Читать книгу Stolen Away - Christopher Dinsdale - Страница 9

The village gathered in the sombre stillness of the predawn twilight. The silence was shattered as the half-dozen ropes that extended across the river suddenly snapped tight, and the air was filled with grunts and shouts of encouragement. The boat reluctantly inched its way out of its comfortable home, sliding over the wet, grassy meadow and towards the waiting water. As the keel touched then slurped into the muddy embankment of the river, the ship gained speed. With a splash, the nose and hull gracefully slipped into the calm river. The villagers cheered. They pulled the ship alongside the village dock and extended a wide gangplank across to the midship's gunwale. The men and women formed a chain and began to load the mountain of packed provisions onto the ship.

The rising sun winked above the horizon, setting the majestic ocean ablaze with deep crimson. The men gave their loved ones a tender hug and said their goodbyes. Kiera stood quietly at the edge of the crowd, looking off into the distance. A hand came to rest on her shoulder. She turned and looked into the kind eyes of Dagmar. Lorna, still sleepy, clung to her mother's leg.

“We will miss you.”

“And I you,” she said, half-smiling.

“Please don't go,” begged Lorna. She looked forlorn.

Kiera smiled, grabbed her under the arms and lifted her up. Lorna wrapped herself around Kiera's neck and buried her face in her auburn hair. Kiera gently stroked her head.

“Listen, Lorna, the village needs you. You will have to be a good helper to your mother while I'm away. And when I get back, I want you to show me your weaving. Finish the basket that we started before I return, and I will be very impressed.”

Lorna nodded, her face still crestfallen.

“Are you well?” Dagmar asked. “You've been so quiet.”

Kiera shrugged and looked down. “You know how I feel about boats. I'll be glad when we get back.”

“Well, think of it as an adventure. The men certainly do. They haven't even set sail yet, and already they're singing sagas about the great deeds they think they will accomplish.”

Keira sighed, looked up and tried to smile. “Thanks. I'll try.”

“And you still have my needles?”

She patted her skirt. “Right here in the hem.”

“Well,” Dagmar stepped forward and embraced her. “Good luck.”

Kiera held onto Dagmar, her heart aching, wishing she could feel towards her now what she had felt only a day earlier.

“I'll be back soon.”

She gave Lorna a final kiss on the forehead. “Don't you grow up on me while I am away.”

Lorna nodded, a tear trickling down her cheek.

“Kiera, let's go!”

Thorfinn was shouting from the stern of the boat. Already the men were on board and making the final preparations for departure. Kiera grabbed her sack of clothing and ran for the walkway. As soon as she had stepped over the side, the remaining men pulled the gangplank back to shore. The boat started to drift downriver. Thorfinn, manning the large, paddle-shaped rudder that was attached to the side of the stern, worked the boat towards the middle of the waterway.

Kiera moved to the front of the boat and took her seat, facing backwards, at the right front oar. Never in the villagers' memories had a woman ever been given the duty of rowing a longboat alongside Viking men, and from the looks that she was receiving from the eleven others, her adventure was about to start as soon as she touched the rough handle floating in front of her. Beside her, manning the opposite oar, sat Mats. She swallowed hard. The last thing she wanted was to look like a fool in front of him. She grabbed hold of the handle with both hands.

“Ready, men…Steady the oars. On my count…heave!”

The oars dipped into the water, and every set of arms hauled hard on the handles.

“Heave!”

Kiera could feel the ship accelerate as she grunted with each pull.

“Heave!”

Through the oar hole, she could see the riverbank zip by. She was amazed at the speed they had already achieved.

“Heave!”

They only rowed for a short while, but to Kiera, it felt like an entire day had already passed. Not used to such exertion, the muscles in her forearms had tightened into fiery knots. When Thorfinn finally told them to stow the oars, the command could not have come soon enough. Her arms shook, and she barely had the strength left to pull in the heavy piece of lumber and store it on the floor of the open hull.

“Prepare the sail!”

Kiera had been rehearsing her duties all the previous evening with several of the other sailors. For practice, they had rigged one of the other boats still in need of repair. Thorfinn had shown her how to tie the sail lines off to the wooden stays located on either side of the bow. She had to learn many new sailing terms such as starboard, port, come about, release, trim and hoist so that she could respond to Thorfinn's commands and become a seamless part of the crew. As the sail was hoisted up the length of the mast, Kiera took a deep breath and focused on the two ropes to the side of her.

“Haul in the starboard lines!”

Kiera quickly unwrapped the forward rope from the starboard stay. Using the stay as a pulley, she hauled in the rope as quickly as possible, trying her best to ignore her complaining arm muscles.

“Trim the bowline!” Thorfinn howled. She hauled in the second rope. “Again! Again! Good! Stave off the line and secure the portside.”

Kiera's hands worked quickly, making both lines taut. The skin of her palms began to smoulder from the rough surface of the rope. She nearly lost her balance as the wind caught the sail, and the boat leapt ahead like a freed stallion. The crew shouted a whoop of joy. These were the descendents of the one of the greatest sailing nations ever to grace the open ocean. Ocean water ran in their veins. Kiera noticed the joy in their eyes as they shook their fists in the air and smacked each other on the back.

“A toast to a good voyage!” Thorfinn shouted.

Another whoop from the crew. Bjorn removed the cover of a cask filled with warm ale and lowered a large wooden stein into the liquid. The stein was passed to Thorfinn, who hoisted it up in salute to the gods, downed several large swallows, then passed it on to the next man. Eventually, the mug made its way to Mats, who had his pull, then handed it on to Kiera.

“Good work with the lines,” he commented. “You keep working like that, and the rest of the boys will soon learn that you are as capable as any of them.”

“Thanks, Mats,” she said, smiling. She couldn't deny a certain tingle of excitement building within her. She let go of the anger and disappointment that had been eating within her all night. Perhaps this was to become a real adventure after all. She looked down into the mug.

“I've never had ale before.”

He laughed and pointed to all of the casks in the stern. “Might as well get used to it. It's our main provision. Besides, I can guarantee it will help kill the pain you're feeling right now in your arms. Don't worry. Mine are aching too. Most of us haven't been out to sea in over a year.”

She smiled at the kind words. She was thirsty. She brought the warm, brown liquid to her lips and downed several swallows before the thick ale in her throat and belly caused her to gag. She couldn't swallow and ended up spraying the remainder of the ale out of her mouth. Mats put up his hands too late, and his face received a shower of suds.

Kiera was horrified. “I'm so sorry!”

Instead of anger, Mats burst out laughing.

“You downed half of it before gagging. For a first-timer, that's an accomplishment!”

The rest of the crew had been watching the scene in the bow with amusement.

“Don't laugh too hard, Mats,” quipped Bjorn. “I remember your first ale. You turned as green as seaweed and didn't eat for two days. I'd say she's faring a lot better than you!”

The second burst of laughter turned Mats' fair cheeks into a flame of red. Kiera didn't want to see him teased but couldn't help but join the merriment as well.

“If it's all right with Thorfinn, I think I'll stick with water for the rest of the trip.”

“Of course,” replied Thorfinn. “The lady gets whatever she wants. And you're doing an excellent job on those bow lines. Good work, Kiera!”

Thorfinn's eyes suddenly narrowed as he gazed at the sea ahead.

“Wind change! North, northwest! Prepare to come about. Release the starboard lines! Prepare portside!”

The jovial mood of the crowd evaporated with the commands. Kiera dumped the rest of the ale overboard, threw down the mug and grabbed the lines. Together the crew worked like a well-oiled machine, listening to the commands, guiding the boat onto her new course and continuing their coastline trek southward.