Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [24]
She fell asleep with her face on his thigh, her hands pillowed beneath her cheek. Merrik moved slightly to give her more protection from the afternoon sun.
They pulled the longboat out of the river at dusk. There were many marks and blurred footprints on the ground from other boats that had left the river at this point, for it was the shortest land route to the river Dvina. It would take them nearly four days to reach the river Dvina, longer if it rained, untold nightmare days if it rained heavily. It was backbreaking work and there was always danger from tribes who hid between the two mighty rivers, waiting for unwary traders to come along.
Merrik didn’t use rollers for the simple reason that the longboat wasn’t large enough to carry the rollers and trade goods and men, not without making any voyage more miserable than need be. No, they used brute strength. They were young. They had a lot of it.
The first time Merrik had voyaged to Kiev, he’d made it a point to search out a tribe during the portage and to kill every man he captured. He didn’t kill any of the women or children nor did he take them as slaves, though he could have made something of a profit in Kiev. No, he let them remain in their village and he made certain that all the women and children knew his name before he and his men were on their way again. He showed them all the silver raven carved in rich walnut that stood high on the prow. No other longboat, he told them several times, had this same figurehead. He hoped this would gain him a reputation and cause other tribes to stay away from him. On a trading voyage the last thing he wanted was to lose any men.
He’d now made three voyages to Kiev. There had been only one attack, and that one halfhearted, a brief testing of his strength. He’d lost only one man and killed twenty of the enemy. Another message to hostile tribes.
All prayed to Thor for dry weather and, more times than not, the god had listened to their pleas and given them heat and sun. He heard Roran asking Eller why he couldn’t smell out rain. It was a near litany, for all could remember a portage when Thor hadn’t heeded their prayers. It had rained so hard that it had taken them nearly eight days to drag the longboat through the slogging deep mud.
“I remember this,” she said, looking around her. “That is, I remember the doing of this but it was a different route.”
He tucked away that bit of information. “Do you now?”
She looked at him quickly, then away.
“So you came by way of Lake Ladoga and Novgorod.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t important. Perhaps that was it, or perhaps it was just a dream that came to me from another’s mind. I will see to Taby.”
“Stay close. These next four days will be dangerous.”
He looked at her a moment, wondering if she had indeed been brought by way of the river Neva to Lake Ladoga and then to Lake Ilmen. That would mean that she’d been brought by way of the Baltic. But many more traders and merchants voyaged through the Baltic to take that route, all of them carrying slaves captured from every land imaginable. It was a route that took much longer, but it was less dangerous than this route. Merrik remembered his brother Rorik laughing at him, saying, “You would journey by way of the moon if one were to assure you that it would be more deadly. Your taste for danger will bring you low.” As much as he’d told his brother he didn’t seek out danger, particularly when he had valuable furs and goods to trade, he wasn’t believed. His brother remembered how easily heated his passions could become and how quickly his temper would erupt when he’d been younger. But growing into his manhood for five years had made him different.
He and his men steadied the longboat just off balance, not wanting to put all the weight on its keel for the portage. He looked around, then looked at Eller, who sniffed and shook his head. Oddly enough, now he was worried as he had never been before. Always before he felt anticipation, excitement, a vague longing that there would