Lord of Hawkfell Island (Viking Era 2)

“So,” Rorik said, “she saw their steps and is trying to copy them to lead us astray.”

“Aye,” Gurd said, and spat in a mess of leaves, “now you’ll be saying that she cut herself to mix her blood with theirs to confuse us all the more.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised at anything she would do,” Rorik said. “I will tell all of you again, but you, Gurd, you will really listen to my words. Mirana is smart; she knows guile, she sleeps with cunning close to her breast.”

“Aye,” Askhold said, his eyes gleaming. “You were right, Rorik. She has a man’s brain. Hold your thoughts to yourself, Gurd, they are useless to you and to us.”

Gurd looked both furious and uncertain, an unusual combination in the blacksmith, who had always known the way of things even when he was in the wrong. Then he just shook his head, and held his tongue.

Rorik said nothing more. He walked back to the beach and sat down two feet beyond the water line. He stared over the water, at the roiling heavy waves, churning and crashing onto the dirty sand.

His men looked at each other, but said nothing.

Rorik sat there quietly for some minutes. Then he rose, stretched, and said in surely an overloud voice, “Hafter, you will stay with me.” He divided the other men into two groups and told them what to do, again, his voice loud and carrying. They looked at him oddly, but nodded.

“And where will we go?” Hafter said, watching the other men disappear into the trees.

Rorik didn’t look at him as he said quietly, “We will go into the maple woods just yon. Then we will double back and go over there, just beyond the point, and hide behind those black rocks.”

Hafter started to laugh, then he frowned, and slowly, his eyes never leaving Rorik’s face, he, like the other men, nodded. “So that is why you nearly yelled in our ears.”

“Aye,” Rorik said, and grinned. “Now, let’s make a good show of it.”

The two men slung water bags over their shoulders, arranged their weapons, strapped small packets of food to their waists, then strode toward the woods in the opposite direction of the other two groups. They looked purposeful; they looked determined. They looked ready to search until they collapsed from exhaustion.

“Patience,” Mirana said, lightly tugging back on Entti’s sleeve.

“But they’ve been gone a very long time.”

“Not long at all,” Mirana said. “Rorik is smart as a snake. Doubt it not. I don’t trust him.”

“He’s a man and thus he believes women are weak and silly and without subtlety. He and Hafter are at least a mile from here now. You saw how he gave the other men orders, you saw how they walked—so sure of themselves—the direction they took. Let us go, Mirana. What if those men we wounded return with others? They will kill us, do not doubt it.”

Entti was right, but still Mirana didn’t like it. The sun was shining again, the bulging gray rain clouds dispersing, and she knew they could gain distance from Rorik in the warship, even with just the two of them rowing, but still, she didn’t trust him. She didn’t know why she felt so strongly, but she did. Why would Rorik leave no one to guard the warships? Aye, that was it, that was why she knew, simply knew that something wasn’t as it appeared to be. And why had he spoken so loudly? Still, Entti was right. If the men they’d wounded returned with others, they would be in grave trouble.

Entti said, “We will steal the food from their warship and then cut it adrift. We will escape them for good this time. They know we are holding close to shore. Did you not tell me there were several large islands just off the coast? We could hide amongst the inlets. That would confuse them if somehow they managed to regain their warship, if somehow they managed to keep after us.”

Mirana sighed, for Entti was speaking to her with a bit of sarcasm, as one would to a stubborn child. She smiled at the irony of it. “You’re right and your plan is a good one. Perhaps it is time. Perhaps I am wrong about Rorik this time, ah, but it vexes me, Entti.”

“You worry overmuch. I feel so itchy to move, I think I’ll scream if I have to hide here a moment longer. There are sand fleas here, Mirana.”

She and Mirana rose and stretched, then walked slowly forward, peering through the dense foliage onto the beach. There was no one to be seen, not in any direction. It was silent. Odom and Erm were probably back at their farmsteads, getting more men together. She’d been surprised that they could move so quickly with their wounds, but they were running from the beach the moment they’d seen Rorik and his men leap over the side of their longboat into the surf. Entti was right. They had to leave and they had to do it quickly. It made no difference that Rorik had left both warships unguarded.

“All right,” she said. “Quickly, Entti!” They bolted from the cover of the trees and ran as fast as they could toward the longboats.

“Hurry, Entti, fetch whatever there is from Rorik’s warship, but move quickly!”

She herself was pushing with all her strength at the bow of Rorik’s warship, grunting as it eased very slowly on the wet sand toward the water. She felt fear pounding through her, and strength she didn’t know she had. She pushed harder, then harder still. A huge wave burst onto the sand and the warship finally slid forward toward the water.

Entti shouted that she’d found water skins, food bags and weapons. She was crowing, rubbing her hands together, smiling as Mirana had never seen her smile before. “Aye, perhaps I’ll leave Hafter his sword. It has that fool’s blood on it. Aye, here’s a clean one I’ll take!”

“Hurry, Entti!”

“Mirana, they’re leagues from here. You give Rorik too much credit. He isn’t a god, he’s just a man, like all the other men. Stop your fretting.”

“No, Entti, you’re quite wrong.”

At the sound of Rorik’s voice, Mirana felt herself grow very still. She felt suddenly very cold. She’d known, by all the gods, she’d known how smart he was, how treacherous.