The Walrus Mutterer

by Mandy Haggith

  Whether by magic or wisdom, before long they were into sheltered water, the sail lowered and oars out. They hauled the boat into a geo, a steep-sided inlet with safe shallow water for landing. A boat was huddled in a noust on land. After a brief, tetchy exchange with Toma, Ussa lowered herself from the prow. Og tossed her staff down to her and then followed. The two of them waded to the shore and headed away up the steep slope. Everyone else stayed onboard, readying themselves for disembarking but not actually going anywhere.

  Pytheas indicated to Rian that she would carry both her bedding roll and his, while he carried his box and the long marked pole she had seen him use up the hill behind the broch. ‘Gnomon.’ He shook it. Then he handed it to her and taught her some Greek instructions. ‘Give me the Gnomon.’ ‘Bring me the Gnomon.’ ‘Put the Gnomon there.’ ‘Put it here.’ The basics of command vocabulary. It was no doubt useful to know, but as they practised with Pytheas’ box, his hat, his cloak, even his boots, Rian grew resentful. This was language for a slave, nothing more. When her attention slipped and she got one wrong, Toma, Gruach and Faradh, who were watching, jeered at her. Her cheeks burned.

  Pytheas turned to them. ‘Don’t be cruel, gentlemen. She can’t help being stupid.’

  It was as if he thought she couldn’t understand even simple Keltic.

  ‘Sorry Rian,’ Toma said. ‘Your master has reminded us that we are not as courteous as he is.’

  Rian looked up at Pytheas and repeated the phrase he used when she gave him what he asked for. ‘Eukharisto. Thank you.’

  The sun came out on his face and he threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards him and ruffling her hair, saying things that could only be approval.

  She shrank back. She didn’t want to be petted like a cat.

  Ussa was clearly not coming back in a hurry and the tide was still rising. After a while, Toma asked for the sweeps. They rowed a little closer in and Toma told his boy to let down the anchor. Pytheas conferred with Gruach and Toma and some agreement was made. Gruach was first over the side into the shallows and, as Fraoch began handing him their belongings, Pytheas gestured to Rian to join Gruach, ferrying things to shore. She rolled up her leggings and took off her boots. She knew the cost of wet footwear.

  It took them ages to unload everything, Gruach cursing and swearing at having to wade ashore, but the sun was setting fast and they couldn’t wait any longer for Ussa to come back with a better harbour option.

  Rian’s feet were numb as she slipped up and down the stony shore carrying tools, sacks and mysterious bundles of the bronzesmith’s trade goods, but she persisted and the thanks Gruach gave her for her efforts made it almost worthwhile. ‘You be careful here,’ he said, as they sat on the rocks putting their boots on. ‘It’s a dangerous place for a young woman.’ She wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

  Behind their boat another vessel, longer but narrower than theirs, was taking shelter in the geo with much shouting and urgency. A man with sleek, dark hair to his shoulders, wearing a coat with a furry collar and a substantial sword across his back, swung off the bow and splashed up the shore.

  Before she could look at him any further, though, he was on her. Suddenly she found herself face down in the sward with his arms around her. The grass was short and stiff and its sandy roots were strong. Her hands attempted to get a grip and, her knees sinking, she tried to butt him off her with her thighs. Then she kicked out and made contact.

  ‘You little weasel!’

  She found herself squeezed tight, his breath on her neck. He reeked of seal oil.

  She kicked again but he had her calves pinioned. Elbows met a grunt. She tried a trick she’d learned fighting with Bael. She went limp and once she felt his grip loosen she squirmed into a ball then burst out with all four limbs at full pelt. It worked and she broke out of his grasp, her left foot inflicting a sharp blow that had the required effect and let her roll free.

  ‘Oh, by bladderwrack, who the hell are you?’

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ she retorted, panting and backing away to what she hoped was a safe distance.

  ‘I thought you were Fraoch. Ah, you bitch.’ He clutched his knee.

  Gruach was looking on, shaking his head, a wry lift to his eyebrows.

  ‘What’ve you done with your daughter, you old metal-mangler?’ he said. ‘Have you traded her in for a prettier one?’

  ‘Calling me old, you wee seal-shagger?’

