by Fiona Faris
Idunn grasped the edges of the ermine’s fur across her shoulders, watching the bird back with as much intensity.
“See, sæta, it is just a bird. Come back to the celebrations.”
She turned away reluctantly, her feet moving quickly beneath her. She did not look at Einarr as she passed, but her thoughts found her voice.
“It is not just a bird, Einarr. It is a raven. Ravens are omens.”
“Do not be so superstitious,” Einarr’s tone was firm as he followed her, as she looked back towards him with sharp eyes. In the corner of her gaze, she could still see the raven with its head tilted to one side.
Chapter Two
Rúna had been watching Idunn.
Idunn could sense it. She had seen the young girl following her throughout the feast and celebrations. As she danced and ate with Einarr, Rúna looked at them, making Idunn shift and fidget.
As Einarr’s sister, Rúna was welcome to join them on their side of the table at the feast, yet she stayed back, apparently wary of joining. She would fidget uncomfortably and distance herself when people approached her to talk.
Idunn hated feeling powerless, and Rúna’s keen gaze made her feel as though she was missing something. Something she did not know. She resolved to return the hard stare throughout the night, only growing more curious at the girl’s odd behavior as the evening passed.
After her third dance of the night with Einarr, his attention was begged by the Jarl, and Idunn saw it as her opportunity to confront her watcher. She slipped away into the shadows of the candles and crept around the edge of the room to watch Rúna.
The girl stood at the side of the longhouse, her head flicking through the crowd, having apparently lost its target. Idunn smiled, knowing she had obtained the advantage, and crept towards her watcher. When she stood behind her, she tapped the girl on her shoulder, smiling as she jumped around.
“Rúna,” she nodded with coldness, watching as the girl darted between her feet, “do tell why you have felt the need to stare at me all night?”
The girl looked down at her feet with blue eyes that matched her brother’s, apparently ashamed.
“Have you lost your tongue as well as your manners?” Idunn regretted her harshness when the girl looked up with pained eyes.
“I need to speak with you. Alone.”
“Alone? Whatever for?”
Rúna looked back over her shoulder, her gaze finding her father, the Jarl, and Einarr in the far corner of the room. Idunn followed her glance, growing more curious. The two men were huddled together in conversation, laughing at each other's jokes.
“It is important. Please. Come with me,” Rúna beckoned her to follow, and led the two of them through the dancers and pipe players to the doorway of the longhouse. On one side of them was the warmth of the hall with the great fire and orange candles. On the other was the blue darkness of the night.
“You look in pain, Rúna,” Idunn observed as they came to a stop. She leaned on the doorframe, tilting her head to look at the girl closely.
“I am - in a way. If fear is a type of pain,” Rúna stepped towards her, with a countenance suddenly firm and sharp, “You must listen to me, Idunn.”
“I am listening.”
“You must be careful in this raid against the Scots.”
Idunn scoffed with a shake of her head and folded her arms, realizing the girl’s strange behavior was nothing but concern for battle. She was not a warrior woman, not one as trained as Idunn and Signý.
“You have never seen me in battle, so you do not know what care I take. You do not need to be concerned. Though I will say, you are bold to make such a warning.”
“You misunderstand me completely!” At the sudden harshness, Rúna looked around to make sure she’d not been overheard. Idunn watched her fidgeting manner as she ran her hands through the tendrils of her brown hair. She quickly realized that whatever was bothering the girl appeared to be very real.
“Then explain it to me.”
“I will,” Rúna nodded, returning her gaze to Idunn, “You will have heard already that Einarr is to lead the raid.”
“Já.”
“I know my brother well, Idunn. Better than you.” Rúna stepped closer to her, but Idunn made no move to argue. She did not deny that she wasn’t excessively familiar with her betrothed. “I can tell you that he is not to be trusted to lead this raid.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Idunn scoffed again and shook her head, “He is one of the most fearsome warriors we have.”
“And one of the least trustworthy,” Rúna’s voice was pleading, almost begging to be understood, “I love him dearly, of course, I do. As my brother, how could I not? Yet that does not mean my eyes are not open to the man’s failings, and he has many.”
“You think he has a failing as a warrior or a leader?”
“Both!”
“You have never seen him in battle as I have done. On what grounds do you base this judgement on?” Idunn looked down at Rúna. She was not the tallest of Norse women, but she still had a little height over the girl.
“Experience of a lifetime as his sister,” Rúna’s voice was calm now, “I do not tell you this to cause difficulties in your betrothal. I am warning you because I am genuinely afraid of what is about to happen. Einarr has never led a battle by himself before.”
“He has been in enough of them to prove his worth.”
“I know the darkness of his mind better than you. Trust me, Idunn.”
