by Regan Walker
“What about me?” Giric piped up.
Steinar reached his hand to cover the lad’s mouth. “Please excuse him, My Lord.”
The king chuckled. “You can see to the pup, Scribe.” Then Malcolm paused. “But now that I think of it, I have a missive I need you to draft so it can be dispatched immediately upon our arrival in Dunfermline. Mayhap you’d best leave the boy to the ladies.”
Before he left the abbey, Steinar penned the message the king had dictated to him for Matad, Mormaer of Atholl, summoning him to court. No subject was given, only the demand for the mormaer’s presence. Steinar broke out in a sweat, his hand that held the quill trembling over the parchment as he forced himself to write, knowing with certainty the mormaer was summoned for his niece’s betrothal to the captain of the king’s guard.
He had known this day was coming, but that did not help him to accept it.
Once Steinar was free of the king, with a heavy heart, he headed to the shore. Some of Malcolm’s men were loading the women’s chests, along with food for the voyage home. Those who were to travel with the king waited on shore while the ship was made ready.
He looked for Catrìona and found her standing amidst the golden gorse blooming between rocky outcroppings above the shore. Strands of her auburn hair blew about her face, rendering her achingly beautiful in the morning light as she stood talking with her cousin, the lad and Audra.
She must have sensed his regard because she broke away from the others and came toward him.
Just as she reached him, a white-tailed sea eagle soared across the sky, its huge wings, as long as a man was tall, casting a shadow over the water as it glided close to the surface, then reached its talons beneath the water and snatched a fish. They paused to stare open-mouthed at the magnificent bird and the beauty of the sea.
“I have not seen one of those since I lived in the vale,” she remarked, watching the eagle as it disappeared into the distance with its prize. “I have missed them.”
“And your home?” he asked. “Have you missed it, too?”
“Aye. Not at first, you understand, but now I do. When I left, I felt only sadness. But now I remember the happier times and the beauty of the vale.”
“You seem different today,” he said, noting her calm demeanor. Her green eyes, typically flashing like emeralds, were quiet pools. “Has something changed?” He did not like to think she was resigned to Colbán’s suit, but mayhap she was. As for him, he could only accept it if it meant her happiness.
She surprised him when she said, “ ’Twas a conversation I had with one of the monks. He helped me to see that good can come from loss if we but trust God. The queen had told me something similar and, since then, the truth has settled within me.” She laughed then, again surprising him, given the subject. “I have not been on very good terms with the Almighty for the last year.”
“I think I understand.” And he did. “Edgar and I have shared many a conversation about being forever exiled. But to be angry with God is like shouting at the sky. And revenge is lean fare on which to sustain a man’s life.”
“What you say is true, yet I long for justice.” She gripped the hilt of the knife sheathed at her hip. “And I have learned to carry a knife should I need it.”
Trying to lighten her mood, he said, “I would expect no less with fierce wildcats lurking among the trees.”
She tossed him a smile. “Aye, dangerous beasts are everywhere.”
The king’s captain approached just then to escort her to where the queen and the other ladies were climbing up the ramp to the ship. Steinar stepped aside.
Once all was loaded, the queen and her maidservant and Audra retired to the small tent erected midship. Catrìona and Fia joined Rhodri to sit on a fixed bench. The rest of the men scrambled aboard, took up the oars and rowed the ship to deeper waters. Once there, they stowed the oars and raised the huge square sail to catch the wind.
“The wind is from the north!” shouted the master shipman to the king. “We will be quickly home.”
They sailed from St. Andrews, heading into the North Sea and then south around Fife toward the Firth of Forth. It was nearly August and the weather was fair. Still, when the wind picked up, it was chill and the waters splashed against the ship’s hull, the spray misting over them.
Steinar leaned against the hull, his eyes darting to where Catrìona sat next to her cousin. The two women had drawn their cloaks tightly around them. Rhodri and Giric sat near them, Giric pressed against Catrìona, as if for warmth.
