Emer's Quest (Manannan Trilogy Book 3)

by Michele McGrath

  “Is he well?” she asked, fear in her heart.

  “He was when he left here, but my informant has not seen him since.”

  “May I go with you to find him?”

  “I’ll be quicker without you. It’s a long way and a rough road. Rolf can come with me and Hari stay with you. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  Emer tried hard to be content, but she was in a fret with anxiety. She spent the time walking up and down the beach, sometimes alone and sometimes with Hari, a silent presence at her side.

  “How I loath waiting,” she said to him once. “I’d much rather be doing something.”

  “All women have to wait,” he replied, absently.

  She whirled round and faced him. “Do you really believe that?”

  He looked startled for a moment and then a sheepish grin spread over his face.

  “Perhaps I should have said — most women.”

  All the next day they waited. It was not until evening that Atli returned, bringing with him a tall shambling figure. The man was stooped and dirty. He slouched rather than walked freely. Emer hardly recognised him. Then, in a sudden joy, she ran forwards and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Fadir!”

  His arms tightened around her, but he gave her no greeting. She drew a little away so she could search his face. He smiled.

  “Fadir, don’t you recognise me? I’m Emer, your daughter.”

  “He can’t speak,” Atli said behind her. “He has not said a word since they found him on Colonsey, but it is obvious that you mean something to him. Take him and care for him now, so that he may be ready for the journey home.”

  Emer went to the cooking place and brought her father a bowl of broth, some oat-bread and a beaker of ale. He ate and drank as if he was starving. Then she took him to the bathhouse and eased him out of his caked and threadbare clothing. When she saw his naked body she gasped. He had been beaten, for the scars of old weals criss-crossed his back. She cried over them, but they were not the only thing that had changed. He was missing a toe on one of his feet, which explained the way he now walked.

  “It has been frozen off,” said Edda, the woman who was helping her, “and he was lucky not to lose more, I’m thinking.”

  “The storm. He was out in an open boat.”

  “That would do it. Poor man.”

  Olaf climbed into the steaming water with a great sign of relief. His eyes closed and he sank below the surface. Suddenly Emer noticed that his long hair had become flecked with grey.

  Together she and Edda washed him. Emer was afraid she would hurt him when she touched his back, but he made no sound.

  “They’re healed,” Edda said. “Rub hard and get the dirt out of his skin. Then he can sit in the steam room for a bit and ease himself.”

  Emer dried Olaf and supported him to the room where heated stones made the air smoke when water was poured upon them. Olaf lay down on one of the benches and his eyes closed. When she returned to the bathhouse, Edda said,

  “Leave him now and go to Atli. He’s been asking for you. I’ll stay here and watch your father. Let him rest. I don’t think he has had much chance to do so for a long while. I’ll call you when he wakes.”

  “How is he?” Atli asked her, when Emer returned to the hall.

  “He’s been beaten and he’s lost three of his toes and some of his fingers,” Emer replied.

  “Has he said anything to you?”

  “No.”

  “When someone has been through a time of great danger, they sometimes lose their speech.”

  “Do they ever regain it again?”

  “Some do, some don’t.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s my intention now to return your father to his home. After that we will return to Skuy. I have spoken again to Rolf on the journey to the farm and he now understands that as Hari’s wife, he must treat you with respect. He has pledged me his word that he will not approach you again without permission.”

  Emer nodded but she could not help wondering if Rolf’s pledge was a thing to be trusted. Whenever he looked at her, it was as if she became suddenly naked to his eyes. This had not changed.

  “Thank you, for rescuing my father and protecting me,” she said. “I’ll keep my side of the bargain as soon as I can.”

  The following day, they set sail from the Landnám islands. Their ship was piled high with tubs of salted fish, the main produce of the place. Even weeks later, Emer found it hard to get rid of the rank smell from her hair and garments. She spent the voyage with her father, looking after him and talking to him about home and the things that had happened in her childhood. He understood her, for he often smiled and nodded. Once, at a funny story, he even laughed, a harsh hollow sound, so unlike his normal chuckle and it almost broke her heart to hear him. Still he did not speak, to her or to anyone else.

  The days passed and they sighted land in the east, but they did not stop. Eventually a channel appeared, with green hills on both sides of the ship.

  “Iraland,” Atli said, standing by the prow and pointing to the right, “and the island of Íl.” He pointed to the left. Tomorrow we will reach your home.”

  In the end they did not need to do so.

  “Longship!” Sigarr called from the bows. Immediately everyone dropped what they were doing and took up their weapons. The approaching ship might be an enemy or a friend. Everyone was cautious and it was sensible to be prepared for trouble.

  “Not you, you’re still sick. You cannot fight.” Emer said to Olaf, but he stood up, pushed her aside and picked up an axe.

  “Hide yourself,” Atli ordered her.

  “No. Give me a bow. I can shoot as well as any man,” Emer replied.

  Atli looked at her quizzically and then ordered that a small bow and a quiver of arrows should be given to her. Emer found a space on the starboard side where she could draw the bow string freely. Her heart was pounding and it seemed as if she could hardly breathe. They had travelled such a long distance to bring Olaf home. Were all their plans about to be thwarted? The other ship saw them and veered in their direction. As it came closer and she could see its outlines properly, Emer suddenly dropped her weapons and screamed,

  “That’s Dag’s ship!”

