Chapter 21
Magnus, sitting on his sea chest, wielded the long oar in rhythm with the rest of the crew. Their progress was slow, but gradually the Dragonsbreath made its way down the River Laune in southwest Ireland. Magnus doubted they would be able to travel too far inland. Ailinn had warned this was a relatively shallow river without enough draft to keep a large ship afloat. But since the river ran through her family’s lands, it seemed like the best place to put in.
He glanced briefly toward the prow, where Ailinn stood, watching the river bank intently. Before he started rowing, he’d gotten a good look at the surrounding landscape, and it was every bit as green and lush as he’d imagined it would be. His pulse raced with excitement, and he had to remind himself they still had a long way to go before they took possession of this territory. But if they succeeded, it would be a dream come true.
His thoughts went back to the day he’d helped row another vessel into the longphort of Dublin. He’d been filled with a sense of expectation, as if he knew something was going to happen that would change his life forever. And it had. He’d gone from being a hired crewman with hopes of someday owning his own ship, to the captain of a large vessel. Now he was on the verge of taking possession of something he hadn’t dare dream of a month ago: land, rich, fertile land. Even more amazing, he would end up being a lord of sorts. A jarl, or king as the Irish called their leaders.
He glanced again at Ailinn, admiring the way the soft light of the overcast sky brought out the rainbow hues of her coloring. Her hair, gleaming gold with hints of red. Her fair skin, the soft shade of rose petals. Her eyes, rare and magical with the colors of sky, sea and meadow. Ah, the memory of the first time he’d seen her. She’d been so lovely, so regal. He’d known immediately she was a princess. Now—if they succeeded in their plan—she would be a queen.
His thoughts returned to the struggle ahead of them. But before he had time to consider their plans, there was a scraping sound as the ship’s hull encountered the river bottom. From his position at the steering oar, Oleif called, “That’s it. She’ll go no farther.”
Magnus gave the order to stop rowing, then rose to confer with Oleif, who’d become their steersman since Vibold had decided to remain with the Seawolf. Oleif pointed out that the starboard channel was slightly deeper. If they could get the ship unstuck and into that channel, they should be able to get closer to the shore, so they could dock the vessel properly.
Magnus ordered most of the men to disembark. Standing chest deep in the water, they began to push the ship in the direction Oleif had indicated. Gradually, she came free of the river bottom, and they were able guide her into the other channel and then the short distance to shore. As they were landing, Ailinn called down to Magnus, “Look.”
He glanced to where she pointed and saw two youths on the bank up river. It appeared they’d been fishing, but now were collecting their gear. They moved with haste and their expressions were fearful.
“Our arrival is no longer a secret,” Magnus said.
“Aye,” Ailinn agreed. “They’ll go and tell their families what they’ve seen.”
Magnus felt his muscles tighten with warning. They would have to leave at least part of the crew to guard the ship. Then the rest of them must set off as soon as possible and try to find the nearest of Ailinn’s father’s clients and ask for his aid.
As Magnus helped Ailinn down from the beached vessel, he was torn. On one hand, he wished he could leave her with the ship, where he believed she would be safer. But he needed her to talk with her father’s allies and convince them to fight MacTighe.
He quickly surveyed the crew, gathered on the riverbank. “Oleif,” he said. “I want you to stay here and guard the ship. Esbjorn, Lodur and Hedin will stay also. I don’t expect a large force to attack, but I can’t be certain.” He looked to Ailinn. “What do you think?”
“It’s been years since this area has been raided. Most likely, the local people will retreat to fortified locations and send a messenger to MacTighe asking for his aid. He’ll know we’re here soon enough. But,” she continued, “he won’t expect us to join forces with some of his clients. And he won’t expect us to attack him. Indeed, he‘ll probably think we mean to loot the nearest farms and then leave again. He won’t imagine we’ve come to defeat him.”
“So, we have a little time,” responded Magnus.
