Murdo gazed at the large timber door. 'I have not come this far to turn aside now. I will see it through.'
'As you will.' Emlyn stepped to the door, lifted the iron ring and swung it down with a hollow thump. In a moment, a small slit door opened in one of the beams and a plump, good-natured face appeared. 'Good day, sister. I am Brother Emlyn of St Aidan's Abbey, and this is Lord Murdo Ranulfson.'
'Good day to you, brother, and God's blessing be upon you both,' the old woman replied. 'What is your business here?'
'We want to see -' blurted Murdo.
Emlyn swiftly interrupted. 'We have come to enquire of the abbess. I pray she is well.'
'She is well indeed,' answered the nun. 'A moment, if you please.' The door closed, and they heard a long scraping sound as the bar was withdrawn.
'Why did you do that?' demanded Murdo. 'Are we here to find my mother and Ragna, or not?'
'Patience,' chided the monk. 'All in good time. It is best to proceed with a little propriety and discretion if we expect to receive their help. Also, I believe we should confine ourselves to finding your mother. It would be best not to mention Lady Ragna just yet.'
'Why?' It made no sense to Murdo and he said so.
'We do not know what the bishop told the abbess when the women were brought here – not the truth, I think. Therefore, I urge caution until we see how the thing stands.'
Murdo nodded curtly and kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot. After a few moments the door in the gate jerked and swung open.
'I am surprised to find the abbey gates closed. Are the doors barred the entire day?' asked Emlyn.
'Alas, they are, brother,' replied the nun. 'We are little more than prisoners in our own abbey, for there has been raiding already this year. We were set upon three times last summer. It is that the lords and knights are gone away on pilgrimage, you see. The Sea Wolves know they can plunder the weak who are left without protection.' She smiled, her wrinkles framing a kindly face. 'Thank you for asking. Enter please, and I will take you to the abbess.'
The monk offered a small bow and stepped over the threshold. Murdo turned and looked back to the ship waiting in the bay below. In the near distance he could see the broad, curving inlet of the firth the Norse sailors called Dalfjord; away to the south was a smudge of smoke which he took to be Inbhir Ness. Turning back to the door, he took a breath, squared his shoulders and stepped through.
The abbey was a small settlement enclosed behind stone walls, with dwellings of various kinds: a church, gardens, an orchard, livestock pens, storehouses and work shops. There were almost as many buildings inside the walls as outside, and the place seemed especially busy. Murdo was surprised to see plenty of men around-some were monks, but there were craftsmen and labourers as well; he had expected a convent to contain only women.
'The convent is only a part of the work God has given us,' Abbess Angharad explained upon receiving them in the lodge beside the house. Following Emlyn's advice, Murdo was trying to engage in polite conversation while all he could think about was finding Ragna and his mother. 'Subduing a wild and savage land is a toilsome occupation; we turn away none who are willing to earn their crust by the sweat of their brow.'
'And to all appearances, you have succeeded admirably well,' remarked Emlyn. 'The settlement thrives, I see. Verily, it flourishes.'
'It is God who prospers us, dear brother,' the abbess replied tartly. Thin-faced, her wrinkled skin brown from the wind and sun, she was wiry and vigorous despite her years, and proving to be more awkward than Murdo had expected. 'If we thrive,' she continued, as if lecturing wayward children, 'it is only through obedience. We ask no more than to shine as a beacon flame in a dark and treacherous land.'
'And yet,' offered Emlyn lightly, 'there is joy in the journey, no? Obedience is good. Esteem is better. Love is best of all. The Great King is ever a gifting giver.'
The thin old abbess regarded him stonily, her grey brows puckered. 'I see you and your brothers are yet slaves to the old deception. We continue to pray for your enlightenment,' she informed him primly.
'Even as we pray for yours, abbess,' Emlyn said. His sudden laugh induced the sober lady to raise her brows and purse her lips severely. 'Forgive me,' he said quickly, 'but it suddenly occurred to me that if our ardent petitions were to be answered at the same time, the resulting enlightenment would certainly make Scotland the brightest realm in all the world.'
The abbess did not share the gentle monk's amusement. Folding her hands before her, she said, 'Now then, I do not believe you have come to enquire after my soul's well-being. Was there perhaps another purpose to your visit?'
