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Page 262
was a pleasure so long as she did not have to think about Simon.
The port, which was strange and interesting to most of the ladies, could not divert Alinor. She had seen similar ships with their rows of benches for rowers and the great sweeps for steering hove in at the town that huddled under the gray walls of Roselynde. These were at their least attractive too, with their sails rolled and their crews emptying the stinking bilge. Alinor shuddered as she saw them preparing to stretch a canvas across the bows of the ship to act as a tent for the protection of the ladies. Inside there would be some relief from the cold and the spray and a little warmth from the braziers of charcoal which would be lit if the sea was not too violent. There would also be acrid smoke, shrieks and prayers, and the ugly smell of vomit.
Although Alinor had never crossed the narrow sea, she had been sailing often enough. She was fortunate in not being given to seasickness unless the water was very rough, but the choice between freezing in the open or sharing the confined discomforts of the tent, each horrible in its own way, reminded her of choosing between a Simon she did not want or no Simon at all. In these choices there seemed to be no middle way. The choice between good and evil was easy. The choice between two goods was difficult. But the necessary choice between two evils was bitter indeed.
When they came to the appointed ship, Alinor dismounted and stood leaning against her horse, watching the men-at-arms leading and sometimes forcing their trembling, blindfolded mounts into the bottom of the ship. Dawn and Honey were already aboard and, at last, Beorn came to take Cricket, the sturdy little mare Alinor had been riding. He looked around at the naked area, shook his head, and signaled to three of his men.
"You stand between the wind and the mistress,

 
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