Morgaine ap Rhodri stood
at the prow of her ship, the Golden Princess.
The strong wooden bow slipped through the
semi-calm water as smooth as a ripple through
silk. Tendrils of her free hair lifted, riding
the same wind swelling the sails of the vessel.
Dressed in blue-tinted men’s breeches and tunic,
she drew in a deep breath and inhaled the salty
tang of the sea, letting it fill her nostrils
and lungs with its neat, familiar scent. How
long had it been since her last trip on the sea?
By her calculations, it had been almost too
long. Had it not been for her father’s plans for
her, she would not be here at all.
“Are you all right,
Princess?” issued a strong male voice behind
her. She turned around to see Robert, the
captain of her ship, standing before her.
Concern and worry stamped his aged features.
Morgaine shook her head and brushed the strands
of loose hair over her shoulder.
“Aye, Robert. I was just thinking about home.”
She leaned against the railing and stared at
Robert. His face, the color of tanned leather,
was creased and lined with age. White hair
tumbled around his head in the ring of a halo,
wafting in the gentle wind. He was no taller
than three-quarters of a rod but he was mighty.
Despite his grizzled appearance, his smile was
warm and inviting. “What were you thinking?”
She
sighed and turned to gaze out toward the sea
with her arms resting on the element-battered
railing. “How much I would have liked to
stay.”
Robert stepped up next to her, assuming the same
pose. “You could have, you know.”
She
shook her head. “No, I could not. Facing a life
next to a man who would give his horse more
regard than his wife was not an enlivening
prospect. I refuse to play the part of political
pawn, so this was my only choice.”
Robert’s tanned, freckled hand covered hers,
squeezing gently. “If I were your father, I
would have let you have some say in a choice of
husband.”
“Much thanks, Robert. It pleases me that you
think that way. However, my father, being who he
is, decided my marriage to King Alfred of Wessex
would prove to be a very good alliance with
Wales. He was only doing as he was taught.”
“Still, I would ...”
She
laid a finger to his lips. “That is enough,
Robert. I want to discuss this no further. Now,
where will our course take us?”
It
was his turn to sigh. “France, then on to Spain.
From there, we may go wherever our hearts
desire.”
Morgaine cast her gaze out onto the crystal blue
waters rumbling past the hull. With the dawn of
each new day, her ship and destiny pushed away
from the familiar Welsh shoreline she had loved
so much. At least the unknown future of her
flight was a far better prospect than facing a
life with the horrific King of Wessex.
Just as
she turned to her left, something caught her eye.
Though it was quite a span away, it possessed the
resemblance to a ship. She could not make out the
size because of the distance, but something
definitely intrigued her. Red and white material
flapped at the vessel’s mast; mayhap it was a
trading ship sailing by . They must be the sails of
traders roaming the sea in search of good trading
routes. Morgaine let a sigh of relief escape her
lips. For a moment, she thought it might been a
roving band of pirates in search of hapless ships to
plunder.
“’Tis the Vikings!” echoed the call from the
crow’s nest
“Princess, get down below!” Robert bellowed.
Her
brow lifted. “What are the Vikings doing this
far south this time of year?”
“I
know not, but the fact remains they are here.
Now get down below where you will be safe.”
Morgaine spun on a booted heel to face him. “No,
Robert! Give me a sword! I can defend myself as
best as any man!”
Robert gripped her upper arms in an iron clasp
and pushed her toward the stairs.
“This is one time that I will not obey your
orders, Princess.”
Rough hands shoved Morgaine into her cabin. Once
she was in, the door slammed and locked behind
her. Damn them! She kicked the door with vicious
swipe while cursing Robert with a bitter tongue.
She could take care of herself!
She
paced uneasily as her mind continued to work.
How was she going to get out of here? Suddenly,
Morgaine’s gaze drifted to the hinges of the
door. If she could just push up the pins holding
the door in place, she would be able to move the
door a bit and slip through the void.
Before she could find anything to take out the
hinge pins, a loud thump resounded above her.
She looked up as fear and trepidation pounded
her temples. Would all of them live to see the
end of the day? Fear formed a lump in her
throat. Red and white vertically striped fabric
comprised the sails of the approaching ship
while a dragon’s head decorated the bow of the
highly crafted vessel.
The
Vikings were taking over her ship!
Her
mouth dried instantly as a thin sheen of sweat
beaded her upper lip. Storming hurriedly away
from the window, Morgaine knelt next to her bed,
her hands searching for her sword frantically.
It must be here somewhere!
This seemed to go on for a few tense moments
until her hands locked around the thick leather
sheath of her sword. We shall see how much
the Vikings withstand. The ornate hilt, with
her initials carved in the sturdy metal, was
made of the best material iron Wales could
produce. Her father had the blade fashioned for
her to give to her husband on their wedding day.