'We have come seeking -' began Emlyn.
'Lady Niamh of Dyrness,' put in Murdo, his patience at an end. 'Is she here? Is she well?'
Abbess Angharad regarded him as if he had uttered a blasphemy. 'And who are you that you should concern yourself with her welfare?'
'I am her son,' he answered, and explained how he had followed his father on crusade, and had just returned. 'We have been told that my mother was brought here in the company of some others. I have come to take her home.'
'I can tell you that she is here, and she is well,' the abbess replied. 'It may be, however, that she has no wish to go with you. Nor will I compel her.'
Murdo stared at the woman. The resistance he felt was as solid as the grey granite hills above the firth, and he began to see why Emlyn had counselled politeness and caution.
'But she will want to see me,' insisted Murdo. 'She has been waiting for my return.'
'Perhaps,' allowed the abbess. 'But it may be otherwise. This will be determined.'
'I do not understand,' said Murdo, growing more confused and frustrated by the moment.
'It is not so difficult,' the abbess replied, offering a brief, superior smile. 'Women come here for many reasons. Oft times a woman will find that her fortune or, God knows, even her very body, has become an affliction to her. Whatever the reason, we take them in and provide a haven for them, and protect them as best we can.' She paused, pressing her mouth into a firm line. 'Do you expect me to hand over one of my charges on your command when I know nothing of you? Indeed, for all I know, it might easily be that you are the one she has come here to escape.'
'But, I am her son,' countered Murdo feebly, looking to Emlyn for help.
'There are murderous sons, just as there are lusting and covetous husbands,' the abbess replied crisply. 'And the fact that you have come here in the company of a monk of a disreputable order does not commend your cause in the least.'
'Sister abbess,' said Emlyn gently. 'Your vigilance would do good Saint Peter credit, but I stand as God's witness to the plain truth that this young man has travelled to the Holy Land and back for the sole purpose of righting a terrible wrong perpetrated by cruel circumstance upon his family. His father, the Lady Niamh's husband, was killed in the taking of Jerusalem, and -
'Jerusalem is won?' The abbess gasped. 'Are you certain?'
'As certain as the sun and stars, good abbess,' replied Emlyn smoothly. 'We were there, and saw the victory with our own eyes.'
'All praise to the Almighty,' declared the nun. 'We had not heard.'
'Forgive me,' Emlyn said. 'I thought word had reached you here, or I would have told you at once.'
'Jerusalem is reclaimed out of heathen bondage,' sighed the old abbess. 'Christ is triumphant at last.'
'It is this very thing we have come to tell Lady Niamh,' the monk continued. 'That Jerusalem is won, but at fearful cost, including the life of her husband-sad tidings for the lady, to be sure. Yet, it is our hope that we might mitigate the severity of the lady's grief by reuniting her with her surviving son.' Placing a hand on Murdo's shoulder, he said, 'All we ask is the opportunity to speak with her for a moment, and then whether she stays or goes will be her decision to make, and hers alone, as you suggest.'
The monk's mollifying tone produced the desired effect. In fact, his address worked so well that Murdo suspect
ed the abbess had been waiting to hear those precise words before proceeding further.
'Very well,' Abbess Angharad promptly conceded, 'I will arrange for you to see Lady Niamh. You will wait here, please.'
The dutiful abbess departed, leaving them to themselves. Murdo, anxious and indignant at being made to wait some more, stalked back and forth across the floor. In an effort to distract him, Emlyn talked about the convent and its useful presence in the place, and the sisters' tireless good works on behalf of the people.
Murdo waved him to silence as Abbess Angharad pushed open the door just then. She entered the room, hands folded, pursing her lips and regarding the fat brother with rank disapproval. Turning to Murdo she said, 'Lady Niamh will see you. Follow me, and I will take you to a place where you can speak privately.'
The sister led them out across the yard to a wooden door set in one of the walls. Here she paused, and indicated that Murdo was to enter. 'I will give you a few moments to yourselves.'
Murdo thanked the abbess, and stepped through the doorway. 'You go ahead,' Emlyn said. 'I will await you here.'
