Surrender to an Irish Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  The morning was cool, with low clouds shifting around the skirts of the hills. They rode north-east for over an hour before they passed the abbey, tucked high upon the hillside. After riding north for another half an hour, they reached the ruined cashel of Glen Omrigh.

  The acrid scent of smoke struck her as they neared, the odour clinging to the ashen remains. Morren sobered at the destruction, but her gaze was drawn to the blackened fields, rather than the burned fortress. The raiders had set fire to the grain that night. The green barley shouldn’t have burned so easily, but they’d been fighting a drought. Within minutes, the parched stalks had caught fire and burned brightly.

  She doubted if any of the grain could be saved now. Their homes could be rebuilt, but it would take more time to heal the scarred land.

  The men were already dismounting, and Morren led her horse to the stream that swelled around the edges of the cashel, dismounting and letting the animal drink.

  She wouldn’t let herself look at the far exterior of the fortress, where the men had attacked her. The blunt memories were too raw to bear. Instead, she stared at the ground, forcing herself to concentrate on the land.

  When the others went inside, she remained behind. Trahern accompanied Jilleen to the outer gate before he stopped, waiting for Morren to join them.

  Though she knew it was foolish, she needed a few more moments outside. She signalled for him to go on, but Trahern didn’t move. Instead, he watched over her, like a silent sentinel.

  She walked through the blackened barley field, kneeling down as she examined the damage. Somehow, amid all the destruction, some of the stalks had survived. The golden colour contrasted against the ashes, offering a glimmer of hope. With nothing but the rain and the sun to nourish it, the barley had fought to live, in spite of being abandoned.

  She lost track of time, but eventually, a movement caught her attention. Trahern now stood at the edge of the field, though he hadn’t spoken to her. He watched over her, his hand resting upon his sword hilt.

  The wind caught at his cloak, the dark mantle shrouding his form. Morren forced herself to leave the charred grain behind, walking toward him. When she stopped a few feet away, he held out his hand.

  She hesitated, remembering how she’d held his palm last night. It had been a simple gesture, but one that still made her uneasy. The physical touch of his hand had sent a shiver of awareness within her. Not threatening, not forceful. But the warmth of his fingers closing over hers had been like an embrace, a reassurance that he would be there for her.

  But that wasn’t true, was it? Their paths were separate, and nothing would change that.

  Trahern saw her discomfort, and he lowered his hand. She was afraid she’d offended him, but he shielded his thoughts and emotions.

  ‘Come,’ he said gruffly. ‘There’s something I want you to see.’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘What is it?’ Morren followed Trahern inside the cashel where she found Jilleen waiting. Her sister had a nervous expression on her face, but she gave Trahern a brief nod.

  ‘It’s something Jilleen discovered,’ he admitted. ‘I thought you might like to go with us.’

  Something about his tone made her sense her sister’s fear. ‘All right.’

  There was almost a visible relief on Jilleen’s face, and Morren followed the pair further inside. Several men had begun clearing away the burned wood, while others worked on cutting timber for new framing. A few of the Viking women had come along and were gathering thatch to repair the roofs. Katla was directing the process, as though she were personally trying to rebuild every house. The men appeared irritated, and Morren hid a smile at the woman’s forceful presence.

  Jilleen continued leading them to the far side of the fortress, and Morren slowed her steps. If they continued, she would have to walk past the place where—

  She shut out the thought. Jilleen was guiding them to the souterrain passage. She reached out and took Trahern’s hand, keeping her eyes averted. She didn’t want to look at the trampled grasses or remember anything at all.

  His strong hand guided her away from it, in a steady grip that reassured her. She only wished he could protect her from the nightmares, as well as the strangers here.

  Jilleen held back the underbrush, revealing the entrance to the souterrain. The underground tunnel was used for storage and as an escape route during times of need. On the night of the attack, the raiders had set fire to the hut that covered the souterrain entrance, making it impossible to use the passageway.

  ‘Why are we going here?’ Morren couldn’t understand the purpose or why her sister had led them this way instead of using a ladder within the cashel.

