Her Lord and Master Read Online Free PDF Page B

his arms about her shoulders to steady her. He quickly cut the rope from her hands, freeing her. He kicked the cording down the precipice, and she looked over the edge with curiosity.
    Ragnor pointed excitedly to the three majestic longships tethered to the shore beneath them, riding the waves like a regal trio of mythical Pegasus. Elizabeth gasped at the sight of the sleek, dragon-headed Viking boats. They were long and lustrous, their flawless craftsmanship apparent even to the untrained eye. No one else had ever built such seaworthy crafts in all of history, she was sure.
    Ragnor looked at her, still smiling. His blue eyes shone with pride, like a small lad with a new toy.
    “They’re beautiful,” Elizabeth said sincerely.
    She couldn’t help but feel impressed by the superlative skills that had obviously gone in to the making of the vessels. These men may be ruthless barbarians, but their shipbuilding capabilities were obviously far more advanced than those of the neighboring Anglo-Saxon, Germanic and Frankish peoples. Even the Greeks and Romans had not achieved such a feat as crossing the North Sea with its perilous black, icy depths.
    Elizabeth could not even begin to fathom the piloting methods they must have employed to find their way here to England, nor the sheer unmitigated bravery of the men who crossed hundreds of leagues of angry oceans to do so.
    And Ragnor had been their fearless leader. A tiny seed of respect for them began to grow in her bosom. If they were so far superior in their navigation, ship making and warfare, what other areas did they excel in, too? 
    “Værdifuld, eh?” he said in Danish.
    “Wonderful,” she agreed. “Beautiful.”
    He beamed proudly. For some reason he could not name, he wanted her to like his longboats, and his people. He wanted her to like him.
    Ragnor pointed at the ships individually, reading aloud the names that were painted affectionately along the curving hull of each one. He had lovingly constructed every last inch of the vessels himself ten years ago, with trees from his father’s farm.
    “Søl,” he pointed to the lead ship. It was the largest, with twenty oars on each side, the pride of his fleet holding eighty men. “Gudinde.”
    Elizabeth shook her head, not understanding his words.
    He tried in German. His Saxon-language skills were rusty, but his father had been born in the market city of Hedeby, on the border of Denmark and Germany, so he could recall at least a handful of words when he chose to. 
    “Göten,” he said, pointing to the sky.
    “Oh...a...god,” Elizabeth nodded with comprehension. “The sun goddess, named Sol. Its named after her.”
    “Yes,” he said haltingly in Anglo-Saxon. “Good.”
    She smiled. So, he did know a word or two in her language after all.
    “Freya,” he nodded to the next one. “Mor.”
    Elizabeth frowned.
    “Mutter,” he said in German.
    “Ah...That one is named for your mother, Freya.”
    “Yes.”
    He pointed to the last ship, the smallest and fastest.
    “Cathrinka,” he said. “Soster.”  
    “Your sister, Cathrinka...Katherine.”
    “Good,” Ragnor replied, laughing almost merrily.
    He grabbed Elizabeth up in his arms and twirled her around in a circle. He didn’t know why he did it, but something about her felt special. Something about her made him feel strong and alive.
    Elizabeth giggled, caught up in the moment, too. It felt so good to be outside, to talk, to smile, to laugh. Even the simple act of smelling the sea was sublime after years of confinement in the convent. And, it felt good to see the surly Viking lord smile.  
    Ragnor took her hand, and showed her a deer path that wound around the cliffs. It lead down into a secret, protected cove below. It was well concealed, invisible unless one literally stumbled right into it, and a perfect spot for launching a raid. Even if a local fisherman, or a larger Anglo-Saxon war ship, happened to pass by in the water, they would not spot the