“But why Hari? Why not Rolf? I would far rather marry Rolf.” Emer blurted out and blushed as she said the words. She had the strong feeling that, if she did not ask now, she would not be able to in future. The thought of marriage to Hari sickened her and gave her the courage to ask. The reply was unexpected. Atli laughed, stuck a finger under her chin and lifted her face to the light. He looked deeply into her eyes.
“So you are yet another silly girl who has fallen victim to Rolf’s charm. You would soon regret that choice, take my word for it. Rolf is not all he seems. He loves women and then discards them, as if they were a worn out garment. I have no reason to think that he will change and certainly you are not the person to change him. You would have little pleasure as his wife and much grief. He has a vile temper and would not hesitate to beat you for any fault or none. You would also have to share his attention with other women, which I don’t think would sit well with you. I do you a favour in marrying you to Hari, despite his shortcomings. He is not an evil man and won’t do you harm. You need not stay with him for the rest of your life. If you bear children and, as a result, cease to dream, you can divorce Hari and go where you please with my blessing and support. Provided, of course, you leave your children behind you. Now come, let us go back to the others.”
Atli swept out and Emer followed him, shaking. This man had cynically dismissed the feelings of his son and would dispose of her as soon as she had fulfilled her purpose. For a brief moment she wondered again if her father’s freedom was worth the price she and Hari would have to pay. Then she thrust the thought into the back of her mind as she had done before. It had to be.
Next morning, Rolf set out again and Drifa sent for Emer.
“While you are here, you may as well make yourself useful,” she said. “What can you do?”
“Anything you ask of me,” Emer replied, ignoring Drifa’s frown.
She was set to work with the other women washing and mending clothing in one of the huts. Emer was pleased that Freydis was among them, sewing up a long seam. Emer quickly took a seat next to her.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Here.” Freydis put the garment, a man’s tunic, into her hand. “Sew up this other side for me.”
The two sat stitching, saying nothing as the other women gossiped around them. Most of the women looked at Emer speculatively but it was not until Halla, Drifa’s body-servant, had left the group that one of them asked,
“Where did Atli pick you up?”
“In Colonsey.”
“They say that you came there on a longship.”
“I did.”
“A captive?”
“No, they are my friends.”
“Then why did you run away from them?”
“I didn’t run away; I chose to come here with Atli instead.”
“To marry that worthless Hari? Me, I’d run in the opposite direction if he wanted me!”
Someone giggled. “Not even he’s daft enough to fancy you. Our Hari’s not made for married life. He should go back to those monks who’ve given him those strange ideas.”
“You watch your tongue, Moda, and leave the girl alone.” An older woman came up behind them and spoke severely. “It’s not our concern who Emer is or why she’s come here. Atli will have his reasons for bringing her.”
The group fell silent and then the talk started again about other things. When the others were distracted, Freydis nudged Emer and whispered,
“Good for Kolla. She’s stopped them for now, but they’ll keep on at you whenever they can. If I were you, I’d make up some story about your past, as fantastic as you like. That lot’ll believe anything!”
Emer giggled, feeling suddenly carefree. Perhaps she had actually found a friend in this strange place. “What should I tell them?” she asked, with a gleam of mischief in her eye.
The two girls spent the next couple of hours concocting fabulous stories. Emer became in turn a princess, a witch, a fairy lost in mortal realms or a dragon in disguise. Once she pretended to be the goddess Freyja, come to earth for purposes of her own. By the time their imagination ran out, the garment was finished and a few others as well. Freydis held their work out to Kolla, who took it and examined the stitching closely.
“You sew well,” she said to Emer, approval in her voice, “for all your tongue wags at the same time. Go and eat now but come back afterwards. I have other work for you to do. Freydis, you need not return. Attend to your other duties.”
Freydis grimaced but did not argue. They went to the cooking place where both girls made a hearty meal.
“Tell me about Kolla,” Emer said while they were eating.
“Her husband, Knut, designs the ships we make here. Her son, Njall works on them. He’s so handsome. His brother commands another trading vessel of Atli’s and is often away.”
“Kolla seems to be in charge of the women, not Drifa.”
“She is, when Drifa isn’t around. Even then, Drifa only pretends to give the orders. Really she leaves it to Kolla. Kolla’s efficient and knows what has to be done and how to do it. Drifa’s lazy, so she doesn’t bother much. She’s always been like that, ever since Atli brought her here from Myl after his first wife, Mabil, died. Hari was only a little boy then. Kolla is his great-aunt, so she looked after him and Yngvarr, Atli’s eldest son who had an accident and drowned. Drifa threw her weight around when she arrived and made some changes, just so everyone knew how important she was. She’s too idle to keep it up, though, and everything slipped back into place soon enough. She’s still like that. How Kolla puts up with her I can’t imagine.”
They finished their meal and Emer returned to the other women. Kolla gave her a pile of sewing which kept her occupied for the rest of the day. Rolf did not return. It was late the following morning when she saw him striding into the longhouse, carrying another sack.
“Come,” he said to her. “Atli wants us both.”
He led her to the small hut they had used before and he put his sack onto the table. Atli was already there. Rolf opened the sack and removed several covered beakers.
