Manannan Trilogy

by Michele McGrath

  “You’re the only one to think that. Haven’t they told you that a crippled man who survives his last battle has no place in the presence of warriors? He might as well be dead.”

  “No he might not! Now you’re speaking like a fool.”

  “Am I? I might have one arm but I have still enough strength to make you pay for that insult.”

  She felt him catch her and said hurriedly, “I meant no insult. Think, Olaf! There are other places you could be, other things for you to do. We could make a new life away from Grettir and Abi and all the rest. We spoke about it once before...”

  “And nothing has changed since then. I don’t have enough silver left to buy the things we would need for such a venture.”

  “But we do. That’s what I wanted to tell you tonight. Wait and I’ll show you.” She fumbled inside her dress and pulled out the linen bag. She opened it.

  “Hold out your hand.”

  He gasped when he felt the weight of the torc as his fingers closed over it. He could see the gleam of the metal shining faintly in the moonlight. “Where did you get this?” Olaf asked.

  “I brought it with me from my home.”

  “And you’ve kept it hidden all these months?”

  “Yes.”

  “I must remember to search my prisoners more thoroughly in future. It’s heavy.” He weighed it in his hand.

  “Do you know someone who would buy it from you?”

  “Jarl has always bought my loot from me and given me a good price.”

  “Can you get enough from him to buy what we need?”

  “And more. From what I can see in this light, this is valuable. Does it mean much to you?”

  “Very little. I first saw it on the day before I left home. I never knew the people who wore it before me.”

  “Are you sure you want me to sell it?”

  “I am. Sell it and we can leave here and start again.”

  His hand clasped hers. “Come then. When it’s light, the ships will leave. Then I’ll seek out Jarl and bargain with him. With luck, by this time tomorrow, we’ll be far away from here.” His lips met hers. “Thank you for stopping me and making a new life possible.”

  18

  The dragon ships were barely over the horizon when Olaf returned from his bartering. Niamh had already packed their few belongings with Eithne helping her. Mar had said his goodbyes the night before, because he was going on the raid with the rest of the fighters. In the bustle of getting the men away, the two women were almost unnoticed. Only Geirdis saw that they were packing and stopped to ask, “What are you doing?”

  Knowing that the woman could keep a secret, Niamh said, “Olaf and I are leaving here.”

  Geirdis nodded. “Better that than trying to get himself killed. Perhaps you’re right and he isn’t meant to die an early death. Go away from here and keep him safe. I’ll help you.” While Niamh tied up her belongings into a bundle, Eithne slipped away and returned with a hand cart.

  “Put them on this cart for now. How are you going?” Geirdis asked.

  “By ship, if Olaf can purchase a karve small enough for us to manage together, but big enough to carry his horses.”

  Geirdis looked amazed. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d enough money or goods left to buy a karve. He took nothing on the last raid, no one did.”

  “He does.” Niamh said no more and, after giving her a hard stare, Geirdis turned away and left. Both women breathed a sigh of relief.

  When Olaf returned he told them that he had been successful. A small fishing boat was brought round and tied up to the landing stage. His horses, Thor and Vif, were already aboard, looking uneasy at the rocking of the waves. Olaf picked up a few of the bundles with his good hand and then, leaving the women pushing the cart, he strode away.

  It took only a few minutes to load their possessions. Then they turned to say goodbye to Eithne and Geirdis, who had reappeared with a woven basket which she thrust into Niamh’s hands.

  “Food for the journey,” she said gruffly. “May the gods favour you.”

  “And you.” Both of them saluted her and Niamh bent down and kissed her furrowed cheek.

  “May you prosper in your new dwelling. Fare you well.”

  “Come and visit us soon,” Niamh said to Eithne.

  “As soon as I can,” she replied. A final hug and Niamh stepped down into the boat, her eyes full of tears.

