The Viking (7 page)

Every spring Macoran sent his guard with her on the two day journey inland to visit her parents and she stayed until her father insisted she return in the fall. When she was not with child by the third year, he accused her, and rightly so, of not submitting to her husband. There was nothing she would not do to please her father, even that. So she plied her husband with strong drink, enticed him into her bedchamber and the next year she gave birth to twin boys, both with Macoran’s awful red hair and green eyes.

That was the end of her wifely duties to her way of thinking and Macoran did not complain. Why should he? Daily he went off on his horse to see that Jirvel woman, whom Agnes was sure he was bedding despite her having a husband of her own. And Agnes was glad of it. Another wife might have been embarrassed by his blatant actions, but she cared not w
hat the Macorans thought of her…or of him.

Yet there had to be a way out of her lifeless marriage so she could go home for good, and the more she thought about it the more only one answer came to mind
– Macoran had to die.

Until she found a way to accomplish that, she had two little secret weapons she was more than willing to use to make his life as miserable as he made hers. Maco
ran named them Searc and Sionn.

*

Kannak was excited about the coming festival and could hardly concentrate on her share of the work during the day not to mention making baskets at night. She waited until Stefan finished sharpening his sword and put it in his sheaf. “Perhaps ye would like to learn basket weaving.”

“Basket weaving be for lasses and wee bairn.”

“Is that so. I say ye
will
not, because ye
can
not.”

He got up fro
m the table and hung his sword on a hook on the wall. “Good. I am pleased that be settled. For a moment, I feared another wager coming on. No doubt ye have tired o’ losing.” Stefan tested the position of the sword to be sure he could draw it easily in the night and then sat back down at the table. “Tonight, ‘tis I who will challenge ye.”

Jirvel set her basket aside and folded her arms. “I
cannae wait to hear it. What be yer challenge?”

“I wager Kannak
cannae make a suitable belt from the deer hides.”

Kannak suspected a catch somewhere, set her basket down and folded her arms just like her mother
’s. “How hard could it be?”

“Too hard for ye, I wager. A belt must be strong as well as comely. Shall I show ye or are ye too young still?”

Jirvel was intrigued. “Belts?”

“Aye. Ye said the lads have taken to wearing kilts and they will n
eed belts. If we can craft them…”

Jirvel
’s eyes lit up and she didn’t let him finish. “If we can craft them well enough, we can make a handsome profit.” Jirvel was thrilled. She grabbed her basket, the heather she was using to weave it and handed both to Kannak. “Clear the table,” she ordered, and then she went out the door to gather the tanned hides.

Stefan showed them how to carefully scrape the fur away and then cut the deer hide into wide strips they could fold over to make a double thickness. Then he cut thin strips to use for thread. Once that was done, he folded the hide in half lengthwise, cut evenly spaced, slanted slits through both layers in the first section and showed them how to weave the thread through the slits, making the belt stronger as well as decorative. In the next section, he showed them how to make a hidden pocket by cutting the slits in only the top layer and continuing the weave to conceal where the hidden poc
ket was.

At last, he sat back and enjoyed the delight in their eyes, especially Jirvel
’s. He felt as though he had given her a precious gift and she deserved it.

As they worked, Jirvel and Kannak asked a hundred questions about his previous life and he told them all about his years growing up with his aunt, uncle and cousins. But he said nothing of the Vikings, the long voyage across the North Sea or the man he had come to call, Commander. It was still too painful. He missed his mother
’s sister too, but there was nothing he could do about it and as each day passed, he became more and more grateful he had Jirvel and Kannak to fill the void.

*

“But have ye seen a dragon?”

Stefan stopped pulling weeds and looked at her. Her green eyes sparkled with a challenge of some sort and he tried to guess what it was. He knew he was also being goaded into talking about the Vikings, but perhaps just this once. “Nay, wee bairn, but that does not mean they dinnae exist. My father believed it, my friend Anundi believed it and so do I.”

“And did ye see any sea monsters, bletherskite?”

“Nay, but Anundi did. They have very large mouths and spit water on the ships. Once a sea monster lifted a Viking ship clear out o
’ the water and dumped it over tossing the lads into the sea.”

He looked so sincere when he told it she almost believed him. “But the lads go to sea anyway?”

“Aye, ‘tis the way o’ the Vikings. What else would they do?”

She thought about that for a moment and then her eyes brightened. “I wager there are no dragons.”

He could see no way for her to win short of going to sea herself, so he considered it. “Wager what?”

“If ye win, I will take ye to see a hidden castle.”

“And if ye win?”

“Ye will teach me how to swim.”

Stefan frowned, “Ye are not yet strong enough to swim in the river.”

“Aye, but I know where there be a loch with warmer water.”

“Agreed. Now will ye go get the seed? The time for planting will soon leave us.”

They had not seen the horse in days and supposed it was gone for good, but it suddenly broke through the trees and headed straight for them. To keep the stallion out of the garden, both Kannak and Stefan walked toward it. But when they neared, the horse stopped and then backed up.

“What do ye think be wrong with him?” Kannak asked.

Stefan reached out a hand to pat the stallion
’s nose, but again the horse backed away. Then he caught the reflection in the horse’s eye and saw three men standing on the river path behind him. They wore different colored tartans than the Macoran clan and suddenly alarmed, Stefan quickly spun around and drew his sword. “Get behind me, Kannak.”

She heard the fear in his voice, instantly obeyed and yelled for her mother.

