The Amber Seeker

by Mandy Haggith

‘She seems to think herself no more yours than she was ever mine. Perhaps you’re better off without her.’

  Ussa tossed her head in that scornful way she has, as if I am a child who understands nothing.

  My pride was dented. I had thought Rian might prefer to travel with us than to be with that bunch of barbarians, particularly as she was so filthy and emaciated when I had seen her on the island farm. Surely being with us on our adventure would be preferable? Yet given the opportunity, she had instead chosen to flee with a man who can at best be described as a ruffian. Yes, I was jealous. Of course I was.

  Ussa was determined to track the runaway down. She was intent on chasing Manigan anyway, because of the stone. ‘I’m leaving as soon as the tide is falling and we can get safe passage out of the channel.’

  ‘When is that?’ I asked.

  She looked at me as if I was an idiot. ‘Immediately. Are you coming?’

  ‘Are you still planning to head east to the amber shores?’

  ‘Eventually yes, of course.’

  It wasn’t difficult to weigh up my options. There might be other traders heading straight to the Amber Coast who would be willing to allow me to travel with them, but then again there might not. And my tin was on board her boat, of course, so it was easiest just to go with her.

  ‘I’ll come,’ I said.

  ‘Well, hurry up. I’m not prepared to wait for you if you slow me down.’ She stomped off to gather her crew.

  I packed all my belongings together and donned my furs, and with my writing box under my arm and gnomon in my hand I was ready to travel.

  As it turned out, I was down at the harbour before Ussa and her slaves. Toma was ready to go. I wondered how many hours he had spent ashore in the time we had been there. Not many, I guessed. Perhaps he was perpetually in a state of readiness to sail, just waiting for the opportunity to be off.

  I stowed my gear on board, then wandered off to find some food. In my haste I had not eaten, and my previous experience of travel with Ussa pushed me to take some precautions by way of a few extra personal supplies for when her estimates of how much provision the crew needed failed to provide us all with adequate vittles. I don’t think she meant to deprive her crew and passengers, but she seemed to treat food as a mere convenience rather than an essential aspect of life. Perhaps this habit of not eating regularly was what made her so bad-tempered. I think because she relied on Og to cook, she had little real sense of quantities required for preparation of meals, or maybe she simply didn’t entrust him with enough goods for bartering when they were in places where supplies could be obtained. Anyway, there were plenty of people around the harbour who were willing to give me food in exchange for coins and I settled with a fat woman who chuckled and stroked my fur coat as if I was a pet dog, furnishing me with a big bundle of dry food, plus bread and cakes, all wrapped up in a handy piece of hide, waxed and waterproof with eye-holes in the corners strengthened with sinew. I have it to this day. It is one of my few souvenirs of the trip. I have been kept dry, or my goods have, thanks to it, more times than I can remember. A fair exchange for a piece of silver, there’s no doubt about that.

  By the time I returned to the boat, Og had arrived, and soon Li and the new slave, Samhain, were stashing supplies on board, running up and down the hill as if Ussa were whipping them along, which was, I suppose, precisely what they were trying to avoid. Li’s back showed the signs of a thorough lashing, so I deduced he had taken the blame and a taste of Ussa’s fury.

  When Ussa swept down the hill to the harbour, predatory in her long white coat, I received a nod of acknowledgement from her, before she launched into a barrage of questions to Li and Og, checking that everything she had wanted them to do had been done. It had. The tide was right. I poured a little wine into the sea and asked Apollo to favour our journey, and then we were on our way, warps hauled in, the sail up.

  Toma sailed with a mad glee. I think he wanted to push his boat to its extremes, to let it do what it was capable of, yet I do not believe he really wanted to catch the prey. Ussa ranted at him about Manigan’s stone, which had, she said, been stolen from the boat. Apparently Li had managed to acquire it from Manigan, presumably by some theft of which I wasn’t aware, but although he swore that he had stashed it on Ròn, no amount of questioning by Ussa resulted in an explanation of why it was no longer on the boat.

