Dawn Of A Viking Sunrise, page 17
part #2 of Mists Of Time Series
As he stroked her hair she admired the thick braid that ran down his back, his queue. Davyn, Leif and every other man aboard wore identical hairstyles. She was determined to use this painstakingly long journey to completely immerse the men into the Chinese culture. Once they were closer to their destination, they would start wearing the clothing that she and Kat had made for them. Thank heavens for all her ancient history classes and her family's rich appreciation for their own history.
She wished that Singlee would have taken his father's lessons regarding their ancestry more to heart. But her cousin was a wild child, always looking for the easy way around things. The funnier -- the more shocking -- the better.
He might have disappointed his father, but she knew that Singlee had a good heart. And he could work hard when it suited him. As for his marital arts skills, they were off the charts, and he was as loyal a cousin as anyone could want.
Rosie knew in her heart that, the bottom line in this mess was, if the spinning vortex had spit him out into ancient China, with his attitude, he might well be a dead duck by now.
As if reading her mind, Davyn whispered against her hair. "He's fine, Rosie, I know he is. We'll get to him, and bring him home. I promise."
Rosie raised solemn eyes to the man who was her husband. "I know that you will try. That all of you will try," she added, looking at the lines of rowing men below. "I just hope that Singlee behaves himself until we can get there and get him out of whatever trouble he is likely in."
*****
It was all of three weeks before Rosie felt herself again. And as soon as she did she pitched in and helped the crew in their daily task of scooping out the water which had seeped through the caulking made of moss and tarred animal hair that filled the joints in the boat's planking. It was a never-ending job, but considering how little there was to do as they made the slow trip, it was a welcome diversion.
Now, as she stood up and rubbed the small of her throbbing back, Davyn came up to her with a flask of fresh water and a piece of dried fish.
"You should get some rest." Davyn said as he handed her the meal, then he gave her a gentle nudge toward the lean-to in the center of the ship for her privacy and comfort.
With her free hand she reached out and grabbed his hand before he could walk away. "Come with me." she whispered, heat blooming in her cheeks. "I miss you."
He leaned in and dropped a gentle kiss to her lips. "I miss you as well, Rosalinda, but I will not be joining you in the lean-to."
A pain as sharp as any knife pierced the vicinity of her heart. "Have you lost interest in me?"
He looked down at her, dumbfounded. "Lost interest?" he asked, shaking his head. "Rosalinda, I could never loose interest in you."
"Then why..."
"Rosie," he cut her off with a finger to her lips. "This mission is dangerous. I cannot take a chance of planting a babe in your womb, not until we rescue your cousin and have returned home."
Now it was Rosie who felt dumbfounded. "A baby? You're afraid that you will get me pregnant?"
She had never even thought about the possibility.
"Aye, Rosie," he said. "The only sure way to avoid a child at this time is to not make love to you."
No birth control in the Dark Ages. She knew that, she just hadn't made the connection.
"But why won't you even sleep with me, just hold me at night?"
His eyes blazed as they met hers. "Because, wife, if I lay near you, I will take you."
"Oh," was all she could think to say.
"Aye, my love, it will be a long journey for us both."
He moved to leave and she tightened her hold on him. "It doesn't have to be," she blurted. "There's this little thing called Rhythm in my time... which I am sure the women in your time know about also." She implored him with her eyes. "Come inside, Husband, let me tell you all about it."
*****
Dawn was fast approaching when Rosie opened her eyes to find Davyn was still sleeping peacefully beside her, his arm draped across her waist, one strong leg thrown over her own and a contented smile on his lips.
She had missed sleeping with him, a human electric blanket, almost as much as she had missed making love to the big lug.
It was true that she had had to talk circles around him to convince him that she would not get pregnant, that she could not get pregnant at this time of the month. By the time she had finished with her Sex Ed lecture regarding her body and the timing of her cycle and the dropping of eggs, his astonished face had turned a fire engine red.
But the important part of him had sprung to life and it had all been good from there.
She twisted around to face him, gently kissing the steady pulse of the little triangle at his throat.
Eventually they would reach Chang'an she thought, her eyes closing in contentment. Then they would find, and rescue Singlee. Then they would go home, and, she thought, sighing contentedly, then they could start a family
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Billows of steam wafted around Singlee as he sank into the oversized marble tub filled to the brim with scented hot water and slung his arms across the thick, polished, ledge. This was the life, he thought drowsily as Tea and Ming -- his personal bathers -- skillfully ran thick soapy sponges over his tired muscles.
At first having women in the bath with him, washing his person literally from head to foot, had caused him some embarrassment, but he had quickly gotten used to it. After all he thought, closing his eyes, when in Rome...
As he dozed, the women worked in quiet efficiency, allowing his mind to replay the afternoon's battle in front of the Mingde Gates, located mid-center of the main southern wall, a battle he had just led and won.
The alarm that had sounded during his morning training regime had been a command from the Emperor himself for him and his squadron to prepare for battle.