  Trahern squeezed her hand. ‘Go on, Jilleen. We’ll follow.’

  Once they were inside, Morren could see nothing in front of her. The stale interior smelled of earth and rot. She held her breath, following the pair deeper inside. Trahern’s hand pulled her forward into a shaft of light that shone down from above.

  Jilleen pointed to a pile of shattered clay vessels. ‘Look.’

  Morren caught her breath when she saw what her sister was pointing towards. A handful of silver coins were scattered over the ground, as if gathered in a hurry. ‘Where did it come from?’

  Trahern picked up one of the coins and held it to the light. ‘I suspect it was payment,’ he answered. ‘Given to the Lochlannach raiders.’

  Looking back at Jilleen, he added, ‘You were right to lead us this way, so the others wouldn’t follow.’ He reached down and poured a handful of coins into Morren’s palm.

  She couldn’t repress an inadvertent shudder when the cold silver slid through her hand. ‘How do you know they belonged to the Lochlannach?’

  ‘Because these coins are older. Do you see the long cross? They’re not Irish. Possibly a hundred years old.’

  He held one out to her, and she examined it. He was right. She’d never seen coins such as these.

  ‘Should we show them to the Dalrata chief?’

  He opened her palm and placed a handful inside. ‘No. Don’t speak of it to anyone, and we may learn more. After the Lochlannach have returned to their settlement, you can use them to buy more grain and supplies for the winter.’

  He didn’t trust Dagmar, Morren realised. But she was less inclined to believe that the chief had anything to do with the attack. If he’d been responsible, why would he expend so much effort on rebuilding?

  The warmth of Trahern’s hand lingered a little longer than was necessary. Her skin prickled, and she didn’t understand her response to his touch. It wasn’t fear, but something else. Something unexpected.

  She broke free, kneeling down to pick up the remaining coins. It gave her a means of hiding her embarrassment, and she placed them inside a clay vessel.

  ‘I’m going back,’ Jilleen said, ‘before Katla notices.’

  ‘We’ll follow you in a moment,’ Trahern promised. Jilleen left the souterrain through the tunnel, while Morren finished gathering the coins.

  When she stood, a gust of wind brought flakes of white drifting down the opening from above. ‘Snow?’ She couldn’t believe it, not this early in the season. It rarely snowed in this part of Éireann, and she was more accustomed to cold rain.

  Trahern held out his palm, and the flakes melted upon them. ‘It’s early for it.’ A hint of a smile played on his features.

  ‘When I was a lad, I used to fight with my foster-brothers in the snow. We’d pack it into balls and throw it at each other.’ His mouth softened at the memory.

  ‘The boys used to run from me,’ Morren admitted. She reached up and another flake faded upon her fingertips.

  ‘Why would they run?’ He led her outside the tunnel, taking her in the opposite direction, to the barley fields.

  Morren breathed an inner sigh of relief that he hadn’t led her back the way they’d come. ‘Because I could hit any of them with a ball of snow. Jilleen used to taunt them, and I had to defend her.’

&n
bsp; He gazed at her with an intrigued expression. ‘Having good aim is a useful skill.’ His grey eyes softened with interest, and she felt her cheeks redden. It wasn’t the first time a man had looked upon her in that way, but she’d never expected it from Trahern. Especially not after the way he’d been distant earlier.

  She tore her gaze away and moved toward the entrance of the cashel. ‘Let’s go and meet the others.’

  Lacy flakes swirled in the air, but most disappeared as soon as they touched the ground. When she walked inside again, she took time to examine the damage.

  Charred wood and fallen stones were everywhere. The destruction made her throat ache as she remembered the families who’d lived here. She turned in a slow circle, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

  Such violence that night. For no reason at all, save the pieces of silver.

  Trahern came up behind her. He said nothing at first, letting her grieve. She turned and saw her own pain in his eyes. The snow cut through her skin, the frigid air as cold as her heart. Her fingers tightened into a fist, as she understood his need for vengeance.

