By the first flush of morning I was in my riding skirts and securely mounted astride a chestnut palfrey, who turned out later to be a mare of a sweet and docile temperament. With nothing but a meager fare to break my fast, we lit out and by midday we stopped briefly to water our horses and partake of the vittles that were packed for the journey, namely pieces of last night's bread and fresh cheese.

My last glimpse of Buttongrass Hall had been bittersweet, but once we had passed the village of Billburyshire — the serfs there having blasted me with the full force of their mistrustful glares as I passed — I had ceased looking back; on the contrary I focused a glum, vacant stare on Carac's broad back as his destrier dropped turds in its wake.

So it was that my last impression of my homeland would always be of Mildred's tear-stained cheeks as I waved goodbye. But so too would I always remember a particularly malnourished, young peasant woman who — upon noticing my approach on Billburyshire's main street — abruptly grabbed her small, bare-footed son and hauled him out of the causeway; crossing herself fervently, over her threadbare cloak, as I moved by. I had been ever marked as an outcast, but perhaps my destiny might change now that I was bound for a foreign land; and a wholly unpredictable future.



❅



We were on the road headed east, towards the coast, and managed to travel five and thirty miles the first day, for Carac kept an exhausting, but steady, pace despite my benumbed derrière. The Roman highway, by now ancient and dilapidated, was pitted with ruts — the old cobblestones now uneven and worn into grooves by the thousands of cartwheels, from bygone eras, that had come before us. Our progress across the grassy downs and vales of the beautiful moorlands had been excellent so far, but the onset of dusk was now making the activity treacherous.

"Why do we travel with so few men. Are you not the least bit afraid of highwaymen?" I was peeking into the lengthening shadows, but directed the question to Carac, shuddering at the possibility of the criminal-infested woods either side of us.

"We will not be the ones in danger should they try..." He looked back to smile nefariously; as per usual, answering only in his peculiarly mysterious way.

Despite my worry, we reached an inn ere twilight set in completely. I was even more closely guarded by Carac now that I had left the safety of my childhood domicile.

Each day began to blend into the next and the scenery changed little. There was not very much to occupy the long hours for my companions talked only amongst themselves, whenever we took to resting our mounts, leaving me to fret quietly about my future. I might have been inclined to listen in, if not contribute, but they spoke only in Norn, therefore ensuring my exclusion.

At most river crossings, we paid whatever pontage was required to use the toll bridges, but at one particular intersection — where the supports were made of rickety wood instead of stone — Carac had us wade across the shallowest part of the river, in favor of risking the bridge and, as it was one of the coldest summers in my recollection, my skirts were decidedly wet the remainder of the day.

At last, by the morning of the fourth day, we finally reached the great port at Bogstead Yur. I saw the ocean bay as we crested the hill, a mass of stars reflected across a calm bay in the glistening morning sunlight, and marveled at the fishing boats that were now barely visible on the distant horizon. The air was now infused with a crisp saltiness, dispelling the perfume of the moors at our back. I took one last look at the cotton grass, the lichen-crusted crags, the hovering butterflies and the familiar, rolling boggy landscape — took one last, deep inhale of the sweet heather still infusing the air — before I too forsook its charms, nudging my horse to close the space I'd allowed between Carac's steed, and silently said my goodbyes.

The harbor next came into view, with its warehouses, shipyards, shops, and fishmongers all lined alongside a wharf that was bustling with life. The masts of hundreds of cogs and hulks sat resting in the quay with only a teasing wind to rustle playfully at their sails. We gradually made our way down the hill and into the hullabaloo, there to find the ship that had been procured for us.

I thought of how incredibly expensive it must be to hire a ship and crew for a voyage across a gulf of open ocean. Godwin had, by all accounts, leased two: one for himself and one for us. Why he hadn't just waited an extra day, I knew not, but it was my frugal nature to question the fact and I did so now, turning to Carac with an inquisitive frown marring my brow.

"It must be horrendously expensive to procure two ships for a voyage the earl might have done in one, had he but waited for us?" Carac shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, scanning the dock for our vessel.

"The lord of Nørrdragor owns both ships and they are both filled with various merchandise." He had seemed to grow more talkative the longer he became aquatinted with me. I smiled, thankful that he did not again call into question my vexing curiosity, as he commenced his explanation. "It does not signify if one should sail a day or two later than the other."

"No indeed," I agreed in awe.

Our vessel turned out to be a clinker-built Hulk with a bloated hull stretching almost eighty feet along her berth. She sat in repose atop the glassy water, tugging lazily at her moorings. She was an incredibly impressive behemoth and my head tilted back, wonderment slackening my jaw by piecemeal degrees as I took in the single, tall mast and long yardarm from which a large, square, white sail hung.