  Eithne and Geirdis cast off the mooring ropes and gave the boat a push, turning the bow towards the sea. Olaf and Niamh seized the oars. Olaf rested his useless hand awkwardly on top of the wood and pulled with his good arm. Niamh expected it to be hard to get out past the cliffs, but the current helped them. Before long, Olaf told her to raise the sail. The boat began to rock with the motion of the waves and the horses swayed with it.

  “Are the horses all right?” she asked, anxiously.

  “They’re used to it and worse, don’t trouble yourself about them.” As if he knew he was being talked about, Thor suddenly gave a snorting whinny.

  In a flurry of spray, they sailed around the cliff and headed north. The wind was fair behind them and it drove them forward at a considerable speed. They were off the narrow inlet almost before they realised. Olaf swung the boat round and she nosed onto the beach as if she was coming home.

  Ever afterwards, Niamh thought of those first summer months in the old roundhouse as among the happiest of her life. They seemed to be bathed in a golden glow. It must have rained, but she only remembered sunshine. The earth was fertile and the seeds they sowed quickly bore fruit. They bartered for a few sheep and a cow to give them milk. Olaf knew little of farming, but he had handled a boat since childhood and the sea was full of fish. They often caught more than they needed. Niamh smoked the excess in the roof of the house, made easier by the use of the hide curtains Renny had introduced her to.

  They laughed when they fixed the broken thatch for it was a job Niamh had never done before, but it was one that required two hands. Trying to follow Olaf’s instructions, she tumbled down on top of him. Fortunately, the straw was soft and lying together, their thoughts soon turned to other things. They did not finish the roof until the following day.

  They met some of the people who lived nearby, who seemed scared when Olaf approached them, so obviously a Norseman. Then Niamh came forward, calling greetings in their own tongue and their fears went away. Another family lived on the other side of the valley, Brew, his wife Mappy and their children, Ean and Peddyr. Brew’s eldest son, Ean came to help them with some of the harder work. In return, Olaf taught him how to ride Thor and to fight, using wooden swords. The encounters had them both laughing hard, for Ean showed a surprising aptitude and Olaf had some bruises for his trouble.

  “You like Ean, don’t you?” Niamh said as they watched him walking home whistling.

  “He reminds me of my brother, Aric,” Olaf said with a smile.

  “You’ve never mentioned Aric to me.”

  “He had only just learned to ride a horse when he caught the winter plague and died.”

  “He was younger than you?”

  “I had seen four summers when he was born, but he was nearer to me in age than my other brothers. Eilif was almost a man when I was a child and Halle was not born until after Aric died.”

  “So you liked Aric best of them all.” It was not a question but Olaf nodded.

  “We laughed at the same things and played together. We were alike enough that the age difference didn’t matter. I was ill when he died and they did not tell me he was gone until I was well again. When they did, the world seemed empty without him for a while.”

  “And that is why you fear sickness so.”

  “I do. It can strike even a healthy man so suddenly and there is little anyone can do about it.”

  “You won’t forget your promise to let me go to the Red Lady? You said it in the spring, yet the spring has gone and summer is almost past.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, but there is so much
to do here. When the corn is gathered in, I will take you. Ean can care for the beasts and the crops until we return.”

  The harvest came early that year. Olaf learned to use a scythe one-handed while Niamh and Ean raked the golden hay into stacks and tied them against the wind. They were working on the third and last field when Peddyr, Ean’s younger brother, came running down the path from the beach screaming,

  “A ship! A ship in the bay and it’s coming here!”

  “What sort of a ship?” Olaf asked urgently, dropping his scythe and catching the little boy by his arm to stop his headlong flight.

  “A dragon ship!”

  With an oath, Olaf released him. “Go home and warn your parents and the others nearby, as fast as you can. Ean, you too.” Without another word Peddyr took to his heels and ran, but Ean stood still.

  “I want to stay with you. If you’re going to fight, I can help you.”

  “Of course I’m not going to fight. One man cannot attack warriors on his own, even with two whole arms. Go! Your parents will need you.”