The king prowled the deck like a lion confined to a cage. Malcolm was unused to being in a small space, albeit the deck of his ship was larger than most. Eventually, Colbán drew Malcolm aside for a word and the two stood in the prow talking, their words swept away by the wind.
From time to time, the master seaman would shout a command to come about and the lines connected to the sails were loosened and the huge square sail brought around to catch the wind. The seamen then hauled on the ropes to pull the sail taut and keep them sailing into the blustery wind. He admired the ease with which they handled the ship.
When they were not needed to change the sail, the seamen sat on chests next to the oar holes or leaned against the hull as Steinar did.
It was not long before they reached the wide estuary that was the Firth of Forth. Though the waters were not as rough as the North Sea, it was still difficult for one who was used to land to move around the deck, especially if, like Steinar, one had a troublesome leg.
Watching Catrìona laughing at something Rhodri had said, he decided to join them, avoiding Colbán’s harsh gaze following him as he made his way to the bench occupied by the small group.
Catrìona and Fia were listening to Giric’s questions about sailing and ships. To Steinar’s surprise, it was Rhodri who answered them. The bard, as it turned out, had sailed the waters off Wales as a lad. Rhodri explained, “You cannot grow up in a small country surrounded on three sides by water without learning to sail. And Dublin is only a few hours by boat from Gwynedd.”
“If ’tis true,” Steinar interjected, “why does the color of your face match your tunic?”
“I said I learned to sail,” replied his friend, who did, indeed, appear a bit green, “I did not say I liked it overmuch. My preferred habitation is the forest of which there are many in Gwynedd and Powys.”
Ignoring the sharp glances from Colbán, who remained in the prow with the king, Steinar took a seat next to Catrìona with Giric nestled between them for shelter from the biting wind. Rhodri talked on about the small wooden ships his countrymen used to sail the coasts of Gwynedd, holding Giric in rapt attention. Fia, Steinar noted, sat very close to the bard on his other side and not for the chill air, he was certain. Her eyes were fixed on Rhodri and, as he spoke, she listened with the same expression as the boy.
Giric might be between them, but Steinar felt the nearness of Catrìona like a strong pull. The wind brought her scent to him as well as her laughter. Green eyes glistening, she listened to one of Rhodri’s tales and said to Giric, “Do not believe all the bard tells you. Fairies do not live in the woods of Wales.”
“Are you so certain?” Steinar questioned, for he did love to stir her to argue.
“Not you, too!” she cried.
“Mayhap they only live in Wales,” said Giric.
Catrìona rolled her eyes to the heavens and, giving him a side-glance, said to her cousin, “I give up. Mayhap they do have fairies in Wales.”
“Mayhap we do,” said Rhodri with a wink at Giric.
The sun was high in the sky when Audra emerged from the queen’s shelter with the maidservant in tow. Expressing concern that the queen needed to keep up her strength, Audra suggested it was time they ate.
The king took up his wife’s cause. “Aye, let’s have some food for Margaret and her ladies.”
Steinar had no doubt the king, too, was hungry and, since the waters of the Forth were calm enough to allow them to eat before they made p
ort, he thought the suggestion a good idea.
Colbán directed the men to assist and soon a bench was laid with bread, cheese and fruit.
“I expect you are not interested in food,” Steinar said to Rhodri.
The bard gave him an uncharacteristic smirk. “I will wait for land ere I dine, thank you.” Fia patted his hand and the two exchanged a smile.
“In Malcolm’s hall, you will not starve,” Steinar tossed back before following Catrìona and Giric to the food.
CHAPTER 14
Catrìona had enjoyed the travel over the water, bringing them home so much sooner, but the ship was confining and, worse, constantly moving beneath her feet. Then, too, being under the watchful gaze of the king’s captain made her nervous. The few times she and Steinar had laughed over something Rhodri had said caused the bear of a man to shoot Steinar disapproving looks. She wished Colbán could see the love shining in Audra’s eyes whenever she looked at him, but sadly, the man remained oblivious to the lady’s affections.
