiers assembled amidships and spoke rapidly, some moving quickly from fore to aft. She couldn’t make out who was who.
“Just ahead,” Merriweather pointed, “speaking with the captain.”
“You’ll be safe, Johanna,” Bram assured her. “We’ll all be.”
“Will you get in with me?” she asked him. She hated to sound desperate, but she didn’t want to be separated from his steady calm.
Bram nodded. “As soon as I’ve seen the others to safety.”
Officer Merriweather had already climbed into the little boat to receive her. “Here you go, Lady Johanna.” He held out his arms. “I won’t let you fall.”
Her teeth chattered. She stepped cautiously up to the rail. With little effort, Bram scooped her up in his impossibly burly arms. Against the biting night, it felt like she’d been suddenly wrapped in furs and laid before a burning hearth. “You’re enormous,” she laughed amidst her nerves, “like a bear.”
“And twice as deadly.” He grinned.
She regarded his strong chin from below as he hoisted her over the rail. “My mother kissed your father once. Did you know? She told me.” The words came tumbling out before she could think better of it—perhaps she was delirious with fear.
Bram passed her with care into the arms of Officer Merriweather, who helped her safely into a seat on the lifeboat. “The way I heard it, he kissed her,” said Bram as he turned away, though not before Johanna saw his grin spread.
“Keep warm, dear,” Officer Merriweather entreated her, passing her a blanket. “Here come your brothers.”
“Seriously, man?” Drew watched as Ludwig lowered onto the bench across from him. “No one else is bringing luggage.”
“It’s not luggage.” Ludwig held his violin case to his chest. “She’s my b-b-baby.” He clutched the instrument closer as a pair of guards and more sailors squeezed in beside him. He noticed Drew avoiding eye contact with all of them.
The boats began to lower. Ludwig closed his eyes, praying that the waves wouldn’t pick up. The Kelti was already showing signs of imbalance as they abandoned it. What a shame the handsome vessel was beyond saving. But thank God her passengers weren’t.
Their landing was less than smooth. Ludwig held onto the side and Johanna gripped his arm with a gasp. Nearby, the other boats met the sea’s surface in equal roughness, water splashing up the sides. Men’s voices rose, hectic above the still night air.
The guards and sailors had divided themselves among the three boats, each carrying approximately ten passengers, and repeated the captain’s orders to each other. Every occupant took up oars, navigating painstakingly around the sinking ship and floating sheets of ice.
A thick silence overtook their tiny vessel. All eyes were on Drew.
Ludwig wasn’t surprised when Johanna was the first to speak up. “This is your fault.” Her eyes pierced him. “You endangered us all. I shall never forgive you.”
Drew’s face was wan. Laboriously, he pushed his oars through the water in rhythm with the sailors. “We survived.”
“And we’re bloody freezing to death,” muttered Rylon. Ludwig noticed the guards wore only their uniform blazers, no coats. For most, there hadn’t been time to gather belongings.
“You wrecked that ship. You aren’t going to apologize?” Johanna challenged her brother.
“Ice,” intervened Ludwig, unable to stand his brother’s drawn expression, “wrecked the ship, Johanna.”
Hours passed. Through the night, they rowed and slept in shifts. Their arms were sore, their hands raw and bloody. They were exhausted, but onward they pushed.
The sky began to lighten in hardly perceptible increments. Ludwig shivered furiously, willing his stiff arms to keep moving. He feared if he stopped rowing, he’d go rigid. And yet, the exertion wasn’t helping warm him. His sweat froze on his skin, making him colder.
By sunrise, the captain’s weary voice lifted among the crew and those rowing close at his stern. “The bad news is that we’re all castaways. The good news,” he appraised the distance, his face set with determination even as tiny icicles formed on his beard, “is that I can see the first island.”
“Joni.” Ludwig nudged his sister. She was asleep with her head in Bram’s lap. He didn’t like how still she’d gone.
Bram opened his eyes and looked down. He prodded her blanket gingerly.
