Summer Warrior (The Clan Donald Saga Book 1) Page 5

  As their palms came together, their heads neared. “You spoke of hearing much about me. Tell me, what have you heard?”

  He smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the torchlight. “Only that the Princess of Man is a termagant.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she paused in her dancing at the outrageous description.

  “Nay, I but tease, my lady. In truth, I have heard only that you are as beautiful as you are intelligent and wise.”

  “First you tease,” she said, resuming the dance, “now you flatter.”

  “Nay, not flattery but truth. For I have seen with my own eyes your grace, the spirit in your emerald eyes, like sparks on a dark night, and your laughter that brightens the hall and draws the gazes of your father’s men.”

  She blushed at his words but, being familiar with the compliments of men, she returned him a skeptical look. When they came together again, she said, “It is told you mean to chase the Norse pirates from the Isles. That will be a difficult task. They are a vicious lot.”

  “Indeed, they are. Yet the tide has turned, my lady. We were once few in number. Now we are many. My men have become bold warriors. Were I not a believer in the one true God, I would say the fates are with us.”

  Inwardly, Ragnhild smiled. So, he was no pagan. “Is your goal merely to drive the Norse from the Highlands and the Isles? Back to the Orkneys mayhap?”

  “Or farther. And, no, I do not merely seek to be rid of them. I imagine a new kingdom in which the sea lanes are protected by castles at strategic places, assuring we live free of invaders and foreign rule.”

  She studied the determination in his expression, the set of his jaw. He did not appear to be bragging. Rather, he merely stated what he believed to be fact, what he would one day accomplish. “You speak of castles. Are you impressed by my father’s stone castle?”

  He looked high above them and then around the hall, his gaze taking in the tapestries, shields and weapons adding dignity to the walls. “I am impressed by the fortress, yea, and its location, protected against the king’s enemies. But there is more. I see a woman’s influence and I doubt it is all Queen Affraic’s doing.” His blue eyes bored into hers as if he knew the embellishments had been hers. “One day, I would have such for myself.”

  Was he speaking only of the castle? The possibility of his wanting more—perhaps her—was intriguing. “Mayhap you shall,” she replied, trying not to smile.

  “There is time, I think, unless the jewel has been committed to a particular setting.”

  He spoke in veiled terms but Ragnhild well understood his meaning and her heart sped apace. Many men had sought her hand. And while she had no desire to marry anytime soon, when she did, would Somerled be one of her suitors? Yet there was her father’s will to consider.

  Her dowry would be a rich one with lands and an alliance with her father that would bring ships to make her future husband a wealthy, powerful man. Somerled would know all this yet she detected none of the avarice in this man she had seen in others. Still, she would not let him see her interest. Shrugging, she tossed her braids. “Who can say?”

  He laughed and her smile grew into a grin.

  “Might you show me more of the castle tomorrow morning after we break our fast?” he asked.

  His interest in her home drew a smile. “I would be pleased to do so, my lord.”

  When the music ended, gesturing to the side table, she invited him to have some wine.

  He nodded and they walked together to where the flagons sat. He poured her a goblet of wine.

  “I perceive you are both Norse and Gael,” she said between sips, “and with courtly manners besides. Why have I never heard of you?”

  “You perceive correctly,” he said, smiling down at her. “I am Norse by my mother’s blood and Gaelic by my father’s. I spent my youth in Ireland, where my family was banished from the lands of our forefathers by the Norse invaders. In those days, I was known to no one save my family. I returned to Argyll with my father, engaging in battles with the Norse pirates. When those were lost and my father slain, I lived simply. But, then the clans sought my leadership against the pirates. I could hardly refuse. Now, I seek to take back my forefathers’ lands and free my people from the Norse that have long preyed upon them.”

  She considered this late risen champion. Could he be believed? Would he succeed in so great a venture where others had failed? Still, for all the uncertainty, there was something about him that made her take seriously his words. She wanted him to win. “I believe you will accomplish the task you have set for yourself, Lord Somerled.”