It was afternoon and the sun still high in the sky when the king’s tower was finally sighted rising above the trees a few miles north of the River Forth. The sail was quickly furled and the men took up oars to bring the ship to land, just as two longships came into view resting on the sand in the small inlet that served as harbor to Dunfermline.
As the king’s ship passed close to the two ships, she studied their form and decoration for anything she might recognize. Many ships looked alike, but she shuddered at dragon heads carved into the stems. The resemblance of these two to the longships of the Northmen who attacked the vale was striking.
“Seems my Orkney relations are paying me a visit,” boomed the king’s voice from the prow. “Margaret, come see!”
The queen stepped from the tent midship and gazed toward the longships.
“Mayhap they have my son, Duncan, with them,” Malcolm said to the queen. “ ’Tis time he is done with his fostering.”
At Catrìona’s side, Giric gasped. She looked down to see his eyes wide and his mouth agape as he stared at the two ships.
She crouched down next to the boy. “What is it?”
“The ba… banner,” he stuttered nervously. “ ’Tis… ’tis the black raven… like the one on the ship of the man who killed my father!”
Catrìona shielded her eyes and looked again at the two ships. At the top of the mast of one waved a pale yellow banner bearing a black raven in the Norse style, like the one she had seen that day in the vale.
A shudder ran up her spine. Could it be the same? A relative of the king?
The king’s men, straining at the oars, gave force to the ship so that it glided out of the water and up onto the wet sand. Jumping over the side, they hauled the ship to the broad sandy landing.
Catrìona took Giric’s trembling hand and followed the queen and the others from the ship. She bent to Giric and whispered, “Wait till we are in the king’s tower, then we will know if ’tis the same man. More than one Northman may fly such a banner.” She was trying not to panic but her heart pounded in her chest and her lips trembled.
Giric nodded and tightened his hold on her hand.
As they walked past the prows of the two longships, Catrìona caught a brief glimpse of a woman aboard the ship with the raven banner, but a sharp command from a Northman standing guard had the woman ducking under a tent. Before the woman disappeared, Catrìona saw the woman’s tunic was of a Norse design and there was something oddly familiar about her. The dark brown hair was the same shade as Deidre’s, only a greater length.
Once inside the tower, Catrìona scanned the hall for strangers, but saw none.
Nechtan, the king’s steward, hastened toward their party. “My Lord,” he addressed the king, “Paul and Erlend Thorfinnsson have arrived. You must have seen their ship.”
“Where are the jarls?” the king asked.
“I have seen them to their chamber, the one they usually occupy. They have brought young Duncan, who awaits you in your chamber.”
“Good. The queen and I will see Duncan and then have a bit of time ere we dine with our guests.”
As the king reached for Margaret’s hand to escort her to the stairs, the steward said, “My Lord?”
The king turned back, “Aye?”
“Your stepsons brought another with them, a distant cousin from Norway who has been sojourning with them for the last year or so. His name is Ivar Kalison. I have put him in the far chamber next to your stepsons.”
“My thanks for seeing to our guests,” Malcolm said. To Margaret, he said, “I do not know that name. Do you?”
The queen shook her head and they proceeded to the stairs.
Catrìona turned to Giric. “Find Niall. I must speak with him. Tell him to come to the hall and wait for me. I must change.”
“But what about—”
“Shh!” she cautioned the boy. “We can do nothing until the evening meal when we will see these Northmen. If the one who killed your father is among them, he may be the same barbarian who murdered my parents.”
Giric’s eyes grew large as he realized the terrible past they shared. “Ye?”
“Aye. Orphaned like you, remember? Go now and find Niall.”
* * *
Steinar watched Catrìona flee up the stairs. She had not been aware of him when he entered the hall with the others, which was not surprising given how strangely she was acting. She and the lad whispered urgently to each other as if something of great import was afoot. With the firebrand, he could never be sure what she would get involved in next.
Giric raced past him and out the tower door. Steinar followed, curious to know what mischief the two were up to.
