A Flame Put Out (19 page)

Chapter 19

The blisters on Selia’s hands had broken and now the dampness on the oars felt more like blood than seawater. The pain was excruciating. But she couldn’t allow herself to focus on it—they still had more work ahead of them. They had returned to Alrik’s farmstead for the final step in the escape plan.

She was in one of the small boats with Eydis, and the boys were in the other. Ingrid had attached the dragonship to the boats with ropes and they were attempting to drag it out of the bay. They had tried, unsuccessfully, to row the dragonship itself. After struggling with it, they had decided to try to drag it out of the harbor instead. It was moving, now, but slowly.

As soon as Alrik realized they were gone he would gather the men together and head to Bjorgvin in the dragonship. He was clever enough to know Selia and Ingrid wouldn’t hide in Norway, but would instead travel to Ireland to warn Ainnileas his life was in danger. And to do that they would need to go to Bjorgvin to buy passage. Selia was certain Alrik wouldn’t travel to Bjorgvin by horseback. He would go by water in case they had already made their escape, to be better equipped to pursue them.

So it was vital Alrik not have access to his ship. Burning it would be easier but the flames would alert the thralls. They were so fearful of Alrik, one of them would ride to Ketill’s farmstead to let him know what happened. And that would reduce the time Selia had to get out of Norway. So the plan was to drag the ship into the open water, unfurl the sails, and hope it ended up somewhere far away.

Ingrid had stripped down to her shift and was in the dragonship, attempting to steer it. Although she claimed to know what she was doing, it was obvious she had overestimated her abilities. The ship listed hard, scraping into Selia’s boat, and Selia cried out and gripped the sides for a moment. Stupid Ingrid. She knew Selia couldn’t swim.

Faolan’s anxious voice could be heard in the darkness, from the other boat. “Are you all right, Mother?”

“Yes. Be careful, boys.”

Ingrid leaned over the rail of the ship and called out to them in a rough whisper, “Untie the boats and move out of the way. I’m going to try to raise the sail.”

Selia’s hands felt clumsy and numb as she struggled to untie the rope. Eydis helped her with small, nimble fingers, and finally the rope was free. The boys untied their own boat and rowed over to Selia and Eydis. Balancing carefully, each stepped into Selia’s boat, and Geirr took the oars from her.

Faolan’s face looked wan in the moonlight. He had helped Geirr with the other boat and it had obviously been too much exertion for him. Selia brushed his hair out of his eyes and Faolan caught sight of her hand. “
Mamai
, you’re bleeding!”

Selia examined the raw skin of her palms and gave Faolan a rueful smile. “It’s all right. I’ll have to toughen them up or no one will believe I’m a thrall.”

There was a flapping sound as the sail unfurled and caught the wind. The dragonship began to move through the cleft in the cliffs and toward the open sea. It was moving too fast for Geirr to keep up, so Selia took one of the oars from him and they both rowed the boat after the dragonship. Each pull of the oar was agonizing but Selia bit her lip to keep quiet. If she showed any sign of pain Faolan would insist on helping.

Suddenly a long, white hand gripped the side of the boat, and Ingrid’s smiling face peered up at them from the water. She was enjoying herself. “There it goes,” she said with satisfaction. Her eyes followed the dragonship as it sailed away. “Let’s hope the sea smashes it to bits.”

Selia and Ingrid took turns rowing all night. Eydis curled into a ball on the floor of the boat and went to sleep. Finally Faolan and Geirr nodded off as well. Ingrid had brought an extra shift, knowing there was a distinct possibility of her having to swim tonight. She tore her wet shift into strips, and she and Selia tied the strips around their hands so they could continue rowing.

Selia had been to Bjorgvin twice with Alrik since their marriage, once for a funeral and once for the wedding of Gudrun’s son. But they had gone on horseback so she didn’t know the way by boat. Ingrid claimed if they just stayed near land they would eventually end up in Bjorgvin, but dawn had come and gone with no sign of the city. Should it be taking this long? Selia was exhausted and in pain, and if she didn’t need Ingrid for the rest of the journey she would have kicked her overboard.

