Emer's Quest (Manannan Trilogy)

by Michele McGrath

  Despite the distance being short, dusk was falling by the time they reached the Red Lady’s village. They were going very slowly by then, because all three of them were suffering from the cold. Emer kept stumbling for she had lost the feeling in her feet. They were seen. A shout went up and people came running to them. Emer was at last able to prize her cramped fingers off Vif’s headstall. One of the men swept her up in his arms and carried her into one of the longhouses.

  He put her down beside a fire in the centre of the house and the Red Lady, Renny, knelt beside her untying the soaked sheepskins from her legs. Emer could not stop herself shivering and Renny frowned when she saw the marble whiteness of her skin.

  “Whatever made you come here, child, in such weather?” she asked as she bathed Emer’s legs with warm water.

  “My father, Lady, is he gone?” Emer gasped. “I hoped to stop him from sailing and I must know what has happened to him.”

  “He left us before we saw the first storm clouds.”

  “Then he is lost! Lost!” Emer broke into violent sobs.

  “What’s going on?” A new voice sounded, a deep voice, used to command. Even through her crying, Emer heard his words and Renny’s answer.

  “I’m not sure yet, Fadir. This child isn’t making any sense.”

  “Who is she? Do we know her?”

  “She’s Emer Olafsdottir, but I don’t wonder at you not recognising her. It’s a miracle she’s got through to us at all in this weather.”

  “She wouldn’t if she hadn’t been hanging onto the horse, so the old man said. He wondered if he would be able to get her here at all. He’s gone now to find his own animals but her horse has been seen to. Tell her when you can.”

  “I will.” Renny soothed and bathed Emer. It was not until she was calm again and cared for did Renny ask more questions. When Emer began her story, Renny gasped and called out to her husband who was nearby.

  “Edan, come and listen to this.”

  The dark haired man, called Edan by his Celtic wife and Kari by his Norseman father, settled himself beside them by the fire. As Emer picked up her tale yet again, it sounded even stranger. Edan frowned.

  “Do you think there is any truth in her dream?” he asked Renny.

  “Her mother’s dreams proved true and my beloved Màistir saw visions that saved my people, as we both have good cause to know. If she was anyone else, I would wonder, but how can we doubt Manannan’s granddaughter?” She had started to shake.

  “Tell me the part about the red headed boy again,” Edan said to Emer but he was looking at Renny and there was cold fear in his voice.

  “Fadir was trying to save him, holding him up above the waves. He wasn’t moving.”

  Renny gasped and Edan caught hold of her hand.

  “Our son, Nele, went with your father, for a day’s fishing and so did two other men,” he said. “They haven’t returned. Nele has red hair. We’ve been hoping that they were able to find shelter before the storm hit. They would have had some warning and Olaf is a good sailor.” Edan stood up abruptly and went over to a group of men who were sitting beside another of the fires. He returned with two of them and then sat down again and took his wife in his arms.

  “You remember my father, Ragnar, and my brother, Dag?” he asked Emer. She nodded.

  “Repeat to them what you’ve just told us.”

  Emer did as she was asked. When she’d finished, the tall fair haired young man called Dag asked,

  “You spoke of a large cave. Can you describe it to us?”

  Emer closed her eyes and saw again the vision in her dream. “It was at the base of the cliffs, a huge opening in the hillside. There was a narrow entrance where the waves broke and water swirled into a passage. The sides of the cave were lined with many pillars like bundles of wooden poles all pushed up against one another. When the surf crashed over the rocks, the echoes sounded as if someone was playing music.”

  She opened her eyes as Renny exclaimed, “An Uamh Binn, the musical cave. I’ve heard of it but never believed the stories. You would call the island it’s on Stafi-oy.”

  “Stafi-oy! I’ve been there.” Dag exclaimed.

  “Where is it?”

  “Leagues from here. Near Myl and Eyin Helga.”

  “How could they possibly have gone so far so quickly?”