“What is it you want from me?” Idunn shook her head with firmness, “Why are you telling me this?”
“I want you to be wary, that is all.” Rúna stepped even closer to her, so she could whisper. “Take care in battle, and do not trust him more than you would your own sword.”
“I trust nothing more than my sword.”
“Good.” Rúna moved away again. “Just, please promise me… You will be careful?”
Idunn paused for a minute, staring at Rúna with narrowed eyes and folded arms. Seeing the girl’s twitching face and fearful manner was enough to convince her that Rúna believed herself to be telling the truth.
Idunn nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as Rúna left her alone to her thoughts.
“Is all well?” the familiar voice of Einarr reached her through the crowd. Idunn tore her eyes from the retreating form of Rúna and turned to see her betrothed reach her side. “Has my sister been bothering you?”
“Not at all. She merely wished to speak about the upcoming raid,” Idunn lied, forcing that familiar fake smile back to her cheeks.
“She did?” Einarr turned his eyes to find her sister.
“It is nothing. Merely a sister’s love and worry for her brother.”
“Well, for that, I must be grateful.” He turned back with a charming smile. “Come, play a game of tafl with me?”
He offered her his hand, and she took it gladly, staring into his sky-blue eyes for a moment.
Content. There was that feeling again.
“Of course,” she smiled, this time a genuine one, and followed him to a table at the far side of the room where the games were played.
Einarr eagerly set up the game of tafl as Idunn watched, her mind more concerned with the conversation that had just passed with Rúna.
Her eyes followed his hand movements as they placed the brown and white pieces in the center and corners of the engraved board, his face frowning with concentration. She knew by now it was one of his favourite games. It was a game of strategy, one he liked to win, and one that was often played at such celebrations.
“Are you worried about the raid?” Idunn moved one of her pieces to begin the game, curious to delve into his thoughts now that her mind had been unsettled by Rúna.
“Not at all. Tell me, sæta, when was the last time the Scots beat us?”
She laughed as he moved his own piece.
“I have never known it to happen.”
“Quite so.”
Th
ey continued the game in quiet, both absorbed in their strategies.
“I have seen you in battle so many times,” Idunn’s words came out softly. She was uncertain whether she meant them to offer comfort to her betrothed or if it was an attempt to persuade herself. “I trust you. Just as everyone here trusts you.”
“If you are trying to build my confidence ahead of this raid, I would say you are succeeding.” He smiled as he took one of her pieces from the board. She masked her own delight that he had fallen for her trick of carefully sacrificing one of her pieces.
“Your confidence does not need building.” She moved another piece to the center of the board, finishing the game with a flourish. “I believe you have lost the game, Einarr.”
Einarr’s happy countenance shifted to a frown as he gazed down at the board, baffled by her move.
“That is not possible. I was about to win.”
“I’m afraid you fell for my trick. I sacrificed a piece.”
“You must have cheated.” He sat back in his seat with folded arms.
“I did not.”
“You must have done.” He pointed down at the board. “I always win this game.”
“We all lose at some point.” She chuckled, trying to usher him into a more jovial spirit, but it was a fruitless endeavor. “Would you like to play again?” She moved the pieces back to their starting place.
“No, I have had enough for tonight.” He stood to walk away, leaving her staring down at the board.
Perhaps the raid on the Scots was what the two of them needed. They were a good couple in their courtship, but they still had problems. Standing together and fighting side by side could help them to bond. They could learn from each other and become even closer.
Idunn watched Einarr retreat across the room, suddenly certain that Rúna was wrong in her warning. He was a man to be trusted; it was proven by how poor a loser he was in their game. He would never give up the fight until they had beaten the Scots.
Banff
Gavin lay on his back amongst the long grass with the scent of thistles and heather around him. The grass tickled his arms, and he rested his leather boots on a nearby rock. With his eyes closed, he was trying to ignore the sound of the gentle patter of rain on the Davenon Loch beside him. It was like a soft whisper, one easy to forget.
“Gavin? Gavin! Ye must wake up.” A voice broke through his peaceful doze, but a minute later, he was back in the depths of his nap, his head back on his hands. “Gavin!” the voice practically screeched, making him open his eyes with a flicker.
“Kenna? I thought we came out here for some quiet. Ye are nae exactly aidin’ that aim.” He closed his eyes again, trying to return to his nap and ignore the cries of his sister. She had spent most of their time by the loch dancing around, picking bundles of heather, but something had changed to make her so agitated.
“Gavin, if ye daenae get up now, so help me, in the name of the wee man above, I will dump ye in the loch.”
“I would like to see ye try. Leave me be.”
“Ye have to see this!”
