The Thrall's Sword: A Novel by Grace Caylor

Author:Grace Caylor [Caylor, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian Fiction
Publisher: Ambassador International
Published: 2021-05-24T22:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

I HELD MY SMALL BAG of belongings close to my chest, as the men packed supplies onto each longship. Tyra stood beside me. The men sang in low, merry voices in anticipation of their great victory and the heaps of stolen goods they’d have to share with their families.

Though I used to enjoy watching them as a child, my stomach was churning, dampening the joy of this moment. I tried to keep my head up, to act normal, like I was supposed to be here, but inside, I could hardly keep myself together. Someone was going to find me out.

One man grazed his eyes over me as he gripped a barrel in his brawny arm.

My legs trembled, and I nodded vaguely toward him in acknowledgment.

He snarled before throwing the barrel into a ship. Did he know who I was?

Tyra tugged at my arm. “You’re just beautiful. They’re not thinking anything else.”

I pressed my lips together. I sure hoped she was right. As far as we knew, none of the men besides Ragnar knew Gerd, so I’d rely on his poor eyesight to keep me from being exposed.

Soon a man shouted at us, “Wenches, this one’s your ship, right oe’r here, with Cap’n Niels!” He directed us to a longship, where Niels stood upright on the deck.

A sour taste filled my mouth. Niels knew me. Niels knew me too well. He would surely tell Ragnar exactly who I was. And, at the remembrance of Gerd’s warning, he probably wouldn’t mind taking me to bed with him while he was at it.

I glanced at Tyra anxiously.

She clutched my arm and whispered into my ear. “You are welcome to back out if you think it’s too dangerous.”

I pushed my shoulders back and lifted my chin. “I’ll risk it, Tyra. I’ll risk it all.”

If it came down to it, I would find a way to kill myself rather than let Niels take advantage of me. But I couldn’t miss this chance to kill the man who deserved death more than anyone.

Tyra and I settled in the hull with Freyja. Men filled the longship—brawny, reeking, unshaven Norse raiders. Vikings, as the Irish called them. I was no fool; I knew the danger these men could cause a young woman like me. Thank the gods I had a weapon, yet I would be killed if Ragnar caught me with it—his renowned bronze sword. I had to keep it safe and close to my side, hidden under my cloak.

After the longship was filled, men from the land pushed the longships out into the waters, and the fleet set off. The rowers maneuvered the ships out into the open sea. Clear sky came into fuller view, and the waves lapped gently against the sides of the ships. Cool salty air gust past my face, making me tremble under my cloak.

“Get to work, girls.” Freyja threw some clothing into our laps along with spools of thread with needles sticking out of them.

I picked up the clothing and a needle and thread and glanced around.

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