Manannan Trilogy

by Michele McGrath

  “Olaf told him to leave you alone unless he wanted to fight for you. Olaf’s a strong fighter and not one to challenge unnecessarily, so Abi backed down. I’d watch him though. He’s a sly one and doesn’t forget.”

  “Like Kolgrimma.”

  “Exactly like Kolgrimma.”

  “I seem to make enemies without intending to.”

  “Easy to do here, or anywhere else for that matter.”

  On the sixth day of her captivity, Niamh was fetching water from the well when Olaf pushed through the crowd of women, took her arm and said, “Come.” She put down her bucket and went with him, surrounded by the giggles and the knowing looks from the onlookers. She felt both shy and apprehensive at the same time. Except for the first night, she had not seen or spoken to him again. She kept sneaking glances at him and he was good to look at. He was tall, not as tall as some of the others, but taller than most men in her own country. His hair and moustache were a paler gold than hers, almost white, and his eyes so dark a blue they seemed to be black. He was strongly muscled yet he strode forwards with a certain wiry grace.

  When he caught her looking at him and smiled, bright blood flooded into Niamh’s cheeks. Eithne once told her, with a giggle, “If Olaf’s as good as his brother in bed, you won’t regret being captured. I don’t any more.” Niamh blushed even harder at the memory. As she walked beside him, Niamh wondered if she was about to find out whether Eithne’s words were true. Olaf passed by the door of the longhouse and out to the stables. Two horses were tied to an outside rail, already harnessed and waiting.

  Olaf boosted her onto the smaller beast and swung himself up on the other. “Foll-ow,” he said, stumbling on the word and turning his horse towards the gate. The guard called something out to him, as they clattered down the ramp that led down to the causeway. Olaf only replied with a wave and a laugh. At first, Niamh had much to do, riding a strange horse on a road she did not know. The pace Olaf set was swift and it was a while before she felt confident enough to look around her. Then she glanced back. The place where she had been these last few days was not unlike those she remembered. It had walls of sharpened tree trunks, surrounding the houses and pens for the animals. It was also on top of a hill, but the difference was that this hill was the summit of a small island. The ramp that they had ridden over was the only way to reach the island and it was constructed to be taken away if an enemy threatened. A bay opened out on one side of the rath, with a river curving back into the land. Dotted on the slopes on the other side of the river were one or two roundhouses, such as her own people built. One of them looked as if it had been damaged by fire and another looked newly thatched. Niamh shivered. There had been fighting and much damage in this place not so long ago, even though it seemed peaceful enough now.

  Olaf was riding freely, as if he feared no attack, although, like all warriors, he carried his weapons with him. They came to a shallow ford and Olaf urged his mount into the water, starting to canter on the other side. Niamh quickly realised that he was heading up into the hills. She followed obediently. Olaf did not draw rein until they were on the other side of the slope. Then he led her down through the heather and bracken to a beach of fine white sand. A river gurgled on one side and here he dismounted, motioning her to do the same. He untacked his beast and she untacked hers. The horses rolled on their backs as soon as they were freed and Niamh smiled to see them. Then they went to drink in the water, which was clear but with little grains of sand caught in the flow. Olaf spread his cloak upon the ground. He came over to her and she shrank back, realising how very tall and strong he was. But his hands were gentle as he reached for the thong that bound her braid and loosened her hair about her. It fell almost to her knees and he held her against him, stroking it. Niamh began to shake, knowing what was about to happen. She did not know whether to be glad or sorry that the waiting was done. Now she would soon know what kind of a man he was.

  “No fear,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “No hurt, nev-er hurt.”

  He led Niamh to his spread cloak and pulled her down upon it. Then his lips touched hers and his moustache tickled so much she opened her lips and their tongues met. He kept his word and he was gentle. Far more gentle than Niamh expected, for she, like all women, feared a violent rape the first time she lay with a man. Yet Olaf, for all his gentleness, was thorough and did not stop when she could not suppress a groan as her hymen broke. At the end, her rolled off her but still held her in his arms.

