by Fiona Faris
“Not particularly.”
“Then stay still.” He watched her, waiting for a signal. She allowed herself to give him the smallest of nods, intrigued as to what he was doing. One of his large hands touched her thigh, just above the wound. It was warm against her cold thigh. She trembled at the touch, wanting to pull away but unable to. She reasoned her shivers were from the cold air and the sea that was still lapping against her legs. He threaded the belt around her thigh and prepared to buckle it together. “This will hurt.”
“Já. Do it.” She gritted her teeth again and closed her eyes, preparing for the shooting pain.
He tightened the belt sharply – making her growl again and thump the sand behind her with clenched fists. She opened her eyes to see the flow of fresh blood from her wound was stalled.
“Ye will need stitches. The physician at the castle will see to ye.”
“Then you intend to torture me for information? Why bother to heal me when you intend to cause pain? You cannot expect me to betray my people. I will not do it. Nei more than you would betray yours.” Her words meant something to him; she could see it. He looked back to her, urging her to look at his basil green stare. For a moment, she could have been back in the ocean – at peace and lost in the green depths. His eyes were the same color.
“Yer people left ye behind. Remember that.”
“They thought I was dead. It is what is done. We cannot risk more lives by recovering the dead on an enemy’s land.”
He moved further around her side, placing one hand under her knees and the other around her back.
“What are you doing?” She tried to recoil away but was weak from the loss of blood.
“Carryin’ ye.”
“I can walk.”
“Ye couldnae before.”
“You have stemmed the blood. It will work this time. Help me to my feet, and I will walk.” She held out her arm, refusing to look at his face again. Those eyes were too interesting to look at for long.
“As ye wish, laoch.” He used the Gaelic word again, but she would not ask what it meant.
He offered her his hand, and she took it, surprised at the warmth of his grasp. His large hand wrapped around her petite one easily. With one pull, she was on her feet, balancing on her good leg for a moment, aware of the soft sand enveloping her boot. He released her, and she wobbled for a second, finding her ground. She was light-headed and dizzy, but would not show it.
“Lead the way.” She gestured to him, preparing to follow. He did as she instructed, directing her path up the beach to the grass beyond, she followed slowly, and he dallied, clearly wary of her falling to the ground. “Are they all dead?” She nodded her head to the people on the beach, biting her lip at the thought.
“Aye, I believe they are.” He looked away from the scene, turning his gaze up the hill to the castle.
The thought that Einarr could be among them tormented her, but she was hardly in a state to check. She had to believe he was still alive, that he was one of the few that had made it back to the boats.
“Hopefully, yer people will learn from this. They will see what happens when they attack our Clan.”
“It is what we do.” She jutted her chin towards him. “Through battle, we conquer, we take our winnings, and we build our resources.”
“It is nae more than theft.”
“You sound so superior. Tell me, what of the tales I hear of the Scottish clans? Hmm?” The pain in her leg grew with each step, but she would not let it show. “I hear they battle over which hill belongs to whom and raid each other’s cattle daily. What is the difference between your people and mine?”
“Daenae pretend to understand me business, laoch. Ye are an outsider. Ye cannae see it as I can.”
“Then I would ask you not to make the same judgement of my own people.” Her sharp words earned a curious look from him and the smallest of smiles. It surprised her, making her stumble on the earth as they started to move on the path that led up the hill.
“Ye are growin’ paler with each step.”
“I am well. I will do this walk without your help.”
“Have ye seen how tall this hill is?”
She followed his gaze up the hill. From her position, it certainly looked too tall a feat in her state, but she would never accept that.
“I am stronger than I look.”
“I saw ye in battle. I ken ye are strong. It is nae what worries me.”
“What does?” She flicked her head towards him, causing her braid to fall across her shoulder, wet and dripping down her armour.
“Yer foolishness.”
She scoffed, turning away with a shake of her head.
“Nei, I am no fool.”
“Oh? Ye’re in denial as to how bad yer wound is. I need ye to survive.”
“Why? Why do you need me to survive?” She spoke with sudden anger and came to a halt, forcing him to walk back towards her down the slope. “You could have let me die in battle with my honor. Why deny me that?”
“As I said, ye ken the ways of the Norse Vikin’s. I want that information.” He gestured to her temple, making her raise her chin higher towards him, determined not to show any fear. This close, his handsome features became more prominent in her mind. His dark auburn hair curled around his ears, the color inviting her to touch it. She shook her head, certain the lack of blood was making her thoughts hazy.
“Nei, you want a slave. You want to belittle a Norse warrior to answer your beck and call. It disgusts me.”
He let out a single laugh. She was tempted to step away in surprise, but the pain in her leg prevented her from moving.
