Free Twin Passions by Miriam Minger Page B

here, no one would ever know. But to
bring her aboard the ship—"
    "You fret more than a weaned babe!" Svein cut
him off sharply. "Are you daft, man? The gods did na '
put these two in our path for us to leave them here!"
    "So you also plan to bring the lad?"
    "Listen, man!" Svein spoke hurriedly. "We
can hide them in the cargo well during the voyage. Then, when we land, we can
get them off the ship under cover of night! Think of the silver, Torvald! 'Tis
rich men we'll be once we sell these two!"
    "But what of Hakon, Svein?" Torvald asked
doubtfully. "'Twill not set well with him that we disobeyed his orders."
    Svein peered at Torvald, his pale eyes reflecting the
depth of his greed. "Look at them, man! They'll fetch the highest price
for slaves—of that you can be sure!" Pausing for a moment, his voice fell
to an anxious whisper. "Torvald, we'll have enough silver to buy our own
ship. Aye, think of it! We can sail home to Dublin on the first tides of
spring!"
    The big man's eyes widened, his reluctance quickly
fading. Our own longship , he thought
shrewdly, a slow grin spreading across his bearded face. In his mind's eye he
could see himself at the helm of a mighty dragon of the sea with the northern
wind catching the brightly colored sail. Grunting, he nodded his massive head
in assent.
    "Good!" Svein exclaimed, flashing a sly,
toothy grin. "Throw your fur clock over the lad's head and let's be off. ' Tis my thought the ship is ready to sail!"
    Torvald lumbered over to where Gwendolyn lay. He sat
down on his haunches and wrapped her in his heavy fur cloak, then tossed her
over his shoulder. As he rose to his feet, a low moan broke from her throat.
    "Is the lad awake?" Svein asked nervously.
Hurrying over to Torvald's side, he pulled Gwendolyn's head up by her
close-cropped curls and peered at her bruised face. Her eyelids fluttered ever
so slightly, but she had not regained consciousness. Relieved, Svein let her
head drop. Then, in a low, threatening voice, he turned his head and muttered
to Anora, "Any noise from you, lass, and your brother will not live to see
the morrow!"
     
     

 
    Chapter 9
     
    "Sound the once born again, Bjorn, and Loki help
them if they cannot hear it!" Hakon shouted. He turned back to the men at
his side, conferring with them in low tones as they stood near the stern of the
longship. "You have done fine work," he murmured appreciatively,
running a large, tanned hand along the oaken planks of the ship. Truly, they have worked wonders, Hakon
marveled, thanking the gods for the skill of his crew.
    He had thought their journey was ended two nights ago
when a sudden, vicious storm had blown them off course, the angry seas forcing
them to seek refuge along the west coast of England. Sighting a winding river
that would serve as a haven until the worst of the storm had passed, he had commanded his men to row toward it for all they were worth. But the
turbulent waters at its mouth had hidden the treacherous rocks below the
surface. Standing at the prow, the wind and rain
slashing at his face, Hakon had seen the jagged rocks too late. The loud sound
of splintering wood had rent the night, the impact violently throwing the men
from their rowing benches.
    Hakon had yelled himself hoarse that night shouting
orders over the howling wind. Yea, it was surely the will of Thor, protector of seafarers, that had gotten them safely to the banks of
the river. In another few moments the mighty longship would have taken on
enough water to send all of them to an early grave! Shaking his head, Hakon
knelt at the side of the ship to get a closer view of the repaired hull.
    "We will make it to Norge, my lord. I stake my
life on it!" blustered Olav, the burly helmsman.
Rising to his feet, Hakon slapped the older man affectionately on the shoulder.
    "No need to stake your life, Olav," he said,
grinning broadly. "After all, I need you to steer my ship!" Olav had
sailed with him as his helmsman these past ten years, ever