I watched as weathered, leathery men climbed the gangplanks hauling heavy barrels, undoubtably expensive Gascon wine, and various other desiderata required for our voyage, their beefy arms straining with their efforts. Thither too, into the hold, went various crates of differing size — some of which were open and being inspected by one of the earl's men. Within one trunk lay yards of colorful silks, while the one beside it was filled with spices, and yet another held silver wares.

I had expected to see these items being loaded, impressive but innocuous merchandise all, but what I had not thought to witness was a cumbersome and massive, iron cage with thick, barbed, latticed bars — the size of which would easily accommodate a monstrous bear — being maneuvered aboard by four of the burliest seamen.

"What is that contraption for, Carac?" I ventured.

He bent a stern eye at me and then watched the cage's progress along the deck before it disappeared into the hold. "Some things are better left unexplained, girl," he growled. I did not understand how I might have offended him with such a banal query, but Carac's tone had brooked no further questioning, and so I let the matter rest.

I preceded him up the gangplank, his large figure stirring many a wary gaze, as the last of the caged chickens and leashed goats were loaded. Not a single man loitered, all was bustling activity, and yet the sailors seemed all too aware of Carac. I noticed as each man took great pains to avoid my guardian while shooting furtive glimpses over their shoulders as he moved into their midst.

I despised, among many things, being the focal point of any assembled group for it had caused me naught but strife in the past. I would as soon not attract any more suspicious and accusing glances as I had already done; the villeins tilling my father's land had long ago decided that I was queer and unnatural. The only positive meed, in my otherwise dreary existence, was that I would no longer feel the sting of vicious whispers and leery stares as they lashed my back; on the rare occasion I accompanied Mildred to market.

This would be my first time aboard a ship, my very first ocean crossing in fact, and therefore I was beset, of a sudden, with a paroxysm of gut-wrenching fear and grief as a painful sob bubbled up to the surface and embedded itself solidly into the back of my throat . I had thus far held my sorrow hidden behind a mask of indifference, but I felt the tears stream mutely down my face unbidden.

I was told our passage would take us directly across the Gulf of Dragons — a treacherous channel dividing the wild lands in the north from our Kingdom of Gaeld in the south. I was essentially leaving one world for another!

Oh, Mother! I weeped silently, Will I ever see Mildred again? I often spoke to the woman who had died on the day of my inauspicious birth for I was lonely and companionless in the world, save for the nurse that raised me. A sudden flutter of dark feathers startled me from my despondency as a raven swooped down from the mast and landed on the gunwale beside my stiff, pale fingers.

Oh!

The bird was unusually large and studied me with discerning, intelligent black eyes as I wiped furiously at my wind-benumbed cheeks; embarrassed to be seen crying — even by a gawking bird. It cocked its head and squawked, a note of query in its obstreperous rasping. I sniffed noisily and it once again belched its discordant tune which, quite unexpectedly, drew a feeble smile from my lips as the seagull beside it eyed the newcomer dubiously.

"Wot the bleedin' devil?!" came a raspy curse from behind me.

I spun around anxiously as a particularly cantankerous sailor bore down on my feathered companions and I, but fortunately 'twas not I that had inspired his surly oath.

"Higgins!" he yelled testily, "get yer hairy arse back over 'ere an swab these decks again!"

The sailor pulled a dirty rag from his back pocket and began brandishing it threateningly at the raven who cawed its belligerent protest before taking flight.

"Beggin yer pardon, miss," said he while maneuvering absently around me as the man, Higgins, trotted over with a bucket and a mop. "Bloody bird just shat on deck, Higgins!" he complained, spittle flying into poor Higgins' titian beard.

They were each dressed in crude, knee-length woolen doublets, loose-fitting hose and leather boots. Each politely doffed their cap, despite the former's less than respectable language, ere the red haired man continued his swabbing as he mumbled more curses at the absentee offenders: the raven and the neighboring seagull who had quite befouled his deck; the latter of the two being the likely culprit.

However, they quickly moved off as my chaperone appeared beside me. Carac, no doubt noticing the streaky evidence of dried tears across my filthy cheeks and my wide-eyed bemusement, mistook my expression for apprehension and sought to relieve my concern.

"You have naught to worry about, Aria," he said with conviction, as he searched the sky as if to gauge what mischief it might soon unleash. I smiled tremulously at his thoughtful comment and he patted my back awkwardly, although he was not quite done yet with the purpose of reassuring me. "Well, naught except pirates and storms!" he added with a dark chuckle.



🌟⭐️Mmkay Carac *rolls eyes*🌟⭐️