  He inclined his head to her. “Your endorsement means much, my lady.”

  “I am curious about your family, Lord Somerled. Is Angus your only sibling?”

  He took a sip of his ale. “I have a sister, Bethoc, wed to Malcolm MacHeth.”

  Her brows rose at the name for she knew of him. “The one in rebellion against King David?”

  “Aye,” he said sheepishly, looking into his wine. “He is a good man save he was impatient for his lands in Moray to be restored to him. He rebelled and King David captured him to hold as a prisoner these past three years.”

  “My father is King David’s ally and good friend. Mayhap he can help.”

  “I am glad to know of it as it makes any alliance between us all the more auspicious.”

  “Has my father spoken of an alliance?” Abbot Bernard had suggested such an alliance could forestall the need for her father to give her hand to the Earl of Orkney.

  “He wants to discuss the prospect on the morrow when we break our fast.”

  “I wish you luck in your pursuit of such an alliance. It could prove helpful to both you and my father.”

  His only response was a knowing smile.

  IF THERE WERE OTHER women in the king’s hall that night favored with beauty, Somerled could not have said. For him, there was only one whose brilliance shone as the morning star the Norse called Aurvandil. Her mother must have been tall for the flame-haired, green-eyed lass garbed in emerald silk, whose smile made his heart race, was not short like her father. She was all he had envisioned that day he had observed her on her white horse.

  King Olaf had not misspoken. Ragnhild was the true jewel of Man and, if God were with him, Somerled meant to one day have her by his side.

  As she was beginning to speak further, a Norseman approached, his walk more a swagger. The first thing Somerled noticed about him was the large gold Thor’s hammer hanging from a cord around his neck. Somerled had seen the same item of jewelry on the Norse warlord who led the attack on Drimnin, the one Somerled drove away.

  Grinning broadly at the princess, the Norseman said, “Would you favor me with a dance, Princess? Surely, you cannot mean to allow this foreign Gael to dominate your evening.”

  The princess frowned at the Norseman and turned to Somerled. “Forgive Sweyn’s rudeness and allow me to introduce you.” Then to the Norseman, she said, “This is Somerled, Lord of Argyll, Kintyre and Lorne, my father’s invited guest.”

  The Norseman called Sweyn stared at Somerled as if he were seeing a ghost, his eyes growing large. “Ah, the Norse-Gael from Morvern. I have heard much of you.”

  Somerled imagined Sweyn had not only heard of him but had personally witnessed Somerled rip out the heart of one of the raiders manning Sweyn’s longships on a distant shore nearly two years prior. Had he not been a guest in Olaf’s court, Somerled would have considered killing Sweyn in retribution for the innocent lives he had taken. But courtesy restrained him and, because he was interested to know where the man dwelled when not pillaging Argyll, he asked, “Where do you call home?”

  The Norseman hesitated, mayhap reluctant to divulge his hiding place to his enemy. The princess answered for him. “Sweyn Asleifsson is an Orkneyman in service to Earl Rognvald.”

  “So that is your longship in the harbor?” Somerled asked, though he already knew the answer.

  “Aye. I come on business for the Earl of Ork
ney who has every hope of becoming betrothed to Princess Ragnhild. While I am here, I guard his interests.”

  Somerled’s heart sank to hear this news yet he reminded himself there was no betrothal as yet. He liked not that Sweyn referred to Ragnhild as if she were another longship, one of Rognvald’s “interests”, and he felt her bristle at his side as Sweyn spoke.

  Without a word more, Sweyn reached for Ragnhild’s hand. Somerled took a step forward, thinking to thwart him but she waved Somerled away. “’Tis all right. As hostess, it is my duty to dance with those guests in my father’s hall who bid me do so.”

  Somerled did not like the way the man looked at Ragnhild as he led her to the dance just beginning as if she were his possession and not the sought-after bride of his master.

  With Olaf retired to his bed, Somerled joined his two companions and told them all that had occurred.

