The Viking (6 page)

He could not help but close his eyes and bow his head. It was a hard thing to hear, but he would rather hear it from her where he did not have to hide his sorrow. At length, he gathered his wits. “How did the Limond get across the river so quickly?”

“‘Tis right dead brilliant how they do it. When ye go to the village ye will see a large raft on each side o’ the river. The men board the raft, tie the ropes to arrows and shoot them across so the men on the other side can pull the raft over.”

“
‘Tis brilliant.”

“Aye, but it takes time and for this battle, they were slow in pulling them across. A few minutes more and the battle might have been lost
.”

Stefan nodded. It explained why there were no men to fight them on the shore and he made a mental note to search out these rafts and have a look. For now, however, he did not want to think about it anymore so he
smiled to relieve her worry. “‘Tis the past and best left behind.”

*

Jirvel insisted Kannak sleep with her and gave him the bed in the other room near the door. It was perhaps not proper to let a boy not related stay inside, but she decided she would feel safer with him and his weapons inside where he could protect them…safer than she felt in weeks.

As soon as Kannak came back with the water, she sent her off to bed and handed Stefan an extra blanket. She went to the doorway that separated the two rooms and untied the cord that held up the curtain. “Good night.”

He nodded, watched her lower the curtain and took off his shoes. He again considered the need for a new pair. He could afford the cobbler and was tempted, but with a Viking missing, letting the Scots know of his wealth would not be such a good idea. Shoes would have to wait. With no sleep the night before and with the pain of losing his father draining him of all emotion, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

*

It was Friday week before Laird Macoran arrived with his guard to see the laddie Jirvel’s brother sent from the north. Each of the clansmen had red, shoulder length hair, trimmed beards and wore dark green tunics tucked inside short, belted kilts. For a long moment, Macoran stared at Stefan who stood just behind Kannak and her mother. “My lads swear one got away and he looks like a Viking.”

“So do half the lads in the north,” Jirvel reminded him. “He is a good laddie and a gift from God in our time of need.” The reminder that he had not realized they were alone and seen to her care as a good laird should, seemed to do the trick and Macoran took his eyes off the tall boy
. Then he looked over the land.

Already they were starting to clear a sizeable plot beside the cottage and getting it ready for planting. The skins of two red deer were stretched tight on wooden frames and they had reinforced the shed with more poles along the sides so the roof would not collapse. Even the small courtyard in front of the cottage looked different, although he could not quite discern why. Then he realized Jirvel had started planti
ng flowers next to the cottage.

Though he did not let on, Stefan was revolted. The guards kept looking at Kannak which obviously agitated Jirvel and Laird Macoran was wearing Armani
’s sword with the gold plated handle. It meant Armani was dead too, and Stefan looked away pretending to check on the cow. It galled him to see another man wearing it, even if he was a laird and Stefan silently vowed to have that sword for himself someday.

“Eogan has not come back, I see. Perhaps
‘tis time for a new husband,” Laird Macoran said.

Jirvel
’s mouth dropped and it took a moment for her to gather her senses. “And commit bigamy? Would ye have the church excommunicate me?”

“I could have the priest set aside yer marriage.”

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “Say the truth o’ it.”

He should have known he could not pull the wool over her eyes. “Ye have me, I see. Two lads have asked for ye since ye last came to the village. As their laird, I am forced to consider it.”

She glanced at the other men and tried to remember her manners. “I am complimented they find me pleasing, but I will wait for my husband’s return.”

“He is not coming back and we both know it.” Macoran expected an argument, but Jirvel hung her head as though his words hurt. He watched her for a moment before he said, “I will mention it again when next I see ye. Perhaps by then a new husband will be more to yer liking.” He looked once more at Kannak and nodded. “The spring festival be set for Monday week.” He hoped the news would please Kannak and he was not disappointed. He returned the girl
’s smile and then the laird of Clan Macoran turned his horse and led his guard away.

Jirvel waited until Stefan walked off and then leaned closer to her daughter. “For this festival, we will bind yer bosom and add more freckles to yer face.”

Kannak watched her mother go back inside the cottage and then hurried to catch up with Stefan. She had to run. He was already past the garden and headed down the path toward the river. “Did ye see it?”

“See what?”

“The way Laird Macoran looked at my mother. It be the same every time he comes, which be not so often, I admit. He be happy to see her and she be annoyed that he came. Once when my father was not at home, he came back without his guard, took her inside where I could not hear and they quarreled.”

“Quarreled? About what?”

“I dinnae know, but she was forlorn for days after.” Kannak had to half run to stay up with Stefan’s long strides. “Where are ye going?”

“To the river.”

“What for?”

“To get away from ye.”

CHAPTER VI

He found a place near the water amid the bushes where he was certain Kannak could not find him and sat down on the ground. He should have known Anundi was dead for he surely would have made the Vikings come back for Donar and his only son. Stefan was annoyed with himself for not having guessed he was dead or taken even a moment to mourn the loss of the other men. Who else was laid out on the deck of the
Sja Vinna
before it was burned and sent to a watery grave? He doubted he would ever know.

Though the image of his father
’s death did not plague him as much as it had the first few days, the ache was still there and being alone served only to increase it. She had the potential of becoming a real pest, but being around Kannak was better than facing his sorrow head on.

