“And those are?”
“For his ears, not yours.”
“Speak softly to me. Your sword lies on the ground while mine is here,” one of the men flourished his sword close to Olaf’s chest. Olaf did not flinch but Niamh found that she had to try hard to conceal her trembling.
“I need not speak to you at all. Is this place so unfriendly that all visitors are barred? If you will not take me to your chief, we will go away and wish you well. If you want to fight me, I am ready.” Olaf deliberately stepped forward so the sword touched his chest and brushed the blade aside, so quickly that his action was a blur. The other man struggled but Olaf wheeled him around and held his body against him like a shield.
“Hold still!” he shouted, as the other men surged forward and his own men groped on the ground for their weapons. “We come in peace. No need to fight unless you choose to. If you do, we are ready and this man will be the first to die. No honour in that for any of us.” His dagger touched the struggling man’s throat, but lightly so the skin was unbroken.
“Folki?”
The man ceased his struggles. “Release me. I’ll bring you to my chief but be warned… any tricks and my men will spit you like a bird.”
“I intend no tricks but neither am I a fool,” Olaf said. “You’ll walk beside me with my dagger at your chest and you’ll lead me true and not into any ambush or you will reach Valhalla before me.”
“So be it,” Folki said. “My men will lead the way.”
Olaf’s men picked up their weapons and then the strange procession continued along the river path. The two strangers in front, then Olaf’s men, Becan and Niamh, with Olaf and Folki at the rear. They did not have far to go. Soon enough the trees ended and they came out into meadowland. Houses had been built a little way back from the river. Most of them were roundhouses but, in their midst, a longhouse had been newly constructed. It was to this longhouse that they were led. When they were seen, people stopped what they were doing and came to see what was happening. Someone called out and an elderly man ducked out of the doorway and stood waiting for them.
“Folki, who are these strangers?” Folki opened his mouth but Olaf was quicker. Loosing his grasp on Folki’s arm he walked forward.
“Greetings to you and yours. I am Olaf Eirikson and these are my people.”
“You arrive in a strange fashion, Olaf Eirikson.”
“Your men challenged us and would have fought. I didn’t choose to take up their challenge and want no one’s blood to be spilled. We come in peace.”
“Why do you come?”
“To have speech with you, if you’re the chief of these people.”
“I am their chief, Ragnar, son of Thorsteinn. Enter, you and your people, but for the sake of peace, leave your weapons at the door and my people will do the same.”
They did as they were bid and so did Ragnar’s men. They settled in uneasy silence, facing each other on benches around the fire.
“So, Olaf Eirikson, what is the speech you would have with me?” The chieftain asked.
“It was told to us that a magician came to this place once when sickness was upon the land.” Olaf started.
“This is true, but it was before we came here ourselves.”
“Is there anyone here who still remembers that time?”
“Why do you ask?”
“There’s a new sickness in the south and some say it’s like the plague that raged here before. The magician had a cure for that scourge, or so we hear. If any survived, it’s possible that they know what he did then, so we may do the same.”
The chieftain nodded and beckoned to one of his men. “Fetch my son Kari’s wife,” he ordered. “If anyone can help you, it is she. We’ll wait until she comes.”
They did not have long to wait. Niamh looked with curiosity at the tall, red-haired woman who entered and came towards them.
“You wanted me, Fadir?” The woman was holding a small child by the hand and was obviously in the last stages of a new pregnancy.
“Sit.” One of Ragnar’s men stood up to let her take his place. “This is Renny, the wife of Kari, my youngest son,” Ragnar said, “and my grandson, Finnr.” He smiled at the child, who ran forward to him and then turned, safe in his arms, to look boldly at the strangers. “These people have come from the south because they need your help.”
“In what way, Fadir?” the woman asked.
“They have many who are sick of the same sickness that the magician was said to cure.”
“He did indeed.” Renny smiled. “My mother and my dearest friend among them.”
“Can you tell us how he cured them?”
“I can. His remedy was both strange and simple, but it worked. We took bread that had gone green with age. We ground it into a paste and spread it on the lips of those who ailed, so they could lick it off. When some did not lick, we mixed the bread with water and gave it to them as a drink.”
“Just mouldy bread?”
Renny nodded. “For a while, with each baking, we set some loaves aside and wetted them so mould would form.”
“It seems more like a poison than a cure.”
“To me also.”
“Yet it worked you say?”
“My Màistir did not know how it worked, only that it did. We had tried everything else before he came.”
“Is this the knowledge you’re searching for?” Ragnar asked.
“Indeed it is and I am grateful to you. Is there aught I can do to repay you for the information?”
Ragnar laughed. “Keep your dagger from the neck of my men.”
Olaf laughed too. “No hardship in that and I will honour my debt in the future.”
“It’ll soon be dark. Stay with us and repay us with new tales. We grow weary of our own, and words repay other words.”
12
That night, the men feasted, drank strong ale and told stories. After a little while, Niamh realised that the Red Lady was watching her closely. She met her eyes and Renny rose and came over to her.
“You look as if you are almost asleep,” she said. “I think you might prefer to be elsewhere.”
