Emer's Quest (Manannan Trilogy Book 3)

by Michele McGrath

  “You’d be surprised. You’ve met our chieftain. His father was a trader, but Rolf has other ideas. He’s impatient to increase his fortune. He likes raiding better than trade. So he wants all the swords and axes ready. There they are.” Kufri pointed to a pile in the corner. “They all need sharpening when I’ve got the time, but I must finish this swivel pin first.”

  “I’ll do them, if you like,” Edan offered and Kulfi accepted with alacrity. Edan smiled. He had a way of making the edge of a weapon look sharp but actually blunting it, so it did less harm to an opponent. His first teacher, a fine metalworker who lived near Baile Átha Cliath, had taught him the trick, which had proved useful on many occasions.

  Kufri also told Edan that some of the warriors were away on another expedition and were not expected to return for some days. Edan nodded and kept his face blank with difficulty. This was yet another piece of good news; the fewer opponents the better. When these men returned, they might find a very different regime in place. Edan settled down to the task of grinding the weapons, stopping from time to time to ask more questions about the village. Kufri was a talkative man and indiscreet. It was a wonder that he still had his tongue. He had been lucky or Atli had been a tolerant man. Edan learned many things from him. Chiefly he found out that Atli had been liked, because he knew how to manage men, a skill his son had not inherited. There was resentment in the village but nobody had the courage to oppose Rolf directly.

  “His brother left and no one has seen him since,” Kulfi said. “He was a gloomy man until he married, but his wife managed to cheer him up a bit. He would have been a better chieftain than the one we’ve got, but where he got to nobody knows.”

  At that moment, the two people he spoke of were lying in the long grass at the top of the hill watching the village. When the light started to fade, they slipped down the slope, using the bushes and hillocks for cover, until they came to the burial site. They waited behind a stone wall near to Hari’s mother’s grave. Emer could not help shivering. Hari might dismiss the possibility of ghosts, but she was not so sure. She tried to keep the images of monsters and spirits out of her mind. If she started imagining things, every bush would become an enemy, every sound a ghastly moan. Hari was certainly right about one thing, she thought, no one did come here. The night became darker and then a faint light showed on the horizon.

  A noise, such as a man makes when his shoe displaces a stone, was all their warning. Hari’s dagger gleamed in the first rays of the rising moon as he reached up to catch hold of the man who loomed over him.

  “It’s me!” Njall hissed.

  “Thank the gods, I could have killed you.”

  “Not likely. I knew where you where.”

  “Edan went into the village. He’s been walking about freely enough so they must have believed his story. He’s gone into the longhouse now with the others to have his meal.”

  “Good. I stayed by the road for a while. No travellers came along, either going or coming. What do we do now?”

  “We must contact certain people and tell them what to do when Dag arrives. Emer will find Kolla and also Romi, who she thinks can be trusted. Edan told me that the signal for the attack is a whistle like the cry of a hunting owl. Apparently he and Dag have often used it before.” Hari’s teeth showed white as he grinned. “At least one of us, preferably all, will be on the point to meet Dag and tell him what we have arranged. Dag intends to attack just before first light. He wants the men to drink enough ale so they muddle their senses and go to sleep. Once the signal is sounded, the women and children must get out of the way. The men who support us should tie a strip of leather around their right arms, so Dag’s people will know who is who. They shouldn’t draw weapons but sit on the floor or stand against the wall and not move.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Njall asked.

  “Find your father, Knut. He doesn’t favour my brother, does he?”

  “Of course not. He’s got more sense.”

  “Tell him what’s going on and get him to tell as many men as he can to stay out of the fight. Make sure they all wear leather thongs. Tell anyone else you know who will support us.”

  “It won’t be safe for any of us to stay in the village for long. If we’re caught, they’d make us talk quickly enough.”

  “That’s why we mustn’t be taken.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to speak to old Blin first.”

  “Is that sensible?” Emer gasped.