Murdo found himself in a small orchard, walled on every side to protect the trees from the cruel northern winds. But this day, in the full flower of spring, the air was warm and full of the sound of bees working among the pear and apple trees. The sunlight was bright, and it took him a moment to see the figure bending low in the shadow of one of the boughs.
Dressed in the grey, shapeless robe and mantle of the nuns, her hair wrapped in the same cloth, she knelt over something on the ground, her back to him. Murdo took two awkward steps and stopped. 'My lady?' he said, his voice low, so as not to frighten her.
The figure straightened instantly, and froze.
'My lady,' he said again, 'it is Murdo. I have returned.'
The woman turned her head and Murdo's heart clenched in his chest. 'Ragna?'
The slender young woman stood slowly, and took a hesitant step towards him, a multitude of emotions playing over her features. She gave out a cry and rushed into his arms. 'Murdo!'
'Ragna…' he said, and then her mouth found his and he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her fiercely to him, as if to make up in one embrace for all the times he had yearned to hold her, but could not. Ragna kissed him again and again, raining kisses on his face and neck, her hands clutching him so that he would not escape again, tears of gladness streaming down her cheeks.
'Ragna… my heart… how I have missed you,' he said, burying his face in the hollow of her slender neck. 'I am here. I am home.'
'My love,' she whispered. 'They did not tell me you-'
'They said I was to see my mother, I did not know -'
'She is here-'
'I have come for you. We will leave this place at once. We will go-'
'Shh!' she whispered, placing her fingertips to his lips. 'Do not speak. Just hold me.'
They stood still, eyes closed, their bodies pressed tightly to one another, and Murdo felt a warmth descend upon him, and his heart quickened-as if a shard of ice which had pierced his heart had begun to melt away in the heat of Ragna's loving embrace. Murdo would have been content to stay like this for ever, but he slowly became aware of another presence in the orchard. He opened his eyes and looked over Ragna's shoulder to the place where she had been kneeling.
There, in the long, green grass, sat a chubby, round-faced infant, staring at him with wide brown eyes. At Murdo's glance the babe let out a spirited yelp, drawing Ragna's attention. Taking Murdo's hand, she led him to the child, then stooped and gathered the babe into her arms.
'Eirik,' she said softly, putting her lips to the child's round cheek. 'Your father has come home. See? This is Murdo. He is your da.'
'Da!' exclaimed the child, reaching out with a plump little hand.
Murdo, awestricken, took the tiny hand in his own and the strength of the tiny grip filled him with wonder. 'Mine?' he gasped. 'I have a child?'
'Ours,' corrected Ragna. 'Yes, my love, you have a son. His name is Eirik.'
Raising a hand to touch the child's pale yellow curls, he put his face near the babe's and whispered, 'My son…" That was all he could get out before the lump in his throat took away his voice.
He gathered Ragna and the child to him, kissing them both, and the three were yet standing together when he heard a soft footfall in the grass. He turned his face to see his mother approaching swiftly through the grass. 'Oh, Murdo… Murdo,' she said, her eyes shining with tears. 'When abbess told me you were here, I… I knew you would come back.'
He turned to take her hands, and drew her near. 'Mother…" he said, as she kissed him on the cheek.
'Welcome home, Murdo, my heart, I knew you would come for us.' Looking to Ragna, she said, 'We both prayed every day for your safe return.'
'Mother,' he said gently, 'I am the only one to return.' He then told her of Ranulf's death.
Niamh, clutching her hands, bowed her head and began to cry. Murdo put his arm around her, and let her weep. When the first wave of grief had passed, Murdo told her, 'I saw him before he died. We talked long and he told me everything. I will tell you all he said, but now is not the time.'
'I feared he would not be coming home,' she said, her voice trembling. 'I thought I was prepared for the worst, but…' She broke off, drew a deep breath, and said, 'Tell me now-I must know, what of Torf-Einar and Skuli? Were they killed, too?'
'No, they are alive and well,' Murdo said, glad to be able to relate some better news. 'They have taken service with Count Baldwin -brother to the new King of Jerusalem-and they have both chosen to remain in the Holy Land to gain their fortune.'
'And my father?' asked Ragna, her eyes searching his for an answer other than the one she guessed already. 'Was he killed, too?'