From the moment she had planned her escape,
Morgaine knew this weapon was a must for her
journey.
With a firm grip on the hilt, the smooth cold
points dug into her palm and became comfortable,
almost like a long lost friend. She pulled the
blade out of its leather sheath and stood up,
hefting the weapon from one hand to the other...
perfect for her size. Perhaps Father had it made
for her all along instead of her husband. Now
came the harder task. She needed to hide her
hair.
Morgaine ripped open a coffer at the end of her
bed and plowed through the box with furious
abandon. There had to be something here she
could use! Gowns, bodices, and undergarments
flew around her as she searched for a head
covering. Nothing availed itself to her until
near the bottom, underneath one of her darker
gowns, lay a black velvet cap.
Picking up the neatly constructed cap, she
jammed the hat on her head and crammed all
errant strands beneath.
Once
finished, Morgaine wielded the blade. Sharp slices
of air parting echoed around her. Any man who got in
her way would end up with the tip through his
gullet.
Dropping to her knees at the door, she extracted
a small dagger from her boot. She took the edge
and dug between the top of the pin and the metal
hinge. Using all the strength she possessed,
Morgaine pushed upward. The pin never moved an
inch. She tried again. Muscles bunched and
strained in her arms but she refused to give up.
She had to get out of here. With a grunt and a
fresh round of unbound determination, Morgaine
tried again. This time, the pin moved slowly up
until the rounded metal fell from the hinge. She
repeated her efforts with the other pin. At
first, it also refused to move but with the same
bit of will, she removed that one as well.
Standing up, Morgaine strained against the hard
wood until it gave way. She slipped through the
small void created between the jamb and the
door. Above her, the scuffle of feet and shouts
of anxious voices intensified. The Vikings had
to be very close or even on board.
Winding her way through the darkened stairwell,
Morgaine watched her steps, looking to the left
and right for anyone to pounce on her. No one
was there. Her mouth grew dry as she headed
toward the steps, her weapon drawn.
Morgaine mounted the stairs, taking one step at
a time as she listened to the sounds on the
other side of the door. Everything remained
muffled, not allowing her a clear idea of the
ensuing mayhem. What was happening?
Light seeped through the crack under the door as
well as the sharp smell of burning wood. Her
eyes watered. Jesu, her ship was on fire!
Morgaine charged out of the door and stormed the
deck, brandishing her sword before her like a
flame. To her left was a young lad, about her
size. His blade flashed in a blinding arc in her
line of vision, but she caught his steel with
her own. Metal clashed against metal with sparks
flying as they danced around in a circle of
death, thrusting back and forth. With quickness
on her side, Morgaine swiped her sword at his
belly. The redheaded lad fell forward, his eyes
turning glassy before he fell onto the deck, his
hands clutching the wound as if to prevent the
bleeding. The hot coppery smell of blood
commingled with that of the burning wood stung
her nostrils and encouraged her belly to retch
at all this death. This was one thing she had
never experienced before.
Morgaine turned to see more of the Vikings
scramble over the side of The Golden Princess.
They swung from the mast of their ship on thick
ropes and descended like hungry insects ready to
feed on dead flesh. Fear threatened to overtake
her. She quelled the disastrous emotion. They
must defeat these heathens without any
reservation or quarter.
She
slewed her head to the right. There was another
Viking about her size about to slay one of the
cabin boys. She picked up a discarded Viking
sword as well as her own and rushed to the boy’s
side, burying both blades in the mid-section of
the taller man. Blood spurted from his wounds
and bathed her in coppery warmth. Before she
could stop herself, the contents of her stomach
spilled through her mouth and mingled with the
congealing blood on the deck. Jesu! Why did she
do that?
Tossing
the Viking sword to the boy, she leapt up on deck
with hers, pushing her way through the thick throng
of men fighting20each other. The swift descent of
the enemy had all but ended now with all of the
raiders aboard her ship.
Suddenly, she caught sight of Robert backed
against the side of the ship with a sword at his
throat. A large Viking held the hilt as his
bulging, naked arms glistened with blood and
sweat. Tendrils of long blond hair streamed out
from underneath his helmet and flowed over those
massive shoulders. She narrowed her eyes and
stared at him, calculating his strength. He was
large, but she had the element of surprise on
her side. Leaping from the prow Morgaine ran,
her sword poised in front of her, ready to
thrust at the tall man. Just as she came within
reach of his back, a sharp pain rang in her
head, then her world grew hazy. She felt herself
fall and slipped into the bleak world of
unconsciousness the moment her head hit the
blood-splattered deck.
