Lord of Raven's Peak (Viking Era 3)

After he’d bathed her back, he dressed her again in Eller’s tunic. She slept again. He gave her over to Cleve and took his turn at the oars, for he was restless. Taby still sat on Oleg’s thighs and when Merrik looked toward him, he saw fear, not so much now, but it was still enough to make him want to clutch the child to him and protect him forever. He smiled painfully and said, “Your sister is sleeping. I bathed her again and tended her back. The fever is nearly gone.”

He hoped it was the truth. He could do no more for her. He nodded to the child, and bent back to the oars. The day remained calm and hot, with scarcely a breeze to cool the men. They let the longboat drift close to shore in the mid-afternoon to rest and drink ale from the barrel Roran had dangled from a rope overboard to cool in the river water. The silence was absolute, save for the soft slapping of the water against the sides of the longboat and their low conversation. They were well beyond Chernigov now and drawing to within a half day of Gnezdovo and Smolensk where the Dnieper ended just beyond, curling eastward. They would sail to the far shore at roughly the mid-distance between the two towns before the sun set tonight, then early tomorrow morning, they would drag the longboat ashore to begin the portage overland to the river Dvina. The portage wasn’t overly difficult, the ground was mostly flat, a wide road worn down over the years by hundreds of traders. Viking traders in the past years had killed most of the savages who had attacked trading vessels, or taken them as slaves, but if there were still some of the savages nearby, Merrik didn’t want to alert them, and that was odd of him, for he always relished a good fight. But now he wanted no trouble and it was because of the small boy and the girl who were helpless and in his charge.

When she awoke again and yawned deeply, it was Merrik’s face above her. He smiled at her and stuffed some bread into her mouth. She chewed silently, then opened her mouth again. He fed her until once again she shook her head, a look of pleased amazement on her thin face. He gave her cool ale to drink. Then she said, “I wish to go ashore for a moment.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“I wish to go ashore.”

“You cannot. There could be danger. We will continue northward for three more hours, then we will go ashore and camp for the night.”

“You are a coward then.”

He shook his head at her. “Were you truly a boy, you would surely be dead by now. You forget again that you are alive only

because I decided to intervene.”

She winced. He didn’t know whether it was from pain in her back or from the reminder of what she owed him.

She looked at him straight on and said, “I must relieve myself.”

He said matter-of-factly, “You have seen the men relieve themselves. It is more difficult for you, a female, but nonetheless, you must do it. I will stand in front of you to give you some privacy. Do you wish to do it now?”

She nodded.

Once she was finished, he helped her sit down beside him. “That wasn’t so very bad, was it?”

“It was bad,” she said, not looking at him. “It’s always been bad. At first I couldn’t bear it, it was more humiliation than I thought one could endure. Then I realized that all regarded it with indifference, save for those who enjoyed shaming the slaves. They enjoyed watching closely and laughing. When I became a boy it was all the more difficult.” She sighed, then grinned. “I became quite good at aping the boys. I would turn my back, position my arms just so, and all would think it a boy relieving himself. It was an act, of course, to lull any suspicions.”

“How long were you a female before you changed to a boy’s garb?”

“Not long, it was too dangerous. I didn’t wish to be ravished. Being a boy was safer.”

“Not in Kiev and to the south,” he said.

“Then I was lucky not to be in the south,” she said, and her voice was cool and he wondered if she were lying. He couldn’t tell.

He said, “If ever I intend to humiliate you, it will not be in that fashion. I gave you what privacy I could. I could do no more for you.”

“I know.”

“How do you feel?”

She looked surprised, then said, “Much better.”

She squared her skinny shoulders, winced, and let them relax again. “Perhaps not all that ready to kill your enemies,” he said.

“No, not quite.”

She was different, from her red hair and white flesh to the natural arrogance in her that should have been beaten out of her a long time ago. “How old are you?”

“I am eighteen.”

“How old is Taby?”

“He is nearly six now.”

“How long were both of you slaves?”