Ludwig was relieved when a pair of brown eyes met his. She blinked sleepily, looking disoriented. “The captain sees the island,” he told her. “We’ll be s-s-s….” He shivered so intensely, the word got caught on his tongue.
“Safe?” came her groggy murmur.
Ludwig nodded. He thrust the oars forward. His only solace was the gentle knock of his violin against his ankles. As long as it was there….
Johanna sat up. “Your hands, Vigo.”
He looked down. They were cracked from cold and streaked with dried blood. He supposed they’d never worked so hard in his life.
At once, Bram switched with him. Ludwig slouched on the bench, letting the guard row in his stead. Johanna laid her blanket over him.
He drifted in and out of consciousness, waking vaguely when the sun came out, shining over the sea, or else when he caught himself snoring. At long last, grateful cries of “Land ahoy!” lifted him from the clutches of fatigue. Up ahead, the shore expanded under filmy sunlight, a deep wilderness of evergreens. He rubbed his eyes, the profundity of their exploits finally striking him.
Some stood in the boats to cheer. “Blessed land,” crowed the commander.
“My God, what are we doing?” he heard Johanna whisper beside him. She gawked at the island, her brow steepled.
“We did it.” Though Drew’s voice was hoarse, he seemed invigorated. “See? We made it after all.”
They rowed to shore as waves beat sluggishly against an overgrown beach. They climbed out, their knees stiff, feet unsteady on the foreign ground. The crew shunted the vessels onto land and out of the tides’ reach.
Their assembly was noisy and confused. Those who’d had time to fetch their satchels before abandoning ship rummaged through their contents and passed out supplies, food, and water skins from the bags.
“Well, my lords,” the captain deferred to Drew and Ludwig, “it looks like my crew and I are with you now.”
Drew brushed off his trousers. “The more the merrier,” he chirped.
After sharing a pitiful breakfast, they headed inland, rubbing their hands together furiously for warmth beneath the rising sun. Drew headed up the procession, while Ludwig jogged at his side, havi
ng slipped a leaf of parchment out from his violin case. He had brought papers for recording music, in case inspiration struck, but they had a more pressing use at the moment. Ludwig staggered across the dirt, trying to ink a hurried but detailed sketch of the shoreline on the paper over his palm.
Drew glanced at him. “What are you doing?”
“Drawing our first m-m-map. What will you c-call it?”
“The island?” His brother bent a branch out of his way as they entered the woods. “How about ‘Desolate Wasteland of Ice and Destruction’?”
“You can do b-b-b….”
“Better than that? I know. But it’s all I can think of at the moment.” Drew trudged ahead, two dozen pairs of boots crunching behind them. “Last night was a nightmare. But worse, because it was real.”
“My lords?” Bram stepped between them, holding out his massive arms to block them from taking another step forward. There came an eerie silence as the procession behind them stopped. “As unlikely as it sounds,” whispered the guard, “I think the wreck…and the ice…may be the least of our problems now.”
The brothers looked up. Shadows moved between the trees. Ludwig squeezed the handle of his violin case, his feet planted in terror. Was it a pack of wolves? Panthers?
A hiss whizzed by his ear. He swiveled around in time to watch an arrow lodge into the tree behind him, narrowly missing his face. The guards withdrew their swords, metal swishing against their leather sheaths.
Earsplitting battle cries assaulted Ludwig’s ears. A legion of strange men tore through the trees, bearing frightful spears, loaded bows and arrow-stocked quivers. In number, there had to be at least fifty warriors, almost double the expedition’s party. He heard Johanna shriek. Ludwig was knocked aside as the guards sprung forth to defend the royals.
The strangers barked to one another in an unusual tongue. Ludwig had never seen or heard anything like them. Their clothing was animal skin, their limbs sinewy and brown. Some had plaited their hair and wore what resembled bear teeth in their earlobes. They encircled the Jordinians, fierce faces smeared with a red paint that Ludwig didn’t doubt was colored with actual blood. His heart had never beat more rapidly.
