Summer Warrior (The Clan Donald Saga Book 1) Page 12

  Affraic crossed the hall to his side. “Lord, might we retire soon? It has been a long day.”

  He considered his young bride, glad his stamina had not flagged as the years had passed. “Aye, my love, and perhaps ’tis time we return to Man.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “LORD SOMERLED,” whispered Liadan, coming to stand over the chess table abandoned by the earl, “I heard that scum’s words. Shall I kill him now?” Her gray eyes, together with her frown, gave the impression of an impending storm.

  Amused, but realizing the lass was serious, he said, “Nay, Liadan. God willing, Rognvald will yet serve my purpose. Only consider how rude it would be for us to slay one of King David’s guests in his royal court.”

  She dropped her gaze, contrite. “Aye, Lord.”

  “But, if you wish to aid me, you can let my brother, cousin and Maurice know I would see them outside.”

  Her face lit up, pleased to be given a task. “Gladly,” she said and turned to go.

  Somerled rose. Wending his way through King David’s guests, he stepped outside, into darkness broken only by torches lighting the front of the castle. Clouds marched slowly across the night sky. Between them the full moon appeared with scattered stars. The temperature had dropped; the air was now like that on the open sea.

  In the distance lay the harbor where lanterns would be glowing from the decks of beached longships, casting their light onto the waters of the River Irvine. Though the buildings in front of him prevented his witnessing the sight, he would soon be there, for he was intent on visiting his ship.

  “You asked to see us,” said Angus, coming through the door of the timber castle, followed by Domnall, Maurice and Liadan.

  “I did,” said Somerled. “I thought to visit the ship and speak to the men standing guard. Tomorrow morning, I will meet with the others. Unless you advise otherwise, we will sail mid-morning.”

  “I expect the men not on the ship will be in the taverns enjoying their ale,” offered Angus.

  “True,” said Somerled, “and I would not take them from their last night of pleasure. But let them know that they should be sober tomorrow morning and in their lodgings tonight. I don’t want us searching for them at dawn in some lass’ bed.”

  Angus chuckled. “Aye, I will find them and deliver your message.”

  “What did you learn from your game of chess?” asked Maurice.

  “I confirmed the arrow that pierced my arm belonged to one of the earl’s men, so much so that my words drew a threat from Rognvald.”

  “I liked him not at all,” said Liadan, who had been listening to them speak, “but Lord Somerled would not let me take the villain’s life.”

  His cousin gave the girl a reproachful glance. “Just as well,” said Domnall, “or you might have lost yours.”

  “Well then,” began Somerled, “Angus, you check the taverns.” Glancing at Liadan, he added, “I think ’tis best one of you escorts the lass back to her chamber ere you join me at the ship.”

  The flickering light from the torches made clear the girl was unhappy at being left behind but she said nothing.

  Domnall quickly volunteered. “I’ll do it.”

  “Very well,” said Somerled, giving his cousin an assessing gaze. “Maurice and I will meet you at the ship.”

  As he and Maurice began to walk down to the harbor, Somerled said, “It appears Domnall has developed a tendre for the lass.”

  “Aye, he has.”

  “Need I worry?” Somerled considered the girl like a younger sister, to be protected.

  “There is no cause for concern,” said Maurice, his dark Irish looks blending with the night. “He treats the lass as a precious flower to be coddled. However, a wedding might be in her future if the lass is willing and her brother, Diarmad, consents.”

  “She could do worse,” said Somerled. “Domnall is an honorable man.”

  “And he fights like the devil,” added Maurice with a grin. “Recall he was the one who brought down Sweyn.”

  “Aye, he did.” Then, changing the subject, Somerled said, “Before we sail, ’twould be good to procure all we need to aid our building on Islay. Timber we can cut but, unless the Islay smith has many on hand, we will need nails and tools.”

  “I’ll see to it,” said Maurice.

  “You will have the morning. And here are two more things to acquire,” he said, handing Maurice a paper on which he had written the items.

  They arrived at the harbor and Somerled climbed aboard his ship. Immediately, he felt at home, even though the deck was not moving. Leaning against the gunwale, he crossed his arms and addressed the men he had left there as guards. “Our trip to Irvine has been successful. We sail tomorrow mid-morning. There will be time for you to patronize the shops in Irvine before then.” Trinkets, fabric and spices for their wives and lovers were in abundance here whereas they would not be available on Kintyre or many other places they would sail.

  “Lord,” said one of his men, “did you make an alliance with King David?”

  “Aye,” said Somerled, “we have his favor and his permission for our stone castles. He has granted us the services of two stonemasons, as well. They will sail with us. And I’ve a boon. He has granted me the Isles of Arran and Bute for chasing the Norse pirates from Scotland’s shores.”

  A cheer went up from the half-dozen men sitting on their sea chests.

  “Do the Norse still plague those isles?” asked one.

  “Nay, they do not,” said Maurice. “David swept them free of the scoundrels a short while ago.”

  “One less task for us,” said another.