  “It’s you who need me. You don’t know where to hide the beasts.” Olaf gave the lad a startled glance.

  “He’s right, Olaf, we don’t,” Niamh cried.

  “Go then and get all the animals away. Niamh go with him, but I must see what’s happening on the beach. It may be a false alarm.”

  Olaf turned and darted into the hut. When he came out he held his sword in his hand. Then he ran towards the beach. Niamh and Ean hurried to the pen, loosing the cow and the horses. They drove them deep into the woodland. On the way they gathered four of their six sheep and herded the flock down the path. They heard crashing ahead of them and knew that Brew and the others were taking their animals in the same direction.

  “Here, stop here!” Ean halted their headlong rush.

  “Why here? There’s nothing here.”

  “No, but this is the way. Drive them on till you come to the stream. I must get rid of the marks we’ve made. Quickly. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Niamh drove the cow, the horses and the sheep onwards and soon enough Ean joined her again. The boy seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Without hesitation, he urged Niamh and the animals onto a narrow ledge, circling the edge of the cliff. When the cow stopped, trembling in every leg, he caught hold of her halter and put his other hand over her eyes before he led her firmly onward. They had not gone far before they heard the sound of other beasts. Their own animals quickened their pace and they rushed the last few steps into the cavern that was the people’s refuge.

  Brew and Mappy had arrived and several others from further up the valley. A mixed herd of beasts milled around, making a lot of noise, as they sensed the tension in the air.

  “Have you swept the path?” Brew asked his son.

  “I did in the woods, but I’ll go back now and do the ledge.”

  “Olaf won’t be able to find us.” Niamh said.

  “Where is he?”

  “He went to see what was happening on the beach.”

  “Or to tell his own people where we are!” Brew said grimly.

  “No! He wouldn’t do that. His kin cast him out, so why would he tell them? Anyway, neither of us knew about this place until Ean brought me here.”

  “That’s right, we didn’t tell either of them, so he won’t be able to find us.”

  “I’ll go and bring him here,” Niamh said.

  “You will not then,” Brew said, stepping forward to block her way. “You’re his woman. You and his animals will stay here, just in case. Ean — go and see what’s happening. You know how to hide yourself. Bring Olaf here if he’s alone and just wandering around.”

  Ean darted away and perforce, Niamh settled down on a rock to wait. It was many hours later and night was falling before a scrape and a fall of gravel signalled the presence of footsteps on the path. The men fell in before the mouth of the cave, weapons in their hands and their faces grim. A shrill whistle, like the cry of a bird, came from outside. The knives were put aside as everyone hurried to see what was happening. Niamh stood at the back of the crowd and did not see Olaf until the others pushed back. Then she spotted his fair hair as he struggled forward, leaning heavily on Ean, who bent under his weight. They eased him down and he sank onto the floor with a groan.

  “What happened?” Brew stood before him.

  “He showed himself and tried to lead the raiders away from the houses,” Ean said, admiration in his voice. “Two of them followed him until he got to the stream, then he fought with them. One was killed and the other fled, so Olaf said. I didn’t see the fight only the dead body.”

  “The Norsemen?”

  “They looted and set fire to the huts before they left. I saw the ship go round the point. I don’t think they expected anyone to oppose them.”

  “Then we’re safe?”

  “I think so, but Olaf’s wounded. He was trying to crawl along the path when I found him. He’s weak from loss of blood.”

  “Let me see him!” Niamh shouldered the others aside and pushed forward until she came to Olaf’s side. His face had the pallor and sweat of a man in pain and his left arm dangled across his knees. His eyes opened and he gave her a ghastly grin, his teeth set together. She took his arm and the fabric of his tunic parted showing the long, thin slice through the flesh, carving away part of his muscle. He was bleeding but the blood was not spurting, even though Ean had not known to tie a cord around his arm.

  “It’s the same arm again,” Olaf hissed. “It’s cursed. You shouldn’t have bothered to save it last time.”