  “Wo-man now.” His hand reached down and stroked her naked belly. “Baby inside.” Niamh wondered if it were true. Over the last few days she had often thought about how she might escape, but knew she had to wait for her chance. She needed to find out more about the place where she had been taken and how she could return to her own land. All the while she wondered why she wanted to return. There was nothing in her own country for her to go back to. She only remembered her previous life in flashes, when she was faced with similar things, such as the ability to sew. Then she saw the faces of the other girls who had sat with her sewing around the fire in the rath. She also remembered that her life there had been unpleasant. Now, if he had indeed made a baby inside her, she would have to act immediately, one way or the other. Run away before she became too heavy to move, or stay with him and accept her fate.

  ‘Now he has had me once, he will have me again and again,’ she thought, ‘until he is sure that I am bearing his child. He’ll know then that I can neither escape nor interest other men.’ She wondered if she should weep for her lost virginity, but somehow she did not want to. The man beside her had used her gently and it was obvious that he knew how to please a woman. For an instant she wondered if Kolgrimma had been the one to teach him. She almost snarled at the thought, but he did not see her sudden frown. He seemed to be fascinated by the mass of her hair that fell over them both. His hands played with it and he lay back looking at the clouds.

  Then all of a sudden, his mood changed. He sprang to his feet and pulled off the few clothes he still wore, turning to strip her too. He gripped her hand in his and ran forward down into the sea, laughing. The sting of the cold salt water made her gasp, but he did not stop until they were both far out among the breakers. He laughed and twirled her in his arms and held her up when she would have sunk. She could barely swim. The rath had been too far inland and the river not deep enough None of the children swam well enough to survive in these rough waters. She was terrified and exhilarated and clung to him with all her strength, as if he was her salvation. He towed her through the waves until he was tired. Then he supported her until she could find her feet. Niamh found that she was laughing with him and holding him as he held her. It was no surprise, when she fell onto her cloak, that he covered her once again.

  10

  From that time on, Niamh slept in Olaf’s bed. No one remarked on it except Eithne, who giggled and said, “I told you he was nice.” There seemed to be a difference in the way people around Niamh treated her now and she realised that she had gained respect because Olaf had favoured her.

  Two people, however, did not look with indifference at her change of circumstances — Abi and Kolgrimma. Abi kept looking at her and making low-voiced remarks to his companions, who sniggered or laughed. He took care always to do so when Olaf’s attention was elsewhere.

  “What is he saying about me?” Niamh asked Eithne as the man sneered at her once again.

  “I wouldn’t try to find out. What do men like him always say about any woman? He’s all piss and wind, that fellow. Ignore him. You don’t want to start trouble. If Olaf beat him to a pulp, you’d get the blame and Brunn won’t thank you for starting a fight.” Brunn was the leader of the warriors in the settlement, new in his role and very aware of his sudden importance. Niamh had never spoken to him and it seemed that he ignored women entirely, for she had never seen any others in his company. She had no intention of drawing his attention unnecessarily. So she took Eithne’s advice and kept away from Abi.

  She could no
t keep away from Kolgrimma. The woman had sufficiently recovered from her beating to resume her usual duties. Once again she was well dressed and arrogant, but she left Niamh alone. Niamh often felt as if Kolgrimma’s eyes bored into her back whenever they were near to each other, but the woman said and did nothing.

  “What is she waiting for?” Niamh asked Eithne.

  “For Olaf to go on one of his voyages, leaving you alone and undefended,” Eithne answered promptly.

  Niamh’s eyes opened wide with shock. “Gods help me, what will she do then?”

  “Try to do you some mischief. Attack you perhaps. These things often happen when the men are not here to keep order.”

  “How can I stop her?”

