Kiera shifted uneasily. Unlike many Vikings, she preferred to have dry land under her feet. “But there are other women in the village who are skilled at sail repair and life on the ocean than myself. Perhaps one of them should go in my place.”
“I'm afraid that's out of the question,” Bjorn said flatly.
His words cut her to the core. The other, more skilled women were blood Vikings. She was not. Even though Bjorn and Dagmar treated her as family, she was still a slave. Her life didn't matter. Clearly, her idea of Bjorn, Dagmar and Lorna being a second family to her was just a fantasy. If this is how her own family felt about her, then what about Mats? To the villagers, she was still an outsider and would remain so for the rest of her life. Her gaze drifted down to the ground to hide her watering eyes.
“When do we leave?” she asked, her voice hollow and defeated.
“Tomorrow, at first light.”
She turned, shoulders sagging. “Then I had better go pack.”
Kiera wasn't sure if Bjorn had picked up on her dejectedness. She wasn't even sure if he cared. Everything she believed of her place in this community was now shattered. She was heading out to sea, past uncharted lands and into unforeseen danger because she was expendable. She wiped her eyes and glanced towards the open ocean, looking northeast. Somewhere, beyond the horizon, was her home. She would soon be taken even further away from her soul. She stopped, reached out a hand and let the wind kiss and caress her fingers. Closing her eyes, she imagined her parents, their arms open on the distant Irish shore, magically sending the wind across the ocean to greet her.
“Please, mother, father,” she whispered, “save me.”
FOUR
The village gathered in the sombre stillness of the predawn twilight. The silence was shattered as the half-dozen ropes that extended across the river suddenly snapped tight, and the air was filled with grunts and shouts of encouragement. The boat reluctantly inched its way out of its comfortable home, sliding over the wet, grassy meadow and towards the waiting water. As the keel touched then slurped into the muddy embankment of the river, the ship gained speed. With a splash, the nose and hull gracefully slipped into the calm river. The villagers cheered. They pulled the ship alongside the village dock and extended a wide gangplank across to the midship's gunwale. The men and women formed a chain and began to load the mountain of packed provisions onto the ship.
The rising sun winked above the horizon, setting the majestic ocean ablaze with deep crimson. The men gave their loved ones a tender hug and said their goodbyes. Kiera stood quietly at the edge of the crowd, looking off into the distance. A hand came to rest on her shoulder. She turned and looked into the kind eyes of Dagmar. Lorna, still sleepy, clung to her mother's leg.
“We will miss you.”
“And I you,” she said, half-smiling.
“Please don't go,” begged Lorna. She looked forlorn.
Kiera smiled, grabbed her under the arms and lifted her up. Lorna wrapped herself around Kiera's neck and buried her face in her auburn hair. Kiera gently stroked her head.
“Listen, Lorna, the village needs you. You will have to be a good helper to your mother while I'm away. And when I get back, I want you to show me your weaving. Finish the basket that we started before I return, and I will be very impressed.”
Lorna nodded, her face still crestfallen.
“Are you well?” Dagmar asked. “You've been so quiet.”
Kiera shrugged and looked down. “You know how I feel about boats. I'll be glad when we get back.”
“Well, think of it as an adventure. The men certainly do. They haven't even set sail yet, and already they're singing sagas about the great deeds they think they will accomplish.”
Keira sighed, looked up and tried to smile. “Thanks. I'll try.”
“And you still have my needles?”
She patted her skirt. “Right here in the hem.”
“Well,” Dagmar stepped forward and embraced her. “Good luck.”
Kiera held onto Dagmar, her heart aching, wishing she could feel towards her now what she had felt only a day earlier.
“I'll be back soon.”
She gave Lorna a final kiss on the forehead. “Don't you grow up on me while I am away.”
Lorna nodded, a tear trickling down her cheek.
“Kiera, let's go!”
Thorfinn was shouting from the stern of the boat. Already the men were on board and making the final preparations for departure. Kiera grabbed her sack of clothing and ran for the walkway. As soon as she had stepped over the side, the remaining men pulled the gangplank back to shore. The boat started to drift downriver. Thorfinn, manning the large, paddle-shaped rudder that was attached to the side of the stern, worked the boat towards the middle of the waterway.
Kiera moved to the front of the boat and took her seat, facing backwards, at the right front oar. Never in the villagers' memories had a woman ever been given the duty of rowing a longboat alongside Viking men, and from the looks that she was receiving from the eleven others, her adventure was about to start as soon as she touched the rough handle floating in front of her. Beside her, manning the opposite oar, sat Mats. She swallowed hard. The last thing she wanted was to look like a fool in front of him. She grabbed hold of the handle with both hands.
“Ready, men…Steady the oars. On my count…heave!”
The oars dipped into the water, and every set of arms hauled hard on the handles.
“Heave!”
Kiera could feel the ship accelerate as she grunted with each pull.
“Heave!”
Through the oar hole, she could see the riverbank zip by. She was amazed at the speed they had already achieved.
“Heave!”
They only rowed for a short while, but to Kiera, it felt like an entire day had already passed. Not used to such exertion, the muscles in her forearms had tightened into fiery knots. When Thorfinn finally told them to stow the oars, the command could not have come soon enough. Her arms shook, and she barely had the strength left to pull in the heavy piece of lumber and store it on the floor of the open hull.
“Prepare the sail!”
Kiera had been rehearsing her duties all the previous evening with several of the other sailors. For practice, they had rigged one of the other boats still in need of repair. Thorfinn had shown her how to tie the sail lines off to the wooden stays located on either side of the bow. She had to learn many new sailing terms such as starboard, port, come about, release, trim and hoist so that she could respond to Thorfinn's commands and become a seamless part of the crew. As the sail was hoisted up the length of the mast, Kiera took a deep breath and focused on the two ropes to the side of her.
“Haul in the starboard lines!”
Kiera quickly unwrapped the forward rope from the starboard stay. Using the stay as a pulley, she hauled in the rope as quickly as possible, trying her best to ignore her complaining arm muscles.
“Trim the bowline!” Thorfinn howled. She hauled in the second rope. “Again! Again! Good! Stave off the line and secure the portside.”
Kiera's hands worked quickly, making both lines taut. The skin of her palms began to smoulder from the rough surface of the rope. She nearly lost her balance as the wind caught the sail, and the boat leapt ahead like a freed stallion. The crew shouted a whoop of joy. These were the