The Island House Read Online Free PDF Page A

Grimor’s jeers and the laughter of his comrades on the beach.
    Reimer grunted, transferred his attention back to the loading. “No word of the boy?”
    Thorkeld shook his head. “No. Just classic inexperience—the kid was full of himself after the river village, and he thought this one was easy.”
    Reimer agreed. “A waste.” His band had sacked a settlement at the mouth of a small river some days sailing from Findnar before they burned this monastery. The river people had been a tougher contest since they’d been armed and had more trained fighters among them, but Grimor’s younger brother, Magni, had done well in what had been his first real raid.
    Thorkeld continued. “I looked for his body this morning, so did Grimor. Nothing. Magni’s dead, burned I’d say. He showed promise, though, and courage—that’s something Grimor can take comfort from.”
    The war leader sighed. “You’re right, you’re always right, Thorkeld. But we can’t let one boy’s death hold us up.” He was distracted watching the last women being stowed onboard. Reimer didn’t want them damaged. Two of the three were handsome enough to fetch good prices at the markets, and the third was a real beauty, even with all her hair hacked off. “Would you look at what the Christians did to her? The hair!”
    Thorkeld took his leader’s elbow in the ribs in good part as they watched one of the men pull the girl to her feet—she began to scream, of course; they were all good screamers. But he agreed, the monks and nuns truly were fools. Why would you knowingly damage the looks of a girl like that? It would take at least a year for the hair to grow to anything like an acceptable length, and someonewould have to invest the money to feed her while she was held back from sale.
    Reimer sucked his teeth reflectively and watched the pretty novice struggle as she was carried to Fenrir, his own ship. The craft was the largest in the fleet, big enough to take thirty rowers on each side. The girl was gagged now and her hands securely bound, but even though she was filthy with smoke and scared out of her wits, her face was a pleasure to look at. And her body was at that early stage of ripening that Reimer, personally, found very attractive; the young ones were so much easier to deal with. In fact, as he watched, he made up his mind. He’d keep this one. It was a while since he’d allowed himself anything pleasurable from a raid, and he deserved something for his efforts, long overdue tribute, in fact.
    His senior wife would not be pleased, but she’d come around; he’d just have to make sure she didn’t harry the girl to a miserable death. But, in the end, what did it really matter—what was one concubine more or less?
    “Careful! Look at that, Thorkeld. What is that great oaf doing !” The girl had wriggled so much the man who had her over his shoulder lost his footing, and he and his burden both fell into the surf. Having her hands tied, she hadn’t surfaced. “Pull her up, you fool! Go on!” The girl was hauled, choking, out of the water.
    Thorkeld was bored. He’d seen it too many times; this island had given all it had for the moment, and he was as impatient as his master to weigh anchor. “I’m sure she’ll settle now, Lord.”
    At the last minute, Reimer had decided that the three best women should be placed on his own vessel, and Thorkeld agreed with the decision. There was no point putting valuable merchandise on any of the other ships, since, having been used by the crew, they’d be in a shocking state by the time they arrived at winter quarters.
    Reimer nodded absently as he watched the crying girl pushedover the side into his ship. As Thorkeld had said, all the fight in her was gone. “Good. Let’s be away.”
     

    After the raiders left, when the tide had lowered once and come in again, Signy left the cave.
    She was hungry and thirsty and numb with grief, but the sea had washed away the marks where the hulls had rested.