He was giving instructions to the men who would stay with the ship when Asgar approached him. “I want to remain here,” he said. “I’m willing to fight if it comes to that, but for now I wish to stay with the ship.”
Magnus frowned at him. “I don’t understand. I thought you were eager to join me in fighting for our future.”
“Nothing would please me more than a chance to secure some land of my own. But I have other interests here. Someone must stay and protect the women.” He gestured to Ullach and Gormlaith, still aboard the ship, standing near the prow.
Magnus was torn. He would feel much better with the big warrior by his side, but he also understood Asgar’s request. Asgar obviously cared for Ullach and was reluctant to leave her. “Very well,” he told Asgar. “But when the time comes to fight, I’ll expect you to join us. It will take all of us to succeed in this thing.”
Asgar nodded. “When the time comes to confront MacTighe, I’ll fight as hard as any man.”
After gathering some supplies and saying goodbye to those left behind with the ship, they were ready to set out. Magnus wondered again if he was doing the right thing in exposing Ailinn to the dangers ahead of them. But without her they would have no chance of gaining allies. None of them knew the Irish language beyond a few basic words. He needed her to explain their situation and persuade her father’s clients to join them.
They’d barely started out when Ailinn touched his arm and motioned for him to turn around. Gazing back, he saw the small gray and gold cat from the ship moving through the grass behind them.
“Perhaps the little creature recognizes this land as her home,” Magnus said.
“Aye, she is much like me.” Ailinn gave a sigh of satisfaction. “It feels very good step foot on Ierne once again.’
“How do you know the cat is a she?” Magnus asked.
“All cats with multi-colored fur are female.” Ailinn smiled. “Perhaps she’s left the ship to find a mate.”
Magnus grunted. “Aye, there is a lot of that going on. I really would like to have Asgar along, but little Ullach has stolen his heart.”
“And then there’s Esbjorn and Gormlaith,” Ailinn said. “They also seem quite smitten with each other.”
Magnus grunted again. “I can better spare Esbjorn than Asgar. Esbjorn still very young yet, and will have to put on some weight before he’ll be much of a threat in battle.”
“Size is not everything,” Ailinn teased. “The man I killed in York was much larger than me.”
“Aye, that’s true. But most men are not as fierce as you.” Magnus grinned at her.
“I’d advise you not to forget that,” Ailinn said tartly, flashing him a warning look.
Magnus laughed, then turned his attention to the amazing scenery around them. Fertile green fields stretched in every direction, with rounded blue-green mountains looming in the distance. Yellow, pink and white wildflowers dotted the rich pastureland, and the overcast sky was a gleaming silver gray. The light shifted and altered as they walked. The sun might break out for a moment, turning the landscape a glistening green. Then a cloud would pass over, bringing a quick shower. A few moments later, the sky would lighten again.
Magnus marveled at how changeable the weather was here, and how mild. The rain that fell upon them was light and warm. The breeze that stirred their hair was but a gentle breath. He inhaled deeply of the multitude of scents around him. The sweetness of damp grass, the faint tang of the sea and the deep, dark scent of earth.
Magnus was enthralled. He met Ailinn’s gaze and laughed. “No wonder your countrymen fight so fiercely over posse
ssion of this place. It’s...” He shook his head, at loss for words. “Magical, I suppose I would call it. A place so lovely and perfect it doesn’t seem quite real.”
She nodded. “’Tis why I had to return here. This land is in my blood. I would rather die than never see these fields and hills again.”
Her face seemed to darken as she said this, and he wondered if she was thinking about what would have become of her if he hadn’t rescued her from Croa. She would have likely ended up as a concubine of some Norse jarl and lived her life far away from Ireland. Now he understood why such a fate would have been unendurable for her. It would have meant not only the loss of her freedom and any control over her destiny, but also the loss of her connection to this place.