Murdo nodded. 'I am sorry. He fell at a place called Dorylaeum-and your brothers with him in the same battle.' He paused, allowing Ragna to take this in, then said, 'Your mother will be spared this unhappiness at least. The bishop told me.'
'That bishop,' said Niamh angrily, 'is well informed of everything that passed in the islands. He was the first to know when Ragnhild died. Not a day passed before he got his claws into Cnoc Carrach.'
'But now that you are here,' Ragna offered hopefully, 'we can go home.' She grasped Murdo's hand tightly. 'We will have our marriage vows completed in the chapel, and you can be Lord of Cnoc Carrach now. We can-'
'No, Ragna,' he said, shaking his head. 'That is not to be. Neither your father nor his heirs will return; the estate will fall forfeit to the church. But I have my own lands, my own fortune, and we will make a new place for ourselves.'
He then told how he had confronted King Magnus with the injustice perpetrated in his name, and how the king had offered him land as settlement of his grievance. He explained that he had the bishop and abbot with him, and that they would be made to stand before the king and face judgement for their actions. 'The king is a fair and honourable man,' Murdo assured them. 'He will see justice done.'
'My father and brothers -' Ragna began, 'there is no doubt? Perhaps you are mistaken and they are still alive. Perhaps-'
Murdo shook his head gently. 'There is no doubt. I am sorry.'
The door in the wall opened just then and the abbess appeared; she walked quickly towards them. 'Well,' she said briskly, glancing at Ragna who was still clutching Murdo's hand, 'I might have known you were the father of this child.'
Dismissing the couple with a jerk of her chin, she turned to Murdo's mother. 'Lady Niamh,' she said, 'this man has confessed his desire to take you away with him. What is your decision?' Before Niamh could answer the abbess added, 'I hasten to remind you that you are free to choose as you will. While you remain within these walls you shall not be made to go anywhere against your own volition or desire. Do you understand?'
'Thank you, abbess,' Niamh answered coolly. 'It is good of you to counsel me. Yet, I must confess your charity baffles me-all the more since you well know I was brought here against m
y will by Bishop Adalbert of Orkneyjar.'
The abbess stiffened. 'I had hoped your time among us here would have softened your heart, my lady. I prayed you would come to understand and accept that what was done was only ever for your own good.'
'I understand better than you know, abbess. It was done for the good of the bishop's purse. And if I had him and his covetous abbot here before me, I would tell them the same.'
'Mind how you speak,' Abbess Angharad protested. 'The Bishop of Orkney is God's own servant, and must be treated with all respect.'
'Rest assured Bishop Adalbert is receiving all the respect he deserves,' Murdo told her.
Taking the child into his arms, he led Ragna and his mother from the orchard. They paused to collect a few small things from their quarters, and then crossed the yard to the gates. 'We are away,' Murdo called as they approached.
'Where now?' asked Ion Wing.
'Thorsa,' replied Murdo. 'The king wishes to make me a lord, and I would not keep him from his heart's desire even a moment longer.'
'What about these two?' The Norseman indicated the sullen and angry churchmen with a twitch of his spear. The bishop scowled at them, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest; the abbot stood beside him, more subdued, his hands hanging at his sides. 'Shall we take them with us?' asked Jon.
'By all means, let them accompany us,' Murdo answered. 'I think King Magnus will be interested to learn just how many of his vassals' estates and farms have passed into the church's possession. Who better to explain it than the two men responsible?’
Adalbert made to protest, but Jon Wing spun him around and pushed him towards the gate. Emlyn took the abbot by the arm and began leading him away, saying, 'Cheer up, my friend. Lord Magnus is a fair and honest king. You will have ample opportunity to explain yourself to him.'
Abbot Gerardus glared at the monk, but made no reply. Jerking himself free of Emlyn's grip, he stumped off alone. The kindly monk turned to Murdo's mother, bowed and offered his arm, saying, 'My lady, I would be honoured to escort you to the ship.'
Niamh smiled and accepted his arm, and walked away, leaving the abbey without a backward glance. Ragna, however, paused briefly in the doorway looking her last at the place of her captivity. Murdo stood beside her for a moment. 'I will never leave you like that again,' he vowed. Taking her hand, he led her away, saying, 'We will make a place for ourselves where we will be together always.'
The iron lance cc-1 Page 53