  “She loved my mother and she’s always been kind to me. People listen to her, even though she’s old, because she knows the law. She won’t be pleased to find out what my brother tried to do. She might help us spread the word, if I can convince her that my case is just. Then I’ll see who else I can find. Are we ready?” Hari asked.

  “As ready as we can be,” Njall replied and Emer murmured, “Yes.”

  “Once your task is over, go to the point where Freydis moored the skiff on the night we escaped. We’ll meet there and guide Dag’s warriors into the village. May the gods go with us all.”

  They left the graveyard and separated. Njall headed for the beach where his father lived beside his workshop. Hari went to the other side of the village to Blin’s hut stood alone. People rarely visited her, such was her reputation, and he did not expect any difficulty. Whether he could convince her to help him was another matter.

  Emer had been thinking how to find the women. It would be dangerous for her to approach the most likely places. These were the cooking hearths or the bathhouse or any of the groups that sat spinning by the fires. She had friends, but she also had enemies, who would be delighted to betray her to Rolf.

  There is one place they must all come to sooner or later and by themselves too, she thought to herself. The women of the village favoured one privy, the men another. Emer crept around the back of the huts towards it and concealed herself behind one of the fences. It was malodorous, but the passageway was full of shadows and suitable for her purpose. She did not have long to wait before Drifa approached and shortly after her, Romi. She let both of them go by, because Drifa would have heard her if she called to Romi. Kolla was the next. Emer waited until Kolla returned from the privy, then she whispered,

  “Kolla!”

  Kolla stopped instantly and stood rigid.

  “Who is it?”

  “Me, Emer.”

  “Emer!”

  “Come here, please.”

  Kolla came around the fence.

  “What is it? Where have you been? We searched for you.”

  “Not here, no one must see me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you, but come away now.”

  The two women went far enough from the village so they should not be overheard. Then Emer told Kolla what had happened to her and what Rolf had tried to do to Hari.

  “And Njall was with you, you say? His father and I grieved for him. Where is he?”

  “Talking to Knut right now. You must help us, Kolla. Hari doesn’t want your people to be hurt or killed, if it can be prevented. Keep the women and children away when the fighting starts.”

  “And there are raiders off our coast, you say, waiting to attack us?” Kolla’s voice was shaky. Emer thought,with a pang, that she had never known the woman to lose her calm.

  “They are my friends and Hari’s. Hari wants revenge on his brother, as is his right.”

  “Revenge kills people,” Kolla muttered bleakly.

  “If Hari has his way, only Rolf will die and that will be in a fair fight. Do you want us to turn back, to leave Rolf in the position he has usurped?”

  “No I don’t want that. He’s a worse chieftain than I ever thought he would be.”

  “Then help us. Tell any of the women you can trust what they must do.”

  “When is this attack going to take place?”

  “Tonight.”

  Kolla stood up. “I must go back or I’ll be missed. What are you going to
do?”

  “Wait by the privy and see who else comes. Will you help us, Kolla?”

  “I will, for Njall’s sake and for Hari’s.”

  “Be careful.”

  “You too.”

  Kolla stood up and hurried away. Emer went back to her hiding place. Halla came and so did Blin. In the half light, Emer thought that the old woman was frowning. She let her pass, hoping that Hari had convinced her to help, but not daring to ask. Tirsa and Arla came together, chattering. Emer, unsure of Arla’s reaction, did not speak to them. Then Laara came alone and Emer called to her.

  “Where on earth have you been?” Laara asked.

  “Hush, come with me and I’ll tell you.” Laara hesitated. “Don’t be scared, I only want to talk to you.” Emer led her to the same spot where she had talked to Kolla.

  “That’s monstrous,” Laara said when Emer had finished her story. “It’s all lies! Rolf wouldn’t do such a thing. That’s kin-slaying!”

  “Believe it, I was there, I know.”

  “And you expect me to keep silent when you bring raiders down on this village?”

  “I hope you will help me to make sure most of the villagers are safe.”

  Emer had already realised that she had made a grave mistake. Laara’s voice was very angry. She felt around on the ground behind her until her fingers closed over a large stone. Both girls jumped to their feet. Laara drew in her breath and shrieked,

  “HELP!”