He felt no such longing for his homeland. Indeed, he’d been eager to leave Norseland. There was nothing for him there. Compared to Ireland, he remembered the region where he grew up as very harsh and unappealing. But this land...he could easily imagine himself settling here for the rest of his life. He laughed again. “Lady, I think you have set some sort of spell on me. I’ve been in Ireland only a short time, and already I have no desire to ever leave.”
“I’m glad,” she answered, smiling. “I’ve worried I ask too much of you, to give up all that’s familiar and leave your own people behind. To live a settled life rather than enjoying the freedom of traveling the sea.”
“Seeing this place...” He gestured. “I don’t think spending the rest of my life here with you will be much of hardship.”
He smiled back at her, although his thoughts were not all content and easy. They might face great trials before they had the opportunity to enjoy this land together. It was possible he would be killed and she would end up enslaved once again.
As if his dark thoughts had conjured it, he saw the outline of a steading in the distance. Low stone walls marked the boundaries of livestock pens. Beyond were several stone buildings.
“Do you know this place?” Magnus asked.
“I believe this farm belongs to a man named Eagan MacFeery.”
“A potential ally?”
“Aye,” Ailinn answered. “At least, I hope so.”
* * *
Magnus took another swallow of mead from the earthenware cup, then carefully placed the drinking vessel on the low wooden table in front of him. He glanced around at his men, hoping they would remember Ailinn’s warning about the strength of mead and not drink too much.
They were all gathered around the hearth of Eagan MacFeery. Ailinn was speaking to their host in a low voice. Occasionally she gestured. Her expression was very serious, almost grim. As her voice rose and fell in the lilting Irish tongue, Magnus struggled not to fidget. It was difficult to sit here and wait, knowing there was nothing he could do to help their cause. He didn’t like feeling things were out of his control. As one of the serving women poured more mead into his cup, he had the sudden insight that women must endure this unpleasant helpless sensation most of their lives.
He glanced behind MacFeery, where four young men sat watching the visitors with wary blue eyes. Magnus guessed they were all MacFeery’s sons, as they all had the same sandy hair and stocky build. Assessing them as potential warriors, he experienced a sense of satisfaction. If they could add a few dozen men like these to their force, they would have a real chance of defeating MacTighe.
He took another tiny sip of mead as he scrutinized Ailinn and their host. Although he couldn’t tell how things were going, at least MacFeery seemed to be taking her seriously. He thought of how most Norsemen would react if a woman came to them asking for warriors. Among his people, women often had a great deal of power in running a household and managing wealth, but they were never involved with matters of politics or war. He felt a stir of pride as he watched her. She never failed to surprise him.
Food was served—savory stew, chewy mealcakes and cheese. Ailinn and MacFeery continued their discussion, while everyone else watched in silence. Magnus found himself examining the details of their surroundings as a means of dealing with his impatience. He observed how the round dwelling was made of stone and mortar with a thatched roof. The clothing and jewelry of the women also caught his eye. The patterned garments they wore were much like Ailinn’s, although not as finely woven or as brightly dyed. Two of them—who Magnus believed to MacFeery’s daughters—also wore bronze and enamel necklaces and dangling silver earbobs. Their hair was worn long and plaited only around their faces. Comparing this style to the Norse fashion of long braids covered with veils, Magnus found he liked the Irish style better.
He also observed the utensils used for the meal: the large bronze cauldron the stew was served from, the gracefully shaped ladle, the earthenware cups with a complex pattern of entwined leaves and flowers around the rim. There was wealth here. MacFeery must know that if he went to war against MacTighe, he might end up losing the lands that were obviously the source of that wealth. Would he be willing to risk it? What did he have to gain if he joined them? What was Ailinn offering him?
She hadn’t mentioned their stash of coins to MacFeery. Did that mean she was using other means of persuading him? Or perhaps she feared that revealing the wealth they carried would encourage an attack.