“Ye daenae ken our ways if ye think that is me thought.” He stepped even closer, bearing down towards her, so their faces were inches apart. She thought the move was meant to be menacing, but his basil green eyes found her gaze, and she felt something very different from intimidation. “Perhaps ye should consider that we Scots have hearts as great as yer Norse kin. Perhaps I daenae want to see unnecessary death. What do ye think to that?”
Her gaze flicked between his eyes, considering his words.
We Scots have hearts as great as yer Norse kin. Of course, they did. She knew that, but somehow the words broke through her hazy mind, making her spine relax a little.
“Now, shall we move on?” He turned away and took another step back up the hill. She urged her feet to follow, but her leg had gone dead beneath her. Pins and needles shot up and down the limb, preventing her from moving. “Laoch?” He looked back to her, calling her that mystery Gaelic word again.
She tried to walk, but darkness engulfed her view. She was tipping forward towards the ground. She expected to feel the thud of the earth against her face, maybe grass against her cheek, but she did not. Just before she slipped into unconsciousness, she was sure there was something around her waist—an arm, rough with a layer of chain mail.
Chapter Seven
Tadhg had eagerly joined in the celebrations with the other soldiers. Yet he was growing a little tired of having to be friendly to everyone in the great hall as they held their banquet, of having to charm the clan. He retreated to the side of the room for some peace as he watched the room and the raucous celebration.
He turned his gaze over to his brother, Gavin, noting the differences between them once again. Gavin, although charismatic, did not possess the charm of Tadhg. However, it did not matter; Gavin’s prowess in battle was enough for the clan to love him.
Tadhg watched his half-brother as he circled the room, speaking with soldiers and his guests. They were all enamored by him. The rightful heir to the Lairdship, even though he was younger than Tadhg by three summers. Gavin had possessed the good fortune to have been born of the woman married to the Laird, Lady Úna. Tadhg’s luck was not so much in his favor. He was born to a woman of low morals. That was all he was ever told about her.
He did not think ill of his brother for it. He loved him as any family member might, but sometimes Tadhg found him
self dwelling on Gavin’s good fortune.
The stars had to be aligned in the sky the day Gavin was born; he had all the luck. He circled the banquet, sharing good cheer with the soldiers and their father. Laird Fergus kept clapping Gavin on his back, delighting in the victory of his son’s clever plan. Tadgh turned away, looking out of the castle window as he downed another whisky. His gaze settled on the ocean that was now falling into darkness. Thanks to Gavin’s plan, it would be some time before they saw the Vikings again.
“Tadhg?”
He had been too focused on the whisky to realize Gavin had made his way to his side across the room.
“Gavin!” Tadhg’s charming smile returned. “Congratulations, brother dear. Yer plan worked spectacularly.” He outstretched his hand, taking Gavin’s palm firmly for a solid shake.
“Thank ye. Yet all praise should go to our men.”
The idea that the men were perhaps more Gavin’s than Tadhg’s wormed its way into Tadhg’s mind, but he shook it away the next moment.
“They did well,” Tadhg nodded, pointing down at the beach through the darkening window, “They fought with heart today as well as strength.”
“Where were ye?” Gavin’s sudden words and frown urged Tadhg to delay his response by pouring himself another whisky.
“Can I persuade ye to join me?” He offered a cup to Gavin. “This aqua vita is a strong one. Should certainly relieve ye from yer tiredness after the battle.”
“Tadhg,” Gavin took the cup though his green eyes stayed fixed on his brother. “Did ye come to the battle?”
“Of course, I did. What a question, brother dear. Ye saw me puttin’ on me armour and collectin’ me weapons.”
“Aye, but I dinnae see ye down in the battle.”
“I am nae surprised. I dinnae see ye either.” He topped up his cup again, smiling and brushing off Gavin’s suspicion. “With those helmets, I have to admit, it is hard to recognize anyone.”
“Aye, I suppose so.” Gavin nodded and looked away at the celebrations, sipping the drink carefully. Tadhg followed his gaze, turning to watch the dancing and the revelries. Amongst them was their sister, Kenna, dancing with glee. More and more soldiers were growing increasingly drunk around the edge of the banquet, but Laird Fergus did not seem to mind. Nothing would put a damper on their moods that evening.
“Did ye see the warrior woman?”
“Aye,” Tadhg lied quickly, thinking through what other words he could offer on this subject. “Interestin’ person for the Norse to bring to a raid.”
“Far from it. She bested many of our men,” Gavin shook his head, downing the last of his whisky, “She was injured. She is our captive now.”
“Oh? I dinnae see that.”
“Ye dinnae? It caused somethin’ of a commotion. David wanted to behead her.”
“I was seein’ to one of our injured when the battle ended. So, the beheadin’ dinnae happen?” Tadhg offered to fill Gavin’s cup with a wave of his hand.
“Nay. We can use her to gather more information on the Norse.”
