24
THERE WAS ENDLESS talk and argument and questions. It was a full day now and no one had found Sira. None of the boats were missing. She was dead, there was no doubt about that, for she couldn’t have swum to the mainland because she couldn’t swim, nor could she have flown there like one of the myriad birds, but the men were near to violence because they couldn’t discover what had happened to her. And that troubled everyone the most. What if she hadn’t wanted to be found?
Tora said little, just held her grief to herself. The women held their voices low and simply didn’t speak of Sira. Finally, Mirana was able to leave the longhouse late that evening to find a few moments to herself.
It happened so quickly that Mirana had no chance to struggle or to yell or to even recognize who her attacker was. One moment she was staring out over the moon-drenched sea, alone, letting the warmth of the night enfold her. The next, a hand slammed down on her mouth, her hands were jerked behind her back, and bound quickly. She bit the hand, then opened her mouth. She heard a man’s oath, then felt the pain on her left temple, then nothing save a deep pulling blackness. But the voice had seemed somehow familiar and she tried to hold to it even as she slumped unconscious.
When she awoke, she was aware instantly that she was in a longboat. She lay very still, becoming used to the rocking, the rhythm of the oars dipping into the water, rising, dipping again, smoothly, quickly. Her head hurt, but she became used to that too. Her fear eased. She heard four men speaking, and she knew all of them. Each of them excited, pleased, but one of them was furious.
It was Gunleik, and he shouted suddenly, “By Odin All-Father, you struck her, Ivar! She is still unconscious. You were to rescue her, nothing more, and bring her to me so that I could speak to her, to reassure her. But nay, you were a brute and rough with her.”
“There was no time, Gunleik,” Ivar said, and Mirana could picture him biting his lip, stiffening because the man he worshiped was angry with him. “You set me to watch the longhouse and when I saw Mirana, I knew I had to take her then, else risk our lives and perhaps hers as well. Forget not that the other woman told us that all want her gone, that Rorik Haraldsson hates her and wishes her dead, that someone has already tried to poison her. She was alone. I took my chance. I had to hit her else she would have screamed. When she awakens, you will speak to her, she will agree that I did only what was necessary.”
“You struck her,” Gunleik said again. He cursed, and Mirana saw him thrust his fingers through his coarse gray hair.
“Aye, but if I hadn’t, she might have struck me. She is a good fighter, Gunleik, forget it not.”
“I’m all right, Gunleik.”
“Mirana?” He bent down and began to rub her arms, her hands, lightly touch his callused fingertips to her cheeks. “Thank the gods, you’re awake. Listen, we’ve saved you. You’re here with us now. You’re not to be afraid. Aye, I have you again, little one. All is well now.” He lifted her onto the bench beside him. The boat rocked to the side and one of the men cursed. It was Emund, and she wished it were any other save him. He was one of Einar’s minions, a mean-spirited bully she had never liked. He abused slaves and women.
“Gunleik,” she said. “You must listen to me. What Ivar said is true, but not really. What did he mean—‘the other woman’?”
“The girl with the silver hair so wondrous that even I have stared at it. Her name is—”
“I know who she is.” Mirana turned to stare at Sira as she spoke. She was sitting beside Ingolf, another of her half-brother’s favorites. He was as ill-favored with his squinting eyes and his too-heavy black eyebrows as Sira was beautiful, her hair gleaming silver beneath the bright moonlight. She smiled at Mirana and gave her a small salute. It wasn’t a nice smile. Sira merely looked at her, but there was malice in her eyes, and pleasure.
“All are worried for you,” Mirana said. “All have been searching for you. Many believed you dead, by your own hand. Guilt and remorse, it is said. But Tora is distraught by your disappearance
.”
“I am sorry for that because Tora has always loved me and always tried to make me happy. But in the end, she lost to you, Mirana, and I knew she would lose to you, as would I. But that is over now. It is a new life for both of us. Are you not pleased? I am quite alive and so are you. Were it not for Tora and Harald, I would have no remorse, merely a sense of dissatisfaction that I failed so badly. But now you are here, Mirana, saved just as I was from certain death by these brave warriors. Aye, we are the luckiest of women.”
Ivar said to Mirana, his young voice eager to placate, eager to reassure Gunleik that he’d done the right thing, “Sira was out walking about, just as you were tonight, Mirana. Ingolf took her last night and she told us all about you and the way you’ve been treated here.” His young voice rose in his anger at what had happened to her, for he and Mirana had been playmates since she’d come to Clontarf years before. “We will come back to this place, Mirana, and we will avenge you.”
“Aye,” Ingolf said. “This Rorik, this little lordling of Hawkfell Island, is naught but a fool, a pretentious, impudent oaf, and we will kill him and fire his little island and take all his women. Gunleik should have killed him before. You, mistress, should have let him die from his wound. Your kind heart stayed your hand. The next time it will be my turn.”
Mirana closed her eyes for a moment. She had to speak to Gunleik, but not in front of Ingolf or Emund. Her head throbbed where Ivar had struck her. Sira merely sat there looking beautiful and fragile and utterly self-assured.
“You look thin, Mirana, and very pale,” Ivar said.
“Aye,” she said, so distracted she scarce knew what she was saying. “ ’Twas because I was ill. But I am well now, worry not about me.”
“It is because they poisoned you,” Ingolf said. “Sira told us all about it. She told us how you were abused and mistreated by all of them. Einar will be pleased to have you back. It has not taken us too long to find you.”
“Einar,” she said, knowing from the first instant she’d regained consciousness that it was her half-brother who had sent Gunleik to find her, but not wanting to face it.
Emund laughed, reached forward and lightly trailed his fingers over her arm. “Einar will be most relieved to see you, mistress. We have all missed you.”
“Leave her be,” Gunleik said sharply. “See to your oars, Emund. We must move quickly now.”
“I must speak to you, Gunleik,” Mirana said, her voice pitched as low as she could manage it. Still, she knew that Ingolf had heard her, for his features sharpened and he leaned forward over his oars.
“Certainly, little one,” Gunleik said, and patted her hand. “I am glad to see you. I have been very worried for you. ’Twas by the veriest chance we learned about Rorik Haraldsson’s island and its location.”
“Aye,” said Emund easily. “We were in London, a nasty place with smells vile enough to make a man puke, but Rorik is known there, as is his family. We pretended to be his friends, and soon enough there was mention of his Hawkfell Island. He keeps the island’s location secret, but we had silver and it wasn’t long before we found someone to tell us. Aye, ’twas easy after that. We hid to the east of the harbor, in a small protected cove. We rowed from the mainland when the night was blacker than a witch’s eyes. None saw us. This Rorik believes himself a warrior. He is naught but a fool, aye, and I’ll slit his throat for him.”
“Doesn’t the man even have enough wits to post sentries?” Ingolf said, then laughed.