Beyond the Sea Mist (8 page)

“
How
?” she repeated. “I must know you’ve thought this out carefully and that your plan has some hope of success. Because of our last escape attempt, our situation is worse than ever. Croa told me he’d arranged to sell me to the local jarl, but due to my rash actions in trying to flee, the jarl changed his mind. Now we’re to be taken to the settlement of York and sold in the slave market there. Then I will be even farther from my homeland. For the entire journey, we’ll be confined to this dank, miserable hole with our wrists bound to each other. He also warned me that if I ever again tried to escape, he would have an iron thrall collar put around my neck.”

Magnus saw her shudder as she mentioned the thrall collar. He certainly understood her anguish. It would be a terrible thing to have a metal ring soldered around your neck.

“You see why I’m reluctant to trust your promise of aid,” she continued. “Not because I don’t believe your intentions are true, but because I fear that by trying to escape, we’ll end up in circumstances that are even more miserable.”

If she were unwilling to take any risk, his plan was hopeless. He would need the cooperation of her and all the other women if he were to have any possibility of rescuing them. As the frustration built inside him, he said, “Does that mean you’re resigned to your fate? Are you prepared to endure the rest of your life as some man’s bedslave? Who’s to say that your new owner won’t choose to put a thrall collar on you? There are many men, especially powerful important ones, who are cruel—even crueler than Croa. Do you want to take the chance of falling into the clutches of such a man?”

“Stop it!” Her voice rose, harsh with agony. “Of course, I want no such thing! But what can I do? Perhaps when I get an opportunity, I should throw myself overboard. Drowning seems preferable to the life you say awaits me!”

He reached out and grasped her slender arm. “I’m offering you hope. All I ask is that you trust me and do what I tell you. I don’t think your circumstances can get much worse, so you don’t risk as much as you think. Croa’s unlikely to harm you. He’s too greedy, too eager to collect the fat price you’ll fetch. And it’s not true that your sale to a Dublin jarl was nearly arranged. Croa’s found no one here willing to meet his price. He’s taking you to York in the hopes he’ll have better luck there. Somehow we must get you away before the ship sets sail.”

She drew nearer, so he could finally see her face clearly. Her gray-green eyes were pleading. “Very well. I’ll trust you. As you’ve pointed out, I have very little left to lose.” She put her delicate white hand on his chest. “But you...” she said. “You’re risking everything. Why? What do you want with me?”

Ailinn’s heart raced as she waited for the Norseman to answer. He seemed so solid and strong, and she was so desperate.

He smiled suddenly, and it was a glorious sight—his strong white teeth contrasting with the burnished tan of his skin. “I have ever felt compassion for the weak and helpless. You remind me of a beautiful, wild creature trapped in a cage. I can’t bear to see you suffer.” His smile grew rueful. “Perhaps I’m a fool because I’m not content to turn away from what everyone else accepts.”

“I don’t think you’re a fool,” she whispered. “I think you’re noble and kind.”

She took a step back, telling herself she mustn’t allow him to raise her hopes. What he planned sounded near impossible. He was only one man against Croa’s army of brutes. “You should go now,” she said. “Croa’s men mustn’t find you here.”

The Norseman nodded. “I promise I’ll return. And when I do, I’ll have a plan.” He inclined his head to her, a gesture of courtesy. Tears filled Ailinn’s eyes. It seemed a very long time since any man had treated her with deference.

“Before you leave, will you tell me your name?” she asked.

“I’m Magnus Gunnarson.”

* * *

Magnus made his way back to the ladder. Climbing part way up, he looked around. Seeing no one, he quickly hoisted himself up onto the deck. Not a moment too soon. A burly warrior came up the loading plank. He narrowed his eyes at Magnus, then pulled out his sword. “Who are you? What are you doing on this ship?”

Magnus smiled and raised his hands in placating gesture. “The guard down there will tell you I was only having a look around. I’m hoping to hire on with Croa and wanted know what the conditions are like on deck.”

