It took a few more bellowed instructions but Arianna soon felt a slight difference in their movement through the water. They no longer just bounced along aimlessly amongst the waves, but moved with them. Pride clenched her heart as Michel carefully crawled on top of Adelar and added the strength of his thin arm to that of his brother’s. She prayed they were increasing their speed enough to get out of the reach of the ones who had just sent two dozen men to their deaths in their cold determination to murder two little boys.
“Enough,” she said in what felt to be hours later, her arm so weak and numb with cold she had to struggle just to pull it from the icy water. “The water itself will carry us the rest of the way to shore.”
She pressed her cheek against the wet, rough wood of the keg and fought hard to push back the darkness creeping in at the edges of her mind. It was not only the battle to get the boys safely on shore, or the cold, sapping all her strength. From the moment she had realized that Amiel and the DeVeaux had put some of their men on the ship, she had barely slept at all, guarding the boys day and night. Arianna ached with the need to put all her troubles aside and sleep for days. A small, cold hand grasped her own and shook it. She opened her eyes enough to see Michel’s too pale little face.
“Are the bad men dead now?” he asked.
“Aye,” she replied. “The bad men who were on our ship are dead, as are too many good men. The bad men on the bigger ship are not, however, and I dinnae think the DeVeaux will give up yet. Nay, nor Amiel.”
“I am sorry. So is Adelar.”
“For what?”
“We didnae truly believe you.”
“Ah, weel, mayhap now ye will heed my warnings better. Aye?”
“Aye,” said both boys.
“Good. Now, I want ye to cling tightly to these kegs. Ere the storm struck us I caught a wee glimpse of the shore. Do ye remember me showing it to you?” Both boys nodded. “The water should push us toward it now without much aid from us.” She silently prayed there were not too many rocks between them and the safety of the shore for their crude little craft could not withstand any battering. “And do ye remember all I told ye to do if ye end up alone on that shore?”
“Ye will be with us, Anna,” Adelar said, a touch of panic rippling in his voice.
“I pray that is so but I still ask ye if ye remember all I told you.”
“Aye. We are to find your kinsmen, the Murrays, and tell them all that has happened.”
“And who the bad men are,” added Michel.
“Exactly. Now, dinnae fall asleep if ye can help it. Ye must cling fast to these kegs and be ready to swim to shore if the need arises. Slip your arm beneath the rope holding us together as that will help ye. I dinnae think it will be long now ere we stand upon solid ground again. These waves, for all they are a pure misery, are swiftly pushing us in the right direction.”
Arianna hoped she sounded as confident of their success as she wished the boys to feel. She did not want them to sense her fear or the weakness that was making her very bones ache. Yet, as she reminded them of what they should do the moment they reached the shore, her mind kept whispering if. If some survivor from the wrecked ship did not come upon them and decide he needed their tiny craft more than they did. If the men hunting them did not find them. If they were not hurled upon the rocks in sight of land.
Her mind was so crowded with all that could go wrong, Arianna was tempted to stand up and scream, to bellow out her fear and anger up into the storm clouds. It was not fair, she thought, and winced at the childish whine she could hear beneath the complaint in her head. That did not change the truth behind the words, however. Michel and Adelar were several years away from even the hint of manhood, just boys and innocent of any great sin. Arianna knew she had not committed any great sins, either, although she could all too easily think of many a small one. Nothing that warranted death by drowning or watching two boys she loved as if they were her own sons die.
A part of her wished to curse God, but she sternly suppressed it. Being quick to anger was one of her many faults, but now was not a good time to give in to it. Now she needed to fill her mind and heart with earnest prayers, maybe even a few promises of some good deed she would do or something she would give up if He only spared the boys.
But it was hard to think clearly anymore. The blackness creeping over her mind was slowly conquering all her attempts to remain conscious. With the last of her strength she twisted some of the rope holding the kegs together around her wrist. She prayed it would be enough to hold her on the keg as she rode it to shore.
“Ach! I think e’en my bones are wet. This cursed rain has pounded its way right through my skin.”