Five

“The ropes need tarring,” Toinette was saying to Marcus, “especially toward the bow. The spray’s been eating into them in no small way.”

Erik stopped to listen as he came up on deck with a loaf of bread in one hand and a wineskin in the other. He couldn’t have said why he listened—since none of the duties were his, there was no need—save for the pleasure of hearing Toinette speak with utter assurance. He’d always found a certain beauty in watching tasks performed by those who were skilled at them, even when they didn’t possess Toinette’s other charms.

She was standing at the wheel once more, talking to Marcus, with a few of the men nearby. “There’s a bit of the deck there”—she gestured—“needs sanding and oiling. Keep a close eye for woodworm. Otherwise”—a shrug—“the wind’s fair, and we’ll make a good distance before sunset, God willing.”

Marcus took a few of the men off, nodding to Erik in passing. Gervase and a towheaded man with a sharp chin went to fetch a bucket of sand, and only then did Toinette glance in Erik’s direction. “If you’re looking for duties,” she said with a playful smile, “I can likely think of a few. You might even enjoy them.”

Her voice didn’t make it entirely clear what those duties would be, but had hint enough to warm Erik’s blood. If there’d been privacy, he would have investigated further; he’d have wagered a great deal that Toinette knew as much.

Teasing wench. When they returned to Bordeaux, Erik vowed silently, he’d see how far she would follow through on her suggestions.

For the moment, he contented himself with saying, “I’m sure I’d rejoice in any command you gave me,” and letting their eyes meet for a few fraught heartbeats before adding, “by way of making up for the hardship I’m causing you and your men.”

“There’s hardship and hardship, isn’t there?” Gervase said from the patch of deck nearby.

As Erik had seen on land, Toinette let her men speak freely, but he flattered himself he saw a flash of irritation cross her face at the interruption. She stifled it well, though, and only asked, “How do you mean?”

“Well, this voyage we’re on, it’s the Atlantic, and it’s further north than I’d like, and we don’t know the route exactly, no?”

“Aye,” said Erik.

The tow-haired man grunted a “Hunh,” which Erik took for displeased agreement.

“Dangerous,” said Gervase, giving his companion no attention. “But so too are the winds off Tyre, and storms anywhere, and men always. Three times I’ve fought pirates. I lost a good friend and three toes. Then on land there’s war, plague, bad meat, brigands, women—so I say to myself, Gervase, you have the span of years the good Lord gave you, and you know not what that will be, no more than does any man. Best to spend them more eventfully than in taking salt fish from Calais to Dover and back.”

Erik nodded. “‘The coward believes he will ever live if he keep him safe from strife, but old age leaves him not long in peace, though spears may spare his life.’”

“Yes, just so! Your words?”

“No, I’m no poet. A saying of my grandmother’s people. Translated, more or less.”

The other sailor glanced up at Erik from under lowered brows. “A Norseman as well as a Scot, then?” he asked in an English accent. “My lord?”

It wasn’t quite sarcastic, but skirted around the edge. Toinette’s lips went thin. “The Hawk bears a French charter, John,” she said. “You’d do well to keep that in mind, if we’re suddenly minding kings and nations.”

“Captain,” said John, and bent his head back to his work.

“Don’t mind him,” said Gervase. His hands made quick circles as he talked; he worked without looking, a man for whom it was second nature. “You should be bled a week into every voyage, John. It’d improve your temper considerably.”

“For two pence, I’ll improve yours,” said John, but the threat sounded almost genial, and he looked at Gervase without any of the resentment he’d shown Erik.

“No improving perfection. You’re only jealous that I know I’ll not drown.”

“Not drown?” Erik asked, both curious and eager to turn the conversation from his allegiance.

“The earring,” said Toinette, and gestured. “Tales say it’s the best protection a man can have, unless he can lay his hands on a caul.”

“And I keep saying you should have a pair, Captain,” said Gervase.

“One day I might. Meantime, I can take care of myself,” she said, and gave Erik another grin before turning back to the ocean and adding, under her voice, “in all the ways I want to.”

* * *

Conditions aboard ship being what they were, it was a few days before Erik found Toinette alone. She did her best to give him the opportunity, but always there was work to be done, or men around asking questions, and no easy way to put them off. Knowing the question Erik would ask, she also didn’t feel much urgency.