  “In exchange,” began Somerled, “I have pledged my honor that we will come should the King of Scots have need of us.”

  The men nodded soberly.

  “I could do no less.”

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING Somerled addressed his men in their lodgings. He describing all that had been achieved by his meeting with the King of Scots. He did not mention Rognvald attending King David’s court, nor the Orkney arrow that had wounded him, for he did not want his men seeking revenge ere they sailed.

  “Once we are free of Scotland’s coast, my intention is to visit our new Isles of Arran and Bute and speak to the people there before returning to Kintyre. And then we will see to the building of our strongholds.”

  The men nodded as he spoke, enthusiastically agreeing with his plans.

  “Will we build castles of timber or stone?” asked one.

  “Undoubtedly, some will be timber. But eventually, all save the one on Loch Findlugan will have castles of stone. King David has lent us two of his stonemasons. I intend to send one stonemason north from Kintyre to assess the sites where we will build. While he is away, the other mason will begin the castle on Dunaverty Rock. I will go to Islay to build the timber castle there. You can choose to come with me, go north with the other ships or spend the winter on Kintyre.”

  More questions were asked but none expressed opposition to what Somerled proposed. He knew them to be loyal men who shared his vision for an independent kingdom.

  After the meeting, he left Liadan with Domnall. Maurice went off to his errands and Angus promised to see to the final details before they sailed. Somerled strode back to the castle to bid farewell to the princess and collect the stonemasons. He had already paid his respects to King David.

  In the hall, he spotted some of the ladies engaged in stitchery sitting next to the hearth where a fire steadily burned. Ragnhild was not among them.

  “Good day to you, my ladies,” he said, striding toward them. “Might you know where I can find Princess Ragnhild?

  “She is above stairs packing, my lord,” said Beatrice, de Morville’s wife. “I will send a servant to fetch her.”

  The servant was dispatched and a short while later, the princess descended the stairs. She looked very much as she had the night before, her long red-gold hair in plaits, only her garment this morn was of rich brown wool. He tried to memorize eve
ry detail of her face for he knew from the ache in his heart he would not see her for some time.

  “Princess, I come to bid you farewell. I sail within the hour for Arran and Bute, the isles King David has given me.”

  “I did not know. Such a gift from the king is a godsend. You have my congratulations. And, after that, to where do you go?”

  “To Islay to construct a timber castle and a chieftains’ lodge. I expect to dwell on that isle much of the time.” He hoped she understood that she could be a part of those plans if, God willing, her father relented. “It grieves me to say I do not know when I will see you again but I will send letters to you as I am able.”

  “You can write?”

  He smiled. He was not offended by her question. Many could not write, even the high-ranking, who might consider it a scribe’s task. “Aye and in more than one language.” Then with a chuckle, he added, “My teachers were Irish monks.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I am glad of it. For any letters you send me, I will reply.”

  He smiled, pleased to hear it.

  “We return tomorrow to Man.” As she spoke, her voice faltered and her green eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “You will be much missed, my lord.” She offered her hand and he placed a kiss on her knuckles, her fragrance of roses forever imprinted in his mind.

  He turned to go, for if he said more he might declare himself and he had no permission from Olaf to do so.

  At the door, the two French stonemasons were waiting for him.

  “I am Goubert d’Harcourt, Master Mason,” said the one with the gray beard and ermine-trimmed mantle. His accent was decidedly French. “And this is Aubri de Mares another of the king’s masons. King David has bid us work for you to help raise the stone towers you plan, and we are willing. We have a servant, too, who awaits us outside with our things. He will be coming with us.”

  “I am most grateful,” said Somerled. “We cannot provide you the accommodations you may be used to but know that your work will provide security for the Isles and for our people, which will also serve King David’s interests.”

  As they conversed, one of the king’s men approached and bowed before Somerled, handing him a scroll. “Your charters, my lord, signed by the king and stamped with his seal this day.”

  “Thank you and please tell King David I’ll take care of the isles he has generously bestowed upon me. If he has need of me, I expect to be on Islay for some while. ’Twill be summer ere I sail north to Morvern.”

  RAGNHILD SLOWLY ASCENDED the stairs, pausing to look back at Somerled as he stood near the door speaking to two men she knew to be part of King David’s retinue. One of the king’s servants crossed the hall to Somerled and handed him a scroll. He took it and slipped through the door with the two men following.

  A sudden ache filled her heart, a desire she harbored that was not yet fulfilled, a longing for an impossible thing.

  He had said nothing of his intentions concerning her, nothing of the future, save that he would send letters as he could. The Isle of Man was not on his way to anywhere in his kingdom of Argyll and the Isles. If she were to receive a missive by messenger, Somerled would have to send one of his ships to bring it.

  Might he care enough to do that?

  In the meantime, she would try not to think of what might be. She resolved to busy herself serving the people of Man and her father.

  Life on the isle had a rhythm driven by the changing seasons. Harvest had passed and soon the seasons of Advent and Christmas would be upon them.