“Is that what you wanted?” he asked.
“It is.” Emer looked at Atli, sudden fear in her eyes.
“Do you need anything else?” Atli seemed excited.
“A bowl and a stone like those we use for grinding corn. Somewhere to work where no one will see me and, when I am done, a fire and a place to lie beside it.”
“Why do you want no one to watch?” Rolf asked and she saw a gleam in his eye. She suddenly knew that Rolf would try to stay with her and spoke quickly to kill the notion.
“My mother said that this magic is dangerous for those who don’t share our blood. People might try to copy me and be lost.”
“Lost, how?” Rolf asked.
“They may die from the fumes or never wake again, although their body lives on.”
“But you are immune?” There was an echo of disbelief in Rolf’s voice.
“I’m not sure. I’ve never tried such a thing before, but I know how to do it and I intend to try.”
She looked questioningly at Atli who nodded. “You can work in here for now. I will make sure that you are not disturbed. Afterwards, we have a hut which is empty. I will have a fire lighted in it for you. You can go there when you are finished. Is there anything else?”
“Someone to check on me, once the fire burns down and the fumes lessen.”
“Send a message to me when you are ready to start and we will look at you regularly. Come Rolf.”
Once they had gone, Emer sat down hard on one of the stools. She was shaking, her hands and also her legs. Her breath hissed through her teeth in short gasps. What had she done? Perhaps she would never see tomorrow’s dawn or live but never wake again to the living world. The picture of her mother’s face flashed before her. She remembered that long ago sunny afternoon when Niamh had showed the child, Emer, how to mix this dangerous potion.
“Remember this well, Emer,” Ni
amh said. “If you are unlucky, you may need one day to look into the future. The mixture must be accurate, if you are to survive the journey and return.”
She had never forgotten. She could do this thing and there was no escape. Best to do it at once. She rose and carefully set out on the table the things she needed.
“Hello!” a voice called from outside and the door rattled.
Emer opened it. A woman she did not know stood there, holding a bowl and a grinding stone.
“I was told you wanted these.” She thrust the objects into Emer’s hands and hurried away before Emer could even thank her.
Emer turned and went back into the hut. There had been fear on the woman’s face. She could not mistake it. The woman knew something uncanny was going on and if she did, so did everyone else. Emer sighed. If she lived, she would be called a sorceress. Her life would never be quite the same again.
Emer spent the rest of the morning grinding the ingredients into powder and then measuring them out into the right proportions.
“One black, two white, three yellow…” she whispered the rhyme her mother had taught her as she blended them together. The mixture looked the same as her mother’s.
Emer drew a long breath. She had finished. She tidied away the remaining ingredients, putting them on one of the high shelves. Now there was no more excuse for delay. She wiped her hands and picked up the bowl which she covered with a small piece of cloth in case any of the mixture blew away. When she stepped out of the hut, the sun was shining and the sea was blue. The distant mountains were dappled with a light covering of snow. Emer looked around her. The world was a beautiful place, even here where men lived with their smells and the clank of their hammers. Would she ever see such loveliness again?
She went to find Atli, who was down beside Rolf’s ship, talking to one of the men. He saw her and broke off his conversation, hurrying to meet her.
“I am ready,” Emer told him.
“Then come.”
Atli led her to another hut, some distance from the others. It seemed as if it had been put to rights in a hurry for it had not been properly swept and the air was musty, as little used places are. It contained several pallets and a fireplace where a blaze had been newly kindled.
“This is where we tend the sick,” Atli told her. “We rarely use it, thanks be to Odin. No one has been ill since the spring. You will be undisturbed, for most people think the place is evil. Will it do?”
Emer nodded.
“Before you start, I must tell you that I intend to send two of my ships as far as the middle sea. I have never done this before and I would like to know if these voyages will be successful and prosperous. I also want to know if we will find your father.”
“I will try to find out for you. Do you wish to remain while I begin?”
“Yes.”
“Then stand by the door so you don’t breathe in any of the fumes. When they become too strong, go outside and don’t let anyone come in until the air is clear again.”
“I will do so.”
Emer pulled one of the pallets closer to the fire. She sat down on it and took the covering off her bowl. Very carefully she sprinkled the powder on top of the glowing turf. Immediately clouds of dark purple fumes spiralled upwards, reaching out from the fire like a living thing. Hurriedly, Emer lay down on the pallet, her hand holding tightly to the green stone she wore around her neck. She imagined the great ships on their southern journeys, holding their images in the forefront of her mind. Hopefully she would be able to see enough to fulfil Atli’s expectations.
“Wish me luck,” she said to him.
“Odin and all the gods protect you,” he replied.
Then the vapour poured over her, a sharp smell was in her nose and her mouth. The fire grew brighter until, suddenly, darkness fell and the image of the ships was gone.
She was shivering and croaking hoarsely. At first she could not think where she was. Arms held her, but arms which had never held her before. Her vision swam as if she were underwater. She saw faces that wavered.
“Are you all right?” someone asked.