  Rian continued to back away as the intruder traded insults with Gruach, although both seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves in the exchange. Another man clambered down off the boat and made for the shore, miming drinking to the dark man, who swore at him as well.

  With peals of laughter Fraoch ran ashore and dashed in to attempt a kick to follow Rian’s, but her ankle was caught by the man and she took a tumble. She freed herself before he could gain the advantage and danced back and sideways towards Rian. ‘Watch him! He’s trouble, nothing but trouble!’

  Then to the man she said, ‘And you keep your stinking paws off my friend!’

  He bowed. When he looked up at Rian, his eyes were forget-me-not blue. ‘And who is she, this beautiful friend, to whom I owe an apology for my rude assault?’ He spoke with an inflection that reminded Rian of some of the women from the south islands she had met at ceremonies with Danuta.

  ‘Leave her alone, Manigan.’ Fraoch clutched her sides, panting.

  Rian started at the name. Was this the famous walrus hunter?

  ‘But I threw her to the ground thinking she was you. She must think I’m a brute.’

  ‘Aye, and that’s where she’d be right.’

  There was more splashing. Pytheas was heading towards them.

  Fraoch pointed at him. ‘Her master. Now you can do apologies.’

  He swung round to Rian. ‘You’re joking. You’re enslaved? Oh beauty, beauty, beauty, always the slave of a rich man.’ He looked at Fraoch. ‘Ussa?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Fraoch, come on.’ Gruach was getting impatient but the man stopped her. ‘Ussa’s here? On old Toma’s boat?’

  Fraoch nodded, and waved her hand inland. ‘In one of her strops, headed off as soon as she could get ashore.’

  He looked back to his boat, then up the steep slope where Gruach was hauling his gear. ‘Gruach,’ he shouted. ‘I was never here. I was NEVER here.’ He repeated it to Fraoch. And then he turned to Rian. ‘Promise me you didn’t see me, and I’ll forgive you for my injury.’ He clutched at his knee and winked, limping exaggeratedly.

  She shook her head. So this was Manigan!

  ‘Promise me.’ He insisted.

  ‘I never saw you, whoever you are,’ Rian said.

  He reached for her face with both hands, gave her a swift kiss on the nose and stared into her eyes, frowning. ‘He doesn’t deserve you, whoever he is.’ Then he turned and paused, sizing up Pytheas in one glance. ‘So is this the Greek I’ve been hearing about?’

  Pytheas said something in his own tongue. Manigan drew his sword and swung it above his head in a circle, then sheathed it and pounded back out through the shallows to his boat, bellowing instructions to his crew to get ready to weigh anchor.

  Pytheas bombarded Fraoch with questions that Rian couldn’t follow and Fraoch gave monosyllabic grunts in response, then cut him off, gesturing towards Gruach whose shouted complaints could be avoided no longer.

  Pytheas was as ruffled as Rian had seen him. He stuck his box under his armpit and, with his gnomon in the other hand, stomped up the slope after Gruach. He was soon using the measuring stick to lever himself up the steepest sections. Rian followed with the bedding rolls. Two was almost too much to bear. Pytheas’ weighed more than anyone had a right to ask her to carry; there must be something other than blankets and fleeces inside it. But she lugged them anyway, slowly, thinking about Manigan. She looked dow
n at his boat. There was a skirmish on deck, something was drawing raised voices. She could see the dark man tugging at the anchor, others tugging at him. She had deduced enough to see that he wanted out of there to avoid Ussa. And presumably not just because he owed her money. Many people, in many ports, owed Ussa. She made sure of that. Rian wondered, not for the last time, what Pytheas’ business was with her. But soon the only thing she could think about was when she would reach the top of this cliff.

  Li and Faradh were gaining rapidly on her and when they caught up Li told her to give him the heavy bundle. Gratefully she did so but, at the top of the slope, Pytheas stood shaking his head and told Li to take it back down the slope as far as he had carried it. He took Rian’s bundle and sent her after Li, watching them closely.

  ‘Of course, your master is a gentleman bastard,’ Li said, handing her the bedding roll with whatever was stowed inside. Rian trudged back up, confused. He was like a March day this man who had bought her: sometimes sunny enough to bask in his warmth, then without warning capable of a hail squall.

