The older of her two guards took off his cap and bowed from the waist, wobbling a little in the unsteady boat.
“We’ve the Lady Munro here tae sail wi’ ye. She’s tae be delivered safely tae yer master.”
Me God, what if he says he has nay idea who am I?
Thankfully, a smile lit the man’s lips as he looked her up and down. “Indeed,” he said, “The lady will please me master.”
A ripple of disquiet fled through her at his words, yet she pushed on, smiling bravely up at the stranger, who gestured to the rope ladder slung over the side.
“Aboard.”
With the assistance of her guards, she climbed the ladder and stepped onto the deck. The two sturdy men carried up her panniers and placed them beside her, as the stranger who had spoken earlier waved them aside and went to give his men orders to depart. With that, the guards, their duty done, scrambled back down the ladder and were soon rowing swiftly toward the shore.
She looked around expecting to the man she supposed was the captain to approach her, but could not find him. A sailor pulled up the ladder, the anchor was raised and the sails unfurled. Further along, at least twenty rowers took up their oars and within moments, even before the little boat carrying her guards reached the shore, the big birlinn was sailing out of the sheltering cove.
Keeping her head down as they passed de Radcliffe’s birlinn, she leaned over the side, fixing her eyes on the hazy, distant, horizon, hoping the queasiness would settle once they were well past the other ship and forging their way out to sea.
She stood, gripping the timber planking tight, her knuckles whitening, until gradually the nausea lifted, replaced by a wave of something like triumph at the success of her plan. She had escaped, despite the odds being against her.
Still, she remained watching until the Highland hills were nothing more than a small, dark, bump far beyond the ship’s wake.
Huddling against the chill Annora lined up her thoughts. She would ask the captain to set her ashore at their first landing. The small purse she had tied below her belt contained enough coins to pay for her passage and then some.
She would find work. She was adept at sewing and embroidery. She had made a point of spending time with the cook at Castle Tioram and had memorized enough recipes to feel confident if there was need for a cook. And she could read and write. There were many bairns whose parents would be glad their little ones could be taught these precious skills without having to spend years in a monastery or nunnery.
Feeling more hopeful, but growing colder by the minute, Annora hastened toward the prow where a cabin of sorts had been erected to speak to the captain and offer him her coin.
Hearing the murmur of voices inside she tapped on the door. Moments later she opened it and stepped inside.
The room was warmed by a brazier at its center, but dimly lit. She could just make out the figures of several lasses of similar age to herself or even younger, huddling on cushions close to the fire. The captain was nowhere to be found.
They all looked up as she walked in.
She waited by the door, uncertain of whether to join them.
A lass beckoned for her to sit on one of the plump cushions nearby. She moved in and lowered herself, grateful for the warmth.
The assembled young women greeted her with silence, staring at her through the gloom as if trying to make up their minds about her.
“Greetings,” she ventured, her throat suddenly dry. There was something about the scene that set her nerves on edge.
Who are these strange lasses?
Another of the group, whose long, fair hair reached over her shoulders and down her back almost to her waist, nodded to her and said “Have ye been captured, also?” The woman asked.
“Nay. I’ve nae been captured.”
An angry murmur rippled through the group.
“Did ye come aboard this cursed vessel of yer own free will?” the woman continued, her voice shrill with amazement. “Are ye intended fer the Sultan’s pleasure?”
The swirling sense of dread in Annora’s belly tightened into a painful knot. “The Sultan…?” she stammered.
“Nay. ‘Tis me intent tae ask yer captain tae place me on the shore at his next mooring.”
The woman threw back her head and laughed. “Ye’re mistaken. None of us may go ashore. Since we were stolen from our homes we’ve been kept here and have never seen the light of day. Ye’ll become a slave like the rest of us, why else would ye be on this ship?”
It was only then that Annora realized that each of the lasses was bound by a circlet of chains to the other. She gazed at them in horror.