It was to his credit that he braved the weather to find his chance. To Toinette, the squall didn’t amount to more than a few bumps and a shower. Landsmen often felt differently. Then again, she admitted to herself as she saw him walk toward the forecastle, ignoring the rain on his face, Scotland and particularly its islands would make a stoic of anyone where weather was concerned.

“Here,” he said, holding out a skin of wine. “It must be cold work out here, even for one of us.”

“Cramps the hands, after a while,” she admitted. The wine wasn’t good, but it was warming. “I’d let you take a turn, but I’d rather live.”

Erik laughed, not offended. “I’ll start wi’ the ropes, should I take a fancy to seafaring, and learn from there.”

“That’s how all my men did it, as far as I know,” she said. The other meanings of my men came to mind then. Toinette looked up into the strong, wet face near her, and felt her heart beat faster than wrestling with the wheel would explain.

“A worthy lot to join, I’ve no doubt,” said Erik. As Toinette waited for more, eyebrows arched, the flirting light died from his face, and he said, a man recalling duty, “I’d a mind to talk with you on that subject.”

Toinette considered misunderstanding him and continuing the banter, then rejected the idea. This was business. It was best to get it out of the way; they both had responsibilities. “John?”

“Aye. He…knows what we’re about?”

“As much as any of the men do. I told them the basics. Not about us, or too much about magic, though I did say that legends had it that…”—she waved her free hand—“and so forth. But he knows who you are, and that your mission is like to benefit Scotland. He signed on regardless. I’ll not say he likes you, but that’s not required.”

The rain kept splashing down above them, steady and even. The deck would likely need inspection afterward, Toinette thought. Damp bred rot. She glanced from the sea in front of her back to Erik, who was hesitating.

“You don’t think him likely to…” he finally said, looking embarrassed by the suggestion.

“To let the English know what you’re trying? No, he’s no way of contacting them, and nobody who’d listen, from what he’s said of his home. To stab us in the back at the last minute? It wouldn’t work on either of us, and the rest of the crew would tear him apart for trying.”

“Ah. Yes.” Relief joined but didn’t chase off the embarrassment. “I’m sorry for raising the question, only I felt it necessary.”

The wind shifted northward. Toinette turned back to the wheel with another shrug. “I would’ve, in your shoes. But John’s like the rest of us, no matter how he grumbles. Wars are for kings and knights, and the poor bastards on their land.”

“And your men are loyal to you.”

Both the emphasis Erik used and the half-grudging admiration she heard made Toinette a trifle warmer from pride. Out loud she laughed. “And pay. It comes to the same, in the end.”

“Does it?” Erik asked.

When she glanced over her shoulder, Toinette saw him studying her with an expression that was serious as well as heated. She cleared her throat. “I’d not care to test it too far—by knocking them about on this water, say. Best you get back below, and I to my duties.”

Flirting was one thing. It was best, even for her, not to get in over her head.

* * *

The storm, such as it was, cleared up, and they had another few days of fine weather. Erik grew used to the sea air, the rocking boat, and the voices of the men blending with the lapping waves or the rippling sail.

Slowly he began to know a few of them: Gervase, of course, and Raoul, new and lovesick for a girl who’d “likely married already” in the words of cynical Sence. Most talked to him more reticently than they did to Toinette or Marcus, without long familiarity to smooth down the difference in their ranks, and John avoided him when possible, preferring suspicious looks from across the deck.

Yet there were days when general merriment overwhelmed them all, such as the time when the men brought in a vast blue fish, more than twice Erik’s height. As it lay flopping on the deck, Yakob and Samuel stretching out their arms, the general laughter and cheers expanded to include Erik.

“This place you’re taking us,” Samuel said, with a flash of teeth, “is it full of such creatures?”

“We can but find out,” Erik replied. “For all I know, it could be Prester John’s kingdom and all its wonders, though I’d not hold my breath in hoping.”

“Wise of you,” said Marcus, striding up with a more serious countenance. “Good work, but we’d best have it butchered and salted quickly, and return to duties. Captain doesn’t like the look of those clouds to the east.”