  The wind was light and so Toma let the sail out to its maximum size and stood at the tiller to keep the twitching breeze in it. He sang a high-pitched wailing song with his chin lifted, his throat stretched up like a howling dog: ‘Sky flowing, going, going, fly fleeing, sea-wing, sea-wing.’ It was something like that. I don’t think he believed it was possible to overtake the sleek boat Manigan sailed, but he was excited by the chase and seemed delighted by attempting to gain on them using whatever advantage he could find from his own vessel. What sailor doesn’t love to race?

  His fervour was infectious. Li and the new slave Samhain, Og and I were all enthused by it and we rowed when the breeze fell away, as if our lives depended on it. The Black Chieftain’s kitchen, and those of the other places we had stayed over the summer, had done us all good; we had all regained weight after our long trial at sea. I was happy to work the oars beside them, much to Ussa’s mocking amusement. I rowed beside Og and I took pleasure in the rhythm. I thought of our magnificent triremes, how one of them would have closed on Manigan in minutes.

  We didn’t catch them. We were like a child trying to catch a pigeon, always thinking, when the breeze settled and its flight stopped, that we could creep up on it and take it by surprise. But Manigan was ever watchful and we could find no advantage. The wind was tricky that day. The gods toyed with us, not revealing who they favoured. They are fickle. Even more fickle than we are. I had poured a libation on the water, but they favoured Manigan.

  We nearly took his boat, but he defended himself with fire, and there’s no more powerful weapon on the water. Rian made that possible, I suppose, or some Goddess I do not claim to understand. It was a day I will always feel ambivalent about; did I want us to capture her or did I prefer to relish her freedom, her ability to escape? Of course I admired her pluck, but like one who flies a hunting bird, I wanted to see her return to the hand. I wanted the impossible. I know that now and I think I probably knew it then. I found it hard, that day, to control my temper. The only way I did was by watching Ussa failing to control hers. After they had torched our sail, she threw the mother of all tantrums, like a child in a playpen whose toy has been taken by another child. She railed at the escape of Manigan, the departure of the dreaded stone, the loss of Rian, perhaps most of all the shame of being out-sailed. I have to admit there was general panic on board. Fire on a ship is enough to make the calmest of sailors fear for his life.

  After the flames were put out, Ussa stood at the mast, clinging on with one hand, gesturing between the ineffectual sail and Toma at the helm, who had been heroic in pursuit, in my opinion. Every now and again she would sweep her long arm forward to point at Manigan’s boat, as it made its way out of reach of us, chewing up every morsel of breeze. She moaned at her loss. Eventually, thankfully, she retreated to the bow. Toma and the slaves found some unscorched rope and used the bow-shelter covering to rig a temporary sail and we limped back northwards, the tide, fortunately in our favour.

  I would like to say it pleased me to let Rian go, to imagine her free on the ocean, even with Manigan. I would like not to be jealous. Sometimes I do not know whether I am or not. I must have been then, looking back, mustn’t I? But I threw the feeling aside and focused on my new target, which was my original quest. I made what felt like a heroic and true re-establishment of the purpose of my journeying. It glowed, it sparked, it was warm and it was healing: it was amber.

  Toma grinned conspiratorially at me when I asked him, ‘How would you sail to the coast where amber is found?’

  I could tell by his face that he was ready to set his course eastwards as soon as Ussa gave the word
.

  ‘I would make my way south through the Seal Isles to Alba, and skirt her eastern coastline,’ he said. ‘I’d wait for the weather to look settled with a gentle westerly and I’d set a course south east across the North Sea. I’ve done it a few times and if the weather is with you it’s a beautiful journey but if the wind gets up, especially if it gets a bit of northerly to it, it can be hell. So I’d pick my moment. And then, on the far side, I’d be looking to take a pilot on board. I don’t know those waters enough to sail safely there, but there are always folk who’ll help you out if you have the right inducements, which you do, of course, and Ussa’s never lacking in interest.’ He took his hat off and rubbed his head.

  ‘Right now I’m most interested in that.’ He gestured ahead. We had land in sight again. ‘I’d like a rest after that sail. And these boys deserve a drink.’

  I had never known him so talkative.