“I would.”
“Come then.”
Niamh climbed to her feet then hesitated, looking in Olaf’s direction. Renny laughed softly. “He’ll never notice you’re gone and, if he does, these others can tell him where you are. They’ll become even more rowdy soon, then fall asleep where they sit. Better if we’re not there, now they have all they need.”
Renny went back to her place and bent down to pick up her sleeping son. Her pregnancy made her awkward. When she saw her struggling, Niamh hoisted the child into her own arms. They went out into the cool night air.
“It’s not far. Follow me,” Renny said. “Thank you for carrying him. My husband usually does so for me, now I’m big with child, but he is away just now.”
“At the fishing?”
“No, he’s a worker in metals and spends much of his time travelling around the countryside. Wherever he goes there’s always work to do and he enjoys it.”
“Lucky man.”
A roundhouse loomed up in the darkness, a faint spiral of smoke blacking out the stars. Renny bent low to enter the doorway and then turned to help Niamh with the child. “Over here.” She pointed to a small bed and Niamh laid him gently down.
“A fine boy, you must be very proud of him.”
“I am. He favours his father more than me and I’m glad he has missed the curse of my red hair, although Edan says he hopes our next child may possess it.”
“Why a curse? And I thought his name was Kari?”
“Red hair stands out, so everyone knows when you’re in mischief.” Renny laughed. “As for names, his mother calls him ‘Edan’, his father ‘Kari’, but it was as ‘Edan’ that I first knew him and I’ve called him by that name ever since.”
“I see.”
“This was the house of my own father,” Renny told her, “and Edan lives in it with me for my
sake. I’m more comfortable here and I have space to do the things I have to do without everybody tripping up or smashing my potions.”
Niamh looked around her, curiously. Nets of herbs and berries hung on strings across the roof and several pots bubbled over the fire. Jars and baskets of woven grass stood against the walls.
“What is it that you do?”
“When I was quite young, before I ever met my husband and before the Norsemen came here, the magician saved me from being crippled. I call him Màistir but Manannan McLir was his real name..." She stopped as Niamh gave a sudden gasp. "What is it?"
"His name was Manannan the son of Lir?"
“Yes. You have heard this name before?”
“I dreamed about him when I was in the convent. I woke the sisters by screaming out his name in the night.”
“I also dream of him — often.” Renny smiled and her eyes were unfocussed as if for a moment she lived in pleasant memories. Then the look was gone and she turned to Niamh.
“How odd to dream about a man you don’t know.”
“I do know him or I did, if it was truly him. In my dream there was a woman, the Guide of Souls, who told me that Manannan is my father.”
Renny was the one to shiver suddenly. “The Guide of Souls...she is in my dreams too. Do you remember anything else?”
They stared at each other then Niamh said slowly, her eyes widening with surprise, “I remember — how odd. The steersman said your name – Renny.”
“What? Who is the steersman? Tell me.”
“I saw a dark-haired man steering a ship towards the beach. Another man waded out to him and the steersman helped the other man on board. When he spoke your name, the other one said ‘She’s safe away by now. She’ll wait for you at the cave.’ Then the steersman said farewell and the other one told him to look after you.”
“Can you remember the exact words?”
“He said, ‘Look after Renny. May happiness and peace last through all the days of your lives.’ Then the steersman left the boat and the other sailed away. Afterwards the Guide of Souls told me that he was my father.”
Renny covered her face with her hands. When she took them away her cheeks were streaked with tears.
“The steersman was my husband, Edan. He also described this moment to me, when he parted from my Màistir, exactly as you have done. We have never seen him again although I hope to do so some day, before my life ends.”
“You loved him, didn’t you?” Niamh said softly and Renny nodded.
“Tell me about him, please. I know so little.”
“He was a wonderful man. He healed the sick and was kind to everybody. Only twice did I ever see him angry. Once when a woman wanted him to put a spell on her neighbour...”
“And the second time?”
“When he saved me from being raped.”
“Oh.”
“Keir wanted to marry me but I would not have him. This was his way of forcing me. My Màistir arrived in time and took me away to live with him for a little while.”
Niamh watched the emotions race across Renny’s face, love, regret, sadness and a certainty of being loved in return. Then she shook herself and continued, “My Màistir taught me a little of what he knew. I try to do as he did, because he wanted his work to continue. I don’t have all his knowledge, though, and there are times when I fail. These are some of his remedies.” She pointed to the pots and the baskets.
“I envy you. How wonderful to know so much and to be able to help people.”
“I was very lucky. But sit down and I’ll pour us both a drink and we can talk for a short time before we sleep.”
Afterwards, Niamh remembered that evening in a series of flashes. They talked about some of the simpler potions, the teas and the syrups and what to use them for. Niamh told Renny some of her own story and, in return, listened to the rest of Red Lady’s tale. It was so exciting that she felt her sleepiness depart.
