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swallow of mead, willing the fiery liquid to burn all memory of her lissome beauty from his thoughts.

Chapter 3
     
    Ailinn rose from the dirty straw pallet she shared with Brina and Cailin. Smoothing her wrinkled wool gown and linen undershift, she examined their prison, illuminated by light from one stinking tallow candle. The wickerwork walls of the storehouse had been daubed with clay to keep out the elements, but in some places the plaster was thin and uneven. If she had a knife she might be able to cut through and make a hole large enough for them to crawl out.
    But she didn’t have a knife. Croa had taken away her jeweled dagger before she and the other women were loaded onto the ship.
    “What’s wrong?” Brina whispered from the pallet.
    Ailinn shook her head and didn’t answer. Brina got up and came to stand beside her. She put her arm around Ailinn in a tender gesture. “Still thinking about the Norseman?”
    Ailinn nodded. “He made me realize what a coward I’ve been—moaning and complaining about my circumstances rather than doing something to change them.”
    “But what can you do?”
    Ailinn turned to face her maid. In the flickering candlelight, she could see how wan and tired Brina looked, her tawny freckles highlighting the stark pallor of her skin. “We have to escape, and this may be our only chance.”
    Even as she said the words, the now familiar hopelessness settled like a weight on Ailinn’s shoulders. How would she ever manage to get this group of exhausted women free of this place? Even if they did get away, she had no idea where they would they go. It was very long walk across the isle to their homeland.
    But, nay, she wouldn’t think about that. She would focus on getting out of here. Disengaging herself from Brina’s embrace, Ailinn went to the doorway of the structure and knelt down. There was a crack in the clay plaster at the side of the door. By putting her eye near it, she could see out of their prison.
    It was difficult to make out anything in the darkness, but through the crack she heard a familiar sound and her spirits soared. The guard outside the door was snoring.
This is our chance! We must take it!
    Ailinn hurried over to her bag of belongings and searched for an item buried in the bottom. Then she moved back to the door, which was secured from the outside with a strip of leather. With shaking fingers she took the tiny scissors and opened them and began rubbing their sharp edges against the leather. It was fortunate Croa knew so little about woman. He’d searched their bags of possessions himself, and when he’d come upon Ailinn’s sewing kit, she’d protested that a well-born gentlewoman couldn’t get along without it. He’d left the leather-wrapped packet alone, never guessing there were scissors inside. On the other hand, even if he had seen them, Ailinn doubted he would have cared. To a man used to axes and swords, the scissors would seem much too small to be used as a weapon.
    But they were more than adequate for this task. In moments, she was through the leather latch. Her heart pounded as she edged the door open. Sure enough, the guard was asleep. He sprawled against the storehouse wall, a presumably empty beverage skin lying by his right leg.
    Ailinn ducked back in the storehouse. “Wake the other women,” she whispered to Brina. “Tell them to gather together their things. This is our chance to flee.”
    Brina did as she asked, and soon all four women had joined Ailinn at the door. “Are you certain it’s safe?” Little Ullach drew near to Ailinn, her voice trembling.
    “The guard’s asleep and probably drunk as well,” Ailinn responded.
    “But where will we go?” Gormlaith asked, still sounding half asleep.
    “The quay,” Ailinn answered. The idea had come to her like a bolt of lightning. They would find the Norseman and ask him for help. But doubts gnawed at her. After the way she’d spoken to him, he might not be willing to aid them.