“Where is Brother Ailig?” Hari asked. “I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”
“In the scriptorium, or he was earlier. You remember the way?”
“I do, but perhaps we’d better report to Abbot Zephan first.”
“He’ll be at his house or in the church.”
“Thank you.”
They picked up their belongings and walked up to a grey stone building at one end of the abbey.
“Hari,” the white-haired old abbot said, as he stood to receive them, “has your father relented and allowed you to join us?”
“Sadly no,” Hari said. “My father is dead and my brother has seized upon my inheritance. I’m fleeing for my life and I would certainly have died if my friends had not rescued me. This is my wife, Emer Olafsdottir, Freydis Jarnisdottir and Njall Knutsson.”
“That is terrible news,” the abbot said. “Can nothing be done?”
“In time perhaps,” Hari replied, “when I can gather friends and forces to help me. My brother has never listened to reason or justice.”
“God grant him repentance and mercy to his soul. Is he seeking you then?”
“For now he believes I am dead, but no doubt he’ll learn the truth and come after me. Eyin Helga is one of the first places he’ll search, so I realise we can’t stay here for long. I would not put you all in danger by my presence here.”
“A pity. We would have been please to have you with us, but we are still recovering from the last attack by sea raiders. There is much still to be done to restore the ravages they wrought. Although I would like to grant you shelter and sanctuary, I cannot, in good faith. I would draw another raid down upon the brothers and the people who live here.”
“I understand.”
“While I can’t let you stay, I can help in other ways. What do you need?”
“A few days, Father, to rest and mend our boat, then we will be on our way again.”
“That I can grant and do so gladly.”
“Where will we go, if we cannot stay here?” Freydis asked as she sat beside the fire in the small guest house of the abbey.
“My mother’s kin are the only ones I have who might shelter us but they’re on Colonsey. Too near and Rolf knows them well. It would only be a matter of time before he comes looking for me,” Hari said. “It would be best if we stayed away from anywhere I’m known.”
Emer wanted to be able to argue for her own choice, so she deliberately kept silent and let the others speak.
“I come from the other side of Skuy,” Freydis said. “My kin and neighbours all died in a plague. Only I and one other child survived. I’m a distant relative of Kolla’s, who asked Mabil to take me in and I’ve worked in your father’s house ever since.”
“My father and mother are back on Skuy,” Njall said. “I hope they’re safe. None of my relatives are warriors and most of them are too poor to feed extra mouths.”
Emer smiled. It was time to tell Hari the other part of her dream and let him make his choice.
“In my last vision, I was shown three possible destinies for you, Hari,” she said. “You might have died on the fireship. You could become a monk, or you stay with me and sire my children. I, too, was given a choice, to save you from the ship or to leave you to your fate.”
“Why did you rescue me?” Hari asked. “I wondered about that. You knew Rolf would seize my inheritance and I’ve not been the best of husbands to you, especially in the beginning.”
Emer looked at him and smiled. “I would commit no one, not even my bitterest enemy, to such a death. Least of all would I let it happen to someone I care for. You’re my husband and you deserved the chance to choose your own life path. Now you must make that choice, so the rest of us can act accordingly. What happens next is for you to decide.”
“You care for me?”
Emer nodded and looked away, so he should not see the tears in her eyes.
“Yet you saw me become a monk?”
“I did.”
“Did I seem to be happy?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
“I think so. The buildings I saw were like the ones here.”
“Tell me more about my third fate.”
“It was strange. I was in a clearing where children played. I sat on a log with a baby on my lap. The children were mine and they were dark-haired.”
“Rolf has dark hair,” Hari muttered, frowning.
“So does Finnr, the boy I expected to marry at home.”
“What does that mean?”
“Wait, I’m not finished. I went away but I returned to the clearing again before the dream ended. The second time, all the children had red hair and you were there too. I have thought about this for a long time and I think I know now what the vision means. What happens to me and my children depends on your decision. If you become a monk, I will leave you here or at another abbey where you are unknown and can use a different name.”
“Is that what you want me to do?” he asked, frowning at her.
“I made my own choice when we saved your life. Whatever you decide, I won’t stand in your way. If you become a monk, you can divorce me. There’s no place for me here and I might distract you from your vows. They are strict, or so I hear. I would have to go back to my own people. I am young and Finnr has always wanted me…” Her voice tailed away at the look in Hari’s eyes. He reached out his hand and stroked her cheek. A sob rose in her throat.
“I can’t stand the thought of you lying with another man,” Hari said. “At first I did not care, but I would not be without you now.”
Emer’s heart leaped within her. Silence fell for a little while. Then Freydis laughed.
“Leave your loving for later,” she said, breaking the spell of the moment. “So we’re running away together, but no one has said where on this earth we are going to.”
“Come home with me,” Emer said, clutching her green stone for luck. “None of you have warrior friends or kindred who would take your part, but I do. I didn’t return to them when I had the chance, only because I had already sworn an oath to Atli. They will welcome us and we will be safe with them. Rolf does not know where my family live and if he came looking, he would not find it easy to attack. Let’s go there.”