  “Whose?” Atli asked.

  “Dag. The ship that brought me to Colonsey where you and I met. They are my friends.”

  “Good. If they come seeking you and your father, they can take him back to his home and we can return to ours.”

  Emer nodded but her heart sank. If only she could return home with Dag and her father, but to do so would break her promise. She would be an oath-breaker and would call down on her head just punishment from the gods. No one would ever trust her again and every man’s hand would be turned against her, once they knew she had been proved faithless. She gritted her teeth. Since there was no help for it, she would do what she must as convincingly as she could.

  The ships approached each other and Dag’s challenge rang through the air.

  “What ship?”

  “Mine.” Atli stood on the gunwales, letting everyone see him. “I am told you are Dag, whom I met on Colonsey.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Emer Olafsdottir did.” Atli held out his hand for Emer to climb up beside him.

  A roar went up from the other ship when they saw her.

  “Come closer while we talk.”

  Gingerly the two ships approached each other, port side to starboard. Sacks were dropped between them. They touched and were lashed together.

  “I have found what you were seeking,” Atli said and drew Olaf forward.

  “You have saved me a long journey then,” Dag said, “for which I thank you. Indeed I was searching for Olaf and his daughter. Where did you find them?”

  “Olaf was sold as a slave on the Landnám islands. I have just returned from there, where I sought him out.”

  “I will buy him from you,” Dag offered. “How much for his freedom?
”

  “No need. His price has already been paid.”

  “By whom?”

  “Tell him, Emer.”

  “I paid his price, Dag.”

  “You? You had no money.”

  “I agreed with Atli on Colonsey that he would find and free my father. He has done so. In return, I took an oath that I would return with him to Skuy and there I would marry his son.”

  “Noooo!” It was a howl and everyone looked in the direction or the noise. “You cannot, you are promised to me!” Finnr screamed.

  “No I am not. You did not speak for me and I never agreed to wed you.”

  Dag wheeled round. “What is this? I know nothing about this.”

  “There is nothing for you to know,” Emer said steadily. “Finnr has always been my friend and I suppose we both thought we would marry some day. Certainly I did so and I would have been happy to have spent my life with him, if the gods had not decreed otherwise. I wish you well, Finnr. I will always hold you in my heart but I cannot wed you. Now we must say goodbye.”

  Finnr surged forward until he was caught and held by two of the other sailors. Then he shouted,

  “Fadirbrodir, no!”

  “Enough, Finnr. You have heard what Emer Olafsdottir said. Does Olaf agree to this bargain?”

  “My father cannot say anything. His ordeal has made him lose the ability to speak. Once he is home, perhaps he will recover. Will you take him back to my mother please?”

  “I will do so.”

  “Tell her what has happened to me and why I am not returning with you.”

  “I will do that also.”

  “Thank you. Give my love to her and to all those at home.”

  Some further talk ensued and the exchange of some of the barrels of salt fish for Dag’s trading goods. Emer did not listen. She stood with her arms round Olaf, who was looking confused.

  “This is goodbye, Fadir, for a time at least, perhaps forever. Don’t forget me.”

  Olaf stared at her.

  “Come, it is time.” Atli stood behind them. He gestured to the other ship.

  Emer took Olaf’s hand and led him to the rail. A couple of the crew helped him climb over the side and onto Dag’s ship. When he got there, he turned to look for Emer, but she stepped back, tears running unashamedly down her cheeks.

  “I cannot follow you, Fadir, for this is the price of your freedom and I have given my word. May the sun shine on you and the gods protect you from all harm. I love you. Kiss Modir for me.”

  The ropes were cast off and the boats drifted apart on the current. Sails were hoisted and the trading ship turned its prow to the north. The last thing Emer heard was her own name, shrieked out across the water and she knew it was Finnr who called out to her. Emer stumbled back to her shelter, bumping into things and people because her eyes were blinded by her tears.

  Atli did not follow her but surprisingly, Hari did. He sat down beside her and waited until her sobs became less violent. Then he gently raised her head up and wiped her streaming face.

  “You are brave,” he said. “I might not want to wed you, but I admire the way you kept your word. I thought surely you would ask your kin and friends to take you away with them.”

  “Are you sorry I did not?” Emer murmured.

  “A little.” Suddenly he grinned and the sullen look he habitually wore vanished. For a moment she saw the bright happy child he had once been and she smiled at him in return, in spite of her inner turmoil.

  “Since it is my father’s will that I marry, better someone who is honest and keeps her word, than a faithless wench who thinks only of herself.” He stood up and Emer stared at him in astonishment.

  “I will try to make you a dutiful wife,” she spluttered, repeating the conventional words.

  “If my father is happy, I will be well satisfied,” he replied and then he walked away.

  Atli had been watching them and he came over to her at once, taking the place Hari had left.

  “I’m glad you are reaching an accord with my son. Parting from your father and kin was a hard thing to do.”