  The stone hit her on the forehead and her scream was cut short, but the damage had been done. Someone shouted. Emer dropped the stone and started to run. The grass was uneven and caught at her skirt. She leaped over the tussocks, panting with fear and exertion. Although she had a head start, she had only run across half way across the meadow before she tripped and went flying.

  Footsteps pounded after her. Emer scrambled up but she was winded and gasped for breath. She stumbled away knowing she had lost precious moments. Her speed was gone and rough hands caught her and spun her round.

  “Who have we here?” It was Par’s voice.

  Another shout. They had found Laara. Torches were brought and Emer stared into Rolf’s face. He looked curiously satisfied.

  “Emer Olafssdottir,” he said. “Welcome home.”

  20

  Par dragged Emer into the longhouse. Rolf followed and one of the other men carried Laara. Emer caught a brief glimpse of Edan’s horrified face, then he ducked away behind the backs of the crowd. Emer was pulled right into the centre of the room and Par loosed her arm. Emer’s heart thumped. She could hardly breathe for fright, but she was determined that she would not let them all see how terrified she felt. She held herself upright and stared into Rolf’s eyes.

  “Where have you been and why have you come back?” he asked her.

  “I can’t tell you.” She saw his hand clench and his arm draw back to strike. “I’m not sure myself,” she continued hurriedly, grasping at the first story that came into her reeling mind. “I was watching Atli’s fireship sail out of the bay. I stood at the back of the gathering, because I was weeping and I did not want anyone to see me. Then everything went black. The next thing I remember is that I was at home with my parents. How I got there or who brought me, I have no idea.”

  “Witchcraft,” a woman hissed and Emer recognised Drifa’s voice. “Only witches can travel through the air. Now she’s said it with her own mouth.”

  Emer shuddered.

  “She’s lying,” someone else said.

  “Silence,” Rolf ordered with a frown. “Continue, Emer.”

  “I’m no witch and I certainly can’t fly or I wouldn’t be standing here listening to you insult me. My parents weren’t able to tell me how I came to be with them; only that I arrived alone one dark night. My memory has come back gradually and I remembered that I was married to your brother. I realised that I must go to him. Where is Hari?” Emer looked around, as if she was searching for him, but in reality she was scanning the crowd. She saw Kolla, looking white and strained. Romi was beside her, open mouthed. Knut had a thong of leather tied to his arm and so did some of the men who surrounded him. The skins over the doorway suddenly billowed. Edan came back into the house, walking stiffly, as if he was carrying something. He started to move towards her.

  She dragged her eyes away, in case her stare should betray him.

  “Hari?” she asked again.

  “He’s not here. You weren’t the only one to vanish. Hari, Njall and Freydis went too. All friends of yours aren’t they? And suddenly you’re back again. Where are the rest of them?”

  “I don’t remember, I just told you!”

  “And I don’t believe you, unless my mother’s right and you really are a witch.” Rolf gripped her arm and pulled her round to face the blazing hearth. “You’d have to use witchcraft to travel from here to there without knowing anything at all about it. Let’s find out who and what you are. Give me a poker,” he ordered and Yki put a smoking iron, wrapped in cloth, into his hand. “If you’re a witch you won’t take any harm from this and then we’ll know for sure. If you aren’t, we’ll loosen your tongue. Tell me the truth or I’ll burn your eyes out!”

  Emer tried not to faint, but her legs shook uncontrollably. She squirmed away from the glowing metal as it came nearer and nearer to her face but someone grabbed her from behind and held her still. “Speak, you! Where’s my brother and your friends?”

  Emer gasped. Rolf knew where Hari had been, none better, and now he was accusing her of spiriting him away. She could not think what to say. She was paralysed watching the point of bright red iron coming closer and closer, filling all her sight. She stared at the evil thing as if she was already blind. Suddenly her other eye caught a flash of silver. Suddenly the poker fell and rolled into the crowd making them jump away. Rolf reeled backwards, a dagger standing out from his shoulder. He gave a cry of pain but did not fall. Par steadied him in time. Rolf cursed, grasped the hilt of the dagger and wrenched it out of his arm. Blood spurted and Brina, who was near, put a scarf around his wound. Rolf pulled it tight with one hand and his teeth.

