He did not wait for an answer from the younger man, but quickly grabbed an old cloak by the door and threw it over Brenna’s shoulders, then left the house, pulling her behind him with the rope. She felt degraded and helpless, like a poor trussed-up animal. How dare they treat her like this?
Brenna was led along the side of the house, past the cell where she had spent one wretched night, to the front of the house. She was more confused than ever, and frustration and anger further prevented her from thinking clearly. They started down the steep cliff path to the landing below. There Brenna saw Garrick’s ship, awesomely proud, floating on the smooth waters of the fjord like a sleeping dragon. Beside it and just as impressive was another huge Viking ship.
She was deposited on this second ship, and in no time at all it moved slowly away from the landing, away from possible rescue, away from Garrick. Brenna fought the panic that rose to overwhelm her. Where were they taking her? And more important, for what reason?
She watched the Vikings closely. The current carried the ship along with it, yet the two men still struggled with the oars. If they had come from the direction they were headed now, she wondered how they had possibly managed to fight against the current. Why bring such a large ship to steal a single slave when a small boat would have sufficed?
Brenna saw the reason for it when she surveyed the empty ship and found it was not so empty. In the shadows behind her she made out the shape of a horse. Since she was not tied to anything to restrict her movements, she moved closer and finally recognized Willow.
This was even more confusing. Garrick had many fine animals. If these Vikings were pirates, thieves in their own land, why did they take only one horse and one slave?
Brenna reached every imaginable conclusion about her predicament, and all were disheartening. She waited eagerly for the Vikings to speak, to give her more information, but they were silent, bent on their task. At least she was not being taken out to sea. They had gone inland and now reached a landing on the opposite side of the fjord.
As she and Willow were taken off the ship, she looked dismally out at the deep water of the fjord. Even if she managed to escape from these men, how could she possibly return to Garrick? She could never man this ship alone, nor could she attempt to swim back to safety, for she did not know how to swim.
Two horses were tethered near the landing. Brenna was lifted up onto Willow’s bare back and after the men climbed on their own mounts, they started to ride in the direction they had come from, back toward the sea. After going only a short way they turned south, away from the fjord, further away from Garrick.
Garrick. What would he do when he found her gone? With Willow gone also, would he think she had run away again? The thought might come to him, but he would reject it. She had given her word not to escape him, so he must conclude that she did not leave of her own accord. He would search for her, but would he think to cross the fjord?
The night seemed cloaked in a shroud. Not one star blinked down from the heavens. It was not a night to find one’s way in the dark, but the two men beside Brenna knew exactly where they were.
Less than an hour passed before the horses stopped. Brenna could just barely make out the silhouette of a house on flat land. She strained her eyes to see more, but there was no time, for she was pulled down from her horse and quickly taken inside the dwelling.
The house was dark, and the acrid smell of trapped smoke hung heavy in the air. The men started a fire and Brenna looked about the sparsely furnished room. There was only a single stuffed pallet on the floor, a small table with two benches, and a few cooking implements by the fire.
Many fur rugs covered the dirt floor and the walls, adding some luxury to the room. On closer inspection, she noticed too small personal items, though they did not number many. A brass tankard sat on the table, and four beautifully painted plates of glass were set on wall racks. Two fine axes with amber handles were crossed above the door. In one corner was a shelf full of clay pottery, thin cups, vases and bowls, all etched with heathen designs.
Brenna finally returned her attention to the two men. Arno was removing the many fur pelts wrapped around him, while Cedric was staring with apt interest at Brenna. She felt her blood turn cold.
“Mayhaps I will delay my leaving.” Cedric said, his eyes still affixed on Brenna.
Arno looked up and frowned. “Your pleasure can wait. We discussed this at length while waiting to be sure she was alone.”
“I know,” Cedric said, then remarked, “the woman Adosinda said this slave was a beauty, but she is much more than I anticipated.”
“Cedric.”
“Very well!” he replied in annoyance. “I will return to my father’s feast. But I will be back come morning. And she is mine first, Arno. Remember that!”
Arno shook his head. “I want no part of her. I have bad feelings about what we have done.”
Cedric laughed. “I do not believe my ears.”
“Say what you like. She belonged to another man, she did not want to leave his house, and I fear he will not rest until he has her back.”
“What are you saying?”
“There will be blood shed yet because of this deed. I feel it—I know it to be so.”
“If you know so well what the morrow will bring, then tell me how he will ever find her?” Cedric asked with sarcasm.
“Ah, ’tis a coward I have for a friend.”
“Becausewe are friends, I will not take exception to your loose tongue.”
Cedric did not show even a little remorse as he stalked to the door. He took one last look at Brenna, and she cringed at the meaning she read in his cold eyes.
“Take good care of her for me, Arno,” he said, then left the house.
