Buku DREKI by John Graham
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Buku DREKI by John Graham

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DREKI by John Graham

Author:John Graham [Graham, John]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Published: 2011-01-22T23:00:00+00:00

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DREKI by John Graham

30

A Warrior’s Baptism

Dublin at night, Ireland – 995 AD

 

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DREKI by John Graham

Author:John Graham [Graham, John] , Date: June 6, 2019

,Views: 14

Author:John Graham [Graham, John]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Published: 2011-01-22T23:00:00+00:00
30

A Warrior’s Baptism

Dublin at night, Ireland – 995 AD

Niva knelt motionlessly, her face in sharp silhouette against the room’s dying hearth light. Rolf sensed her eyes on him. The neftafel piece in his palm urged him to consider his next move, to be shrewd.

They were trapped within a series of walls. A high wooden wall enclosed the private inner yard of the longhouse. Beyond it lay the royal compound, itself surrounded by a higher wall of spiked timbers. If they made it past that, they would be lost in the dark streets of the town with the earthen ramparts and palisade to cross before gaining the wharf.

Rolf glanced to the doorways. The one leading directly into the outer yard was closed and blocked by a sleeping lump. The door leading into the inner yard was also closed, but the guard had rolled to the side, probably tired of being stepped over by people on their way to the privy.

“Did you come in through there?” Rolf asked, pointing to the door to the inner yard.

She nodded.

“Do you know your way to the wharf?”

She shrugged, apparently not knowing the word.

“Do you know your way to the river?”

A nod.

Rolf thought a moment longer, took a deep breath and gave her instructions. Chances were, she would raise less suspicion moving about than he would, so she went first. He watched from his bed as she moved stiffly toward the door, her buff gown and long, white-gold hair catching what light was offered, making her look less substantial, more like an apparition. She stopped and floated for an eternity in front of the door. Finally, a sliver of gray night appeared and widened as the door opened and she disappeared into the inner yard. If she left the door open, he would follow. If she did not, it was signal the guard was awake.

The door remained open. He slipped out of bed and onto the floor, his shoes and breeches already on. His few personal effects he left by the bed, with the exception of his knife, the only weapon he was allowed as a hostage, and it was more for eating than for fighting. For good measure, he kept his hand on its handle as he picked his way through the dark.

The man by the door snored. Rolf crept past him into the private yard of the residence and gently pushed the door shut. Niva waited in the open, the pale moonlight making her luminous. Rolf seized her by the arm and hustled her into the less-conspicuous corner by the broken butter cask. Nervous tears hung in the corners of her eyes.

“Can you run?” Rolf asked.

She nodded quickly, but the long gown, the long hair and the pair of light, leather slippers on her feet made Rolf skeptical. Stepping behind her, he gathered her hair in his hands, made three strands of it and formed a loose braid. Dropping to a squat, he took the hem of her gown and began lifting it. As he got it just above her knees, she stopped him with blocking hands and pleading eyes.

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