Jirvel set her bowl on the table and rushed out the door.  But as soon as she saw the men she shirked with delight. “Greagor!” She ran to the one in the middle and threw her arms around his neck. Deliriously happy, she hated to let go of him but at length she stepped back and turned to her daughter. “Do ye remember my brother, Kannak?”

Stefan put his sword away and learned his lesson well. He let himself become distracted, had not been aware of the strangers and it might have been disastrous. He had the horse to thank for bringing that to his attention and this time when he walked to it, the stallion stood still and let him pat his neck. Stefan vowed he would not be so neglectful ever again and started that day to know exactly who and what was around him.

*

Jirvel fixed a banquet fit for a king with vegetables, fresh bread and the smoked salmon she preserved the day before. The men ate hearty and for hours after told stories of the northern clans, which delighted both Stefan and Kannak. Gre
agor did most of the talking, telling of how he became laird, of great battles, brave men, waterfalls, sparse land, and of the giant living among them.

“Why have ye come,” Jirvel asked her brother finally.

“We seek wives. We have not seen a comely lass since ye left us to marry Laird…”

Jirvel quickly interrupted, “Ye flatter me, brother, but we have few unmarried lasses in our clan.”

Kannak was incredulous, “Ye came here to marry a laird? Which one?”

“He died, Kannak.” Jirvel watched her brother
’s face and prayed he would not contradict her.

But Kannak wo
uld not be so easily put off, “‘Tis the first I heard o’ it.”

Greagor
smiled at the niece he had only seen a few times since her birth. “Ye will soon learn a lass keeps many things to herself. Dinnae pester yer mother, ‘tis plain to see the wound in her heart be not yet healed.” He waited to be sure the girl would ask no more questions and then stood up and turned to face his sister. “Is Macoran yet yer laird? Of course he is, I would have heard had he died and from the looks o’ things, he has not provided for ye. Yer clothes are old and patched, ye have no sheep to sheer for the wool necessary to make new, the land be unkempt and…”

“My husband be to blame for our condition.
”

“Aye he be, but so be Macoran. He promised he would see to yer ca
re. ‘Tis time I had a talk with…”

Jirvel started to panic. The last thing she wanted was for her brother to confront Macoran. “The fault be mine. I dinnae wish to burden our laird.”

Greagor knew exactly what she meant. His sister wanted no part of the man who had cast her off at the last moment. “Now that yer husband be gone, come home with us, lass. We will see ye want for nothing.”

“I am tempted, but this be my home.”

He knew what that meant too. She still loved Macoran and although she could not be his wife, she could not leave him either. Gregor took her in his arms and held his sister tight. “Send the laddie if ye change yer mind and we will come fetch ye.”

CHAPTER VII

It was a
celebration; a festival of spring not unlike those Stefan had often attended in his homeland, with a multitude of people gathered in the center of the village. Occasionally, men would size him up, but as soon as they realized Stefan was just a boy, none of them said anything about the Viking that got away.

Kannak and Stefan enjoyed the men with painted faces who acted the part of the village idiot. The jokesters walked through the crowd, made funny faces and occasionally danced a comical jig to the music of a flute. Tables held a variety of sweet fruits and breads, ale, mead and wine to complement the plentiful assortment of berries, meats and fish. It was all free for the taking and Stefan ate his fill.

Kannak took him to see the wide mouth of the river, the rafts and the fishing boats, most of which were moored across the river on the Clan Limond side. When they went back to the festival, he too was interested in all the items made by other clan members such as new sheepskin flasks, assorted leather pouches and weapons he would have liked taking home with them. But again he decided showing his wealth would be unwise.

Stefan turned from the tables and began to study the people instead. The Macoran clan had more than its share of elders each of whom looked to be in their early fifties. In his homeland, many did not live that long and no one was quite certain why. A man who married late in life was not likely to see his children grown and it was something to keep in a young man
’s mind. Even so, Stefan was not the least bit interested in marriage.

*

At the edge of the village, two boys nearing the age of ten were fascinated with a campfire left unattended. First the twins spit on the fire to hear it sizzle, and then they tried to entice a cat to come to them hoping to throw it in the fire. But to their chagrin the cat got away. They looked around for other things to throw in the fire and found little more than sticks and the widow Sarah’s favorite marketing basket. Searc, the eldest by only minutes, tossed the basket in and ran. Quickly followed by his brother, Sionn, the two hid behind a cottage and peeked around the corner. But no one came and they were not caught. They watched until the basket was consumed and then exchanged shrugs. Not much excitement in that.

At last Searc had a grand idea. He found a long stick, wrapped a cloth around one end of it, set the cloth on fire and then carried it toward a horse tied to the branch of a tree. He hoped to set the horse
’s tail on fire, but the terrified horse danced frantically until it managed to pull the reins free and then bolted toward the center of the village.

*

In front of the keep, Macoran and his wife sat in chairs on a raised landing with five steps on either end leading down to the courtyard. From there, he could see everything that was going on and the members of his clan could all see him. Their laird nodded his approval each time a woman brought a taste of this or that for his pleasure, glancing often at Jirvel who seemed intent on examining each of the baskets the other women had made. She was quite good at ignoring him – too good.

It was Macoran who spotted the runaway horse headed into the market place first. People quickly darted out of the way and two of the men tried to catch it, but neither was fast enough. Nor could they understand why the brown mare with a white mane and tail was running for its life.

In disbelief, Macoran stood up. Men began to shout a warning, but the playing of the flute and the noise of the crowd made it impossible to hear and…Jirvel was directly in the horse’s path. Panicked, Macoran added his shout to the others and started for the steps.