Read Online Beyond the Sea Mist by Mary Gillgannon - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Gillgannon
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lamp or two made of the material—but it wasn’t a particularly valuable one. The princess’s worth was more in line with the merchandise the well-dressed Irishwoman had purchased at the jewelry shop. Besides, it didn’t matter. The money wasn’t his. And he wouldn’t steal—even for her.
“You’re deep in thought, Magnus,” Orm said. “Are you still worrying over the Irishwoman’s fate?”
Magnus nodded. “I can’t help myself.”
“There’s nothing you can do. You have to forget her. She’s as unattainable as the amber-eyed beauty back there is for me. If you must think of her, do it when you’re alone in your bedsack under the stars.” Orm winked.
“It’s not like that,” Magnus said. “My feelings for her go beyond lust. She reminds me of a trapped wild creature. A beautiful, caged bird I long to set free.”
“All I ask is that you don’t risk your own freedom—and your life—to secure hers.”
Magnus nodded. Sound advice. He must be careful and wait for the right opportunity.
On the way back, Magnus spotted a cistern, and he and Orm washed their hands and faces. Then they returned to the ship and Magnus handed over the pouch of silver to Sigurd. The captain hefted the pouch much as the merchant had done. “Well done, Magnus. Now you’re free to enjoy yourself for the rest of the day. I won’t need your services until tomorrow morn when it’s time to load up our new cargo.” Sigurd went back to bartering with a dark-haired Dane over the value of a pile of furs.
Magnus returned to where Orm waited. “Sigurd says he won’t need us the rest of the day.”
Orm grinned. “Which means I’m free to go back into the settlement and enjoy myself.”
“No dice games, though,” Magnus said sternly.
Orm’s grin widened. “You’ll have to come with me to make certain of that.”
“Nay. I have other things to attend to.”
Orm’s expression grew serious. “Be careful, Magnus. Remember what I said.”
Magnus nodded.
“I guess I’ll have to find someone else to go to the alehouses with me.”
“And you might want to change your tunic first.”
Orm glanced down at his mud-spattered garment. “It’s the best one I have. I’ll wait until it dries, then brush off the dirt.” He gave Magnus a quirky grin, then took off in the direction of the settlement.
Remembering the Irishwoman’s scorn when he first approached her, Magnus decided he’d best follow his own advice. He found a clean tunic in his sea chest and put it on, then disembarked from the
Waverunner
and started down the dock toward Croa Ottarson’s ships.
Approaching the warrior standing guard nearby, Magnus said, “I’m looking for a man named Bors Ulfarson. He’s about forty winters old and wears his hair pulled back in a knot.”
“Don’t know him,” the man responded. “But then, I just hired on with Croa myself.”
Magnus nodded and focused his gaze on the middle ship, which was much larger than the other two. He felt certain the women must be on this vessel. “What sort of cargo are you carrying?”
The man’s deep-set blue eyes fixed on Magnus. “Why do you ask? Where do you know Bors from?”
“I met Bors last night at the ale house. He mentioned Croa might be interested in hiring more men for his upcoming voyage. I’ve just arrived in Dublin on another ship, but I don’t fancy heading home so early in the sailing season. I was looking for another crew to hire on with.”
The man looked him up and down. “You appear stout and strong, but are you skilled with weapons? Wielding an axe to chop wood is much different than cutting an enemy’s throat.”
In the space of a heartbeat, Magnus snatched his knife from his belt and held it to the man’s neck. “Is this skilled enough for you?”
The man’s gaze flicked downward to where the blade rested on his throat, then back to Magnus. “Aye. If Croa’s wants a recommendation of your skill, I’ll give him one. When he returns, that is.
“You’re deep in thought, Magnus,” Orm said. “Are you still worrying over the Irishwoman’s fate?”
Magnus nodded. “I can’t help myself.”
“There’s nothing you can do. You have to forget her. She’s as unattainable as the amber-eyed beauty back there is for me. If you must think of her, do it when you’re alone in your bedsack under the stars.” Orm winked.
“It’s not like that,” Magnus said. “My feelings for her go beyond lust. She reminds me of a trapped wild creature. A beautiful, caged bird I long to set free.”
“All I ask is that you don’t risk your own freedom—and your life—to secure hers.”
Magnus nodded. Sound advice. He must be careful and wait for the right opportunity.
On the way back, Magnus spotted a cistern, and he and Orm washed their hands and faces. Then they returned to the ship and Magnus handed over the pouch of silver to Sigurd. The captain hefted the pouch much as the merchant had done. “Well done, Magnus. Now you’re free to enjoy yourself for the rest of the day. I won’t need your services until tomorrow morn when it’s time to load up our new cargo.” Sigurd went back to bartering with a dark-haired Dane over the value of a pile of furs.
Magnus returned to where Orm waited. “Sigurd says he won’t need us the rest of the day.”
Orm grinned. “Which means I’m free to go back into the settlement and enjoy myself.”
“No dice games, though,” Magnus said sternly.
Orm’s grin widened. “You’ll have to come with me to make certain of that.”
“Nay. I have other things to attend to.”
Orm’s expression grew serious. “Be careful, Magnus. Remember what I said.”
Magnus nodded.
“I guess I’ll have to find someone else to go to the alehouses with me.”
“And you might want to change your tunic first.”
Orm glanced down at his mud-spattered garment. “It’s the best one I have. I’ll wait until it dries, then brush off the dirt.” He gave Magnus a quirky grin, then took off in the direction of the settlement.
Remembering the Irishwoman’s scorn when he first approached her, Magnus decided he’d best follow his own advice. He found a clean tunic in his sea chest and put it on, then disembarked from the
Waverunner
and started down the dock toward Croa Ottarson’s ships.
Approaching the warrior standing guard nearby, Magnus said, “I’m looking for a man named Bors Ulfarson. He’s about forty winters old and wears his hair pulled back in a knot.”
“Don’t know him,” the man responded. “But then, I just hired on with Croa myself.”
Magnus nodded and focused his gaze on the middle ship, which was much larger than the other two. He felt certain the women must be on this vessel. “What sort of cargo are you carrying?”
The man’s deep-set blue eyes fixed on Magnus. “Why do you ask? Where do you know Bors from?”
“I met Bors last night at the ale house. He mentioned Croa might be interested in hiring more men for his upcoming voyage. I’ve just arrived in Dublin on another ship, but I don’t fancy heading home so early in the sailing season. I was looking for another crew to hire on with.”
The man looked him up and down. “You appear stout and strong, but are you skilled with weapons? Wielding an axe to chop wood is much different than cutting an enemy’s throat.”
In the space of a heartbeat, Magnus snatched his knife from his belt and held it to the man’s neck. “Is this skilled enough for you?”
The man’s gaze flicked downward to where the blade rested on his throat, then back to Magnus. “Aye. If Croa’s wants a recommendation of your skill, I’ll give him one. When he returns, that is.
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