  We came around a headland and crossed the mouth of a huge inlet. I remembered this place from the summer. We had found a warm welcome here, and I guessed Toma was heading back to the place we had stayed then.

  I was right. It was another of these broch communities, a friendly headman who was clearly fond of Toma and amused by Ussa, although not susceptible to her charms. His wife, on the other hand, was entranced by Ussa’s wares, and once we had settled in, she demanded to see what new jewels Ussa had gained since we had last visited. She was anxious to ensure possession of one of the pieces of silverwork, a brooch with a symbol of an eagle engraved on it. I’ve no idea how she paid Ussa for it, other than in lavish hospitality. We dined like kings. Perhaps the deal was knowledge, or perhaps there was a favour owed. It was often obvious how Ussa’s trade worked, but this was not the only time when I wondered what benefit she won for her riches.

  It was a foul, very windy night and I was glad we had made it safely to land. The next morning I went for a stroll. It was a pleasure to be in such a well-ordered farm after the chaotic drama of the sail. Toma and one of the chief’s sons had returned to the boat. I passed them talking about the damage that the fire had caused. Perhaps boat repairs would be the price of Ussa’s gift of jewellery. The fire had been swiftly put out, but we certainly needed a new sail and rigging.

  I strolled on, happy that they showed no sign of wanting to involve me in the work. A small boy was trailing me at a distance, curious, or sent to spy on me, I do not know.

  A little inland, near some scrubby willow, a black cow was munching grass. I gave it a wide berth as I passed it on my way up to the brow of a little hill where I hoped to get the lie of the land, but when I turned to look out across the bay, the broch standing proud below me, I saw that the cow was following me. I carried on up to the summit, but there I saw the cow still dogged in pursuit.

  The cloud was almost thin enough to be able to cast a shadow, and I wished I had brought my gnomon, so I could determine exactly how far north we were. The cow slowed as it approached me and stopped a few feet away. Perhaps it wanted to be friendly but it was on the brink, hesitant, as if it had suddenly realised I was a stranger. Black and hairy, not large for a cow, it stood barely up to my chest in height but was bulky and strong-looking with short horns that could do damage if necessary, or serve as a delicate drinking cup. I was nervous. I’m never very confident near cattle, but I thought I should be friendly to it. I smiled and said something foolish, as you do to an animal you want to like you, and put my hand out.

  The cow stepped forward and stretched its neck out to sniff my fingers. It snuffled my hand and I apologised for having nothing to give it to eat. As I said, I’m not much used to cattle, but I felt at peace with this animal. Its big shining brown eyes seemed to look at me kindly and, inevitably, it made me think of Rian. She loved cows. I remember seeing her through the barn door saying goodbye to one before we took her away from her home. I longed to see her again.

  Cows are sacred to these northern people, not surprisingly given all the goodness they provide: meat and milk of course, but also warm coats, hide for sails and bone that they use where we would use wood. They make tools from things we would feed to a dog, and in late winter, I was told, if the spring is late and food runs out, they will bleed them alive and make a meal of their blood. These creatures really are the lynchpin of the people’s survival. Their goddess Brigid takes the form of a cow sometimes, or cows are sacred in her honour. I’m sure you know all this. That evening on the hill, I have to say I felt blessed by hot, sweet cow-breath.

  When I turned to go back to the settlement the boy approached and, with a little stick, poked the cow along in front of us. We didn’t talk, but I could see he was showing off to me, demonstrating his prowess at herding the big animal home.

  The cow set me reflecting on Rian, and the amazing idea that I might have made her pregnant. I took great gulps of the hill air and felt my chest bursting with this huge, life-changing concept.

  A child. A baby. A son, perhaps. My son. I might become a father to a boy like the one beside me. I don’t know if you realise what that means for me, a Greek man. Until fatherhood, we are merely boys, no matter how old we may be in years. Some men choose to remain in that state throughout their life, and although they cannot hold office or take a formal position as a leader, this means they are free of responsibility. I had always enjoyed that freedom, and thought it unlikely I would ever want to relinquish it, but that day I had the first inkling of the pleasure that might come from feeling myself a man, a father, capable of heading a household and standing shoulder to shoulder in council with other men. If Rian were with child, my life on my return to Massalia could be completely transformed.

