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Ravenglass
Numerous fishing and trading vessels moored in the harbor at Ravenglass alleviated some of Roland’s apprehension. He dropped anchor as close as he dared to the other vessels, hoping the small galley wouldn’t draw undue attention.
“It’s getting late,” he told Adrien and Terric. “I suggest we spend the night aboard and venture to find Marguerite’s parents’ manor house on the morrow.”
He regretted he couldn’t allow his crew to go ashore, but heard no complaints as the message was passed.
“They seem content to endure one more night of ship’s rations,” Adrien whispered. “We’ll all look like shellfish shortly.”
The meal was consumed in almost complete silence. Any conversation that became necessary was conducted in English. Everyone understood voices would carry over the calm waters of the estuary and only the nobility spoke Norman French.
From time to time, they heard voices from other boats but, generally, all was quiet as a full moon rose in the clear night sky. Soon there wasn’t a light at any window in the tiny village of Ravenglass.
“Let the men get some well-deserved rest,” Terric whispered with a yawn. “I’ll take the first watch.”
* * *
To her astonishment, Adelina enjoyed the sea voyage, though, thankfully, they were never far from land. She delighted in the antics of the gulls who danced on the wind, swooping down to see if there was food to be had. Their raucous cries reminded her of home. If Baron Waterthwaite’s manor was near the sea, at least she would have that small consolation.
She trailed her fingers in the icy water, licking salt when her hand went numb.
It seemed she was a good sailor. Perhaps she had inherited a few drops of Viking blood.
The same couldn’t be said for Glenda. Their roles were reversed when Adelina became the one offering solace—not that Glenda had ever done that for her. It was a small blessing that the green-faced maid retched over the side of the longboat.
Mandeville kept his nose in the air, paying no attention to Glenda’s agony, except to remark now and then that at least her malady was keeping the woman quiet.
Even Glenda smiled weakly when they sighted porpoises leaping out of the water.
All too soon, the shadows lengthened. The air chilled. Adelina put a comforting arm around her shivering maid. She watched the full moon rise as the rowers at last pulled the boat into an estuary. In the fading light, she could see numerous vessels bobbing at anchor.
“Ravenglass,” Mandeville announced as a seaside village loomed out of the darkness.
The long voyage, the strain of keeping up Glenda’s spirits, the fear of what lay ahead, all conspired to drain the last of Adelina’s energy. She stared at the vessels they passed, desperately wishing she had the courage to jump overboard and…Wait!
* * *
Roland picked his way over the rowing benches, reluctant to wake the snoring crew. He may as well keep Terric company at the stern since sleep was proving elusive.
“All quiet?” he asked when his cousin acknowledged him with a nod.
“Aye,” Terric whispered. “There’s a vessel approaching up the estuary. A longboat by the looks of it. A dozen rowers.”
They moved back from the gunwale as the longboat came closer.
Eventually, Roland made out the tabard of a soldier, a dozen rowers as Terric had said, and two women huddled together.
Icy heat ran rampant through his veins when the moon cast its glow on the incredibly long golden tresses of one of the women. A riot of curls flowed over her shoulders like molten metal. Her angelic beauty stunned him when she turned to pierce him with her desperate gaze—and he knew, even before Terric uttered his sister’s name.
“She’s seen me,” Terric rasped.
Roland feared Adelina might instinctively wave, but she closed her mouth and looked away. “Brave girl,” he whispered, more determined than ever to make her his.
* * *
When she caught sight of the flash of blonde hair and recognized her brother, Adelina stifled the overwhelming urge to cry out her elation.
He was alive and he had come, as she’d known he would. At first glance she’d thought the man standing with him was Becket de Montbryce, but this man was younger.
Roland.
The troubadour’s performance had truly been a sign.
Their gazes locked only briefly, but something passed between them. He recognized her, though they’d never met.
Hope blossomed in her breast, but she had to be careful not to let Mandeville or Glenda take note of any change in her demeanor.
Reluctantly, she turned away from the galley. “What happens now?” she asked the major, hoping her voice would carry across the water.
“We wake someone in this sleepy hamlet and find where we are supposed to stay overnight,” he replied, showing no sign of having noticed the Norman galley that had come to her rescue.