“Giric, wait!” he yelled.
The boy slowed to a walk and slowly turned. He did not look guilty as Steinar had expected. Giric looked frightened.
“Where are you going in such haste?”
“I… I am to find Niall. His sister wants him.”
“Why?” The boy struggled with a response, as if uncertain he should confide his mission to his friend. “Come, lad, you know I would never harm you or Catrìona. I mean you only good.”
The boy let out a breath and walked to Steinar, looking up at him. “ ’Tis the Northmen who’ve come.”
Steinar’s brow furrowed. “The king’s stepsons, Paul and Erlend?”
“I know not if they be the ones. But one ship flies a raven banner, like the ship of the Northman who killed my father. Catrìona’s parents, too.”
Steinar sorted through the possibilities and found a reasonable explanation. “Many ships from Orkney fly such banners, Giric.” But he could see his words had not calmed the boy.
Giric’s eyes grew anxious. “May I go? The lady asked me to hurry.”
“Aye.” The boy turned and ran toward the archery field, leaving Steinar to wonder why Catrìona would want to see Niall about the Orkney ships.
* * *
Catrìona said nothing to Fia, but quickly washed and changed into a fresh gown. “I must see Niall,” she said, not waiting for her cousin’s reply, and hurried out of their chamber.
In the hall, there were only a few men standing around as the servants bustled from table to table in preparation for the evening meal.
Near the tower door, Niall waited with Giric.
“I am glad you have returned,” said her brother, brushing her cheek with a kiss. “Why have you taken me from archery practice? Giric told me to hurry but he would not tell me the reason for haste.”
She put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Aye, I wanted to speak with you first. Come, let us walk outside.”
The three of them slipped through the tower door and went some distance before she turned to her brother. “Did you know that Northmen from the Orkneys have come to Dunfermline?”
“Nay. When?”
“Sometime today, I think. The king says they are his stepsons. I have not seen them, but I have seen their ships. One carries the same banner as the sh
ip that led the attack on the vale.”
Niall turned to look south, toward the River Forth. “You are certain?”
“I am certain of the banner.” Seeing Giric’s fearful expression, she added, “Giric recognized it, too.” The boy’s eyes shifted from Niall to her and back again. “And there is more, Niall. I saw a woman on the ship. I did not get a good look at her but the more I think of it, she could be Deidre.”
“Deidre? Did she see you?”
“I cannot say. If she did, I am certain she did not recognize me, but then Deidre would not expect to see me here. The woman I saw was clothed in Norse garb, a brown linen tunic with some kind of Norse designs on it. Her hair was unplaited but ’twas Deidre’s color. Think, Niall. It has been over a year. They might have clothed her as one of their own to hide her among them.”
Niall seemed to ponder her words as he took his bow and quiver of arrows from his shoulder. “What do you propose?”
“First, we should find Angus and tell him. He will know if ’tis the same man. The Northmen will come to the evening meal. There, we can see them. If they are the ones who attacked the vale, I want to see if ’tis Deidre who is on that ship. If it is, we must save her, Niall.”
“Aye, we must.”
“Angus will help us,” she said. “Then we can deal with the one who led the raid.”
A look of concern crossed Niall’s face. It was not for lack of courage. “What if he is a relation of the king?”
“If the Northman is the one who murdered our parents, I care not.” Then another thought crossed her mind. Turning to the boy, she said, “Giric, do you know the king’s son, the one called Duncan? He would be older than you, mayhap ten or twelve summers, not yet a man.”
“Nay, but if he comes into the hall I can befriend him. What need ye?”
“I want to know about the girl I saw.”
Giric was eager to help. “I will do it!”
* * *
Margaret stepped through the door of their chamber Malcolm opened for her. Afternoon sunlight filled the large space. A dark-haired youth dressed in a tunic of Norse design stood with his back to them looking out the window. He turned. Duncan was tall for twelve summers and stood very straight, his features finely carved and his eyes dark like Malcolm’s. She could tell he was trying to play the man for his father.