  “You can’t. You’ve got two choices, run and hide or ask Olaf to teach you how to fight her. It happened to me the first time Mar left me to go raiding. A woman called Hadda thought I’d stolen her shift. She’s dead now, in childbirth — good riddance to her. Mar warned me and taught me how to fight before he left. I was a timid little mouse then, but no one puts an insult on me now. If I could, I’d teach you.” Eithne stroked her belly and laughed.

  Like all women, Kolgrimma carried out her share of the household duties in the morning. She vanished every afternoon and did not reappear until the night meal had been served. She inhabited one of the smaller huts under the protective walls of the rath. No one else lived there with her, although Eithne pointed out a tow-headed lad as one of her sons.

  “Vadi doesn’t live with her. She likes her privacy for the things she gets up to, so she turfed him out as soon as she could. The boy lives with his father or, I should say, Roarr thinks he’s his father.”

  “He looks like him.”

  “That’s what Roarr believes too and he might even be right.” Eithne laughed. “In his place though, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  “You told me once that Kolgrimma used to be Olaf’s woman,” Niamh said hesitantly.

  “And you want to know more about them?” Eithne cocked an eyebrow at her. Niamh nodded. “Walk with me then so we can be by ourselves and I’ll tell you.”

  They walked slowly out of the gate and settled on some rocks looking out towards the sea. The big-bellied woman eased herself down with a sigh and stroked herself. “It won’t be long now,” she said.

  Niamh agreed with her. She looked like a ripe seed about to burst its shell. “When did Olaf and Kolgrimma meet?” Niamh asked, desperate to hear what Eithne could tell her.

  “They’ve known each other all their lives. They were both born here and children of warriors, so they were equal in rank. It would not have been unusual for them to wed and I believe Kolgrimma thought of Olaf as promised to her. Some boy and girl thing I suppose. Then Kolgrimma’s father was accused of cheating at hnefatafl and died in the brawl that followed. Her mother and brother were already dead of fever, so she was left alone. Even then she had a quick temper and was full of herself, so no one wanted else to take her on. She was never well liked. She drifted around until she reached the age to wed. I think she expected Olaf to ask for her but he didn’t and she wouldn’t wait. An older man called Siggan wed her, more fool him. He was killed on a raid a year or two later. He wasn’t careful with his money, so he left her penniless again.

  “She’s always been comely, if you like her type of prettiness and, after Siggan, she had a sort of mature bloom. Olaf wasn’t the only one to look hard at her then. He was just back from his first voyage and had silver from his share of the spoils. Kolgrimma set herself out to catch him at last and he was too young and stupid to run away. They lasted over a year, until Olaf came back unexpectedly and found Abi in her bed. He almost killed Abi, who should have known better than to mess with another man’s woman.

  Brunn’s father, who was the chieftain then, stopped the fight in time. Abi’s good at reading the signs in the waves and the sky, so Brunn’s father wanted him alive. He managed to patch up a sort of peace between the pair, but Olaf rejected Kolgrimma and never slept with her again.”

  “So she became a prostitute?”

  “I think she was always one in her heart, but certainly she had little choice in the matter. None of the other warriors would take her on, nor the farmers round about for that matter. They wouldn’t be bothered with such a fickle woman. She serves their needs and they pay her, but none of them will commit to her. She has nice things, better than mine, so I suppose her life has some compensation.”

  “Would you swap?”

  Eithne laughed. “Not me. I’d rather be poor with Mar than rich like Kolgrimma. Too much hassle and think of all those sweaty hands on your body!”

  As the weeks passed, Niamh’s knowledge of the language of her captors continued to grow, through sheer necessity. Soon she was able to use everyday speech and, more enjoyably, understand the endearments Olaf often whispered in her ear.

  During that golden autumn they escaped many times from the rath on the island. They rode through green valleys, along the beaches and to the top of the hills. Everywhere they found places to enjoy themselves away from watchful eyes.

  One day, Niamh remembered Eithne’s words and asked Olaf to teach her how to fight.

  “So my little mouse wants to turn herself into a wolf,” he said when he had finished laughing.