  Friends, distant family members…gone now.

  Her hands tightened upon the clay container, as though she could shatter the earthenware under the pressure. She handed it to him, closing his fingers around the open container. ‘Find the men who did this, Trahern. Please.’

  ‘I will.’ Trahern’s vow was quietly spoken, but there was intensity beneath it.

  She believed him. He wasn’t a man who would give up, not until he’d brought the raiders to justice.

  ‘You’ll need the coins to buy grain for your people,’ he said.

  It made her skin crawl to even think of touching the coins that had paid for the lives of her kinsmen. But he was right. She would have to use them, and even then, it might not be enough.

  ‘Keep them for me,’ she pleaded. ‘For now, at least.’

  He emptied the container into a pouch at his waist. ‘They are yours, whenever you need them.’

  Morren turned back, walking slightly faster than Trahern. She didn’t want to believe that one of her own clansmen might have hired the men, but it was possible. She watched a group of Vikings working alongside Áron and a few of the other survivors. They’d finished a rough framing of two huts, and no doubt within a few more days, the shelters would be finished.

  Gunnar was balanced atop one of the walls, hammering the wooden frame supporting the roof. Jilleen had joined Katla and some of the other women, bundling the thatch.

  When she passed her own clansmen, Morren caught Adham watching her, a slight smile on his face. It was a questioning look, as though asking whether she would speak to him. She turned away, her stomach uneasy.

  The truth was, she didn’t want to face him. He’d done nothing that night to protect her. And, as far as she knew, he hadn’t searched for her either. She couldn’t quite let go of the resentment.

  Trahern caught her hand in his once more. Though he masked the gesture as a way of leading her away from the men, she sensed his impatience. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You’re pale.’ He led her inside one of the half-finished shelters and dragged a sanded tree stump for her to sit upon. ‘I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.’

  ‘Stop treating me like I’ll shatter,’ she protested. ‘There’s nothing wrong.’

  ‘It’s only been a few days,’ he reminded her quietly. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with taking a moment to rest.’ His eyes passed over her in a silent inspection. ‘You haven’t seen the Dalrata healer yet, have you?’

  ‘No. There was no need.’ Did he truly believe she’d reveal her shame to a stranger?

  He sat across from her. ‘Morren, you need time to recover. You lost a great deal that night.’

  The words sliced through her at the mention of her child. Her eyes welled up, though she managed to hold back the tears. ‘I’m all right.’

  But she wasn’t, not truly. Even so, she forced herself to say, ‘You needn’t treat me like I’m weak.’

  ‘Allowing yourself time to heal isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s good sense.’ He studied her face, and his expression was haggard and grim. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you here.’

  ‘I needed to come.’ She rested her wrists upon her knees. ‘And in a moment, I’m going back outside. There’s a lot of work to be done.’

  ‘Not by you. The others are stronger.’

  ‘I can’t sit and do nothing, Trahern.’ She gripped her hands together. ‘Otherwise, I’ll start to remember it. I need the work. It makes it easier to bear.’ She stood and crossed the hut to stand before him. ‘Can’t you understand that?’

  A glimmer of sorrow passed over his hardened face. ‘I understand the need to forget, yes.’

  ‘Then let me work. I want to tend the burned fields and do what I can to make things right again.’

  His palm reached over to her hair, with the lightest touch. It was the sort of gesture a parent might grant to a child, to lend comfort. No longer did she fear his touch, but the simple caress unnerved her. She found herself wanting to rest against his broad chest, to feel strong arms around her. To draw strength from him, for she had nothing left inside.

  ‘I’ll work alongside you,’ he offered. ‘And if you start to tire, you’re going to stop.’

  The hint of a smile faltered upon her mouth. ‘Is that a command?’

  ‘Aye.’ He walked outside again, waiting for her to follow.

  When they approached the others, Jilleen walked towards them. Her sister’s tangled brown hair hung against her cheeks, and Morren reached for a strand, tucking it behind one ear. Though she’d slept beside Jilleen last night, her sister had hardly spoken to her.