  “It’s been three days and the wind was blowing hard from the south. Even with the sails down, the gale would have pushed the boat northwards. As long as they weren’t completely swamped, they’d have stayed upright and travelled for leagues. Olaf would not dare to turn the boat. The waves would have rolled it over, because the wind would be on the beam. He’d have tied everyone on and run with the wind until it slackened. Have you ever known such a storm as the one we’ve just had?” Dag asked his father.

  “Never here but, as a boy, in my father’s home, I knew such storms,” Ragnar answered. “A boat caught out in one can travel further than anyone thinks possible. Tell me, Dag, what’s this place like?”

  “Barren, no one lives there.”

  “If Olaf and Nele and the others were shipwrecked there, would they be able to survive?”

  Dag took a deep breath and looked into his father’s eyes. “Perhaps for a time. The cave’s deep and would give them some shelter and there are other caves on the island. There’s fresh water and, if they’re lucky, they can find driftwood to make a fire. There’s fish in the sea and small animals to trap, but…”

  “But?”

  “If they’re injured or ill they’ll die. If they cannot get out of the great cave, they will die eventually for lack of fresh water. There is none in the cave. The spring is on the other side of the island.”

  “Are you saying my son is already dead?” Renny sprang to her feet, glaring at him with tears in her eyes.

  “No he is not, Dóttir,” Ragnar replied, taking her hand and making her sit again. His voice was not unkindly as he said, “You must face the fact that your son may be lost with Olaf and the others. Few people can sail through such a storm as we’ve just experienced, although I have known it happen. The favour of the gods would have to be with the boat for them to survive. The girl’s dream may not be true. Nele may come home unscathed or we may never know his fate.”

  Renny covered her face with her hands and Edan put his arm around her shaking shoulders. Their son, Finnr, knelt beside them, arms around them both. Edan looked at his father. “With your permission, Fadir, I will try to find out.”

  “Go after them you mean? A fruitless errand. They could be anywhere,” Ragnar snorted.

  “The task has some merits, Fadir,” Dag broke in. “I’m bored here with nothing to do except fish and play hnefatafl. The storm’s over and, with the wind behind us, we can be in Stafi-oy within three days. If they got ashore, they can survive that long. I’ll bring Nele back to you if he’s there. If there’s no sign of them, I’ll search on the other islands, as we make our way back again. Olaf’s a survivor and he knows the sea. I’d wager he will have found somewhere to come ashore.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Edan leaped to his feet.

  “No, you will not,” Ragnar spoke sharply and Edan hissed.

  “Nele is my son!”

  “And you’re mine. You have work to do here and you’re not long from your sickbed. Do you want to fall ill again? This is, at best, a fool’s errand. The boy could come bobbing home without any need of you. Let Dag go. He’s been thirsting for an excuse to be off adventuring, or don’t you trust your brother?”

  “Of course I trust him, but…”

  “No buts. He goes. You stay. Look at your wife’s face, if you doubt the wisdom of my orders.” Edan glanced at Renny and sat down abruptly beside her, taking her hand.

  “Let me go with Dag, Afi,” Finnr begged.

  “No!” Renny cried, looking up. “I may have lost one son; I won’t lose the other.”

  “You won’t, Systir. The storm’s passed and the weather is cold but fair. I’ve la
nded on Stafi-oy before. It’s nothing to an agile lad like Finnr. Let him go. He needs the experience and I’ll see no harm comes to him.”

  “Please, Modir?” The tall, dark haired boy stood in front of his mother. “I want to find Nele.”

  Renny turned large tear-filled eyes to her husband. “Edan?”

  “Go, Finnr, in my place since your grandfather is right. I’m not well enough yet and would only be a drag on the others, not a help.”

  “I should like to go too,” Emer said quietly into the sudden silence.

  “No place for a girl on this kind of voyage,” Ragnar said gruffly.

  “I’m tough,” Emer protested. “I survived the storm and the journey here. I can fight if necessary with either a bow or a sword — Fadir taught me. Without my dream you wouldn’t be going at all. I want to find my father just as much as Finnr wants to find Nele.”

