Gunnar could see how well the idea was sitting with Deirdre—or rather, how well it wasn't. She struggled for a moment to decide whether or not she had a right to speak, and then seemed to decide that she did. Whether she was right or not, they were both about to find out.
"How many have to die? What if you succeed? Does that mean you get to try again? You get to carve another path across the countryside, until you get stopped again? When does it end?"
Her voice was irritable and sharp, but Gunnar had to admit that the point was more salient than any of them would have liked to admit. Valdemar rubbed his beard thoughtfully. As good a sign as it could have been, Gunnar thought. The outburst could have easily led to a fight, but thankfully it hadn't, and that was about all that he could as for.
The rant seemed to ride through the men in waves, as those who spoke no English had it translated for them, and then made their various reactions. Some agreed, he could see it right on their faces.
Others wanted to roll the dice one more time. This early, they could be in and out before it was too dark to fight, and then out to the ship. They'd have a fight to take it, but it would be mostly-painless. They would be able, if nothing else, to find a use for their weapons.
"And if you attack now, you risk using up your energy for taking the ship when night falls."
Thirty-Seven
She could feel her heart beating at a million miles a minute. She didn't know how in the world she was supposed to convince them. After all, they were stronger than her, Valdemar at least as smart, and each and every one of them valued their glory much higher than they viewed human life.
She wasn't sure how they would feel about their own men, but she had hoped that if she tried to appeal to their sense of danger, that they might be putting themselves at risk, it would tip the balance in her favor. Slowly, scratching their beards and thinking over her words, the men circled around nodded.
Deirdre knew she shouldn't have been there. Knew more than that, she shouldn't have spoke. She should have kept her mouth shut. She wasn't a fighter, and she certainly was no man.
But the feeling in her gut told her that it was too big a risk to the lives of the men and women in this little fishing village to let the Northmen attack it. Now that she had the opportunity to stop them, she had to take it. How could she live with herself if she didn't?
The sight of everyone seeming to agree with her let her take her first breath in what felt like an hour. The time had stretched so thin that the space between the seconds felt like an eternity as she had waited to see if her little argument had worked, and by the Gods she'd succeeded.
They were still speaking their Northern tongue, and she was still left out of it, but it didn't seem as if they were discussing their attack plans any more. Rather, they were working on the logistics of taking the ship. If she looked hard in the failing light, she could almost make it out, anchored off the shore. How they would get to it seemed to be the subject of some debate.
But for Deirdre, the realization was sudden and striking. She'd never been more than hip-deep in water in her life. Outside of bathing, she hadn't ever been up to her neck in water, and there was no way that she would be able to reach the bottom all the way out.
If they took the boat, then she might be able to make it out, if they forced it. She tried to remind herself that it didn't matter. Still, she realized, of course it did. She'd spent so long letting things go by because they were unlikely, or because they didn't work with what she wanted. Well, she had learned her lesson with that.
She would have to figure it out when the time came. That was the only answer. Even as they closed in on the boat that would take the Vikings back home, she reminded herself, there was still time for Gunnar to change his mind. To go back with her. She wasn't sure what he intended, but she had plenty of room to hope.
As they spoke, she turned. No reason to keep her attention too closely on the conversation, not when they seemed to be calmly discussing. The blood lust was gone from their eyes. Now it was cool discussion about what to do next, and she wasn't a part of that conversation.
That might have been why she was the first to notice as Eirik and Leif came up. They moved jerkily, and she knew they were dragging something. A small deer, she saw. Luck was on their side after all, and it seemed that when it rained, it poured. They would eat tonight, and they would eat well.
The rest of the camp saw them a moment later, and then it was a rush to go and help them carry, to skin and clean it, and then when the fire got going, things were in full swing. Deirdre had never preferred venison, but after the past few days she had been through, it tasted like nothing she'd ever eaten. The best meat she'd had in years.
Gunnar leaned into her, eating his own fill. He hadn't been eating much, she knew, but he had insisted. She was glad to see him eating again. At least he would be alright. One last feast before they left for Denmark, and they would bring with them nearly enough food for a four-day boat ride.
Deirdre smiled. Good for them. They'd left the town alone, and now it had payed off for them almost immediately. Sometimes it paid to be good, and sometimes it payed well.
Something sat in the back of her mind. A contradiction in terms. Where did she fit into all this? Gunnar had joined into the strategy talk just as much as any of them, and she'd let him. It was what he was good at, what he had always been preparing for his whole life, far as she could tell. He was a leader, and he was a soldier, and she knew that.
Whatever their life together would look like in the future, he was who he was, and she couldn't bring herself to take that from him. Still, she thought, did that mean that he had planned on being there himself, to lead those men into the fight? How would that work?
"A few days, darling," he said softly. The meat in his stomach seemed to have left him feeling satisfied, and he spoke like a man who wasn't too worried about what would come next. Not that she thought he should worry, but it set Deirdre at east. "Then we'll be able to start our lives together."
She leaned into him, her head resting comfortably on his muscled shoulder. That sounded wonderful. She imagined her little cottage, seeing him living there. It was a little silly to imagine. He would dwarf the place, she thought, and the idea brought a smile to her lips.
She couldn't understand them, but the men, circled around the fire and chatting, were clearly telling stories, their bodies animated as they acted out different parts. It was easy to laugh at their jokes, even not knowing what they were. Not laughing because she thought they were funny, but laughing because it felt good to laugh with them.
Still, what she wouldn't have given for a few minutes alone with Gunnar. A few minutes to talk to him about what was going to happen. To ask him all the questions that were burning a hole in her chest. She couldn't do it, she realized. She couldn't ask him, because she couldn't deal with either answer. If she asked, and he had planned on her coming with him, she knew that he would change his mind.
She would be able to have whatever she wanted. She could see it in him. He didn't have the will to fight her. But at the same time, was that what she wanted? Did she want to hurt him? At the same time, she couldn't bring herself to ruin the image she had in her own mind. To give up the life that she had envisioned for so many days now. The fantasy world that felt so real she could taste it.
So she snuggled her head into the crook of his neck, smelling the scent that was so deeply Gunnar, and enjoyed the storytelling and the jokes that she couldn’t understand. Because it wouldn't be long until they were past the last minute, and the decisions were made.
The feeling of Deirdre's head on his shoulder was a comfort, but it wasn't enough. No, that wasn't right. He couldn't let it be enough, not yet. He wasn't out of the water yet. They still had a fight on their hands, even if he hoped that it could be as painless as possible.