Seize The Dawn Read Free Page B

might, and be back with you. I would not want you to miss your engagement with the sea!"
    The door slammed upon them. Eleanor let out a shriek of terror, flying toward the cabin door. It was bolted tight. "My lady—" Bridie cried, coming to her. She could not be locked in. Confined.
    Yet, suddenly, she flew back, slamming against the captain's desk. The ship let out a long, terrible shudder. Wood. Groaning, cracking ... giving. And then ... The scent of fire. "Fire!" she turned on Bridie."We were told to stay here; the fire is beyond us—" "We'll not burn, I'd rather a swift sword through the heart!" "Eleanor—" "I refuse! I won't do it, I won't!" Eleanor cried, and she recklessly began searching through the cabin for a weapon, any weapon, to use against the door. At last, behind the tapestry that protected the captain's bed, she found an axe. An old battle- axe, perhaps a weapon of war, or maybe just a necessary tool. She didn't know which. She didn't care. She gripped the axe with determination.
    "Eleanor, you mustn't," Bridie told her. "Listen. Pay heed to me! The captain said that we must stay here. We could be killed by accident." Eleanor stopped dead still and stared at her maid. "No, Bridie, pay attention to me. Don't you smell the fire? Shall we die like trapped rats?" "But, my lady—"
    "I don't care how I die, Bridie, as long as it is not by flame. Bridie, listen—breathe! Fire, there is fire aboard!" Bridie took in a deep breath. Indeed, there was fire. How serious, Eleanor did not know.
    But she would not be trapped. "Fire, Bridie, fire!" Bridie took in a breath again and seemed to come to life. "Fire!" she gripped Eleanor's shoulders, staring at her wildly. "Fire, Eleanor! Let me help you. What can I do?" "Stand back, Bridie. I wield such instruments well." To prove her point, she took several steps back, then hacked away with vigor and efficiency at the door.
    "Can we take her?" Brendan demanded, looking through the captain's glass. "Aye, if you're willing!" Eric Graham, a kinsman, commanding the Wasp, told Brendan. "Oh, I am willing!" Brendan murmured. It was a strange sight at sea. The pirate ship had rammed an English vessel flying the colors of Edward I; they had come upon a battle scarcely completed.
    Both ships had suffered damage in the scuffle. Both had surely lost men as well. The Wasp was of Norse design, built in the North Islands still under Norse rule. She was smooth and sleek and carried a handful of seamen with the blood of Vikings strong in their veins—and Scotsmen, too often defeated, and too honed to battle. "You know the pirate ship?" Eric inquired. He was a large man, Brendan's own height, but where Brendan's hair was dark as night, his kinsman sported a pate and beard the color of copper, and his eyes were a paler Nordic blue than the almost cobalt coloring of Brendan's own. They lit upon Brendan then with good humor. "Tell me, you do recognize the colors flying!"
    "Cousin, I've spent most of my life fighting upon land," Brendan reminded him. Aye, he'd come to adulthood fighting. He barely remembered the time now when he had been a youth of good family, naturally learning the instruments of war, but spending nights with books as well, with language, mathematics, history, and music. "It's only of late that I've had these— opportunities?—to come to the sea." And his mind had been otherwise occupied when he had been asea, so he knew little about the flags being flown by different men.
    He turned to Eric. "Eric, are you intending to share the information?" "The ship belongs to Thomas de Longueville." Even he knew the name. "The infamous Frenchman?" Brendan inquired.
    "Aye, an intriguing fellow. Knows how to bargain when the time is right." "And he has taken an English ship? Let's have at them then!" "Will Wallace agree? We are on a matter of national diplomacy," Eric reminded him. "To taking a French pirate on our way to France—and capturing a vessel flying Edward's flag? Aye, he'll