  “True, but that changes nothing. This will be a hard voyage in winter conditions. Without the horse and Comgan you wouldn’t have got here. If Dag needs another warrior he’d take a man, not a slip of a girl…”

  “I’ve beaten Finnr at both archery and sword fighting and you are letting him go!”

  “Finnr wasn’t trying to kill you at the time. You wouldn’t last an instant in a real fight. Enough. You would be a burden and no help, so you stay here and wait with the rest of the women. That is final.” With that Ragnar rose and walked away. Dag also stood up. He said,

  “I’ll bring both the whelps back to you, little brother, if I can. Finnr’s a man now and our enemies this time are cold and the sea, not warriors with axes, thank be to the gods. You were younger than he is now when you fought your first battle, remember?”

  Edan grinned, although his face was still very pale. “How could I forget? I’ve got the scars to prove it. I’d prefer Finnr to return with his skin whole if possible and Nele as well.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Dag walked away to the other fires, recruiting a crew to come with him. Roars went up when he mentioned the voyage and he had no lack of volunteers. Men rose and went to fetch their weapons for the journey. There was a great bustle. Women hurried to look out stores of dried food and other goods that they would need to take with them.

  Edan rose and helped Renny to her feet.

  “Come,” he said to Finnr. “If you’re going, you’ll need warm clothes and a good sword.” Father and son went out of the longhouse to the hut where the family lived and where Renny made her medicines.

  Emer lay back on her bedding and turned her face from the room, to hide her tears. She felt desperately tired and disappointed. I’ve failed, she thought. Father’s gone and they won’t let me go with them to find him. Mother is right when she says I’m too impulsive. I’ve nearly killed myself and Vif. All for what? She lay there miserably, hating herself, but she was warm now, the pain in her legs had eased. She started to doze, in spite of her jumbled feelings and the bustle around her.

  3

  When she woke, it was night and one of the bards was singing a ballad from the sagas. Emer sat up sharply, realising she must have slept through the evening meal.

  “Good, you’re awake. This will make you feel better.” Renny handed her a bowl of broth and a bannock.

  “I’ve slept for ages.”

  “You have.” Renny smiled. “All through the shouting and the packing too.”

  “Have they gone?” Emer asked with a sudden lump in her throat.

  “They go at first light. Tostig says the wind will come round to the south by then and will blow them towards Stafi-oy. He’s more often right than wrong.”

  She stood up and Finnr slid into a seat his mother had just left. Finnr was a tall lanky lad with his father’s dark hair and his mother’s smile. A couple of years older than Emer, they had always been friends. He teased her unmercifully when they were children but they liked each other in spite of it. Lately though, his teasing had changed and often Emer caught his eye resting upon her, which made her uneasy. His presence at her bedside did not surprise her but his words did.

  “Do you still want to go with us?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” Emer replied unhesitatingly, “but how can I? Your grandfather forbade it.”

  “Meet me at the big tree by the river when we set out. I’ll smuggle you aboard and fetch you proper clothing as well.” Emer looked into the face of her friend. His dark eyes stared into hers and his features had sharpened over the last few months since she had seen him. He looked what his uncle had called him, a man, and she became suddenly shy.

  “What will Dag say when he finds out?”

  “He’ll probably wallop you and me as well, but he won’t throw you overboard. You’ll be on the ship going to Stafi-oy. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Meet me then. If you’re not there, I can’t wait for you.”

  “I’ll be there.” Emer confirmed, wondering what she had let herself in for. Olaf did not beat her often but she knew he treated her lightly compared to some fathers. Dag was a strong man and likely to be in a towering rage at her disobedience. She shrugged. If a beating was the price she had to pay to find her father, she would do so. Dag was unlikely to kill her and start a blood feud with her family.

  Emer wondered if she would be fit enough to go on the voyage. She wanted to prove Ragnar wrong, but there was no point in going if she would really be a burden. Gingerly, she put her feet on the floor. They did not ache as much as they had this morning. Obviously Renny’s ointment was working its magic. She pushed herself onto her knees and struggled to stand. She swayed at first then, biting her lip, she hobbled out of the door in the direction of the privy. No one would question her right to go there. She took the long way back to the longhouse, circling the village. She was not comfortable, nor did she move with her usual grace. Yet the exercise warmed her and she returned to her bed much encouraged. Finnr was waiting for her.