At last they rounded a massive cliff overhang and came upon Bjorgvin. Selia stopped rowing for a moment and gazed at the sight, smiling. The city seemed to nearly sparkle in the early morning light. Or perhaps she was just so relieved to finally arrive, her mind was playing tricks on her.

The docks were bustling. Dozens of ships lined the harbor and hundreds of people hastened along with purpose, hauling cargo onto some ships and off others. Huge nets of fish were being dumped into carts and transported up through the winding streets of Bjorgvin on their way to the market. Shouts and calls could be heard above the general din of the harbor.

Selia’s grin widened as she saw the number of ships docked. Surely one of them would be leaving for Dubhlinn this morning. Their luck had held, after all.

“Stop smiling like that,” Ingrid snapped. “You’re supposed to be a thrall. And a simpleton.”

“You said I’m not supposed to talk. Now I can’t even smile?”

With a voice obviously female, her Norse still carried the lilt of her native language. To further the disguise, Ingrid had decided Selia should not speak for the entire journey. And they would use the now-obvious dent in her skull as the excuse for her muteness.

“No.” Ingrid retorted. “You can’t. Thralls don’t smile.” They pulled up to one of the unused docks and Ingrid tied the boat to it. She smoothed the tangles out of her hair with her fingers and turned to Selia. “How do I look?”

Ingrid’s pale blond hair flowed over her shoulders, glorious even after her swim in the ocean. The color was high in her cheeks and her eyes flashed with excitement. The loose tresses made her look younger than twenty-two, but her face was that of a strong and confident woman. She was the perfect female version of Alrik, and every man on the dock would notice her.

Which was why they had to leave quickly. This morning, if possible. The longer they stayed in Bjorgvin the greater the likelihood of being noticed by someone who knew Alrik Ragnarson. Someone who would be able to tell Alrik exactly what ship they had left on.

“You look beautiful. Be careful someone doesn’t try to carry you off. We can’t do this without you.”

Ingrid smirked, but it was obvious she felt pleased to be so necessary. “Don’t fret, thrall-boy. I’ll find a ship for us and be right back.”

Ingrid was gone for a worrisome time. The gnawing anxiety in Selia’s belly returned and she watched the docks with furtive glances when the children weren’t looking. They were restless and hungry, so Selia got out the bundle of food she had packed and gave them hunks of bread and cheese. With full bellies, Faolan and Eydis settled into the bottom of the boat and went back to sleep. Geirr stayed alert, seated next to Selia.

“It will be all right,
Mamai
,” he assured her as Selia studied the harbor once again. Geirr took her hand. “Everything will be all right. We will go to Ireland and we will find your brother. And your hair will grow back.”

Selia’s eyes grew misty. “You are a good boy, Geirr. I am so proud of how brave you are.” She withdrew her hand. “But you must remember I’m a thrall now. Not your mother. Ingrid is your mother until we get to Dubhlinn. We will all be in danger if anyone learns the truth.”

Geirr’s lip trembled and he nodded. Selia felt as though her heart would break. She couldn’t even comfort her own son.

Suddenly Ingrid stomped up and climbed back into the boat. She sat in silence for a moment, clearly upset, glaring at the expanse of water as though too disgusted to speak.

“Well?” Selia asked. “What took you so long?”

Ingrid huffed out a breath. “All these ships,” she groused, waving her hand across the water for dramatic effect, “are
fishing boats
.”

“Why does that matter?”

“It matters because fishing boats do not sail to Ireland. They catch fish and they sell it at market. In Bjorgvin.”

Selia studied the harbor. There were numerous fishing boats, to be sure, but others that looked different—more like Alrik’s dragonship. “Ingrid,” she said, growing impatient, “they’re not all fishing boats. There is a longship. And there is another one.”

“Yes, Selia. I’m not a fool. But those ships have returned from their journey and aren’t leaving again. Only one ship soon leaves for Dubhlinn.”

Selia’s anger began to rise. “Why didn’t you just say so? Did you buy passage?”

“I did.”

“Let’s go, then.” Selia began to pack their remaining supplies back into the satchel. Truly, if she made it to Ireland without killing Ingrid it would be a miracle. As usual, the girl was being purposely difficult just for the sake of getting a rise out of her.