During their time together, McLir and Renny had found Edan lying injured and cured him. Edan was the son of a Celtic slave and a Norse warrior. He came to the island to find land for his kin and to guide the dragon ships in when they arrived. Renny warned her people in time and most of them escaped. Her father had chosen to stay and defend his home. He was killed in the great battle that followed. The Norsemen had taken over the area but spared Renny’s family and friends at Edan’s insistence. McLir was forced to escape because he fought and killed one of the Norsemen’s allies. He sailed away and no one knew where he had gone.
When her tale had ended Renny said, “I wish we had more time to talk. It’s too late now and you have a long journey in the morning. We must go to sleep.”
Niamh was pulling the covers over herself when Renny came over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. She said, “It’s a strange thing, but when you smile, I seem to see my Màistir once again. Perhaps you are, indeed, his daughter.”
13
Niamh felt sad the following morning when Olaf thanked their hosts for their welcome. Olaf had the crossed eyes of a man who had drunk too much ale and Ragnar looked little better. As they turned to leave, Renny came forward, embraced her and put a curiously shaped stone into her hand. It flashed brilliant white in the sunlight.
“My Màistir found this one day, when we were walking on his favourite beach. I thought you might like it as a keepsake.”
“Oh, but if it is precious to you...” Niamh opened her hand to give it back but Renny reached out and closed her fingers.
“Take it. I have other keepsakes.”
“Thank you for your kindness. I’ll not forget you.”
Niamh walked away in silence until Olaf asked her,
“What is that?”
“A stone the magician found.”
“Why did she give it to you?”
“As a lucky token to keep me safe.”
Usually Olaf would have questioned her further, but his headache was obviously making it difficult to talk. She giggled at the thought then went into the river and dipped a cloth into the water. He grunted when she tied the wet rag around his brow but he did not take it off.
They had almost reached the ship when he was ready to talk again and asked, “What are you thinking?”
She smiled at him and said, “I’m sorry to leave these people. I would be able to learn so much from them. Did you know that the Red Lady has a way to channel smoke from a fire out into the sky?”
“How?”
“She used leather curtains to guide the smoke upwards. She also said slots had been cut into the daub to make a draft.”
“That would make the place very cold.”
“It wasn’t cold, for the fire burned brightly. She said that you mustn’t put the slots just anywhere, they had to be in the right places.”
“Clever.”
“I never saw such a thing before, did you?”
“No.”
“She was shown the way of it by the magician and she likes to smell air free of smoke.”
“It would be pleasant. Perhaps there are things we can learn from them.”
“I should like to return here someday, if you would let me.”
“Perhaps, in the spring. If this cure works and the sickness is over, I will bring you back here. Then, if Ragnar and Renny’s husband allows it, you may stay with them for a while and learn anything that is useful.”
She smiled at him and he smiled back. “Thank you.”
The men guarding their boat greeted them when they arrived. They had been fishing while they waited and so the party ate a meal of freshly grilled fish before they put out to sea again. It was almost dusk before the vessel rounded the western cliffs and sailed across the bay to the rath on the island.
“Well, did you find a cure?” Alff asked as he passed them the mooring rope.
“We did,” Olaf said, stepping ashore, and thrusting a pot of mouldy bread into his face.
“That’s disgusting,” Alff said, wrinkling up his nose at the smell.
“You won’t find me taking that stuff. You’ll poison everybody.”
“Disgusting or not, they say it worked before.” Olaf shrugged. “Any more died?”
“Knut.”
“Didn’t think he’d last.”
“Poor man, he’d have preferred to die in battle rather than his bed.”
“Me too.”
“You might get the chance. Brunn is planning another raid in the spring.”
“Where?”
“East, I think. He’s after more cattle and slaves.”
As they passed into the rath, Olaf turned to Niamh and said, “I’ll tell Brunn what we found out. Go and gather up all the mouldy bread and bring it to our house.”
Niamh did as she was told, but with some difficulty. Bread was precious and did not go to waste. She found the most in the families where the women had fallen sick and had not baked for some time. She brought back two loaves and several half-eaten fragments, covered with a greenish fur and smelling disgusting. Following Renny’s instructions, she pounded the bread into small crumbs and mixed it with water. Olaf returned as she was finishing.
“Brunn says to try it on those who are dying, where it can do no harm. If they recover, we’ll give it to the others.”
Niamh and Becan went from house to house, treating the severely ill, including Olaf’s mother, Kadlin. Niamh had to admit that the cure seemed somehow as bad as the disease, even as she used it. Several times the victim refused or their kin stopped them from administering the treatment, sometimes vehemently. Yet enough sick people did not protest. Niamh and Becan spread the paste on their lips or poured it as a drink into their slackened mouths.
Renny had warned Niamh to drink some of the potion herself, so that she would not take the illness. She did, wishing she could not taste the evil brew. It seemed effective, though, because neither she nor Becan sickened, even when they carried out the other part of their programme. They washed the sick and moved them away from the smoke of the fires, near to the open doors where the air circulated.
This produced as many protests as the paste itself. Then some of the sick, who had been given up for dead, began to come to their senses and demand food. People realised that they were the ones who had been treated with the strange remedy. After that, the protests stopped. Everybody took the remedy either as a cure or as prevention.
Manannan Trilogy Page 31