  ‘I’m going back into the fields with Trahern,’ Morren said. ‘Come and help us.’

  A strange look crossed Jilleen’s face. Her gaze shifted to Trahern’s face and then back again. ‘No, I don’t think I should.’

  Morren frowned, not knowing whether her sister was afraid of Trahern or was simply trying to avoid the labour.

  ‘Why not?’ she probed. ‘Did something happen?’

  ‘No, nothing.’ Jilleen blushed. ‘But Katla asked me to help her and the other women with the thatching. We’re working to get it ready for the rooftops.’

  Morren hesitated, and her sister begged, ‘Please? It’s dull working in the fields. And besides, the crops are all burned anyway. Can’t I stay here?’

  The fervent tone sounded a little too enthusiastic. Jilleen didn’t even know the Lochlannach women, so why was she trying to remain with them?

  ‘Trahern would be more help than me.’ Her sister shot the man a faltering smile. ‘He’d do whatever you asked him to.’

  Morren doubted that, but it was starting to become clear what her sister’s intentions were. The faint colour in Jilleen’s face made it even more apparent.

  ‘I’d like to speak to my sister alone for a moment,’ she asked Trahern. Thankfully, he looked grateful to escape.

  ‘I’ll go and help with the wall,’ he said, pointing to a group of men who were dry-fitting limestone into the stone palisade.

  When he was out of earshot, Morren leaned over to her sister. ‘Jilleen, what is going on in that head of yours?’

  Her sister shrugged. ‘He watches over you. And you need someone to take care of you now.’ Jilleen glanced up at the sky, where it had stopped snowing. ‘He would protect us.’

  Morren put an arm around her sister, in a half-embrace. ‘We’re going to be safe,’ she promised. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you again.’

  ‘But what about Trahern?’

  ‘He saved my life, and that’s all.’

  Jilleen didn’t look convinced. ‘He likes you, and I’ve never seen him leave your side.’ With a hopeful look, her sister added, ‘He could be handsome, if he grew back his hair.’

  Morren couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. Was her sister honestly trying to make a match between her
self and Trahern? ‘No. It’s not that way.’ Trahern was still in love with Ciara, and she had no desire to form a match with any man. ‘It won’t happen,’ she insisted.

  ‘Not if you don’t try.’ Jilleen turned her attention back to the men who were rebuilding the outer wall.

  Morren stared at her sister. ‘Why would you think I’d want to “try”, after all that’s happened?’

  Her sister held herself motionless for a long time. When Morren was about to repeat her question, she saw the stricken expression on Jilleen’s face. She opened her arms, and Jilleen gripped her tightly, her voice trembling.

  ‘It’s my fault, Morren. All of it. And I don’t want you to be so alone any more.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t your fault.’ Morren stroked her sister’s hair, murmuring words of consolation. ‘It wasn’t.’ She held her sister’s face between her palms, trying to make her sister see that she didn’t hold her to blame. ‘What happened that night is over. I’m all right.’

  She repeated the words, meaning to make Jilleen feel better. But they seemed to slip down inside her, like a fervent wish for herself.

  She caught Trahern watching her, his face concerned. He saw the way she was holding on to Jilleen, and his silent question was evident.

  Morren gave him a faint nod of reassurance, waving her hand for him to go on with his work. He held back a moment, his steady expression reminding her that he was there for her.

  A faint warmth spread through her skin, with the trust that he would. His abrupt behaviour last night was starting to become clear. She’d trespassed, behaving like a wife instead of a friend. It wasn’t her place to take care of Trahern.

  But he took care of you.

  She released Jilleen, her feelings tied up into knots. Her sister meant well, but there could be nothing more between herself and Trahern.

  Not if you don’t try, Jilleen had said.

  Morren walked alongside her sister, braving a confidence she didn’t feel. She planned to lose herself in tending the fields, using the numbing work to forget the dark memories. And perhaps, one day, she’d lock them away forever.