  Reaching the top of the slope, she looked back down to the boats. They looked like toys now, the people on them too small to recognise. The sea rolled away to the far distance, glittering. The earth beneath her was insubstantial. Her feet were becoming liquid, her ankles too. Slowly at first, and then more rapidly, she felt herself dissolve from the ground up and then, as the sensation made it past her thighs, she crumpled under her own weight. The other people’s voices faded away and darkness engulfed her.

  *

  Rian was lying on her sheepskin in a strange place: next to a stone wall in an alcove off a big room. She was feeling better again. There had been nothing wrong that a bowl of soup and big hunk of bread and some honeyed ale couldn’t fix. She was bleeding and sore but the ache in her belly was easing already. It never lasted long, the monthly pain, and a kindly round-faced woman had reassured her that she had nothing to fear from the faint. It was just the heavy load, that time of the month, nothing to worry about.

  She was happy in the corner, trying to be inconspicuous. She had never been anywhere so busy and this house was richer than any she had seen. If she leaned to the edge of her alcove she could just make out a slice of the world outside the doorway: other no less substantial buildings, all thronging with people, bustling about with baskets and bundles and hanks of rope. There was a strong smell of fish.

  Out in the big room, Ussa was storming with rage while Og tiptoed around her with plates of food, trying to placate both her and their hosts. Rian couldn’t understand what Ussa was saying, although it was obvious enough that it was all about Manigan.

  After Ussa stormed out, Fraoch tiptoed over.

  ‘What’s all the rage about?’ Rian asked.

  ‘Ussa’s furious that we saw Manigan and let him get away,’ Fraoch said. ‘Us meeting him meant he found out she was here before she could jump on him.’

  ‘Why does she want him?’

  ‘Oh why does Ussa want anything? It’s the stone. She’s mad for it. Where’s Pytheas?’

  Rian pointed to the opposite corner, where he sat engrossed in discussion with two strange-looking men with long beards. They were all leaning over one of his parchments, poking at what was drawn on it.

  ‘What are they all looking at?’

  Rian shrugged, but her curiosity was enough to make her think she might be ready to get up.

  Fraoch nodded over to Pytheas. ‘Will he be staying here or going with Ussa?’

  Rian shook her head. She had no idea.

  ‘We’re staying for a while. Gruach’s got us a beautiful place. We’ve been here before. You should come and see it.’ Fraoch laughed. ‘Wake up, Rian. It’s your life. No point just letting it happen to you. Look at the food here. Look at the clothes. There’s so much to learn!’

  Rian breathed deeply and said nothing. Perhaps staying in bed was the better option.

  Og strode over. ‘Try and get this lass on her feet, can you?’ He had a horn cup and a hot buttery bannock, which he gave to Rian. She tore it in two and gave half to Fraoch. ‘We’ll be going as soon as Toma’s found, assuming he can stand. Are you fit for sailing?’

  Rian nodded, her mouth full of bannock.

  ‘Good. You keep eating. You’re skinny as a weasel.’

  ‘Ussa’s as mad as a flea chasing Manigan,’ Fraoch said.

  Og looked around, wary of his mistress. ‘It’s all right for you, you’re free to come and go as you please, you can say what you like about anyone. They all need your bronze.’

  ‘Aye.’ She chewed and swallowed. ‘I’ll miss you all though, it’s been fun.’ She grabbed Rian’s hand. ‘And I met you. I’m sure we’ll be together again, even if you do go north now. You’ll have to come back south sooner or later.’

  She turned to Og. ‘How long do you think? Have we got time to go to our place?’

  Og looked over at Pytheas, at the door and back at his bundles of belongings and lifted his hands. ‘I have no idea. If you can find Toma and buy him more drinks we’ll have a few hours, otherwise we’ll be off as soon as she shadows that doorway. It’s not funny to keep her waiting at the best of times, and this isn’t the best of times, not by a long shot. She’s like a marten among ducks. No mercy.’ He cuffed Rian. ‘I’d get up and get ready if I were you. And go and be nice to Pytheas. He’s talking stones and stars with those two old fellows but he’s been asking after you.’ He turned his back on them and returned to the cooks beside the hearth.