  “The first part of my dream came true; I hope the second part does too, where my father returns safely to my mother.”

  “I would add my wish to yours, but that is no longer in my hands. Dag seems to be a good man, with friendship for you and your family. I am sure he intends to bring your father home and the weather is fair. They will soon reach the island. But your dream had another part, between your father’s return and your wedding, did it not?”

  “Another part?” She felt startled at the question. “There wasn’t one.”

  “Did you think I missed the hesitation in your voice when you were telling your tale? Or the way you hurried on? What was it that you didn’t tell us?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Can’t or won’t? You promised to obey me. Now is the time for you to tell me and I am ordering you to speak.”

  “Please don’t. My grandfather said that if I did, I would bring down the wrath of the gods upon myself and those who listened to me. I dare not. I was only shown what would happen, so I could try to prevent it.”

  “Does this concern me?” Atli looked at her closely and then drew back. “You need not speak; I can read the answer in your face. Evil is coming to me. Is it soon?”

  “I don’t know. I saw only the thing itself, not when it would occur.”

  “And you will not tell me.”

  “I want no harm come to you, if there is any way I can turn fate aside. I cannot tell you, but I will try to make sure that that part of my dream does not come true.”

  “Let us leave it at that then, at least until after your wedding.”

  9

  Drums beat. Torches burned, throwing patches of light into the darkening sky. People laughed and talked. They stood in a huge circle on the open space in the middle of the village. It was Friday, Frigga's-Day three days after the trading vessel returned. Frigga's-Day was said to be lucky for weddings and Emer hoped that the saying would prove true. If she had to be married, she wanted to find a level of peace in her future life, rather than constant strife.

  She stood in the doorway of one of the huts, her heart racing and her breath coming in shallow gasps. Since they landed on Skuy, she felt that she had no time to think; no time to do anything but agree with what they did to her. Already she had stood with Hari and his father to exchange dowries before witnesses. She had wondered how this would be accomplished, since she brought nothing to the bonding save her own person and her gift, which of course would not be mentioned. Atli waived this consideration away and even gifted her with the sword she needed for the wedding. Drifa did not look too pleased when he did this, but she obviously had her orders for she made no protest, in public at least.

  With the financial considerations out of the way, the religious ceremony was about to begin. Emer was waiting for Atli to escort her and Rolf waited with her. She had chosen him to bear her sword before her in the procession. None of her male relatives were present, so, as Hari’s brother, it was his right to do so. She thought of it as a peace offering and hoped it would smooth his ruffled feelings. From the look in his eye, she did not think her gesture had succeeded. He kept looking at her speculatively and she found it hard to stop herself from squirming. Perhaps that was why he was doing it, as a punishment for rejecting him. He was certainly making her more and more uncomfortable with every moment that passed. They were not alone. Kolla stood with them and so did Faraldr, a friend of Hari’s to whom he was teaching the skill of reckoning. The silence between Emer and Rolf rang with subtle tensions. Rolf held Emer’s sword in his hand, fiddling with it and twirling it round on its point. This was the sword which would be her wedding gift to her new husband. Rolf was treating it like a child’s toy, of little worth. Several times she had opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it. The atmosphere had obviously affected the others, for they said nothing either.

  Earlier that day, Emer
had been stripped of her old clothing in readiness for the change in her status. She had smiled sadly as she thought of her kransen, the gilt circlet that she should have worn on her outspread hair as the token of her virginity. It was lying in her chest at home and she would never wear it now. Perhaps one day she could reclaim it and keep it for a daughter of her own.

  She spent several hours in the bathhouse, soaking in the wooden tub of water and in the steam room. While she was bathing, some of the older women came to instruct her on the duties of being a good wife. Drifa was formal and spoke mainly of the religious rites to be followed by married women. It seemed as if the words were almost torn from her against her will and she did not stay long. Emer was glad when she hurried off, Halla at her heels.

  Kolla made Emer laugh, telling her about the best ways to live with a man and to deal with his foibles.

  “Even Njall will be like that, one day,” she said to Freydis, “much as I love him. All men are grumpy in the end, so make your husband care for you in the beginning and then you need have no fear when age lines your face and twists your limbs.”

  “Don’t worry, I shall,” Freydis replied.

  “See you do, or I’ll never hear the last of it,” Njall’s mother said, with a grin. Then she turned back to Emer. “Hari is a different man entirely and you must be subtle when you deal with him. Take the trouble to find out what pleases him. You will have to dig deep because he has learned, since Mabil died, to conceal his thoughts and desires. It will be a hard task for you, but worth it to win his friendship and respect. Once given, Hari will be loyal to you until his death. Atli didn’t handle him correctly after he married Drifa. He did not bother about the boy when Rolf was born and Hari does not forget that either. Keep the peace between them if you can, for all our sakes.”

  Emer nodded. It was good advice. She was sorry when Kolla finished what she had to say and left, although she giggled with Freydis about some of the things she had been told. Old Blin, the wise-woman who was to perform the marriage, came in next and sent Freydis away.

  “Why can’t I stay?” Freydis protested. “I’ll be married to Njall Knutsson some day.”