Mylan laughed at his brother’s anger, but he knew what it was like to watch another sail and feel the pain of being left behind. It was a sorrow he had endured for two long years but could never bear again. “You will only have to visit Celiese, and I am certain she will be able to tell you what has become of me.”
Hagen turned toward the young woman he had wanted so badly and realized perhaps his cause was not thoroughly lost. “I will do that gladly. Where is your home so that I might find you?”
Her golden tan paling noticeably, Celiese responded in a voice filled with unshed tears, her memories all unbearably sad. “My home is gone, destroyed, burned to the ground. There is nothing left for me except the land upon which it stood.”
Startled by the tragic tone of her response, Mylan spoke in a sympathetic tone, “Yes, that might be true, but surely whatever home you now establish will be in the same location. Where might that be? I will need this information too so that I may see you there safely.”
Celiese looked up at the two tall men. She knew them to be honest, but they were Vikings still, and she had no intention of leading them to her home. She was no traitor to her people and would not be used as such. “Mylan, if you take me as far as the mouth of the Seine I can find my own way home, and it would be far better for both of us if you did not try and find me next spring, Hagen.”
Mylan took a deep breath. He would not simply put Celiese ashore on French soil. He planned to see that she was left with a roof above her head and food for the winter, at the very least. “Is your home near the Seine, with a view of the sea, or was that just part of your story and not the truth?” He had not forgotten what she had confided on their wedding night and wondered if she remembered as well.
Blushing, she nodded shyly, for she recalled exactly when she had told him about her home. “Both the Seine and the sea bordered my home. It was the truth.” As was everything else she had ever told him, but she did not protest, when it would only serve to anger him once more.
Growing more curious, Mylan persisted, “On which side of the Seine, near Bayeux or Rouen?”
Appalled that he knew her homeland so well, she could not decide which would be worse, to lie or to tell the truth. Mylan’s glance was so insistent, however, that she dared not lie. “Rouen is nearest my home. If you were to ask for me there, Hagen, someone would be able to give you directions to the home of the d’Loganvilles.”
“Rouen is that not where…?” Hagen’s surprised question was interrupted by a hearty slap upon the back from Mylan, and he knew enough not to complete it.
Laughing, Mylan gave his brother a warm hug and bid him goodbye. “We cannot stand upon the dock discussing geography all day. Come, Celiese, we must be gone, and if Hagen cares to seek you out in Rouen next spring he may do so.”
With a warning glance to his brother, Mylan led the slender beauty up the gangplank of the Surf Falcon and gave the order to cast off the lines securing the graceful ship to the dock. It was all done so quickly that neither Celiese nor Hagen had the opportunity to say goodbye.
“Are your parents and Erik not coming to bid you farewell, Mylan?” Celiese thought his sudden haste extraordinary and wondered as to the cause, but figured as usual his motives would be beyond comprehension.
Since his parents had no idea he was sailing, Mylan thought it unlikely they would appear. His father had forbidden the voyage, so he would certainly not come to offer advice and encouragement. As for his mother, he was uncertain what to think of the good woman. If she had known Celiese was to be kidnapped and had not warned her then he would not forgive her, either. No indeed, he had no desire to see either of his parents that morning, and Erik would probably not leave his bed before noon.
“You heard my father last night, he wanted you gone. Do you really believe he would come to tell you goodbye?”
She looked down, sorry now that she had asked about his family when their poor opinion of her had been so unhidden. Perhaps their dislike had prompted Mylan to hurry, but it was more likely he meant to spare himself trouble rather than out of any regard for her feelings. It would be a long voyage, and she did not wish to be in the way. She had enjoyed standing at Andrick’s side as he held the tiller, but doubted Mylan would welcome such informality.
“Where would you like me to stay?” she asked. “I do not want to interfere in any way with your work or that of your men.”
Mylan laughed out loud at that sweet offer. “It will be the first time you haven’t!” When he saw by her expression that she was not amused, he softened his tone, but only slightly. “I have told the men to drape a tent over the stern so you will have some shade in which to rest. Sleep as long as you like. I will command the Falcon as best I can without your advice.”
Hurt by his scorn, she turned away and walked toward the rear of the ship, stopping to wave at Hagen as she passed by. He looked no more pleased than Mylan, and she wondered how a voyage begun with such haste and bitterness could possibly end well. She was going home again, however, and that prospect would have to sustain her. She found that not only had a tent been raised, but also fruit and bread had been left for her, as well as the softest of blankets. After eating a light breakfast, she was too tired to feel the hardness of the deck beneath her as she stretched out and, planning to rest only a moment, was soon sound asleep.
The wind was strong and Mylan made swift time, not once looking back toward his home but constantly glancing over his shoulder to be certain no ships came in pursuit. He had taken the best of Hagen’s crew, but knew if his father really wanted to he could find men among their houseguests to man a ship. That thought presented a painful possibility, for he did not want to fight any sort of battle against his own father, but the man had brought it upon himself by betraying Celiese so cruelly.