  “Olaf’s guards watch her,” said Maurice, “but it might be wise for us to do so as well.”

  “That is the man we fought in Morvern?” asked Angus.

  “And defeated,” Somerled reminded them. “Get word to Domnall and our crew in the harbor to be wary of treachery this night. Sweyn knows who we are.”

  “As you wish,” replied Angus, as he turned to leave.

  SOMERLED ROSE WITH the dawn the next day and dispatched Angus to check on his ships and Maurice to survey their surroundings from the ramparts where he could also see their ships outside the harbor. Then he went to the hall.

  Olaf’s warriors who had drunk too much ale and wine the night before still lay asleep in the rushes or on pallets next to the walls. The servants were stirring them to wake so the trestles could be set up.

  Somerled strode past them to the castle door open to the morning light. “Is the king about?” he asked the guard stationed there.

  “’Tis Lauds, sir, when the monks say their morning prayers. Ofttimes, the king joins them. But he should be returning now.”

  Somerled thanked the guard and stepped into the light of the rising sun that had turned the blue waters of the harbor and the sea golden. In the distance, he caught sight of the king and one of his guards ascending the hill toward the castle.

  “Good day,” said King Olaf, reaching Somerled. “I trust you slept well?”

  “I did and thank you for your hospitality.”

  They walked together toward the castle door, the guard dropping back allowing Somerled and Olaf to talk.

  “Will you and your companions join me at the high table to break the fast?”

  “Aye, we will. And the princess has promised to show me more of Castle Rushen. Then we must sail.”

  When they arrived at the castle, the king was met by his daughter, who greeted Somerled with a smile. She wore a blue wool bliaut, its waist, long sleeves and hem decorated with a Norse-patterned braid. Around her head was a circlet of silver from which cascaded a veil falling down her back. Her long red braids, shining in the morning light, reached past her waist to her hips. In the sun, she was more fetching than even the night before when he had seen her by candlelight.

  As he waited for her father to finish what he had to say to her, Angus and Maurice approached and he excused himself to speak to them.

  “Our ships in the harbor were undisturbed through the night,” began Angus, “possibly because Domnall had more men stationed on deck so as to discourage whatever the Norse pirates might have planned.”

  “From the battlements,” said Maurice, “I viewed your ships resting outside the harbor. I imagine, after lingering so long in one place, the men will be glad to depart.”

  “We won’t be long,” said Somerled. “We are to join the king to break our fast when I would speak with him further about an alliance. After that, the princess has offered to show me more of the castle ere we leave.”

  “You have obviously captured the attention of the king’s daughter,” said Maurice.

  Somerled darted a look in her direction, taking in her fair skin and rosy cheeks as she spoke to her father. “For certes, she has captured mine.” By Somerled’s reckoning, Ragnhild was eighteen or nineteen. If Olaf valued her advice, as was told, then he might delay her marriage for another year or two. Somerled prayed there would be time.

  When Ragnhild left her father, Somerled excused himself and crossed the hall to join her. “My lady, you are a vision this morn.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “I look forward to seeing more of the castle with you but, first, I have business with your father.” He hoped she saw in his gaze his intent to make her among the topics they would discuss. He bowed. “I beg your leave to join him.”

  She acknowledged his words with a nod of her head and hastened off to address the servants bringing platters of food to the tables. The men who had been sleeping had now risen to take their places at the trestles. Other men and their wives descended the castle stairs to join the king’s morning meal. Among them was Sweyn Asleifsson who gave Somerled a surly look as he took his place at a trestle table.

  At the high table, Somerled and his two companions took the places Olaf indicated.

  “Does the princess not join you?” Somerled asked the king.

  “Most often but, today, with so many guests, she will likely stay busy directing the servants until all have food. Ragnhild enjoys being my chatelaine. There is a place for her next to the queen when she is ready to join us.”