  Yet she was a slave. That my son would be born into slavery was unthinkable. And now, anyway, she had escaped with that man, and was heading who knows where. Would she really do what Ussa said, and get rid of the child? I couldn’t believe it of her. I didn’t want to believe it, now the thought of fatherhood had hatched in my mind. You know the answer, of course, and that I was right. But can you imagine the state of uncertainty I was in?

  When I am faced with something I cannot know, which is often in my investigations of geography, astronomy and mathematics, I have learned to push such questions aside and focus on what I can discover, what calculations and measurements will reveal. I have little interest in ethical dilemmas or religious mysteries, other than for what they can tell us about the people who believe in them. So, as the state of Rian’s womb was unknowable, I buried my curiosity, or attempted to, and turned my mind back to my quest. I still had to find the origin of amber.

  THE GREATMOTHER

  A NEW LAND

  Ussa was reluctant to give up her pursuit of Manigan and Rian, but I suppose she had to acknowledge that she had been out-sailed and they could be anywhere. Toma insisted that the wind was perfect for a crossing of the North Sea, and argued that there were excellent prospects for exchanging tin for amber on the eastern seaboard. Her greed for trade prevailed and we set off for the amber lands.

  We had a brisk westerly wind and the boat flew across the North Sea to the amber coast where we followed other boats into a trading port. Here, Ussa was unknown but a few enquiries and some of my gold soon gained us a pilot, and I found myself back in the ascendancy with her, an equal partner on a new frontier. I was surprised she did not know this place, but I suppose everyone’s sphere of influence must have an edge. It was a novelty to discover there were places where her reputation did not precede her, and she must approach people, as I did everywhere, as a stranger, with a foreign face and voice and no friends to recommend her.

  The pilot’s name was a long mouthful that none of us could pronounce properly, but he answered to Miki. He was small and very intense with light hair and dark eyes. Always speaking quickly, with clipped, sharp phrases, he gave a sense of urgency to every utterance. Next to the thoughtful ease of Toma he was manic, and clearly baffled by his inability to rouse our boat crew to the kind of frenzy he took as normal.

  His face lit u
p when I showed him the big piece of amber I carried with me. He took it in both hands and breathed on it, then rolled it around in his clutches so lovingly that I thought I might never get it back. His delight at our quest for amber was clear and he assured us that one of the best places for finding it was his home territory.

  As we got close he became more and more excited, telling us repeatedly how near we were. He must not have been home for some time. I didn’t see what there was to be so excited about. There were no grand vistas like in the Northern Isles or on the Albion coast I’d travelled, no snowy peaks in the distance, nor volcano plumes like Thule, just a green, lumpy land with atrocious weather: dull, grey and wet, and plenty of wind to keep us moving. In retrospect, I wonder if his zeal was due to the expectation of a reward for delivering us up to the people there.

  *

  We arrived towards the end of the day at a long beach. The tide was high and we anchored the boat then let the waves take us ashore, hoping for decent shelter from the rain. Miki ran off inland after telling us to start scouring the sands where apparently amber was often washed up or unearthed from among pebbles thrown up by storms. I looked idly and found nothing, but Og found a lump the size of his thumbnail and was well pleased until Ussa forced him to hand it over to her in exchange for some promise that sounded weak even to me. I wanted to get a look at it but she shook her head, teasing me, ‘It’s mine. My slave, my amber.’

  Og sat in a huff looking out to sea and refused to hunt for any more. Ussa paced about and I don’t think she even looked at her feet. Her body language seemed to say that she bought gems; she didn’t stoop to gather them, even if they were strewn around her.

  Eventually, I saw her stiffen and followed her eyes. Our pilot was returning with a delegation. At the front strode a long-haired old woman, wearing a full-length coat. When she reached us I saw it was made out of a patchwork of furs. Every animal of the north was there: bear, wolf, fox, badger, wildcat, otter, marten, no doubt others. Her eyes were shining stones within a crag-face.