  Niamh blushed. “If you please.”

  “Why?”

  “Eithne said that, in the spring, you will have to go away. Things change when the women are left alone, with only the old ones and the children. Fights break out then and old scores are settled. I’ve never been in a fight and, if I’m attacked, I don’t know how to defend myself.”

  “Who would attack you?”

  “Kolgrimma. She hates me.”

  Olaf frowned. “Because I won’t go back to her?”

  Niamh nodded. “That and the beating she got when she made me spill the ale on Onarr.”

  “Kadlin would protect you.”

  “No she cannot, Olaf, and I wouldn’t ask an older woman to help, even if she would. Kadlin’s disappointed in me because I haven’t given you a son.”

  “You will, one day, perhaps this very day. But to answer your question, yes – I will show you how to fight, afterwards...”

  “Afterwards?”

  Olaf did indeed teach Niamh to fight after they had made love and on several other occasions. Although she was small, he taught her to use her opponent’s strength against them. When she threw him for the first time and held him down for a second or two, he cheered.

  “You are an apt pupil.” He laughed.

  “I have a good teacher.”

  “But you will have to pay the price for that last piece of cheek,” he said and she did.

  Olaf also taught her to defend herself when her opponent had a weapon such as a dagger or a cudgel. “Kolgrimma could use either or both,” he warned her. “Avoid a fight if you can. She’s a nasty fighter and has been taught the things I have taught you. Your only advantage is that she does not know about our lessons. She will expect you to be unprepared and frightened. Try to strike the first blow and make it a hard one. With luck you may wind her and finish the fight before she recovers.”

  The following day Olaf and Niamh rode further than they had ever done before. They crossed the causeway and headed north, beneath the cliffs. The horses were fresh and the day bright and sunny. Both of them were enjoying the ride and did not want to turn back. They followed a river down to the beach and cantered on the sands. Then they saw, in a crack among the cliffs of sand, a small roundhouse which was falling into decay. They dismounted and turned the horses loose so they could explore. The house was sheltered by the cliffs. The beach sloped steeply and a small stream gurgled down to the sea. There were rocks which would form a natural harbour for a small boat.

  “I wonder why the people left,” Olaf said. “No one has attacked. There’s no sign of burning or damage.”

  “It’s so small, only one family would have lived here. Perhaps they could no longer work th
e land or they fell sick.”

  “This soil has certainly been tilled.” Olaf walked forward and pulled up one of the grasses that grew raggedly at the edge of the flat land. “Yes. This is barley.”

  “They had animals too. There are droppings, but they’re old, for most of them have crumbled.”

  “Let’s go inside.” Olaf began to duck under the doorway.

  “No don’t! If they were sick, perhaps you’ll take the sickness.”

  “Rubbish. These people have been gone for ages. Look at the roof. It was well made and it takes years for such holes to be torn open. If there was sickness, it cannot be here any longer. The gales and the rain will have seen to that.”

  “Perhaps there are ghosts...”

  Olaf laughed. “I'm not afraid of ghosts and nor should you be while I’m with you. Come.”

  This time he did go into the house. Niamh gave a shudder, but she followed him. The holes gave them enough light to see only some shards from a broken pot and wisps of wool had been left in the place. Animals had used it for shelter, once the people left. Dung and bird droppings littered the floor.

  “Well, they didn’t die of sickness,” Olaf said when he had looked all round.

  “No, sick people don’t strip a place of everything that’s valuable and take it away. I wonder what made them go.”

  “We’re unlikely ever to find out.” Olaf pushed hard against the central pole. “I’m right. This house was well made, even though it’s small. The timbers are firm enough. Only the roof has been damaged. It would be easy enough to make it sound again.”

  “It would be a pleasant place to live,” Niamh said.

  “Who would want to?” Olaf sounded surprised. “Far better to have your kin around you than to be here alone.”

  As he said it, a memory came back to Niamh, a man’s angry face and the whine of a sharp-faced woman.