For Love Of Rory. Barbara Leigh

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ boats run back and forth. If I were to take one of them it is unlikely anyone would notice. I could secure the small boat to the ship and set them both on fire. Once they begin to burn, you and the women can loose your fire arrows, each from a different place so the Celts will think we are many. In the confusion take the children and escape.”

      “But how will you get back to shore if you burn your boat?” Old Ethyl’s eyes shone with admiration mingled with concern for the determined young woman she had learned to admire.

      “I can swim...some,” Serine told her. “It does not look so far.” She was not a strong swimmer, having done little more than paddle around a lake near her childhood home. “I can think of no other way.”

      Old Ethyl hitched up her skirt and shifted the bow on her shoulders. Her eye narrowed as she evaluated the situation. “Have you flint and steel in your bag?” She pointed to the bag Serine carried looped over her shoulder.

      “Aye,” Serine assured her. “And rags soaked in fat I thought to use in case we needed to light a fire to warm the children after we stole them back.”

      “Good,” Old Ethyl observed. “The other women can launch the arrows. I’ll go with you. I can swim well. Between us the deed shall be done.”

      Serine gave Old Ethyl a little hug. Tears filled her eyes as she realized how inadequate their weapons were against the might of the Celts. “Should I not return I charge you and Dame Margot with the care of my son.”

      “You have my word,” Old Ethyl promised, knowing that it was possible neither of them would live to see another dawn.

      Serine went back and conveyed the plan to the other women. Ursa and several of the youngest, swiftest women took their places behind the rocks above the camp, as Serine and Old Ethyl then made their way to the water’s edge.

      * * *

      Rory moved among the children, offering dried meat and fire bread as well as drink. “This will soon be over,” he told them in a soothing voice. “You will come to a land that is rich in beauty. You will learn skills denied you here. You will be loved and cherished. You will grow to be free men.”

      “You lie, Celt,” a boy’s voice cried out. “We will be your slaves.”

      “I do not lie, I assure you,” the man said. He offered the boy a drinking horn filled with water, but the lad batted it away. Rory recognized him as the boy who had fought with such great spirit when taken.

      “All Celts are stupid, lying dogs.” The boy spat out the words. “I am already free and you will pay for what you have done.”

      “Do not judge us by what you have heard of the past.” The man picked up the drinking horn and motioned to a nearby mercenary. “This one must be taken aboard soon lest he inspires the others to rebellion.” And with that, Rory left the children and joined his brother.

      “There were no men in the villages we raided,” Rory observed. “And I have learned from some of the more cooperative children that their fathers have gone on crusade with their king.”

      “As we suspected,” Guthrie said. “No Celt would leave his family to fend for itself while he traipsed off after a cause that the gods themselves do not understand. A man belongs with his wife and offspring, not following the banners to a desert land where he is abhorred.”

      Rory agreed. “I doubt not that if left to his own devices the boy who spoke out so bravely would grow to be like his sire, leaving his family while he fights for glory, knowing nothing but the rudiments of war.”

      “Poor sad, ignorant people,” Guthrie said self-righteously. “It is well that we have decided to take those young ones to a better life.”

      “Take special note of the lad who spoke to me.” Rory motioned toward the child. “The boy has courage. I want him. He will be my son.”

      Guthrie put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It shall be as you wish. In all the years since the plague struck down your wife and babe I have hoped you would find someone or something to care for. Perhaps our search for children will prove to be a blessing rather than a curse.”

      * * *

      Serine crouched behind a thick bush and swore under her breath. It was her son this enemy wanted for his own. It was her husband that he scorned and her home at which he scoffed. How she would love to see him burn right along with his ship. She’d show him whose way of life was inferior.

      As the men walked away Old Ethyl joined her. Seeing that Old Ethyl had stripped down to her small clothes, Serine took off her dress and stuffed it beneath the bush.

      “Wait!” Old Ethyl whispered as Serine started toward one of the little boats. The older woman darted forward, snatched up a horned helmet that had been left near the water’s edge and jammed it onto Serine’s head before they eased one of the small boats into the lapping water.

      The helmet wobbled precariously as Serine huddled into a cloak she found on the bottom of the boat. Bolstered by Old Ethyl’s whispered soliloquy—a mixture of prayer and encouragement—Serine adjusted her borrowed helmet and began rowing.

      With undaunted determination she maneuvered the boat to the rear of the ship, careful to keep well away from the path of the dragon that graced the front of the craft. Although she was a Christian, and a devout one, a part of her still feared the dragons of the sea and the men who sent them thundering through the waves. Old Ethyl made no bones about the depth of her superstition, and as the woman’s fears became more obvious Serine gave heartfelt thanks for her support.

      Only when the tiny craft huddled beneath the hull of the larger one did Old Ethyl rise from her hiding place. Working together they managed to secure a water-soaked leather thong around the rudder and quickly smeared fat onto the side of the ship.

      There was a flash of light in the rocks above the cove, quickly extinguished, but enough to let Serine know the women were ready to launch their fire arrows.

      “It is time.” Serine swallowed the words, fear boiling up from the depths of her soul.

      Sensing her fear, Old Ethyl grasped Serine’s arm. “I will be beside you,” she said. She felt some of the tension ease in Serine’s muscles. “Just as you will be beside me.” And with that last reminder Old Ethyl let go her hold, but the bond between them had been sealed. Succeed or fail, they would do so together.

      Sending up a prayer, Serine struck flint to steel and caught the spark on an oil-soaked wick. When the little flame flared, she put it to the fat and watched it catch and burn.

      Silently they slipped into the water and moved as quickly as possible to be well away when the bag, the cloak and the boat burst into flames that licked greedily at the larger vessel.

      Serine swam as quickly as she could, but it was not fast enough. Time and again Old Ethyl outpaced her and was forced to return to the younger woman’s side. The flaming boat cast a glow over the water. It would be only a matter of time before she was seen and captured.

      “It is your clothing that holds you back,” Ethyl said. “Remove it, or we are lost.”

      It was an order, not a request. Seeing the wisdom of Ethyl’s words, Serine held her breath, dived beneath the water and shed the remainder of her clothing. Freed from the binding restriction, СКАЧАТЬ