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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 dinna 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. Dinna 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 dinna 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 dinna 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 husband...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.
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 what 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. Macoran 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 sheath. “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 cannot.”
He got up from 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 loose fitting pants and they will need 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 pocket 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. 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 dinna 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 shirts 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 shrieked 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. Greagor 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 would 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. Dinna 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 care. ‘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 dinna 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. Greagor took her in his arms and held his sister tight. “Send the laddie if ye change yer mind and we will come fetch ye.”