For the dozenth time, Magnus felt his body tense as he fought off restlessness. Then all at once, the impassive expression left MacFeery’s face. His voice rose and he began to gesture emphatically. One of his sons got to his feet and began to brandish his eating knife as if it were a sword. His brothers joined him, and soon the small dwelling echoed with what could only be warcries. Magnus looked at Ailinn and seeing her smile, felt his heart soar. When she nodded to him, he also stood and, picking up his drinking cup, raised it in a toast. His companions followed his example. As soon as everyone had their cup in hand, he shouted, “To victory!” He took a drink, then raised his cup again. “To the defeat of MacTigue!”
The Irishmen joined him in toasting, and soon the din was deafening. Magnus glanced around at the flushed, merry faces of his companions and gave another shout.
* * *
“What do you think?” Magnus asked Ailinn as they met outside the main dwelling of Mahon Cellach’s farmstead. “Should we agree to stay here for a day or two while he thinks things over? Or do you think we should move on to the next settlement?”
“I don’t know,” Ailinn responded. “This is the fourth of my father’s clients we’ve visited, and all the others agreed to help us. While Cellach was never been one of my father’s strongest supporters, perhaps when he sees the direction things are going, he’ll be persuaded as well.”
“You think that’s what he’s doing—sending out queries to see what sort of support we already have?” Magnus asked.
“Aye, I do.” She thought a moment, then said. “I suppose we could give him a day or two. If he delays longer than that, we’ll move on to the next farmstead. Besides, I’m tired of sleeping in a different place every night.” She took Magnus’s hand in hers. “A pity we’ll have no chance to be together here. Cellach made it clear he expects me to sleep in the woman’s bower with his daughters.”
Magnus squeezed her hand. “We’ve had very little time to be alone together since we left York. I often think longingly of that one night we shared.”
“As do I,” Ailinn murmured. Gazing into his eyes, bright as blue flames, she wished she could forget all about her responsibility to her family and simply enjoy what she had with Magnus. “Perhaps somewhere on the journey to the next settlement, we could slip away from our escort and seek out a quiet meadow,” she suggested with a seductive smile.
His eyes widened. “You would be willing to that? Couple in a field like a shameless dairy maid?”
She raised her eyesbrows. “You seem to know something about it. The idea even appears to bring to mind a certain woman.” He flushed quickly, and she laughed. “I have no illusions you were chaste until you met me.” She cocked her head. “You must have learned your delightful skills somewhere.”
“Aye, I know it is.” Her smile faded and she gave a soft sigh. “We’ll have to find a place to be alone soon. Otherwise I don’t think either of us can bear it.”
He nodded. “A meadow it is then. When you discovered the place, let me know and I’ll be ready.”
“Aye, I’m certain you will.” She gave his fingers a fond squeeze, then left him.
* * *
“Lady, wake up.” The soft whisper penetrated Ailinn’s dreams. She thought at first it was Brina, then remembered Brina was still far away in York. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Gazing around the round, wicker-walled bower, she realized where she was and who was speaking to her. Doona, Cellach’s eldest daughter, crouched beside her pallet. “Magnus sent me,” she whispered. “He said he’s found a place where the two of you can be alone.”
“What?” Ailinn was startled. Magnus had never mentioned finding a trysting place here. She’d presumed he meant to wait until they were traveling. But perhaps he’d decided he couldn’t wait that long. They’d already been here two days, and it was starting to wear on both their nerves that Cellach seemed unable to make up his mind.
“Where?” she mumbled, still very sleepy.
“I’ll take you there,” Doona whispered. “Follow me.”
Ailinn rose from the pallet. She started to put on her kirtle, then decided that would be just one more garment to remove. Instead, she put her new cloak—a gift from Cahier O’Liam, the last client they’d visited—directly over the shift Magnus had bought her in York. Already she could imagine standing before Magnus in the moonlight wearing naught but the delightfully sheer garment.
She put on her shoes, then signaled to Doona that she was ready.
As Doona led the way through the dun to the gate, Ailinn felt a hint of unease. “He wants me to meet him outside the settlement?”
Beyond the Sea Mist Page 26