“I will see it when I wake. Just give me a few minutes more.”
As his mind was pulled back into the darkness of sleep, one of the horses beside him whinnied and cried loudly.
“Aye! I will get up!” Gavin sat up, scratching the dark auburn hair on his head. “Well, it must be somethin’ to see that ye even have the horse upset.”
He looked around but was suddenly aware that Kenna was not beside him. The horse reared back on its legs, continuing to neigh in fear.
“Daenae worry, lad.” Gavin jumped to his feet and tugged at the reins, pulling the horse down again. It was a wild thing, easily skittish and frequently unnerved by strangers, but Gavin could always tame it. “There, now. Ye are alright, arenae ye?” The horse snorted, looking past Gavin’s shoulder.
“Now, lad. I’m goin’ to look for Kenna. Ye stay calm, ye hear?” the raspy tone of his voice drew deeper, a manner that kept the horse in its place. The horse merely snorted in reply, allowing Gavin to look away.
He turned his eyes from the loch to the bank of the hill; Kenna was nowhere to be seen. He walked up the hill in the direction of where the horse had been staring, looking for any sign of her wild brown hair.
“Kenna?”
“Over here, ye bampot!”
“I thought we agreed ye were goin’ to stop callin’ me that.” Gavin followed her voice, relieved when her white arisaid came into view.
“When ye stop bein’ a bampot, I will. Until that day comes, ye will have to suffer the name. Now – look!” She pointed out across the clifftop toward the sea. Her hand was still clutching the yellow and purple heathers collected from the side of the loch.
Gavin followed her hand to peer through the mist and grey cloud. He brushed the droplets of cold rain from his eyes and looked again, feeling the fear settle in his stomach as his vision focused.
It was a Viking longship, almost masked from view by mist, but just about visible. As the sun attempted to peer through the clouds, a brief gleam of light fell across the boat, revealing the flag. Atop the white flag was a black raven, painted with ornately carved lines. It was difficult to see from so far away as the material rippled in the wind, but Gavin knew the symbol.
“What flag is that?” Kenna asked, her feet already backing up the slope, eager to be away from the cliff edge and the new danger that the dark green sea posed.
“Norse.” Gavin’s eyes darted back behind the ship, out to the green and grey horizon. Beyond the one ship, there were more shadows following. “In the name of the wee man…” he trailed off, as his eyes scoured the swarm of longships skimming the waves.
“How many are there?” Kenna asked, darting her head back and forth.
“That hardly matters. It is a lot. Too many.”
“And they are here because?”
“Well, I daenae think it will be for trade with so many ships, do ye? Or a chance social call?” he snapped, turning and grabbing Kenna to drag her back up the hill, but she shook him off, determined to sprint ahead of him. “We must get back to the castle. Now.”
Chapter Three
When Gavin reached the castle’s fortified walls, he practically leapt from his horse. The creature neighed at the exertion of having galloped so far up the steep hill to Banff Castle.
“They will be here soon; they have made good ground.” Kenna clambered down from her horse and pointed out across the cliff edge beyond the castle walls.
“I’ll prepare the soldiers.” Gavin had a plan. They had been prepared for this eventuality for a while; it was just a case of ensuring nothing went wrong.
“Kenna, listen to me, lass.”
His sister moved to his side. Her lips trembling slightly in fear.
“Aye?”
“Go to the town. Find the women and children, bring as many as ye can up to the castle keep – they will be safe here until the battle passes.”
“Ye think we can win?” Her mouth turned up in the smallest hint of a smile. Gavin let his own smile dominate his features.
“I ken we can. Now, go.”
Kenna ran away at his words, scrambling to be back atop her horse and descend the steep hill back to Banff town.
Gavin barely scanned the horizon of the sea in search of the Viking ships. He knew they were there and was little point in reminding himself of their presence. He sprinted towards the battlements of the castle and tore into the soldiers’ camp.
“Findlay?” He wandered between the tents with agitation, searching every soldier’s face until he found the captain of the militia. “Findlay?” He eventually found him training the men in a large space at the edge of the castle.
“Aye, me Laird?” the tall brute of a soldier shouted, as he flipped a young trainee on his back before turning his full attention to Gavin. “Have ye come to spar? Yer new recruits could do with some demonstrations.”
“Findlay, have ye nae eyes? Have ye nae seen what is
sailin’ towards us as we speak?”
“Vikin’s?”
“Aye, the Norse.”
“So, they come at last.” Findlay’s excitement betrayed him as he sheathed his sword, and Gavin could not help but mirror the smile. Friends since childhood, they had stood side by side in many a battle. Together, they had laid out plans to defeat the Norse if they should ever come again.