“Drink this.” A beaker was held to her lips and she gulped thirstily. Water, only water, but nothing had ever tasted better. A fur blanket was pulled around her shoulders and more logs were piled upon the fire. Her shivering ceased. She was suddenly aware she was still clutching her green stone. It was difficult for her to unclench her fingers. Her vision cleared and she recognised the people with her, Atli and his sons. Rolf was holding her, so she could not see his face, but the others looked white and shocked.
“What did I do?” she asked.
“You started screaming,” Atli told her. “We watched as you asked us to, when the smoke began to clear. Then we could not wake you. What happened? What did you see?”
Emer paused, trying to form the words. She closed her eyes and it was there, imprinted on the inside of her eyelids. The wonder, the hope, the abject fear and the things she could not tell any of them.
“Emer? Did you find out what happened to my ships?”
Emer drew a great breath, for she had never seen the ships at all. Atli was looking at her expectantly and she knew that her answer mattered to him and to her future. What could she tell him? Not the truth certainly, she still wanted him to find her father.
“I saw them landing in a strange place,” she said slowly. “The beach was surrounded by trees that looked different from our trees.” This was safe enough. She had listened to Niamh telling the story of the wonderful journey made by her great-grandfather, Lir, to the middle sea. “No harm came to them and they loaded strange goods to be brought back to you.”
She risked a peek at Atli who was smiling. He nodded and said,
“Continue.”
More confident, now that the lie seemed successful, she continued,
“Then I was gone to another place. I was with a man, walking over green hills. I have never seen him before. A huge grey dog was with him and his hand lay on its head. He came towards me and his eyes were kind. ‘Greetings, Emer, we meet again after so many years,’ he said. I told him I did not remember our meeting. He said he had held me as a newborn baby, so I would have no memory of him. Then he told me to come with him for he had things to show me.”
“What sort of things?”
“We fell through rainbow light but I was not afraid, for he held my hand. It felt icy and my fingers started to feel numb. We landed on an island I did not recognise. Men built ships on a beach, my father among them. I called out to him, but he did not answer me. He was carving the curve of a keel and he never even looked up.” She could not keep the disappointment out of her voice. ‘He can’t hear you,’ my guide told me. ‘To him, we are like the mist on the sea. Don’t fret. I have brought you here so you may know he still lives. The journey you will make is necessary.’ Then once again we were surrounded by the rainbow light until I stood in my own home. My mother was nursing my new brother and my father was hurrying towards her with his arms outstretched.”
Emer felt the tears running down her cheeks. She had so wanted to be there too in reality, rather than as a spectator. She dashed the drops away angrily.
“We did not stay long and I was whirled away. Then I was standing on a beach, for I could hear the sound of the waves breaking on the shore. It was the early spring; the sun was shining and a few tiny flowers grew in the grass.” She turned to face Hari. “You stood next to me, I was wearing a silver crown and we both held swords in our hands. Then we exchanged the swords. You held your new sword out to me with a finger ring on the hilt and I did the same.”
Hari’s breath whistled through his teeth.
“So…” Atli said. “Continue. Was there any more?”
She sighed. “The scene changed for the last time. I was back again in the green hills where I had met my guide. ‘Where are we now?’ I asked him. ‘This is the place where your family comes from, the land of Lir. I was born here and so was your mother. Niamh has describe
d it to you, I know. Don’t you recognise it?’‘Perhaps.’ Truly it did not look at all like my mother’s description. ‘Why have you brought me here?’ I asked. ‘To show you the place of your ancestors where our magic began. Watch.’ I looked hard at him as he changed before my eyes. His white hair became black flecked with grey, he stood proud and tall with a great sword strapped to his waist. His dog changed too. No longer gaunt, it frolicked around us with the litheness of youth. Then something clicked in my mind and I remembered my mother’s tales. ‘Are you my grandfather, Manannan McLir?’ I asked him. He took me in his arms and kissed me, but his touch was icy, as if I had stepped into a frozen pool. Then he said, ‘Shea and I roam these hills now, with the other spirits. Tell your mother and also Renny, the Red Lady. I have always loved them and I always will.’ A woman appeared and came towards us, her hair golden and tied with flowers made of gold. She was laughing. She touched my hair and Grandfather said, ‘This is Emer, for whom you are named. You and your mother have inherited her golden hair.’ Then the vision faded and I was back here with you.”
“I see. So that was all? You’re sure?” Atli looked at her closely and Emer found it hard to meet his eyes, but she forced herself to do so. “Why did you scream?”
“I am sure and I don’t know why I screamed.” Emer covered her eyes and shook her head, trying to rid herself of that other vision which she must not tell them.
“Come then.” Atli held out his hand to her and raised her to her feet. “You will need to sleep properly now and recover.”
“I’ll take her back to the other women, Fadir,” Hari spoke for the first time and Emer looked at him in surprise. She had hardly noticed him and wondered at this sudden gesture. She let him lead her out of the hut, but she staggered as the cold breeze blew onto her face. Hari put his arm around her, steadied her but also stopping her from moving away from his side. They walked in the direction of the longhouse. Just before they reached the doorway, he drew her aside.
“Do you truly believe these things will happen?” he hissed.
“I do.”
Emer's Quest (Manannan Trilogy) Page 6