The man frowned, but resheathed his sword. “Croa pays well. And the food is plentiful and decent. I haven’t any complaints.”

“That’s good to hear,” Magnus said, still wearing what he hoped was an amiable smile. He glanced around. “How large is the crew?”

The man gestured. “Twenty seamen on the other two vessels. Because of its size, this one carries thirty.”

Magnus’s heart sank. If even half of the crew were aboard tonight, freeing Ailinn would be near impossible. He needed some sort of diversion to distract the crew, or, better yet, get them off the ship. A fight? A fire in one of Croa’s warehouses?

Aye. That was it. If his property was threatened, Croa would order at least some of the crew off the ship to help put out the blaze. But even a fire wouldn’t give him much time. And he couldn’t be in two places at once. He must have help in carrying out his plan. And there was only one man he could think of who might aid him.

“A fine vessel,” Magnus said, glancing around again. “I’m more than satisfied that I’ll find serving on it agreeable.” He started toward the gangplank. The other warrior moved to let him pass by.

* * *

“You see, lady, there is hope,” murmured Brina after the Norseman left. “He not only sought us out, but promised to aid us.”

“I don’t know if I can afford to hope,” Ailinn answered bleakly.

“If anyone can save us, surely it’s this man.” Ullach whispered from behind Ailinn. “I vow, he looks like a champion out of the old legends.”

The image of the Norseman filled Ailinn’s mind. His square jaw and deep-set eyes. His sun-gilded hair and dazzling smile. Aye, he was fair enough to be the hero in a bard’s tale. And big and brawny enough as well. Although not as massive as Croa, the young Magnus might be almost as strong. In single combat between the two of them, Ailinn had no doubt Magnus would prevail.

But this would be no noble fight between the two men. If Croa realized what Magnus was up to, he would order his men to kill him. And no warrior—no matter how brave and skilled—could prevail when he was so badly outnumbered.

Ailinn was struck by the risk Magnus was taking. Could it really be true, that his tender-hearted nature compelled him to aid them? The idea astonished her. All the men she’d known in her life were single-minded and ruthless, and they despised any sort of weakness.

She sought to harden her heart against Magnus, telling herself he only wanted to get them away from Croa so he could enslave them himself. But she wasn’t able to make herself believe it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t banish the memory of the look of yearning she’d seen in his clear blue eyes.

Magnus stood in the doorway of the alehouse, which was crowded even at midday. His gaze swept past the several dozen men seated on benches around the scarred, stained plank tables, then fixed on a group squatting on the floor in the back of the room. “Orm!” he called as he made his way to his fellow crewman.

Orm looked up guiltily from the dice game. He said something to the other players, then stood and approached Magnus. “I know I promised. But the thing is, I’ve been winning.” He motioned. “Let me stay for a few more throws. I vow I’ll win enough to buy a night with a wench for both of us.” Orm’s voice grew coaxing. “We’ll find you one with reddish fair hair and green eyes. Someone who’ll make you forget all about—”

“I need your help,” Magnus interrupted.

Orm glanced back at the group of men dicing, then returned his gaze to Magnus’s. “All right. But first, let me collect my winnings.”

Orm returned to the game. There were protests and raised voices as Orm explained he was leaving, but no threat of violence. Orm returned to where Magnus waited and held out his hand, displaying a dozen pieces of silver.

“Put that away,” Magnus ordered brusquely. “You never know who might be watching. I don’t want to be followed.”

With a satisfied smirk, Orm pulled out a small money pouch and dumped his winnings inside. The two men left the alehouse and started off in the direction of the docks. Magnus glanced behind them several times. “By Odin, you’re such a fool sometimes. Any one of those men could decide to get back what he’d lost. Even as we speak, the whole lot of them might be circling around to ambush us.”

“I doubt they’d try it,” Orm responded. “I heard more than a few men talking about what you did last night.”

“Oh, and what was that?” Magnus asked, once again turning to look behind them.

