The Maiden's Abduction. Juliet Landon

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СКАЧАТЬ watering her maid with some of their precious ration, then suffering the inevitable consequences only moments later, Isolde clutched a blanket tightly around herself and left the cabin in an attempt to reassure herself that land did exist. A fine line of blue stretched across the horizon below the clouds. ‘There!’ she called to the master. ‘Look! Is that it?’

      He came through the door beneath the forecastle where she understood his cabin to be and joined her, cheerily. ‘That’s a bit o’ blue sky, mistress. We might get a bit o’ sun later, and a good westerly, by the feel o’ things.’

      ‘But that will blow us away from Hull, won’t it? I thought we’d have been within reach of Hull by now.’

      ‘Eh…no. We shan’t be seeing Hull today.’ He laughed, not bothering to explain. ‘I’ll send ye some food up, mistress, seeing as you’re awake already. Did ye not sleep so well?’

      ‘Not much,’ she said, frowning.

      ‘Aye, well. It’s always worse on’t first night. Better tonight, eh?’

      Disappointed, she returned to the cabin and made an effort to straighten it, and when the cabin boy brought the tray tried with her most beguiling smile and a toss of her glorious red hair to bedazzle him. ‘Who does this ship belong to?’ she said, sweetly, taking the tray from him.

      ‘Master Silas Mariner, mistress. He’s the owner.’

      ‘Silas Mariner? Ah, easier to say than La Vallon, yes?’

      ‘Yes, mistress.’

      ‘And where did you berth before you went to Scarborough?’

      Like a man, he took the full force of her green eyes, smiled, and said, ‘Sorry, mistress. If I want to keep my job, I have to keep my mouth shut.’ He bowed, and closed the door quietly.

      It was mid-day when Isolde tried yet again to elicit some information regarding direction, distance, time of arrival—anything concerning land or the lack of it. She made another attempt mid-afternoon, and again in the evening, by which time Master Silas Mariner-La Vallon had failed to return to his cabin in the forecastle before she appeared on deck.

      ‘I realise that you are doing your best to avoid me, Master La Vallon,’ Isolde said, as he turned to make a polite bow, ‘and I am grateful for that. However, there is a problem which I need to discuss.’

      ‘You are mistaken, mistress. I was not avoiding you but waiting for you. And I am aware of your problem. My crew are well trained. They have to be.’

      The fear and anger that she had tried since dawn to contain took another leap into her chest, making her feel as if she had bumped into something solid. Her legs felt weak, but she allowed herself to be led over coils of rope and across the drying deck into his cabin, which was not the master’s, after all. It was larger than hers, but wedge-shaped, the table piled with papers and instruments, ledgers, quills and inkpots.

      As the cabin dipped and rose again, she held on to a wooden pillar and waited until he had closed the door before turning to him. Her voice held more than a hint of panic, which she had not intended. ‘For the fiftieth time of asking, sir, where are we?’ The words seemed to come from far away, adding to the sense of unreality that had dogged her all day, and, in the exaggerated pause between question and answer, she saw that he, too, had discarded the earlier formal attire for the barest essentials of comfort. His shirt, a padded doublet of soft plum-coloured leather and tight hose were his only concessions to the North Sea’s cutting edge.

      ‘I will show you,’ he said. He brought forward a roll of parchment from a pile on the table and weighted its corners with a sextant, a conch shell, a glass of wine and one hand. ‘There…’ he pointed to the eastern coastline ‘…there is Scarborough, and this is where we are now, down here, see?’ His finger trailed southwards, passing Hull, where Isolde had expected to enter the estuary of the River Humber in order to reach York on the Ouse. His finger stopped some distance from the coast of Norfolk, nowhere near land.

      Isolde felt herself trembling, but pulled herself up as tall as she could despite the tightness in her lungs. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t see. I don’t see at all. What’s happened? Have we been blown off course by the storm? Is that it?’

      Silas allowed the roll to spring back, and she knew by his slow straightening, his watchful air, his whole stance, that he was preparing for her reaction. His shaking head confirmed that there was more to come. ‘No, mistress, there was no storm last night. That was just weather. We are on course.’

      ‘On course for where? Hull is behind us now.’

      ‘Yes. We are heading for Flanders. We always were.’

      The room swam.

      ‘No,’ she said, breathless now. ‘No, sir. You may be, but I am not heading for Flanders. Turn this ship round immediately. Immediately! Do you hear me?’ She whirled, heading for the door, the master, anybody. But once again he was there before her, and this time, with no one to witness, he caught her in a bear hug and swung her round to face him, wedging her against the door with his body. All the defences that she had been taught, which were supposed to be crippling to an attacker, were useless, for her feet were somewhere to the side, her hands were splayed above her head, and the shock had numbed her. Worse still, the reality which had been hovering out of reach all day now descended with cruel precision, wounding her, making this new and frightening restraint all the more unbearable.

      She fought him with all her strength, refusing to call for help. This was his ship. These were his men. No one would interfere. She was more alone than she had ever been before, and her anger roared in her ears. ‘I was a fool to trust you,’ she snarled, twisting in his grip. ‘I was a fool. You and your confounded brother. I should have seen what was happening. This is for Felicia, isn’t it? And I walked straight into the trap. Fool…fool…what an idiot!’

      ‘If that’s what you want to believe, believe it,’ he said, drawing her hands slowly down to the small of her back. ‘It makes little difference what you believe, except that you’re going to Flanders.’

      ‘I’m not going anywhere with you!’

      ‘You’d have gone anywhere with my brother.’

      ‘I would not! I had no intention of staying in York with him: I was using him to get away from that place, that’s all. Otherwise I would never consort with a La Vallon.’

      ‘You’ll consort with the La Vallons whether you like it or not, wench.’ He lifted her easily, as he would have done a child. ‘And you’re wrong again. My brother is no part of my plans.’

      ‘I don’t believe you. Put me down! No…oh, no!’ The soft bed hit her with a thud from behind and then, as she rolled away, the panelled wall cracked into her forehead. Stunned and utterly confused, she felt him pull her back and capture her wrist, tucking her other arm safely behind his back where she felt only a broad expanse of silky leather. Immediately his long legs and body were sprawled across her, holding her immobile and shaming her by their closeness. His brother had never been as close to her as this. Never.

      With closed eyes and clenched jaws, she waited for what she was sure would happen next, though she had no details to guide her. When all she experienced was the deep rocking of the ship nosing its way through the water and the rhythmic thud-thud on the sides, she opened them, warily.

      He was leaning СКАЧАТЬ