As he'd hurriedly put on his deep blue, black trimmed thick leather armor, Singlee's heart had thundered against his ribs.
He had been here two years and this had been the first time such a command had been issued to him. He had no ideal if the real Crown Prince had been in many battles, but in his time here, he himself had not done more than train at it. Knowing he could die had caused his limbs to feel weighed down, as with lead.
Oddly enough, it was the same realization that he could very well be rushing off to his death, that had forced him to 'get the lead out' and concentrate on battle strategies involving both the new tactics which he had picked up here, and the more modern moves which he had learned in what he now thought of as his old life.
As he had mounted his powerful stead and felt it dance anxiously beneath him, hooves pawing the red clay ground, he had decided that he was too young to die. Besides, he had to live long enough to solve the mystery of his blond ninja whom he had not seen since the night she had infiltrated his chambers. And, eventually, he had to find Rosie, if for no other reason than to make sure that she was happy with her time-traveling Norseman. No, he had no wish to die at this time.
The battle had been fierce and amazingly quick. The enemy had numbered at only about fifty. He and his men double that. At the first arm-wrenching clash of his sword against his first opponent's weapon, Singlee's teeth had snapped together and he had all but wet himself. The sun had glinted off silver death that had momentarily blinded him, but then he had discovered that despite his mind numbing fear, his own weapon had been no less deadly.
Adrenalin had surged through his body. The scent of blood and sweat from his mount had filled his nostrils, his ears assaulted with the cries of men being slain unmercifully.
And then, when the last of the enemy had fallen, there was a sudden silence. It had been a silence such as Singlee had never heard before, eerie and final.
And he had been alive to hear it. Completely unscratched. It had been sobering.
Why the small band of raiders had waged a war that they must have known they could not win still bothered Singlee. The fact that he had taken an active, aggressive part in ending several of their lives, bothered him less, perhaps, than it should have.
He had changed in the time he had been here, and the changes were not unwelcome. Here, despite the fact that two years ago everyone saw him as a thirteen year old -- and now, a fifteen year old -- he was respected, no one dared to criticize him. He was his own man.
How ironic, he mused, that his father had not known that 'the old ways' which he had constantly preached would prove to be so agreeable to his rebellious slacker of an only son.
*****
Countless months into the journey, Rosie sloshed beside Davyn through the frost covered marshy ground, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. This was the second time in as many weeks that they had had to carry their vessels over harsh, untamed land. One man led each group of them, using a long pole to prod the unseen depths of the murk they strode through for obstacles. Strong men, each with an edge of their vessel propped a top their broad shoulders followed along taking strong, sure steps that made what they were doing look easy. Rosie shook her head in awe. It was an incredible sight that no class in ancient civilization could have ever prepared her for.
The landscape she now struggled through was breathtaking with its lush, untouched foliage. She had no clue where they were, and was amazed that these men seemed to know exactly where to go.
While on the open sea, she had noted the navigator, at noon each day, using a semi-circular piece of wood marked with a regular pattern of notches around its rim, which was, no doubt, a solar compass, used to judge direction from a reading taken on the sun's position at noon. But for the most part the three vessels hugged the shoreline, and as far as she could tell, their path was set according to familiar landmarks. When no landmarks were available, such as at night, the Pole Star was relied upon to keep them sailing in the right direction. And once they left off the areas familiar to them, they would rely one hundred percent on the ocean maps and trade routes Rosie had drawn from memory. All the way to China. No pressure there, Rosie thought wryly.
Rosie hoped that she would not let them down. She slid a glance to her husband whom she barely recognized now that his hair was almost completely black. She would be the first to admit that black hair was striking on him, bringing out the green of his eyes in a dramatic blaze of emerald.
God, Rosie thought, he was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on, despite the fact that the beard he had grown was still golden brown. There was no reason to waste the dye on whiskers because all the men would shave their faces completely once they reached the waters of China and it was time for them to don the garments Kat and she had made for them.
"What are you thinking?" Davyn asked.
A snort of laughter escaped Rosie. "That is such a girl line, gringo."
"What line?" he asked, slinging an arm around her waist and giving her a playful squeeze.
She looked up at him, allowing all the love she felt for him to show in her gaze and saw him catch his breath as he tugged her closer.
"That question," she explained softly. "In my time it's the woman who is always trying to get into her man's head."
"Ahh,"
"Do you think that everything is okay at home?" she asked, nervously tapping her tongue ring atop the roof of her mouth.
"I think that things are fine at home, Rosalinda," he assured her. "Ofeig has surely arrived by now, and he will have our mother and Kat's children with him, so Kat and the baby she has undoubtedly given birth to by now will be well cared for. And if you recall, Leif traveled to Scotland with a fleet of five ships, each one carrying over fifty men. He took only two on this journey, leaving three vessels and a hundred and fifty skilled warriors to guard the castle. Most of the men are also farmers, so I have no doubt that, while they guard our boarders, they will also be planting and harvesting. By the time we return home, our larder will be full to bursting.