“That’s a good idea,” Hari said and Njall nodded.
“I should like to meet your mother,” Freydis agreed. “You’ve often spoken of her to me.”
“She would like to meet you, too.”
They spent the next two days making the boat serviceable again and renewing their provisions. Hari was also able to spend some time with his friend, Brother Ailig. Emer saw at once why Hari liked him. The man had a joy in living which was infectious and he was perfectly happy living in the monastery. He made people want to share his happiness.
“My life would not do for you though,” Brother Ailig told Hari, as they said goodbye. “I didn’t think you would become a monk, for all you enjoyed your time here.”
“Why not?” Hari asked. “I begged my father repeatedly to let me return.”
“You’re not single-minded enough,” the monk answered. “Perhaps when you are older and other paths lose their appeal. Come then; we will still be here. For now, go with God and may your life’s journey be successful.”
“How odd,” Hari said to Emer when he told her about it later. “I felt sure Brother Ailig would try to persuade me to remain.”
“Would you stay if he had done so?”
“No.”
“Then he is wise to recognise your life has moved on.”
17
Early on the third day of their stay on Eyin Helga, the wind swung round to the north. Although it was cold; it was set fair for a swift passage in the right direction.
“Colonsey lies only three hours to the south east, five at the most,” Hari said. “If it were not for this mist you would be able to see the island from here.”
“Calum told me that there is a flat island called Ile on the
other side of Colonsey. He said we would make that easily in this wind.”
“He’s right and the course is the same.”
“Let’s go today.”
They took a warm leave of Abbot Zephan, Brother Ailig, Calum and the other people on Eyin Helga. The tide turned and they pushed the boat out and rowed into the channel. Fortune was with them on this part of their journey. Before the daylight faded, they were able to land in a small bay on the rocky north coast of Ile. No one seemed to live in the place for no smoke showed upon the hills. The land was deserted. After a quiet night on the beach in the shelter of some rocks, they rose with the dawn in the morning.
They sailed down the coast past a long peninsula, which Hari said was not an island, although it seemed like one. He had been there before with his uncle, when he was a boy. On again to a strange piece of land which looked as if a giant had taken a great bite out of it. There their luck ran out because the weather became foul again. The gale shrieked. Great rolling seas pounded the shore. The swells were high enough to swamp their boat. So they turned towards the land and rode the surf, until their keel grated on the sand. They only made landfall in time, before the wind strength increased even more. There was no real shelter and they huddled together under tarred canvas and spent a miserable night. Next day was no better, but they were able to make a proper camp and stayed in that place for several days. When the wind eased and the sea became calm, they left. In the afternoon of the third day, they sailed north again to get out of the bay. In open water, they turned south, along the coast. They camped again, more comfortably than the previous nights. The next morning dawned bright and clear. Emer went to the top of a slight rise and looked out over the sea in the direction of her home. A thin sliver of green lay on top of the silver sea.
“Look,” Emer cried to her friends, “there it is.”
The others climbed up beside her.
“Tonight you will be home,” Hari said to her with a smile.
At first, they made good progress. The tip of the island seemed to rise out of the sea in front of them. Emer felt her heart lifting. When she touched her face, she found it was wet and not with spray.
Then Hari sniffed the air. As he did so, the sail snapped across the mast, shedding all the wind.
“Get the sail tied down!” Njall ordered. “Quick before it tears!”
“What’s happening?” Freydis asked as she and Emer scrambled to release the sail and tie it so it filled once again and pulled them forward on the new tack.
“The wind’s changed. It was blowing from the east but it’s swung completely around so it’s coming now from the west. We’ll need to keep on this tack for a while and see if it turns again.”
They kept going for some time. The wind did not change direction but it started to die away. A mist crept over the sea, blotting out the sun and chilling them all. The boat began to bob up and down, instead of cutting through the water as it had before. Emer went forward, holding onto the prow and straining her eyes to peer through the whiteness.
All that long day they drifted, unable to see. The sail only filled from time to time and often hung limply from the spar.
“We could row,” Emer offered.
“Where to?” Njall asked. “From the pattern of the waves we are drifting to the south east. Where we are in relation to your island I can’t tell. No point in wasting our strength. We might need it.”
Silence fell. The rocking of the boat made Emer feel ill. With nothing to distract her mind, she fought a lonely battle with her sickness, until Freydis said,
“I hear something.”
Everyone stiffened and listened.
“Whatever it is, it lies straight ahead,” Hari said.
“Breakers!” Njall shouted and wrenched the tiller round. “Pull the sail tight and pray we have enough steerage way to make the boat turn.”
Agonisingly slowly the prow turned towards the east and they clawed past the breakers. It seemed a very long time before the mist parted and they saw a place where the waves lashed themselves into fury.
“Sandbanks,” Hari said.
“At least I can tell you where we are now,” Emer said. “These banks lie off the northern tip of the island. My home lies to the west.”
