Page 33 of Beguiled
The oars dippedin and out of the water, hardly making a sound.
My heartbeat made up for the silence and gonged as loudly as St. Matthew’s Cathedral bell now ringing for Lauds. The majestic stone church stood at the center of Fife, one of Norland’s southern ports and the city closest to our island. The echo of the early prayer hour reverberated in the darkness of predawn.
Kneeling in the middle of the boat, I focused on the water, keeping watch for any signs of Loch Ness. Beside me, Mikkel had taken the lookout on the other side. His attention hadn’t strayed from the sea since we’d begun the crossing.
We hoped the Inquisitor wouldn’t expect us at all during the night, since so few dared to traverse the sea while Loch Ness hunted. But if the Inquisitor had posted sentries, he would most likely place them at the easier, shallower crossings and not at the deepest section in the Channel, where sightings of Loch Ness along with strange drownings and disappearances were most frequent.
Loaded with six of us, the boat sat low, requiring those at the oars to press deeper, quite possibly drawing Loch Ness’s attention. With the city looming ahead in the faint moonlight, I could only pray we’d bypassed the sea creature, but I wouldn’t rest until I stood on land.
As it was, I squinted, looking for the telltale signs of bubbles and fish remains along with any unusual disturbances in the water.
“Halt!” Mikkel ordered in an urgent whisper.
The rowers stopped and lifted their dripping oars, resting them inside the boat. We waited silently, not daring to move, not even to swat at the mosquitoes and gnats buzzing around us.
With his spear drawn and poised above the lapping waves, Mikkel seemed to follow a trail. I couldn’t see anything unusual, but his focus remained unswerving upon something below the surface.
Though his countenance was shadowed by the night, the outline of his face showed regal determination. From the way he held himself to the way he spoke, he commanded attention. Although the others now knew he was nobility, did any of them suspect his royalty? Every time I watched him, like when he’d fought Irontooth earlier, I waited for someone to point out that he behaved like a prince—or a king.
In truth, Mikkel had the makings of a great king. He was a natural leader with both wisdom and diplomacy, and yet he had shown incredible restraint in continuing to submit to Irontooth’s direction. Even after subduing our fearless leader, Mikkel had walked away and resumed his position as a follower, allowing Irontooth to regain his dignity.
Rather than displaying irritation or dislike, Irontooth had tolerated Mikkel better than I’d expected. Perhaps because Mikkel would eventually leave, Irontooth realized the young prince was truly no threat. Or perhaps the incident today had given Irontooth more respect for Mikkel.
Whatever the case, from the bow, Irontooth watched Mikkel as though waiting for his cue on how to proceed, not the least perturbed Mikkel stood over him and had issued an order. Irontooth wouldn’t have allowed anyone else to do so, not even me.
Perhaps his view of Mikkel had altered once he learned of his royalty. Of course, I didn’t see Mikkel differently because he was a prince. I’d admired him since I first met him, and that hadn’t changed... except maybe I liked him more.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the hug he’d given me at camp. I’d allowed my ire to get the better of me, snapping when he’d protested my involvement in tonight’s expedition. Instead of demanding his way and engaging in a terse exchange, he’d wrapped me in his arms, touched my hair, and assured me his concern was genuine—all without words.
I was beginning to think I liked him too much and that I wouldn’t be able to give him the annulment when the time came to do so.
Slowly, he pulled his arm back and tilted his spear down. At a ripple a dozen paces from the boat, I froze. From the many months of fishing around the island, I was familiar enough with the wave patterns, and what I’d just seen wasn’t normal. It was likely the movement from where Loch Ness was circling our boat, trying to determine what we were and how she could best attack.
I shivered and followed the next ripple.
Though many had tried to kill the ancient sea creature over the decades, even centuries, no one had ever gotten close enough to destroy it before it rose from the water to strike.
Carefully, I readied my bow and arrow along with my knife. I could see the others preparing for an attack too. I could only pray Loch Ness didn’t upend the boat. It was one of our bigger vessels and heavy under our weight. Nevertheless, Loch Ness was unpredictable, more so in recent months.
The ripple moved away and then circled back.
Mikkel lifted his spear higher. At his bravery in the face of this danger, I took a deep breath, prepared to fight this sea monster with the same courage.
Wordlessly we waited, and from the expressions on everyone’s faces, I sensed they were drawing courage from Mikkel too. When, a moment later, a long tail humped above the surface and its scales glittered a silvery green in the moonlight, I notched my arrow, ready to let it fly.
Mikkel held out a hand to stop us from firing. After another long minute of the creature circling, the swell disappeared. Mikkel motioned for us to remain silent and still, and for endless seconds we sat without moving, the low waves bumping the hull.
“It’s gone.” Mikkel lowered himself to his knees. “Let us be on our way with all haste before it detects us again.”
Immediately, the others slipped their oars into the sea and rowed.
“Faster,” Mikkel urged.
The boat moved forward at a swift speed, the men hurrying to obey Mikkel. I wished I could lend them my aid, but I continued to survey the sea the same as Mikkel, praying we would be able to outpace Loch Ness.
As we drew nearer to the shore, the fear of Loch Ness meshed with a fear of the Inquisitor’s retinue of soldiers, enlisted to aid him in his efforts to purify the Church and the land of infidels. We would need to use extreme caution as we navigated the streets and alleys of the city in an effort to discover where the Inquisitor was holding the women.
During our meeting at camp earlier, we’d discussed all the options and come up with several likely places. We’d decided to split up so we could stay hidden better. One pair would search St. Matthew’s Cathedral. Another would investigate the local lockup. And Mikkel and I planned to head to the town market and public green. Mikkel had insisted on being with me, although Gregor wanted to come too and had reluctantly conceded to being with one of the other outcasts.