“Word has spread about how you took on all three of those bastards who meant to rob me. It’s now common knowledge that you’re not a man to confront.”

Magnus grimaced. “That may be a deterrent for some men, but others will take it as a challenge. I’d hoped to avoid drawing attention to myself. The fewer people who know who Magnus Gunnarson is, the better. When I disappear from Dublin at the same time as Croa’s prisoners, I want no one to think there might be a connection.”

“What are you talking about?” Orm asked.

“I have a plan to rescue the Irishwoman, but I can’t do it alone.”

Orm halted and his eyes widened in alarm. “Magnus, I don’t think—”

“I’ll pay you.”

“You can’t believe you’ll be able to do this. Do you really think you can steal Croa’s cargo right from under his nose?”

“I think it’s possible, if I’m able to cause a big enough distraction. That’s where I need your help.”

Orm shook his head. “I know I owe you my life. But this seems terribly risky. I like women as much as the next man, yet I haven’t met one I’m willing to die for.”

“I don’t intend to die,” Magnus answered. “And your part in it is even less dangerous. All I’m asking you to do is set a fire in one of Croa’s warehouses. By the time the blaze is big enough to draw his men away from the ships, you’ll be far away from the place.”

“And where will you be?” Orm asked.

“Already on the ship and ready to rescue the women as soon as the way is clear.”

“And once you get them off the ship, what will you do?”

“There’s a small boat moored near the ship. Everyone will be looking for us on the docks. Instead, we’ll be heading down river.” Magnus grinned at Orm.

Orm didn’t grin back. “It still sounds very chancy. Even if the whole dock were ablaze, I can’t imagine all of Croa’s men will leave the ship.”

“I know I’ll probably have to deal with a few of the crew. But I’m sure I can manage.”

“You’re going to kill them?”

“Not unless I have to.”

Orm shook his head. “And all this for a woman. I’d never risk so much for any female. Not even for the amber-eyed beauty we saw this morning.”

It
was
foolhardy. Even Magnus could see that. There was no explanation for the way the Irishwoman made him feel. No way to make sense of his witless obsession with freeing her. He decided not to try. Instead, he asked Orm, “So, will you aid me?”

Orm shrugged. “Why not? I’ve nothing better to do this evening.”

* * *

“How did you find out which warehouses Croa owns?” Orm asked as they reached the jumble of buildings built along the dock.

“I snooped around until I saw a man I recognized from last night,” Magnus responded. “He was standing guard near one of the storage buildings. I’m certain it must belong to Croa.”

They walked a little farther. Magnus halted and jerked his head toward one of the buildings. “This one,” he said in a low voice. He started walking again, moving past the warehouse and nodding to the man guarding it. “It contains glassware packed in straw-filled boxes,” he added when they were out of earshot of the guard. “The straw will catch fast, then smolder for awhile. The blaze will be fairly big before anyone notices, and because this warehouse is on the end, the fire won’t spread to other buildings.”

“Are you certain Croa cares enough about one warehouse that he’ll order his crew to leave the ships?” Orm asked.

“Glassware is very valuable. Besides, he appears to own other warehouses in this area. He won’t risk all of them going up in flames.”

They criss-crossed through the maze of buildings, trying to appear as if they were taking a leisurely route back to the docks. “I learned a little more about Croa while I was dicing,” Orm said. “He’s as vicious as they come. Killed more than a few men in his time.”

“I know all this.” Magnus spoke impatiently. “None of it alters my resolve. I promised the Irishwoman I would aid her, and so I shall.”

“You spoke to her?” Orm halted.

“Aye. I boarded the vessel on the pretext of looking for Bors. I was able to enter the ship’s hold and tell her I mean to free her.”

Orm turned to face Magnus, his pale blue eyes troubled. “If you manage to pull this off, what will you do then? Do you mean to take her back to your brother’s steading and make her your wife? How will she fare there? You’ll be at sea much of the time, and she’ll end up as merely another woman in the household of your sister-by-marriage. I don’t think she’d like that. Not a high-born wench such as her.”