“Pity. We are going east and the wind is too light for us to turn and go back again. We would certainly drift into these shoals if we tried.”
“No matter. I have friends who live in the land to the east. They will give us shelter and tell us what has been happening since I went away. Go south and keep as close to the land as you can. The current will push us and it’s not far.”
Before they reached the great bay, the mist had thinned and they could make out the vague outlines of the cliffs and the mountains to the south. A watery sun gleamed dully on the waters. At Emer’s direction, Njall turned the skiff towards the land, where a river opened out into the sea.
“The Awin Vooar, the great river,” she told them.
“You’re crying,” Freydis said to her.
“I’m so glad to be home,” she answered. “Welcome to the island, all of you.”
They pulled down the sail and took up the oars, rowing down the stream until the boat grated onto sand. Then Hari splashed ashore to tie the rope to a nearby tree.
The others passed him their packs and joined him on the shore.
“What now?” Hari asked.
“Now we walk,” Emer replied. “There’s a path that runs beside the river, which leads to the village of my friends. Come on.”
Emer almost danced along the way, right into the arms of a warrior who suddenly stepped out from behind a tree in front of her.
“Who are you?” he asked, putting her aside and glaring at Hari and Njall. Hari moved forward, his hand going to his side, forgetting that he did not have any weapons. The gesture was not lost on the warrior, who started to draw his own sword in reply.
“Aarni, stop! Don’t you recognise me? I’m Emer Olafsdottir,” Emer cried, grabbing at his arm and pushing back the tangled mat of hair which had hidden her face. The warrior glanced down at her and his eyes opened wide with surprise.
“Emer, what are you doing here? We thought you were in the north and married.”
“I was; I am. This is my husband, Hari, and my friends Freydis and Njall. Aarni is one of Ragnar’s warriors.”
“I’m glad to see you back and Finnr will be delighted. He’s never stopped nagging Ragnar and his father about you.”
“Well I’m here now.”
They continued down the path until it forked. Turning left, they saw the smoke of a village before them. The trees opened out and they were in meadowland.
Aarni shouted, “Look who’s here!” Everyone turned to watch them. Then a tall black haired lad ran forward and swept Emer up into his arms, hugging her and swirling her around.
“Emer! Emer! What happened to you? Thank the gods you’re safe. How did you get here?” he cried, setting her down on her feet.
Emer laughed, caught his hand and dragged him over to her friends.
“This is Finnr,” she said to Hari, Njall and Freydis. “He is my childhood friend…” Before she could say anything else, a big burly man came up behind her and clapped her on the shoulder so she spun round.
“Ragnar!” She threw her arms round the old chieftain and hugged him.
Others crowded around and she found more friends.
“Renny, Edan, Thorstein!”
The four travellers were borne forward into the longhouse by the press of numbers. Mugs of ale were thrust into their hands.
“I’m happy to see you safe,” Ragnar said as he toasted them. “Aarni will ride to tell Olaf and your mother that you are here, Emer. Should he bring them back with him?”
“No need. We intended to go straight to them, but the wind blew us off course. We’ll go there tomorrow.”
“Our good luck that it did. We want to listen to your stories and meet your friends.”
When Emer int
roduced Hari as her husband, Finnr, who had not left her side, gave a sudden snort. His ale went up his nose so he spluttered and coughed.
“Don’t be unhappy,” Emer put her hand on his arm. “We will always be friends.”
“I would have wed you,” he muttered.
“I know and I would have been proud to be your wife, but it would have been a mistake.”
“How so?”
“We’re too alike. We both have bad tempers and do reckless things. There would never be peace between us.”
“Emer speaks the truth,” Renny said, coming between them as if she expected trouble. “While I would have liked her for my daughter…”
“No she doesn’t.” Finnr leaped to his feet, pushed past his mother and stormed out of the longhouse.
“Forgive my son.” Renny turned to Hari, who stood stiffly a little way apart. “He’s young but he’s been taught manners, though he has forgotten them just now. He will apologise.”
“He need not do that,” Hari said. “I know what it feels like to lose someone I wanted greatly. In my case, the alternative was so much better.” Hari turned and smiled at Emer. “I hope that, one day, your son will be as fortunate.”
Renny said, “I’ll go after Finnr,” and hurried out of the house.
“Now then, we are waiting for your stories,” Ragnar said, easing the tension. “Everyone sit down. Emer begin where you parted from Dag on Colonsey.”
Emer rose to her feet. She pitched her voice so all could hear, she told them about her journey from Colonsey to Skuy and then on to the Landnám Islands.
“We’ve seen Olaf since he returned and Dag told us what the trader had to say. What happened to make you go with him?”
“He promised to buy my father and set him free. He would bring him home to my mother if I would wed one of his sons and do whatever he wanted me to do.”
“He paid a great price for a girl to marry his son. Surely there are other women on Skuy? He need not seek so far for a bride. What did he want you to do?”
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