  ‘Fraoch!’ A woman was at the doorway gesturing. ‘Gruach needs you.’

  She flinched as if resisting a physical tug from outside. ‘Better go. I’ll try to come back, take you to see our place. If you can get away, or if Pytheas wants to come and see. Ask him. We’re setting up the forge down on the flat ground by the river.’

  She ran after the woman and Rian finished the bannock and ale. Og nodded approval and, while she rolled up her bedding, he replaced her empty drinking horn with a far more splendid one, frothing to the top, to give to her master.

  ‘Rian,’ Pytheas smiled. ‘How are you?’ He spoke in Greek.

  She repeated her first lesson. ‘I am fine.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said, holding his hand to his heart, shaking his head. ‘Bed roll.’ He pointed to his bundle, miming as he spoke. The meaning was clear. ‘Too heavy.’

  Rian shrugged. ‘I am fine,’ she said again, handing him the drinking horn. He patted the bench beside him and she shuffled in to watch what he and the bearded men were talking about. She might as well have been trying to understand the song of a thrush in a treetop but the patterns drawn out on the sheet of parchment before them were intriguing and strangely beautiful, the irregular lines and complex shapes reminding her of lichens on rocks at home.

  After a while Ussa had still not appeared, so Rian got permission from Og to venture outdoors in search of some herbs to make a salve for the rowing sores on her hands. There was plenty of plantain growing nearby and while she was out she took the opportunity to gather some dry moss, yarrow and lady’s mantle. They might go off in her pouch but it would be better to have them wilted than not have them at all. She was too shy to go looking for Fraoch and spent the afternoon and evening making poultices and drying herbs beside the fire.

  In fact Ussa did not return until the next morning. No-one knew where she had been but her face was composed again and all trace of rage had left her. She was accompanied by a huge, burly fellow. Another man, a very hungover-looking sailor, was standing at the doorway. Ussa commanded everyone to get ready to sail. Og gestured Rian to come over.

  ‘Toma is away to the boat, she says, and we have an extra man coming with us, one of Manigan’s crew.’

  ‘What, the giant?’

  ‘No such luck. He’s just here to collect some tin his master has bought from Ussa. That one.’ He pointed to the weary-lo
oking character at the entrance. ‘We have to feed him, fast.’ He lifted the lid on the pot. ‘I told her you’d made your good porridge. Can you warm it up for him?’

  Pytheas was scratching on his calfskin while Ussa leaned over him asking him questions, brushing his shoulder with her chest. Rian could make out enough to understand, ‘Are you coming with us?’

  Her heart sank as Pytheas nodded and smiled. With his top teeth over his bottom lip like a child offered a delicious thrill, he started packing his parchment away in his box. He turned to his bedding but Rian got there first and was already rolling it up. The hessian bag of whatever it was he kept wrapped up she left separate, but Pytheas shook his head and insisted that she unroll the blankets and wrap his load inside them. It became, once again, a burden rather than a bundle.

  Pytheas was looking at the giant and, after conferring with Og and Ussa, his bedding roll was handed to the big man who carried it as if it was as light as Rian’s.

  The sailor squatted by the fire finishing his porridge in silence, looking up at Ussa who was growing impatient, then back down to his bowl, spoon working back and forth scooping the sweet mush into his mouth. As he chewed, Og scraped the last of the oats into his outstretched bowl, then he took a jug with him outside to wash out the pot.

  The man smiled at Rian. ‘Hey sweetheart, I hear you’re an Assynteach. I’m almost your countryman. I’m from the Summer Isles.’ He was thick-bristled and squat but his eyes twinkled. ‘Braddanach of Tanera, but you can call me Badger, most people do. I got separated from the rest of my crew, had a bit too much… You make damn fine porridge.’

  ‘Rian,’ she said to the unspoken question.

  Having made his greeting, he returned to eating.

  Badger established to his satisfaction exactly where in Assynt she was from and remembered Danuta from one of the Long Island gatherings. He shook his head when she confessed to having been gambled away by her foster father. ‘It brings shame to us, the selling of people. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s a sin to trade a person. It’s not right.’