Hush: An Irish Princess' Tale by Napoli Donna Jo

Author:Napoli, Donna Jo [Napoli, Donna Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Published: 2008-06-23T00:00:00+00:00

This morning we land on a lakeside. Last night we passed a town without stopping; Clay Man clearly wanted to push us on to enter this large green lake before nightfall. Our hands are free as we climb over the side of the ship, but the crew have gagged us again. This is my first time on land since I was captured. The mucky ground comes at me too firm and too still. I stumble on stumpy feet. Everyone else stumbles around me. I’d like to lie down and roll Just roll and roll and roll, feeling the earth immobile under me.

The crew take barrels and chests out of the ship and put them on the ground. But they leave the oars and ropes and blankets on board.

All help but Wounded Man. He limps. Every step brings a wince. The hole in his leg must be festering.

The crew pull the shallow ship onto the swampy grasses and lift it. Clay Man carries a whip. He says something to William and points to a spot on the side of the ship. William runs to that spot and helps lift the ship.

Maeve and Gormlaith and the two Norse women and I help carry that ship too. The Norse child and Markus carry a chest between them. The four Irish children manage a chest among them. Leering Man stays behind with the extra cargo. Clay Man leads the way. Wounded Man hobbles behind.

We portage the ship and those chests through the grasses and over a little hillock to another river. Then we put it into the water. Scar Face and Club Fist lift us prisoners into the ship. They lift in Wounded Man, too. He flinches when they touch him.

Scar Face and Club Fist stand guard over us while the rest of the crew goes back and forth with William and Markus until all the cargo is here. They load it and we’re off again.

The whole thing takes most of the day. It’s exhausting. And Leering Man got bitten by some sort of insect. His arm is swollen and red.

Mustache Man is lucky enough to take down a buck with an arrow. He skins it in the middle of the deck. When he finishes, I push him aside with a warning glance at Clay Man. Then Maeve and Gormlaith and I prepare the meat.

“We could poison them,” says Gormlaith almost casually. Maeve doesn’t answer; her face barely changes. But it’s the truth; this is the first time we’ve been the ones to cook. I watch Gormlaith’s every move breathlessly. If she produces a vial of toxins from the folds of her shift, what will I do? Killing is a mortal sin.

Gormlaith simply stirs the meat in the pot and gazes off somewhere. And I realize poison is but her dream. She has so much to hate them for.

“Here.” Maeve fishes the liver and the heart from the bubbling stew and drops them into a bowl. “These are for the children. They’re next, of course.

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