  On Olaf’s right sat his wife. Somerled remembered the queen, a plain woman, from the night before. Maurice had told him Affraic’s mother was one of King Henry’s bastards. Affraic’s appearance recalled to mind what he had once heard, that the Conqueror’s line bred no beauties.

  Affraic remained aloof as she surveyed the hall. As the mother of Olaf’s heir, she would have a place of honor but Somerled doubted she would ever replace her stepdaughter in the hearts of the people.

  He cut off a piece of the warm barley bread and added cheese and salted herring in mustard sauce to his wooden trencher. Servants poured ale into the goblets. “’Tis a hearty fare you serve your guests to break their fast, King Olaf.”

  The king gave him a satisfied look. “We have long fished the waters of the Irish Sea and we are blessed with a rich abundance of food grown on the isle.”

  Somerled’s gaze shifted to Ragnhild, who was moving about the hall, instructing the servants and greeting the guests, seeing to their comforts. “Your daughter is very capable and unselfish, attending to the needs of your guests before her own.”

  “Indeed, she is.” Then, setting down his goblet, the king changed the subject. “What is your destination when you leave Man?”

  “I had thought to sail to Irvine where I’m told King David holds court. At some point, I must discuss with him the matter of my brother-in-law Malcolm MacHeth.”

  Olaf laughed. “Ah, MacHeth. I know of him. A rebel many times over. But then every family has its troublesome members. Doubtless, David will appreciate your efforts to chase away the pirates from his western shores and may help you with your brother-in-law. I think he will like you, for you two are of a similar nature. Both of you weigh strategy before committing to war. But beware any alliance he offers you; it will come with a cost.”

  “As I expect, though it is in the interest of my people to be at peace with the Scots and to have David’s blessing for all I would do. As it would be for me to be at peace with you, Your Grace.”

  “Well said. An understanding between us would suit,” said Olaf, spearing a piece of herring on his eating knife. “As you provide a benefit to David, so you provide one to me.”

  Somerled’s eyes had followed Ragnhild as she attended to the king’s guests. Once she was finished, she took her place at the high table on the other side of her stepmother. The last to break her fast, Somerled noticed she did not take long in partaking of her small meal. Her slender but well curved form attested to the fact she did not eat overmuch. When she caught him looking at her, she met his gaz
e for a brief moment and smiled before returning her attention to her trencher.

  He took a draw on his ale and spoke in a low tone to the king. “I would agree to an alliance that would have my ships and warriors come to the aid of Man whenever there is need, but I have a condition.”

  “Only one?” the king asked, his expression one of amusement.

  Somerled faced the king and, in a hushed tone, said, “I would have the hand of your daughter in marriage.”

  The king sputtered into his ale, then whispered to Somerled. “Ragnhild? You would have my daughter to wife?”

  Somerled was glad for the noise in the hall that kept their conversation to the two of them. “Aye, I would. It has long been my dream and meeting her has only cemented that desire.”

  The king seemed to ponder the possibility as he stared at the food before him. “Mayhap ’tis her dowry you seek, a rich one to aid your cause.”

  “I am not so foolish as to refuse her dowry,” said Somerled, “but I would take the princess if she came to me naked with none.”

  Olaf smiled and then launched into another objection. “She was raised in a castle, the daughter of a king. Where would you have her live?” In a sarcastic tone, he added, “On one of your ships?”

  Somerled had known it would not be enough to retake his lands. He must secure the harbors and sea lanes with fortifications. “Nay, she will have her choice of many abodes for I will build castles along the sea lanes I control.”

  Olaf gave him an incredulous look.

  Undaunted, Somerled shared his vision. “One of the men who has sworn allegiance to me, Ewan MacSuibhne, possesses a stone castle in Knapdale, a square tower built in the Norman fashion, much like Castle Rushen. Surely you know of the imposing structure for it is very old. He will have a hand in the construction of my castles built in like manner.”

  “Hmm…” The king ran his fingers over his red beard, seeming to ponder Somerled’s words. “An ambitious undertaking for one so young.”

  “You were young when you became King of Man, were you not?”