Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

been one of instinct and defense; they had taken him by surprise. Now he seemed more irritated than anything. Nena breathed a small sigh of relief. He was not guarding the mare. Tucked away here, out of sight from the other guards, Nena guessed he’d been looking for a place to take a nap when they had startled him. She acted totally unconcerned with his presence and turned to the mare who had come to greet them.

“Here she is—the mare Jarl gave to me. Isn’t she as beautiful as I said?” Nena spoke loudly to Exanthia in the Northmen’s tongue, though she doubted the child understood a word. She didn’t need to. The words were not for her. “And here are her brushes. You can help me groom her today,” Nena continued, as she bent over to pick up the two brushes that were on the ground outside the pen.

Though she pretended to pay him no mind, Nena carefully gauged the guard’s response to her words from the corner of her eye. Every fiber in her body tingled. She did not want to kill him, but if he moved against them now, she would have no choice—and it would have to be quick. He must not be allowed to cry out. Her fingers and palm already itched for the hilt of his dagger. Her shoulder already imagined making the upward sweeping arch to draw the blade across his throat.

Nena untied the gate to the mare’s pen and pulled it open, but remained in the entryway, balanced lightly on the balls of her feet. The guard muttered something unintelligible under his breath and limped away. Soon he was around the corner and out of sight.

Nena closed her eyes and exhaled. Thank the gods. That could have been disastrous. She continued to make small talk with the girl under the subterfuge of a grooming demonstration, in case the guard was still close enough to hear, but Nena was moving quickly now. She removed the small coil of rope from under her dress and rigged a slip knot loop on the mare’s lower jaw. Then she ran the long end of the rope over the horse’s head behind her ears and back down through the jaw loop on the other side, forming a makeshift rope bridle. It only gave her one rein, but Nena could not risk trying to retrieve the mare’s real bridle and saddle. And one rein would be enough; the mare was so sensitive to Nena’s commands, she probably could have been guided with no bridle at all.

Taking one last glance in the direction the guard had disappeared, Nena grabbed a handful of mane and swung onto the mare’s bare back. She reached down and quickly pulled the girl up behind her. “Lean down against me and hang on tight,” she whispered as she leaned forward and pressed her own face into the horse’s mane. “And no matter what happens, do not make a sound.”

Lying flat against the mare’s neck with the young girl plastered to her back, Nena wrapped one hand tightly in a section of the horse’s thick dark gray mane. Using her legs, she guided the mare out of the pen and into the herd of spare horses that had not been taken to battle. A few of the animals raised their heads and eyed the newcomers with mild interest before returning to grazing.

Nena felt as if she would explode. Every nerve in her body was taut as a bowstring. She wanted desperately to gallop, but kept the mare to a slow walk as they quietly moved among the other horses. Any second she expected to hear a warning horn followed by multiple coordinating whistles. She lay poised to dig her heels into the mare’s flanks and ask her for top speed when the alarms came, but the only sound continued to be their muffled hoof-beats in the soft soil.

Nena pointed the mare south for two reasons. The battle was going on somewhere to the north, so the remaining sentries should naturally have more of their attention focused in that direction. She also knew from her rides with Jarl that the river to the south cut a notch in the hillside. Once she made it past that ridge, she would be out of sight of even the most outlying sentries.

Nena held her breath, knowing each step was critical progress toward their success. The slow moving horse in the group of horses had yet to attract any attention, even with the slouched riders on its back. Soon they were approaching the southernmost edge of the picket line fence that kept the spare horses corralled—the single last obstacle to their freedom.

“Hang on,” Nena whispered to the girl as she sat up and threw one leg forward over the mare’s neck and slid to the ground. She reached for the nearest post, pulled it swiftly, and laid it down on top of the rope line. Leading the mare behind her, she hastily pulled four more posts and did the same, leaving a large section of the rope fence flat on the ground. Shimmying back up in front of the girl, Nena carefully guided the mare over the rope and resumed their southward travel. When the other horses found this hole and escaped, as she was sure they would, it should cover their tracks and create an extra diversion for the remaining guards.

She would not be missed until Jarl returned.

Jarl. His tender smile as he’d left that morning came unbidden to her mind. Nena felt the sharp pang again in her stomach, but quelled it. There was no going back now. She was doing the right thing. She must put this behind her. Raising her chin, Nena pointed the mare toward the distant ridge.

Jarl entered and felt the emptiness of the tent before his eyes verified it. Nena’s presence was a warmth that spread to everything around her, and he did not feel it now. The tent was cold.