“That is a good plan,” Tadhg agreed, as he handed Gavin’s cup back to him, “Next time they will have to use a different tactic now they ken their usual way has been bested.”
“Aye. When she has healed, we will need to question her. I would like yer help in the interrogation.”
Tadhg looked up to Gavin with a knowing smile. Interrogations that had been necessary in the past always turned Gavin’s stomach. They were the moments that Tadhg had a better strength for.
“Of course, brother dear. I would be happy to help.” Tadhg clapped Gavin on the back and turned away. “Now, if ye would excuse me, I should see to our faither. Another drink, and he will be unable to stand.” Tadhg pointed at Fergus as he slipped sideways in his chair across the room.
“I expect ye are right,” Gavin laughed, waving him away.
Tadhg laughed back with good humor and hurried across the room to see to their father.
Gavin watched the celebrations with true delight in their victory. His conversation with Tadhg lingered in his mind, but he brushed it off. It was true; it was hard to recognize any of their men in battle. His musings were soon disturbed by Kenna as she left the dancing to join him at his side.
“Congratulations, bampot!” She chinked her horn cup with his.
“Bampot? Even today, I earn such a title?” Gavin laughed, shaking his head.
“I intend to keep yer feet firmly on the ground, despite others singin’ yer praises as though ye are god’s greatest gift to our clan.”
“I wouldnae expect anythin’ less from ye.” Gavin downed the last of his whisky. “Though I must praise ye too. Ye did a good job today. Ye showed good tact in gettin’ the people up to the safety of the castle. Ye did well.”
“Thank ye.” She nodded and turned her eyes back to the crowd, clearly seeking out the person she had been dancing with only moments before. Gavin followed the gaze, his eyes finding the person that made him more than a little nervous.
“Now after yer praise, can I bring ye back down to earth as well?” Gavin elbowed her, earning her attention again.
“Of course.”
“Be careful of him, Kenna.”
“Of Iomhar? Whatever for?” Her hazel eyes turned to look at the man in the crowd again. “He is a very amusin’ man. He is so generous too. Surely ye like him?”
“It is nae a matter of likin’.” Gavin urged her to pay attention, knowing Kenna was perhaps too naïve at times to realize the problems before her. “Ye are very young, Kenna. Ye have little experience of such courtships.”
She shifted between her feet, and her manner suddenly darkened from the conversation.
“What are ye sayin’?”
“I daenae wish ye to rush anythin’ is all. Ye are me sister. It is me right to worry for ye.”
“There is naught wrong with him.”
“Ye only think that because ye have ken him for so little a time. Every man has somethin’ wrong with him.”
“Even ye?” She teased with a smile.
“Oh, especially me,” he chuckled, “Me point is, take care. That is all. Please daenae rush anythin’.”
“Gavin, have ye ever considered that this is me business? Nae yers?” She tilted her chin high, appearing the sometimes-proud girl he knew her to be. Kenna was idealistic, and he knew she was looking at Iomhar through these eyes, ones that saw everything as perfection.
“Ye ken I daenae like lies, Kenna.” He was stern, staring down at her until she lowered her chin. “Ye can tell me to leave the matter alone all ye like, but I have to tell ye me worries, otherwise I would be lyin’ to ye. Ye ken I cannae do that.”
Her countenance softened to a genuine smile.
“I ken. Ye are a good man for it.” She leaned up and offered him a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Thank ye, Gavin, for yer concern, and I promise to be careful.”
“Good, that is all I ask of ye.”
“It is just…” She looked away from him to Iomhar in the crowd. “It is nae always easy to walk when ye want to run.”
“How do ye mean?”
“May I tell ye a secret?” She smirked at him with mischief.
“I do love secrets.”
“Wonderful,” she pulled him towards the corner, away from the listening ears of the other guests, “Since I have met Iomhar, I am certain that there cannae be anyone else for me.”
“How can ye ken that? Ye dinnae ken him when ye met him!”
“Havenae ye ever seen anyone who took yer breath away?” she tried to explain with a flurry of gesturing hands, “That is what it was like for me. I forgot me surroundin’s. He was all I could see. Ever since, when he is in the room, me eyes always find him. He struck somethin’ within me, as though I was a lute, and he struck a string - creatin’ a new sound within me. Somethin’… captivatin’.”
“Ye do have a talent for the poetic,” Gavin shook his head, allowing his wary eyes to drift back to I
omhar amongst the dancers, “It all sounds a bit frivolous, Kenna. Ye are nae tellin’ me ye loved him from the moment ye saw him?”
“Nay!” She declared, hitting him playfully across the arm. “I daenae love him, but I like him. I am… enamored by him. I daenae see that as a bad thing.”
“I suppose nae. Perhaps it is a good thing to have such a connection with someone.”
“Aye. Now I intend to return to his side and nay longer waste me time with ye, brother.”