  “Hush,” Niamh said, tearing a piece from her robe and turning to the others. “Can somebody bring me water?”

  One of the women shuffled away and as, she waited, she became aware that Ean was saying, “He tried to help but it wasn’t enough. I hid in a tree. The Norsemen were angry because they didn’t find the animals or anything else worth taking, so they set the fires and left. They found the man Olaf killed and took him away with them.”

  “You’re sure of what you say? Olaf didn’t betray us and he fought against his own people?”

  “He did. I’m sure.”

  “I told you so.” Niamh muttered from where she was tending Olaf’s wound. “Neither of us are spies. We just want to be left alone to live in peace.”

  “If there is any peace to be found anywhere in this world. I’m sorry I misjudged you.” Brew bent down and offered his hand to Olaf. “Small recompense, but I will pay the honour price for my words.”

  “No need,” Olaf said, taking his hand. “Anyone would have thought as you did and your first duty is to protect your own. But these men are not my kin. I got close enough to listen to their speech and I would guess they came from the west, looking for booty. If they go south from here, they’ll be sorry. Grettir has enough trained warriors to stand against them.”

  “Do you say that if these raiders had been your kin, you wouldn’t have fought?”

  “I wouldn’t have fought them, for if I had, I wouldn’t have lasted long. My kin are used to my way of fighting. We’ve practised together enough times in the past and I’ve lost much of my skill now. I thought I might persuade them to leave us alone, for we’ve little of value here to tempt them. At least I would have tried. That’s why I wanted to see who the raiders were. When I realised they were strangers, I ran.”

  “But they didn’t come this way and for that we must thank you,” Brew said.

  “You had something I value in your keeping,” Olaf said, smiling at Niamh, “but, even if you hadn’t, I still wouldn’t have led them here.”

  19

  Olaf’s wound did not seem serious at first. Niamh bound it up and he disregarded it for several days, while everyone worked hard to repair the damage that had been inflicted by the raiders. Fortunately for the villagers, the thatch on the roofs had been wet with rain and the fires had only partially taken hold. One roof was fully gone. Most of the others had holes in them which were quickly re
paired. The raiders stole some of the corn, a few jars of food and cooking pots. Only two strayed sheep were missing. It was soon obvious that the raiders had got very little for their pains.

  Life began to go back to normal, but Olaf’s wound still seeped blood and pus and the sides would not draw together. Niamh tried everything and Mappy who was wise in such things helped her, but nothing they did made any difference.

  “There must have been some poison on the blade,” Mappy said to Olaf, as she removed another stinking patch. “If we don’t take the arm off, the poison will pass into your body and kill you soon enough.”

  “Do it then,” Olaf said through gritted teeth, “the arm is no use to me anyway. Take it off.”

  “I will go and fetch Brew and his axe,” Mappy said.

  “Wait!” Niamh entered the hut, a pitcher of water in her hand, in time to overhear Mappy’s words.

  “The wound is beyond our skill and it’s a wonder he hasn’t sickened already.”

  “Olaf, listen to me. What Mappy says is true, your wound is beyond our skill but we both met someone who knows more than we do. Before we take off your arm, let us at least ask the Red Lady if she can help you.”

  “We can’t get to her. I’m no longer in any fit state to sail the boat past the northern breakers or ride so far.”

  “I can manage the boat alone or with Ean’s help if Brew and Mappy will let him come with us.”

  “Who is this Red Lady?” Mappy asked suspiciously.

  “Renny, the wife of Kari Ragnarson. She lived with the magician McLir and he taught her how to cure all sorts of illnesses and wounds.”

  “I’ve heard of her, but she’s a Norseman’s wife now. If Ean goes with you, they might keep him as a slave. I daren’t let him go.”

  “I can manage the boat,” Niamh said. “I’ve often been with you on fishing trips and you can tell me what to do. We can sail around the breakers; it isn’t so far. Will you let Ean care for our animals while we’re away?” She asked Mappy.