A Viking's Catch (Book One of the Sogn Series)

Chapter Fourteen

            The older slave, whose name Clare knew as Jemima, followed her and Onora out onto the beach and away from the town. They were careful that no eyes were watching them, especially those that belonged to Nafarr. Birla seemed to still be distracting him by her flirting.

            Upon arriving at the old boat, Onora and Jemima's eyes widened. They awed at the ripped sails and splintered, but sturdy wood. Then, Jemima looked at Clare and asked appalled, "How are we going to fix such a piece of work?"

            Clare grinned with confidence and easily replied, "It will take time, but we can sand down the base of it, and sew the torn sails back together."

"And, where do you reckon we get the supplies to do this?" Jemima asked again.

Clare was prepared, and just as easily said, "Birla got me the supplies earlier today. She said that she put it all within the stern."

Curiosity got to the better of the other two women, and together they peeked over the rail to see that Birla had indeed brought tools. Jemima pulled her sleeves up to her shoulders and breathed out, "Well then ladies, let us get to work!"

Clare smiled at that.

vvv

            "Where have you been all day?" Nafarr had asked later that evening.

 Clare shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and replied, "I have been helping the slaves within their quarters. Must you have so little faith in me?"

Her answer must have been believable because Nafarr nodded at that, in which Clare took her turn in asking, "And you? Where have you been?"

Nafarr's cheeks reddened at her question, and Clare continued by saying, "Or might I ask, whom have you been with?"

"That is none of your business!" He snapped, but his reddened cheeks failed to fade. Clare grinned at him with an all-knowing look, and then turned the corner into the dining halls. People were feasting, but since she was no longer dressed a slave, they made room for her to walk. This did not stop her from returning to the kitchens, because even though Roald had given her release from being a slave, it still felt natural for her to be with them. After all, they had much more in common with her than Roald's people, who mostly spoke in Norse tongue anyway.

"Did he suspect anything?" Came Jemima's voice, and Onora and the others eavesdropped.

"No," she responded coolly, "he did not."

"Good." Jemima said satisfied, "How many more days do you think we will have to put up with this? Surely Birla cannot hold his attention for long, and I fear of another finding out of our doings."

"Do not worry," Clare assured them, picking up a mug from the counter and sniffing its contents before taking a swig of the alcoholic beverage. She wrinkled her nose at its strong taste, and then set it aside before replying, "He is very much in love with Birla, and I believe that as long as we are careful, no one will discover our whereabouts."

"How can you be so sure?" Onora asked from the corner.

Clare shrugged, "I am not sure, but if I had any doubt then I may make a mistake and someone could take advantage of that, and find out what we have been doing. After all, it is when you are not confident, that you become weak and fail."

"You are wise for your age." Jemima said with seriousness, "It is to no wonder that Roald wants you as his wife."

"Ha!" Clare choked out, "But he will not have me as his wife, for we are leaving."

"But when?" Jemima asked with more doubt, "It will be several more weeks before we can."

"No," Clare retorted, "It will be in mere days."

"But how?" asked Jemima again, "We cannot fix everything on that boat in only a few days."

"Which is why," Clare said with force, "We will work on it during nights, as well."

vvv

            Several days had passed, and it was on one particular night that Clare and the slaves had almost completed in repairing the old Viking ship. Clare had stood upon the stern and grasped one of the beams, as she envisioned herself guiding it among the seas. She took in a deep intake of breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes and grinning from ear to ear.

            "What is it that you are thinking?" Onora asked, her brow coated in sweat from the night's hardship of repairs.

            Clare hummed, "I am thinking that we can leave in the early morn."

            "Is that so?" she asked with an excited edge to her tone. Onora was much too eager to leave, as were several other slaves.

            "Yes, it is so." Clare opened her eyes to look at the young brunette, and smiled once more, "I believe that the ship has been given all the repairs that we can offer, and that there is not much more we can do for it. So, in a few hours, we will fit as many others whom have the confidence to go, and if we cannot fit all that desire to leave, then we will just have to come back for them one day."

            "Are you that reckless, that you would return here for the others?"

            "Reckless?" Clare asked distantly, and then with more certainty she said, "No, not reckless. More like, daring." She jumped down from the stern of the boat, but accidently managed to land halfway in the water and thick mud. She cursed beneath her breath but let it go after that.

            "We are done for the night." She finally said to the others who had helped her that night, "Return to your quarters, but be careful to not wake the town. I will come and get you in a few hours, before the sun breaks to dawn, so make sure you all bring what little belongings you have."

            They nodded tiredly in response, but Clare did not miss the enthusiasm in their eyes. They were to escape soon, to be free people.

            The red-haired woman walked her own distance back to Roald's bedroom. She lay upon the bed for only a second, before the door was opened abruptly and there of all people, stood Nafarr.

            One thing was for sure: he did not look pleased.