Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

close to it now. She looked over at Jarl sleeping next to her. His face so relaxed, his hair tousled like a boy’s. She resisted the urge to touch it.

She needed a foolproof plan. She would get only one chance, and if she failed….

She could not fail.

The gift of the mare gave her the excuse she needed to fully exercise her free run of the camp without raising any suspicion. Though she was not allowed to ride without Jarl, at least twice daily she visited the mare to groom her or bring her a treat. The mare’s coat responded to the attention and glistened in the sunlight like a polished silver coin. Soon the horse guards were barely acknowledging her, and Nena knew her presence among the horses would not raise concern when it was time.

Caring for the mare brought another unexpected bonus. The horse enclosures were beyond the prisoner compound on the back side of the camp to reduce the number of flies in the main camp itself. In order to reach them, Nena had to pass directly through the prisoners. Each time, she varied her course slightly, hoping to see where the girl and her mother were kept without having to ask. She trusted no one with her secret—not even her own people. She could not risk being betrayed.

On the third day, she saw the mother and girl from a distance. She did not approach them. Instead, without slowing her stride, she scrutinized them and the area around them closely. There was no sign of a guard on the girl, as she had feared. Perhaps Jarl had rescinded the order when she chose him. Why or how didn’t matter; one by one her obstacles were crumbling in front of her.

Her only problem left to solve was the location of the camp sentries, and after the unexpected return of the slaver, the increased number of them. She knew from the maps and hearing the men talk in Jarl’s tent, the camp was set up within four circles of guards. The men were stationed closer together along the innermost circle nearest the camp, then fanned out in ever-widening circles until the outermost ring of sentries on the plains. While the distance of each circle from the camp remained relatively fixed, the location of each individual sentry within that circle was fluid. They constantly moved along the perimeter of their ring, never staying in one spot.

Not being able to predict their exact location was bad enough, but it was their warning system of whistles and horns that was Nena’s biggest concern. It was designed to alert them to any attack, and allow men to converge on a particular area to repel intruders. The furthermost sentries’ signals were rapidly transmitted to all the circles, and men from other areas would move swiftly to bolster the area under siege. But the same alarms could also be used in reverse, in the case of an escape attempt.

Nena was standing in the mare’s pen when a horn sounded, quite close, from somewhere inside the prisoner compound. The mare spooked and raised her head, her tiny ears pricked toward the sound. Her nostrils flared. Initially, Nena could neither see, nor hear what caused the alarm, but the quick succession of whistles and horns, and the mare’s ever-moving attention, told her which direction to look. At last, she saw a young dark-skinned man break free from the tents and sprint through the grass. Even though he was fleet of foot and had managed to evade the first row of guards, from where she stood, Nena could see he never had a chance. Sentries from the outer rings, alerted by the alarms, closed in on his location. He was quickly surrounded and recaptured.

She had to somehow account for that in her plan. If the sentries were alerted before she was clear, her plan was doomed. To outmaneuver so many in close quarters would be impossible. Her mare’s strength was in the open and going a distance—the longer the better. Once she was free; not even Jarl with his great stallion would be able to catch her. But how to get there?

Then even that problem solved itself. That evening in Jarl’s tent, she sat listening to the scout reports that were just beginning to come in from the next village. The potential fourth target from this grouping had not been worth their while, and the first scouts had returned from the next target on Jarl’s map. The last one before her aunt’s tribe. These early reports described the next village as much larger than any of the previous ones and its defense fortifications more significant. All agreed it was still well within their capabilities, but would require more men. Nena listened carefully as Jarl and his officers discussed just how many men would be needed. The number was substantial.

She could not believe her ears. When the men left for this battle, the camp would be poorly guarded, the sentries spread very thin. Jarl would be gone. She could make her escape with the girl and have at least half a day’s head start before he knew she was missing.

Jarl gave orders for the camp to break at dawn. They would move to within easy striking distance of the next target, make the final adjustments to their plan, then attack.

That night as they lay languorously entwined in the furs, with Jarl’s finger absently tracing an imaginary pattern on her stomach, Nena brought up what had been on her mind.

“Tomorrow, will I be riding the mare when the camp moves?” She knew it was a big test of her new freedom. She was not allowed to ride without him, and though he would also be riding that day, he would never permit her to ride with him. Having his slave woman riding along beside him—and that’s what she was—while he dealt with the men, was not an option. Still she had to ask. The thought of riding