He was about to get up and go back, but in the distance, he heard voices and changed his mind. It was Jirvel
’s voice he heard first and there was a man with her. As the voices grew closer, he parted the bushes just enough to see that the man was Laird Macoran. He had come back just as Kannak said he did once before. Stefan should have made his presence known, but he did not do it in time and then it seemed too late.

“We had naught to eat,” Jirvel said.

“Ye know very well I care about ye. Countless times I have ridden my horse up the path or sat upon the hill just to get a glimpse o’ ye.”

“And still ye did not see we were alone?”

“Eogan be rarely where I can see him. He hides so I will not see him drunk.” Macoran’s voice was soft and compassionate when he continued. “Why did ye not come tell me?”

“He took our only horse. The one we have wandered onto our land or we would have been forced to walk to the village to do the marketing.”

“Say the word and I will find yer husband and kill him for deserting ye.” Macoran took the empty bucket Jirvel carried, dipped it in the river and let it fill with water. Then he pulled it out and set it down on a flat rock.

Her arms were folded tight and it was all she could do to keep her voice down so Kannak would not hear. “I dinnae want ye to kill him, I want yer pledge. Ye have taken everything else from me, but ye will not take Kannak. Ye will let her become a lass and choose her own husband.”

“Choose her own husband?”

“If she lived under yer roof ye would let her.”

“Be fair, if I let her, the other lassies will want the same.”

“I see,
‘tis I who must be fair.” She closed her eyes and tried to calm down, but her rage only increased. “Ye held me in yer arms and swore ye would never let any harm come to me. Then to cover our sin, ye convinced me to marry a man who never once believed Kannak was his.”

“He could not have known for sure.
”

“Aye, he could.
”

“How?
”

“He did not desire me.”

Macoran blinked repeatedly and brought a hand up to rub his brow. “Not even on yer wedding night?”“

“Did ye expect him to that night after what happened?
”

“I suppose not. But later
, when…”

“Not ever. He sought his comfort elsewhere and our marriage was never consummated.”

Suddenly unsteady, Macoran had to take a deep breath. “I had not imagined that.” He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “I imagined the opposite and wanted to kill Eogan that night and every night since.” He tried to take her in his arms but she moved out of his reach. “Jirvel, each time ye came to the village, ye seemed happy and after a while, I convinced myself ye had forgotten our love. But I had not forgotten and seeing ye happy without me nearly did me in.”

“Then I pity ye, but not enough to give over my daughter. Tell me now ye will not marry her off to a lad she could never learn to love.
‘Tis a fate worse than death.”

Macoran tried to gently touch the side of her face, “Am I never to be forgiven?”

She turned her face away, “Ye have a wife, go home to her.”

That enraged him and he gritted his teeth. “Ye are not the only one who was forced into a loveless marriage.” He took hold of her waist, jerked her to him and wrapped his arms tight around her. “All these years I have thought of nothing but ye. My heart cries out for ye and my arms ache to hold ye. Dinnae deny me this once.”

As much as she wanted to, she did not yield to his embrace. “Promise ye will not take Kannak.”

He drew in another deep breath and slowly let it out. “I see now I owe ye at least that much.”

Finally she leaned into him put her arms around his waist, closed her eyes and let herself remember how it once was. Many a year passed and all she had were vague memories of his warmth and his strength. For a while, she let the years dissolve away, but when he tried to kiss her, she pulled back. “We have sinned enough, ye and I.”

“I still love ye.”

“If ye love me, ye will stay away.”

“Ye know I
cannae. I must visit every farm when I ride the land.”

“Then dinnae ride the land so often. Yer nearness be torture for me.” Tears started to well up in the rims of her eyes. “Ye stayed away all these years. Please, please dinnae make me suffer now.” She picked up the pail of water and walked away.

Stefan was not yet old enough to completely understand the love between a man and a woman, but he could not help but pity the man Jirvel left standing alone on the bank of the river even if he did wear Anundi’s sword. He looked to be in just as much pain as Stefan felt over losing his father. Perhaps they were the same. Perhaps it is the loss of love that hurts so very much. He watched Macoran gaze aimlessly across the water until at length, the laird walked away.

*

Agnes Macoran might appear to be a frail woman on the outside, but inside she was as strong as the jagged rocks on the shore – and she was filled with wrath. She was painfully thin, a skinny malink longlegs her husband called her when she was out of his presence. Her blond hair was also thin, she had a long hook nose and brown eyes that appeared to be set a little too far apart.

She often walked barefoot along the edge of the ocean hoping the Vikings would come back. The sun was high in the sky and if she would let herself, she might enjoy watching the steady rhythm of the water rushing in and then withdrawing. But she loved her mystery too much to let
any sort of pleasure interfere.

Agnes was the wife of a laird, mistress of an entire clan and she hated every one of them. She hated their red hair, their green eyes, their smiles and especially their laughter. Even her sons reminded her of her unhappiness and to them she gave just a touch more affection than she gave her h
usband…which was none at all.

She was the youngest daughter of Laird Brodie and it was with him she longed to be. Ripped away from her clan at the age of twenty, she left behind dozens of friends, her mother, her siblings and her beloved father, whom she was convinced favored her above all others.

Macoran tried in the beginning to win Agnes over, and he was civil for the most part even now, but she was consumed with her desire to go home. A spinster she might well have become, but anything would have been better than being so cruelly torn from the people she loved.

Occasionally she contemplated having an adulterous affair so Macoran would set her aside and send her back, but there was not much chance of that even if she were pretty enough to entice a man. Her husband was powerful with all authority of execution and few were willing to cross him.