  “I’ve brought you some clothes,” he said, showing her a small bundle. “Boy’s things but they should fit. Put them on and cover up your hair. It’ll gleam if there’s a moon and it’s too long. You still want to come?”

  “I do, but why are you doing this for me, Finnr?”

  “Because I know what you’re feeling. I felt the same when Ragnar told me I couldn’t go.”

  “It’s not the same. I’m a girl, you’re a man.”

  Finnr grinned. “You didn’t say that when we wrestled last autumn and you pinned me down on the ground. Olaf taught you well and you’re strong or you wouldn’t have made it through the snow. You’ll survive. As Dag said, it’s the cold we have to face not armed warriors.” He rose. “Meet you at the tree.”

  Emer did not close her eyes for the rest of the night. She was afraid she would oversleep and be left behind. When the watchman came into the longhouse to rouse the sleepers, she crept outside and made her way down to the riverbank. Although she had often visited the village with her parents, she did not know it as well as she did the area around her home. She stumbled a few times before she got there. The big old tree loomed darkly against the first faint light of dawn. She leaned against the wood, heart pounding as she breathed in the icy air. She started to shiver and hoped that Finnr would not be long. Then she heard the tramp of feet and the occasional words as the men made their way down to the ship. Silence fell as they passed and she wondered if Finnr had forgotten her. Then a hand caught her shoulder and she almost jumped out of her skin.

  “Quickly, put these on,” he hissed and thrust another bundle into her arms. She tugged on the extra garments, wrapping the fur cloak round her thankfully. Finnr jammed a fur hat onto her head over the scarf she had wrapped round it. “Push all your hair inside,” he ordered. “In this light, you’ll do.”

  He grabbed her hand and set off at a run, leaving the path at the first opportunity and circling round the marching men. They reached the boat as the watchman jumped ashore to greet Dag and the others. Finnr dragged Emer around th
e other side of the ship and boosted her aboard. Then he followed her and pushed her into an obscure corner, piling bits and pieces in front of her.

  “Stay there until we’re too far out to take you back,” Finnr ordered. “Keep still and don’t make any noise.”

  He whisked himself away and sat down it the bows, just in time. Emer peeped through a gap in the coverings and saw him leaning back nonchalantly.

  “Ho! Look who’s here.” It was a voice she knew — Tostig’s. “Couldn’t you sleep, lad?”

  “I slept like the dead,” Finnr replied, “but I don’t need hours to get to the boat, not like you lot! Ow!” Tostig had cuffed him.

  “Well, if you’re so lively, you can help push the boat out instead of lounging here. Be off with you.”

  A scuffle and then the boat began to shift on the sand and slide forward as it was manoeuvred into the sea. The crew scrambled over the sides and picked up the long oars to row out into the bay. Emer made herself very small and pressed as tightly as she could against the creaking hull. Men sat near her, but no one bothered to remove the coverings and she breathed easier. She was very tired and, in spite of her cramped position and the sounds all around her, she must have dozed.

  She was woken by a cry, “What have we got here?” Hands seized her and she was pulled out her hiding place. “We’ve got a stowaway, Dag!”

  She was shoved forward into the open space around the mast. Still groggy and shaking with fear now the moment of discovery had come, she risked a quick glance around her. The island was a distant shadow behind them and the sail was set and drawing well. They were going fast and they were too far away from the island to take her back.

  “Shall I throw him overboard?” Someone asked. Emer cringed, knowing there was no way she would be able to swim to shore.

  “Let’s have a look at him.” Dag strode up to her and plucked the hat from her head, allowing her braids to tumble down. “Not a lad; a lass.” He turned her face to the light and the grip on her chin was bruising. “Emer Olafsdottir! What are you doing here? Ragnar ordered you not to come.”