Ingrid reached for her arm and the look on her face made Selia pause. Ingrid swallowed. “We’re going to Ireland on Gunnar One-Eye’s ship.”

Selia gawped, open-mouthed. She tried to speak and nothing came out but a stutter. Had Ingrid gone completely mad? The girl knew who Gunnar One-Eye was. She knew the long and sordid history between Gunnar and Alrik. She knew Gunnar had met Selia when he had come to the farmstead long ago and Hrefna had given them shelter from a storm.

How could Ingrid possibly think it was a good idea to travel to Ireland on a ship full of ruthless pirates, whose leader would relish the chance to obtain his revenge against Alrik Ragnarson? Would not torturing and killing Alrik’s family be suitable revenge? Or selling them all into slavery?

Unless there was something Ingrid wasn’t saying.

A spark of hope flickered in Selia’s heart. “Please tell me Ulfrik is still sailing with Gunnar,” she breathed.

“No. Of course not—I would have told you that. Your lover is gone, Selia. He’s not going to help us.”

Selia had to restrain herself from slapping Ingrid. “Then you have lost your mind! I’m not putting my children on a ship with Gunnar One-Eye! How long do you think it will take him to realize who we are? Go right now and get our silver back. We will find another ship!”

Ingrid shook her head. “Did you not hear me when I said there is no other ship? We’re lucky to even get passage with Gunnar. He planned to leave at dawn but one of his men was missing and they had to find him.”

“No,” Selia argued. “It won’t work. They will discover who we are and kill us all.”

“The only one of us they’ve met is you. And you weren’t a little thrall boy then, were you?”

“You look like Alrik, Ingrid! How do you plan to explain that?”

“I already have. I told Gunnar my mother is Dagrun Ragnarsdottir and my father is Elfrad Audunarson. Dagrun’s husband. There is no love lost between Elfrad and my father.”

“What do you mean?”

“They had a falling out. Before I was born. Hrefna told me they hate each other. So I am now Alrik Ragnarson’s niece, not his daughter. Gunnar asked me about Alrik and I said I had never met him and never intended to. I told him I was embarrassed to name him as uncle and that my father had threatened to kill him if he ever set foot in his house again. So Gunnar has no reason to take his revenge against us. Why would he hurt us when we hate his enemy as much as he does?”

At Selia’s silence Ingrid added, “I told Gunnar I was a widow and was traveling with my three children and a thrall to my father’s house in Dubhlinn. I have paid Gunnar half and told him my father Elfrad will pay him the remainder when we arrive safely. So everything will be fine, you will see.”

“How do you know Gunnar or Einarr Drengsson won’t recognize me?”

“You’re a thrall, Selia—they won’t even notice you. Who notices a thrall?”

Selia felt sick. She and her children were about to board a warship led by her husband’s greatest enemy. A man who would take untold delight in throwing them all into the sea and sailing away. Or worse, even, than that, for there were things far more heinous than killing. Selia had heard when raiding, Gunnar slaughtered everyone except the most beautiful women and children. There were depraved men who bought slave children, both boys and girls, with the intention of using them to fulfill their baser desires. Hadn’t Muirin been sold to a brothel when she was still a child?

Three small faces stared at Selia, waiting for her decision. So innocent, and so beautiful. The thought of any harm coming to them was a knife in Selia’s belly. But if they didn’t go with Gunnar now they might not get another chance. Alrik could already be on his way to Bjorgvin, looking for them. This was it, then. There was no other choice.

Selia took a deep breath. “All right. We haven’t any more options. But we all need to be on our guard—one slip and we’re dead.” Selia turned to the children. “Listen carefully. You must not look at me or speak to me for the remainder of the journey. Ingrid is your mother and I am only a thrall. And we must think of new names for all three of you.”

“Why?” Faolan asked.

“Because Gunnar Klaufason is very clever.” Selia looked over at Ingrid. “Did Gunnar ask you your husband’s name?”

“No.”

“He will. So think of a name and the details of where you lived. You must memorize it, all of you, and answer without hesitation. Or he will know you’re lying.”