Read Online Edin's embrace by Nadine Crenshaw - Free Book Online Page A

not the same thing as courage, and she did nothing as her people grew thirsty and famished.
    The terrible surfeit of pain and shock and fear —and now thirst and hunger —by slow degrees benumbed her. She didn't even realize how engrossed she'd become in one Viking's casual slaking of his thirst, how she watched him swallow, and swallowed herself, hard enough to be heard. The man took a bite of meat. Her mouth moved with his as he chewed. Meanwhile she'd forgotten to watch the jarl. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized he'd moved down the ship and was now only a few paces away. Fear hit her right in the stomach like a knife. She leapt to her knees, prepared to make what defense she could.
    He stopped, and stood looking at her, his face all iron, stunning in his size, backlighted by the sullen evening. After a moment, he laughed — if one could call that short bark a laugh. Her fear, her preparation to fight him even though her wrists were fettered, even though she was hardly half his size, seemed to amuse the cruelty in him.
    He moved another step toward her—just to tease her, it seemed — then threw a skin of water and a package of meat on the deck at her knees. She didn't move, didn't even look at it. A gust of wind blew up, tossing her hair wildly about her face and arms. He waited, then said, "Eat, Saxon, and drink deeply. It may be the last time you taste anything but salt and fishes."
    He walked away with all the ease and grace that came of great physical strength. To Edin he'd become the sum of evil. She felt ashamed to see her people looking at her, patiently waiting for her to apportion the food among them. So far she had done nothing for them. She wanted to cry with fear and tension and this awful sense of helplessness.
    Instead, she shared out the food and ate the meat as daintily as she could with no utensils. Hungry as she was, she soon found she couldn't swallow her meat. Round and round it went in her mouth, the mutton fat getting colder and more congealed.
    ***
    Though the
Blood Wing
danced easily enough on the wave tops, she could be contrary to handle, being so broad in the beam, and Thoryn preferred to handle the steerboard as much as he could.
    The coast of Britain was just visible. As long as it was in sight, he could steer by the shoreline. On the open sea, he would navigate entirely by the sun and the stars. He'd learned early to recognize the Pole Star and 'to depend on it. But he always kept an eye out for portentious signs: A strange bird, a bit of floating wood, fish surfacing unaccountably, a cat's-paw of wind on the water —these all had meaning for the seawise.
    The sun slipped down between a great slow-rolling cloudbank and the horizon, and stared at them across the open sea. The Vikings lay at their ease in the low-planing light, letting the wind belly the four-square sail and drive them homeward. They were weary from voyaging and sated with looting. Most of them had removed their battle dress and were back to wool trousers and shirts of linsey-woolsey. In most cases, the trousers were brown or grey and the shirts red or blue or green —though Hauk Haakonsson's was a definite mulberry color. Hauk, with his high, axe-blade nose, was fashion conscious. It wasn't cold, so no one had put anything more than a sleeveless leather vest over his shirt. With their helmets put away, they protected their heads with woolen caps. To a man, they stuck to beards and long hair. It took a good growth of hair to protect against the bitter winds and burning sun of the North Sea.
    Some napped, sitting up on their sea chests with their arms folded, as motionless as flies in the last sun. Most of their personal property was stored in these chests. Thoryn, as captain and owner, was responsible for "finding" the ship, for furnishing all necessary equipment —lines, spare sails, buckets, etc. Each man brought his own warm sea clothes, his kit of needles and thread, weapons, and so forth, which he stowed in