  There were many tasks to be accomplished to prepare for winter. While her father’s tenants would be gathering wood for the cold months, planting vegetables that could survive winter in their gardens and repairing their roofs, farmers would be pruning apple and pear trees, butchering animals to provide meat and smoking what they could not eat. Abbot Bernard and his monks would be tending their herb garden and brewing ale for the celebrations to come.

  Ragnhild would occupy herself with candle and soap making and embroidering winter mantles with Cecily. On sun-filled days, they might gather berries still left in the woods. On colder, rainy days, she might apply her skills to a new tapestry if there was time with her duties of overseeing the decorating of the hall and the planning the feasts that followed Advent. In all this, she vowed to be content now that her father had ceased speaking about a marriage to Earl Rognvald.

  SOMERLED AND HIS COMPANIONS arrived in the harbor to find they were not the only ones leaving. Many longships that had been beached there were gone.

  His men were taking out the oars as he stepped on deck. All looked to be sober and pleased to be sailing. He invited the masons and their servant to join him onboard and introduced them to his crew, who made room for them to sit.

  “You might want to wear another mantle on our voyage,” Somerled told the Master Mason. “The one you have is very fine and it may well get wet.” The stonemason’s servant had brought two bags onboard. One appeared to be very heavy by the way it sagged when he picked up, producing the sound of metal clanging. It was the other bag the servant reached into, pulling out a different cloak and offering it to d’Harcourt.

  “Une bonne idée,” said the mason, exchanging the mantle he wore for the simpler one the servant handed him. “’It has been some years since I crossed to England and I have forgotten the weather on the water.” Somerled had another reason for suggesting the man remove the fine garment that marked him a master of his craft. Though they had taken gold from the Norse pirates and would use it to build fortresses, he did not want the villagers they were to encounter to think Somerled and his men possessed great wealth. In truth, they did not.

  Angus and Domnall came up to him and, speaking in a low voice, Angus said, “I observed the Earl of Orkney talking to King Olaf before he sailed earlier this morn. He was scowling when he left the hall.” The information pleased Somerled for it confirmed Rognvald’s suit had not been accepted and he would not have the Princess of Man to wife, at least not yet.

  “I wonder if his anger will cause him to pillage his way north,” said Domnall.

  “I doubt it,” replied Somerled. “He will want to be home for the winter months and has farther to sail than most. Too, if he succeeded in convincing the King of Scots he poses no threat to Scotland, he will not want stories of his raiding as he sails north to come back to David. I have long suspected he leaves the pirating to Sweyn and his friends.”

  Somerled was glad the earl had failed in his goal to destroy his rival for the hand of the princess, for his arrow aimed did not bring down his prey. Somerled’s arm still pained him, but Liadan had applied salve to his arm and said prayers for his recovery. The wound was beginning to heal with no sign of festering.

  Somerled gazed into the harbor. The dark blue waters were calm this morning beneath a bright blue sky. The clouds that had threatened rain were gone.

  Moments later, they set off, the men pulling at the oars as they followed the River Irvine back to the Firth of Clyde. Once the ship entered the firth, the wind picked up and they raised the sail.

  They sailed northwest to the Isle of Bute, beaching the longship in Scalpsie Bay on the east coast where they were welcomed by seals sunning themselves on rocks jutting out of the water.

  A short walk took them to the village set on the narrow strip of ground that hugged the coast. Behind the village were low hills of green interspersed with patches of bracken.

  At first shy, or mayhap suspicious, the village men eventually came to meet them. Like Somerled’s men, they were dressed as Gaels with tunics belted at the waist over trews or leggings, except that Somerled’s men carried more weapons, marking them warriors.

  He introduced himself and explained that he had come to see the isle and meet the people for King David had granted him both Bute and Arran. “The Scots king and I have formed an alliance,” he explained, “each agreeing to come to the call of the other if there is need.”

  “We have heard of ye,” said the gri
zzled old man with wiry gray hair who appeared to be their leader. “Aye and we are well pleased ye are here. We are simple folk and life was hard beneath the heel of the Northmen who lingered long on our shores. ’Tis glad we are they have gone.”

  “You need have no worry of the Norse pirates returning,” Somerled assured him and the others who had gathered to hear him. “These two men,” he said, pointing to the masons, “will be helping us to build castles to keep the sea lanes free. I ask only for the name of your chieftain, so that we can send word when there is news. The rents will not change except to be lower.”

  That brought a smile to their faces. It was clear to Somerled these were poor people who scratched out a living from the land and the sea. Any treasure they or their monks might have had was taken long ago by the pirates.

  The name of the grizzled old man was given as their chief and recorded by Maurice. After that, Somerled and his men stayed to meet all the villagers before sailing for Arran. “Will you spread the news to the other villages?”

  “Aye,” said the grizzled old chief with a smile. “You could not stop us.”

  The Isle of Arran lay only five miles southwest of Bute so it did not take them long for its shores to come into view. Where Bute was mostly low and green, Arran was lofty and brown with heath-clad mountains surrounding deep ravines and glens. Its shores were rocky and the coast covered with brushwood.