As little as he relished the thought of facing his father, the Torgvalds presented a far more dangerous threat. They would need time to mourn Oluf, but once he had been laid to rest, what would their next thought be? Revenge, he thought without question, but would they attack his home or come after him when they found he had taken Celiese out of their reach? A warship could easily overtake a knarr, but he had the advantage still, for he had had a vessel ready to make a long voyage, and as far as he knew the Torgvalds did not. By the time they assembled their supplies and made ready to sail, he would be so far ahead they could not overtake him.
The days were still long and hot, autumn barely begun, but those cowards would think twice about sailing now, when winter might overtake them with unexpected swiftness. Plotting strategy as he held the ship to a steady course, Mylan went over each possibility, and how he might best counter an attack. His crew were not the experienced warriors Raktor could summon with a snap of his fingers, but mariners whose only talent lay in making long voyages with both skill and daring. If he so chose, Raktor could pursue him in a ship with fifty armed men, each a worse cutthroat than the next. It was not a pleasant prospect to consider, and with his only weapon being time, he prayed he would not lose the advantage.
So far north the autumn days are long, night fleeting, and Mylan did not look for shelter until visibility became so poor he was forced to do so. While he had sailed his own country’s coast himself, he had memorized the rest of the route in the few minutes it had taken Hagen to explain it. He knew if he followed the coastline, France could be reached easily enough, and with a river so wide as the Seine for a landmark, they would have no trouble finding Celiese’s home, or what was left of it. That it was near Rouen disturbed him as greatly as it had Hagen, though, for he knew Hrolf was living there, and the surrounding lands were now his.
After a long nap, Celiese spent the afternoon standing at the rail, watching the coast of Denmark pass by. The country was a remarkably flat one, with only a few rolling hills, rather than the beautiful countryside backed by mountains shrouded by a lavender haze she had loved at home. She watched Mylan as he spoke with his crew. He worked them all hard, but spent long hours himself at the tiller, which had to be the most strenuous job. She was tempted to ask if he was not being foolish to waste what strength he had when the other men could have kept the ship upon a true course. He had taunted her about giving him advice and she kept still, but worried about him all the same. They sailed long past the time she had expected him to put in to shore for the night, and she was yawning sleepily when he did look for shelter.
Mylan was tired and dirty, and the last thing he wanted was Celiese’s company, but he dared not assign one of the young men of his crew the duty of seeing to her needs. He had noticed that the men’s curious stares had constantly drifted in her direction, and he had no intention of allowing any of them to befriend her, or worse. That would be all he
would need, he thought bitterly, to have the members of his crew falling all over themselves to impress her!
To make her situation clear, he would gather the men together after dinner and explain she was not on board to provide an amusement. She was a passenger and no more; that she was so pretty to look at was a distracting nuisance they would just have to ignore. He would be blunt with them. If they could not stop regarding her as a lovely female creature, he would make the fact she was his woman abundantly clear. He laughed to himself as he realized how simple a fact that would be to prove.
Hagen had given him charts as well as verbal directions and, while he did not know how reliable those drawings would prove to be, he hoped the harbors marked as safe would still be tranquil. Often what one man discovered on a voyage did not hold true for the next to follow the same route. The land did not change, but the mood of the inhabitants frequently did, and he hoped to find deserted inlets in which to sleep each night and fresh water to replenish their supply. That the weather was fair was a good omen, for it made navigation a simple matter, but if the temperatures turned cool, or if there was a fog that made the sky and sea one immense gray sphere, their progress would be slow, and the Torgvalds’ chances of overtaking them all the better.
Celiese sat on the edge of the circle of men gathered around the fire. They had eaten well and enjoyed the ale Mylan had provided in generous amounts, but she could tell from their frequent glances that her presence among them was causing undue stress. She had expected Mylan to speak with her at least, if not to spend all his time with her that evening, but he had taken a place on the far side of the circle and had not looked in her direction once. The men all had bags made of hides as he did, which they used to store their clothing in and to sleep upon at night, but while they appeared to be getting more comfortable as they lounged around the fire she felt increasingly out of place and wished there were some discreet way for her to ask Mylan where she should sleep. Finally, too tired to care about risking his disapproval, she rose to her feet, and carrying the blanket she had found aboard the Surf Falcon went to look for a secluded spot to rest.
As soon as Mylan saw Celiese disappear into the shadows, he cleared his throat and spoke convincingly. “Our passenger is always to be treated with the same respect you have shown her today. You may answer her questions should she approach you directly, and being the inquisitive sort, she just may, but do not take it upon yourselves to keep her entertained. I will take care of that responsibility myself.” With a sly grin he knew they would readily understand, he followed Celiese into the darkness, wondering why it had taken her so very long to seek some privacy in which to sleep when he could not have kept his eyes open much longer.