The door of the shed banged on its leather hinges. Frode’s son came out and headed for them.
As tall as his father he was, and twice as broad. A veritable ox of a man. He had light-brown hair and, as Hulda saw when he came close enough, two light-brown eyes.
“Bjarni,” Frode said, “these fellows are going to buyFreya. They will help us get her ready quickly, ja?”
“Ja, Faðir,” Bjarni said. He turned incredulous eyes on them one by one, lingering on Hulda’s face the longest.
“I am not saying it will be easy, mind,” Frode went on, and spat. “But Bjarni here is good for lifting.”
Hulda just bet her was. The name suited him, his being big as a bear.
“And I have the skill we need in my head, my hands. The three of you will do the grunt work, eh?” Frode continued.
“There may be others,” Garik said, “to have a share in the venture.”
“We still have to agree upon a price,” Hulda interjected. “If we are to supply labor, it should be less.”
“But there is the matter of time.” Frode eyed her. “I shall need to work day and night to finish in a fortnight.”
“Faðir—” Bjarni began.
“Hush, lad. We are doing business.” The old man squinted at the boat again and seemed to come to a conclusion. “She is doing no good moored there and would be better off about her adventures.” He named a price that made Hulda suck in her breath. One even she could afford.
“Agreed,” she, Garik, and Helje said all at once. At such a price, they could keep the venture among the three of them and no doubt share the spoils.
“Faðir,” Bjarni said again, more forcefully, his gaze fixed on Hulda, “she is very pretty, is she not?”
Old Frode stared at Hulda and seemed suddenly to tumble to the truth of her gender. The ensuing look on his face made Garik begin to laugh. Helje joined in and then they were all laughing.
A good beginning, Hulda acknowledged. Mayhap it would be a successful venture after all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bjarni became Hulda’sshadow, at her elbow so often while she worked upon theFreya, she sometimes bumped into him. He had developed a fancy for her, that much was plain to see, and no matter how she tried to dissuade him, he would not be put off.
The other men thought it was funny. Hulda did not, since she never went out of her way to play with anyone’s feelings.
It did, however, have its advantages. Bjarni was always at hand to do the heavy lifting, and she came to like him—the way she might a slightly perplexing younger brother, perhaps. She had absolutely no romantic feelings for anyone, save—
Nei, do not think of him.
She spent her days working hard on theFreya, learning more about boats than she’d ever intended, and both her days and nightsnotthinking of Quarrie MacMurtray. The second proved much harder than the first.
What was it about the man? He was just a man.
Nei.
When she grew tired and doubtful and annoyed with her companions, when she became uncertain about the crew she and Garik selected—young men, all—she told herselfFreyawas her means of getting back to Scotland. Eventually. And she labored on.
Her hands grew rough, her hair tangled, her body sore. For diversion from the hard work, she took some members of the newly selected crew aside for sword work. To measure theirskills, she told Garik, but it was more than that. As a woman, particularly, she had to keep her own abilities at fever pitch. It was one of the things Jute had taught her.
“Systir, everyone who comes up against you will expect you to fail, ja? You will have to be twice as quick as the men, and three times as clever.”
Her brother had been a wise man. Every time she picked up a sword or axe, she missed him.
The new crew, gathered mostly from Garik and Helje’s friends and acquaintances, had never sailed with her and were not familiar with the notion of sailing under a female’s command. So mayhap the truth was, at sword practice she also sought to show them of what she was made.
To a man, they were impressed. She heard them muttering about it to themselves and each other later.
