Cursed in the Blood: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery by Sharan Newman Read Free Book Online

she,” Solomon answered. “Remember, she’d never seen anything wider than the Seine before this trip. It’s not something one can describe.”
    “How will we ever get her home?” Edgar worried.
    “We won’t,” Solomon told him. “Catherine will have to find the courage herself.”
    He looked out at the empty sea. “I only hope we have a home to come back to.”
     
    Catherine was miserable. Once the worst of the motion sickness passed, she felt a fool. No one else was suffering like this. What was wrong with her?
    “It doesn’t matter what’s wrong, girl.” Catherine bit back a curse. Sweet Virgin! Four years out of the convent and the voices of her teachers still haunted her. Catherine cringed, but the voices in her head continued. “Stop whining! Bear your affliction with patience. You’re a grown woman, with a baby to care for. What will happen to James without you?”
    Cautiously, Catherine sat up. She groaned. The long swells were pushing her stomach up and down with the boat. And the smell made it even worse. Thank God the traders were on their way to England to buy skins for tanning and not on the return. The cargo on this trip was finished cloth. She didn’t think she could have stood the odor of fresh animal skin along with the tar and fish smells that permeated the air. Bile rose in her throat and she leaned over the bucket they had left for her. Why couldn’t anyone see that she was in extremis? Edgar was cruel and unfeeling and probably had a new wife selected and waiting for him in Scotland.
    “Willa?” she whispered.
    The girl was beside her at once.
    “Any better, Mistress?” she asked.
    “Perhaps I’ll wait until tomorrow to die,” Catherine answered
without conviction. “Is the baby all right? I haven’t heard him.”
    “Fine,” Willa answered. “He’s awake now and watching everything. He seems to like the rocking of the waves.”
    “Little traitor,” Catherine muttered. “He must get it from his father. Well then, he’ll want to eat soon. Can you get me something gentle to drink before you bring him to me? Flat beer, perhaps? I’m worried that my milk will stop if I have nothing in my stomach.”
    “Of course.” Willa raised the tent flap to leave. She hesitated, then spoke again. “It wouldn’t make any difference if a wet nurse had come with us. She would likely have had the same problems as you.”
    Catherine smiled. “Thank you, Willa. How did you know I was regretting not bringing one?”
    “I just guessed,” the girl answered. “But you’ve no need for regret. Look at you, almost sitting up. You’re much better. In your worry for James, you’ve overcome your own illness. So it’s all to the good, isn’t it?”
    Her words cheered Catherine, even though they were inaccurate. She felt terrible. She was drenched in her own sweat. Her skin, normally a light olive-brown, was now an unripe-olive green. The boat crested a wave and slid into the hollow. Catherine shut her eyes and lay down again. Why had no one told her that the sea was so unstable?
     
    Edgar was slurping down pickled eel, letting the juice drip onto a slab of rye bread balanced on his knees. He took a long swig of beer from the gourd that was being passed around and belched appreciatively.
    The captain nodded approval. “You’d have made a good Viking,” he commented. “Both of you,” he added as he passed the beer to Robert.
    Robert grunted and pretended to drink. He wasn’t as good a sailor as Edgar but he’d be damned and fried if he let on.
    There was one other passenger on the boat, a young cleric named Leonel. He took no part in the camaraderie. When he wasn’t hanging over the side, he sat and glared at those who were obviously enjoying the journey. Seeing him so miserable, Solomon had tried to help him, but Leonel’s only response was to moan and wave him away.
    Solomon went back to the group and sat beside Edgar.
    Edgar leaned back. “They say our family came to England