  Everyone else looked around for the assailant but no one had seen him. All eyes had been on Emer and Rolf. The knife had come over the heads of the crowd. In that instant of uncertainty, Edan sprang forward. He shoved Par aside and threw his arm around Rolf’s neck, his dagger pointed under his chin. A stream of blood flowed downwards where the skin had been broken. Edan dragged Rolf backwards until they stood in front of the hearth, protected from any attack. He had moved so swiftly no one had had a chance to intervene and now they could only come at them through the flames.

  “Back!” Edan shouted. “One move and he’s dead. Try anything and I’ll kill him. Rolf, tell them to obey me!”

  Par took a step towards them. Rolf gasped as the dagger pricked him harder and groaned, “Do as he tells you. Move back.”

  The crowd shuffled and withdrew, all except one woman, Drifa.

  “Lady, get you back with the others if you want your son to live.”

  “He’s injured. Let me help him.” Drifa threw out her hands imploringly but Edan snarled,

  “Do you take me for a fool? Back, I say.” He jabbed the knife into Rolf’s throat again making the man scream. “Move!”

  Drifa took a step backwards and another. A small space opened around the two men. But this frozen stillness would not last. Even now the heat of the fire must be scorching Edan’s back. Great beads of sweat stood out on his face and Rolf’s. Once he moved they would rush him.

  Emer, forgotten in the drama of the moment, eased down onto her knees. She crawled forwards through behind the legs of the watching people to the hearth. She wrapped her cloak round her hand and pulled out another glowing poker.

  With one swift movement she leapt up and ranged herself beside Edan, white-hot metal in one hand, one of her arrows in the other. Edan shifted slightly until they stood back to back.

  “Clear a path to the door, all of you!” he
shouted. “Do it now!” Very reluctantly the crowd drew apart. Edan’s eyes met Emer’s and flicked towards the door. She started to move, sweeping the red-hot poker from side to side, so people edged even further away. She could sense Edan following her, dragging Rolf.

  The crowd closed in behind them, as near as they dared.

  “Back, if you want him to live!” Edan shouted again and slashed swiftly. Rolf gave a terrible scream as his part of his ear flew off and blood sprayed out. Quick as a flash, the dagger was back under his chin, ready to sever the great vessels and kill him.

  “Tell them,” Edan ordered.

  “Do as he says,” Rolf muttered. The crowd backed off a little.

  Emer never saw whose leg shot out and tripped her. She flew through the air and landed with a thump on the ground. Unable to avoid her, Edan came down on top, driving the breath from her body. She heard a scream that suddenly cut off but she did not know who had made the sound.

  Scuffles broke out over her. She lay pinned to the ground, a great weight on her back. The pressure lifted and someone hauled her to her feet. She swayed and gasped, tears running down her cheeks as she fought to regain her breath. Then she looked into Drifa’s furious face, which seemed swollen and distorted.

  “I told you this woman was a witch but you wouldn’t believe me. Now my son is dead!” Drifa shrieked and lunged forward, her nails outstretched to claw at Emer’s face. Emer tried to dodge but someone held her fast. Drifa suddenly reeled sideways and fell to the ground and Kolla stood over her, hand still raised from her punch.

  “You’ll pay for that,” Drifa screamed. “I always knew you were a traitor, Kolla, and now you’ve sided with this witch.”

  “It is for Blin and Beacan to judge her, not you. She didn’t kill Rolf.” Kolla’s eyes strayed to the prone body and Emer saw Edan’s knife sticking out from under Rolf’s chin. His legs were still shivering, but no one could survive a wound like that. Where was Edan? She swivelled round as far as she could. He, too, was lying on the ground, his hands bound behind him, an ugly wound on his forehead. Emer thanked the gods he was not already dead. He saw her looking at him and said, with a crooked smile,