"I forgot about the other men Leif sailed with," Rosie admitted. "And I do hope that Ofeig made it to Scotland safely. I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to your mother or Kat's children."
He stopped and pulled her even tighter into his arms, mindless of the men and ships still trudging ahead. "My darling, we live in dangerous times. If anything bad were to happen, to them or to us, it would not be your fault."
"I know," she said quietly. "But I would still feel responsible."
"Well, no more thoughts like that. Everything will be fine, both there and here. And Rosie," he added. "I have to commend you. I never thought that traveling with a woman would be so pleasant or easy. Not once have you uttered a word of complaint, not when storm winds blew us about the ocean like driftwood, nor when food became scarce. Through it all you have been strong and uncomplaining. You have gained the respect of every man on this journey."
Rosie felt her self flush. "It is not such a big thing," she said. "After all, in my old life I went all over the world on digs. I've slept in some very uncomfortable places and eaten some very unpleasant rations. This is just par for the course."
"Nevertheless," he insisted, dropping a light kiss on her forehead. "I'm proud of you."
Rosie smiled, never had those words meant so much to her.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rosie stared at her reflection in the still pool of water and nodded her head in satisfaction. At least she would have no trouble infiltrating Chang'an. She had always thought that she looked more Hispanic than Chinese, especially since she had been told since high school that she looked exactly like Selma Hayek. Now, wearing traditional Chinese garments, with her dark hair pulled back tight and braded down her back, she looked like she was one hundred percent Chinese.
"You look lovely." Davyn said from behind her.
Rosie jumped a foot and clutched her heart. "It's not nice to sneak up on people!" she exclaimed.
He grinned, a flash of white amidst his gorgeously tanned face. "Mayhap if you hadn't been so enthralled by your reflection, you would have heard my approach."
She swatted his arm playfully and laughed. Turning serious, she tugged the material of his costume here and there until it lay just right. "I can't believe the transformation in you and your men have made," she said in Cantonese.
She felt a sense of pride as he looked approvingly at the rest of the men. All of them, including Leif, had black hair, braided tightly in queues hanging down their backs. Rosie had applied a bit of ash from their cooking fire around their eyes to give the appearance of a tilt. The garments that they all now wore would hopefully be authentic enough, and colorful enough, to trick the eye of those whom they passed on this last leg of their trip overland.
As for their ships, the ad-ons had worked flawlessly as they had navigated through the Yellow Sea. And now after what seemed to be an endless journey, their three vessels were about to be secured and left well guarded in a secluded cove off the Beijing shore. It had been easy for Davyn and Leif to decide who would stay with the vessels and who would infiltrate Chang'an. Those who had picked up the language came. Those who had not, stayed.
Rosie was surprised at how well they had done in that regard. Even the men who could not wrap their mouths around the complicated dialect to save their lives could understand the words quite well. And that, Rosie knew, would be very helpful if their ships should be seen and questioned.
They had almost reached their goal and excitement was in the air. The next part of their journey would be the trek across land, and only then would they truly see if their disguises and the broken Cantonese the men now spoke would prove as flawless as she thought it to be.
Rosie had never been so excited -- nor so frightened -- in her life.
She hoped that Singlee would be grateful for the effort they had gone through in order to rescue him. More importantly, she hoped that he was there to be rescued.
They both turned at the sound of footsteps behind them. Rosie gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.
Davyn cursed, and Leif, holding Gordon by his ear, seconded the expletive.
Rosie knelt in front of the three shame faced boys and slapped Leif's hand away from Gordon's ear, then rubbed the small lobe gently.
"How, did you three get here?" she exclaimed.
The boys squirmed and did not meet her eyes. Leif and Davyn, scowling, stood behind her looking like avenging giants with their legs braced apart and their tree trunk arms crossed at their chests. A considerable crowd was forming but Rosie shooed the men away.
"Knock off the intimidation tactics," she said sharply to both men. "They're here now and there is nothing we can do about it. So deal."
Each boy visibly paled.
"Now," she asked again. "How did you manage to travel with us without anyone knowing?"
Niall bit his lip, and then answered. "We sneaked onto the third ship just before it set sail."
"We've been working hard along with the crew, and we haven't gotten in anyone's way." Lachlann added.
Rosie realized that the boys were speaking to her in perfect Cantonese, and, except for Gordon, whose hair was already jet black, Niall and Lachlann's hair had been dyed as the rest of the men's.
Davyn put a hand on her shoulder, and when she turned to see what he wanted, he jerked his chin. She stood, but grudgingly. She knew that the boys should not have stowed away, that this trip was dangerous enough without adding the protecting of three young boys to the mix.
But they were so cute, and they looked so contrite. And, deep down, she knew that they just wanted to help.
Davyn did not kneel when he spoke, indeed, he spoke to the boys as if they were erring men rather than little boys. "You three seem to have done just fine on your own. I expect you all to stay with the ships and continue with your duties for the rest of this journey. I expect for you to continue to pull your weight."
