Page 13 of Chieftain’s Rebel (Chieftain #6)

Kathryn, his mother, would say he was contrary, and why not? Rory had often been told he took after her, and then mostly when he annoyed his father. At the moment, he couldnae argue that his parents were wrong. He had spent the whole of the short summer night in Ainsel’s arms, the lass whau had brought him running back to Caithness all but forgotten. So what did that say about him?

He hadnae found hide nor hair of the lass—nor smelled the one whau had haunted his mind and dreams for a year. Now that haunting figure he had met in the dark had become a ghost in truth, her memory receding farther and farther. And he wondered what that said about him as a man, a future Chieftain of the Comlyn clan—a fact he had continuously pushed aside, not wanting to delve too deep into his father’s reasons for being so hard on him. He had come to the conclusion that Gavyn intended to introduce him to a suitable lassie, one with bloodlines that matched his own, not an unknown lover. Already she had begun to dwindle away, fade into the night where he had found her, like a figment of his imagination.

Apart frae realising he had been chasing a dream—he had travelled to the settlement against his father’s wishes. Led there by his prick—aye he could admit the truth to himself—but that wasnae why he was staying. Not that sex had nae place in his decision to stay. He had discovered Ainsel was a lass worth fighting for—fighting alongside.

One might rightly say that his father’s reputation had got Rory into a dangerous situation, one that might well cost him his life. Gavyn Farquhar had certainly trained Calder and him to kill swiftly and efficiently. However being part of a strong alliance of clans—both family and friends of fierce repute—had reduced Rory’s opportunities to take part in big battles. Even his cousin Rob McArthur had seen more of war than he had, being at Alnwick when Malcolm Canmore and his son, Edward were killed by the Normans. Since Alexander became King a tentative truce had been signed. The few bloody skirmishes with cateran Rory had been in couldnae be said to count—a fact suddenly brought home to him when Olaf asked for his help.

Rory huffed down his nose the way his stallion did waiting for a touch of Rory’s knee to guide his next move, to steer him in the right direction, another one of the standards his father expected of him, the heir, the eldest son.

In his arrogance, Rory had believed it wouldnae be o’er hard to come up with the needed plan. That was until it occurred to him that if the task had been that simple either Olaf or Finn would have already come up with a solution. Instead, he now understood that they had learned through years of living on the edge of the Ness that there was little in the natural landscape that offered real protection—thus the fleet at anchor in the Ness. When the first fierce Norse settlers had landed their dragon-boats here, what they had seen was a guid space to build shelters, a place so rich in grazing for animals and fertile land they could plant with crops that the stone circle hadnae hindered them. It had merely told them this had once been a place where the folk living here had worshipped gods. It didnae matter that they werenae the gods of the Norsemen; they were ancient and aeons ago the deities the stone circle had been built to worship could have been one and the same as those residing in Walhalla.

Whatever the reasons, being here had brought it through to him that though his roots might not run as deep in Caithness as they did at Dun Bhuird, they more than skimmed the surface of this northern land. For that reason, when he entered the Longhouse he walked with his shoulders pulled back and his chest expanded.

He shouldnae have been surprised to see his cousin Ghillie with Olaf and Finn or to notice that his raven perched on his cousin’s shoulder. He wasnae displeased that at his approach the bird flapped its wings and lifted off toward the ceiling, becoming but another darkened space amid the many under the sloping roof. Rory tilted his chin and accompanied it with the crook of an eyebrow and a warning, “If that bird shites on me I willnae be happy, cousin.”

Ghillie’s teeth were bright white in a hall made grey with shadows. “They say it brings the recipient guid fortune and frae what’s being said I gather that might be welcome.”

Finn laughed at Ghillie’s impudence but might not be laughing for long and Rory told him, “Yer full of auld wives’ tales, Ghillie. Simply repeating it doesnae make it so. Chances are they could be wrong.” Rory looked at Olaf considering the Jarl might dig in his heels. “However, that not why I’m here.”

He looked at Ainsel’s grandfather, trying to forget where the auld Jarl’s request of the previous day had led, certain that if he lived past the visit frae the Irish his life will have been turned upside down. He had fretted o’er it since dawn. He wasnae impulsive like Calder. Decisions required a proper amount of consideration, especially when the outcome could change everything, not only for himself—for his clan. “I have a plan, uncle, and I’ll tell ye for naught that I’d hoped to present ye with better, but needs must when the de’il drives. That said, the plan I’ve come up with is entirely dependent on you, Olaf.”

As with last year, Ainsel made a choice not tell anyone what had happened betwixt her and Rory the previous day. For the life of her she couldnae see that aught would e’er come of it—unless he had gotten her with child again. Apart frae that it wasnae a decision she could make lightly.

The truth was that he was the man she had dreamed of but ne’er expected to see again, even in the days afore Nils sailed away leaving her big with a child about to be born. His excuse had been he had to see his father and take him the guid news, but Ainsel wasnae a fool and had suspected he wouldnae return since, when he first landed in Caithness frae Orkney, he had said all of his family were dead. Loki help her, Nils had been as tricky as that god, and she had simply been happy to see the back of him and his cheating and lies.

And what had he done? Tipped them into a war not of their own making.

Hurrying into the kitchen, she quickly surveyed the roomy space, seeking the temporary wet-nurse, Werna with whom she had left Axel. Werna had recently lost a bairn of her own and, blaming his wife rather than his treatment of her, her husband had thrown her out to exist on the mercy of the settlement. Every time necessity forced Ainsel to use the services of a wet-nurse she had chosen Werna, thinking that but for the gods whau looked after the foolish, she could be in the same place as Werna.

It took but a moment to realise Axel was sucking as if it might be his last feed, his mouth and nose hard against the wet-nurse’s breast. “Werna,” she called out, hurrying to reach her son, dodging around cooks sweating frae the heat of flames and cleaners scrubbing the boards with sand. At the sound of her voice Axel stopped drinking, head turning in her direction. His eyes lit up and he gave her a gummy smile, milk spilling o’er his lips and down his chin.

Her heart leapt. It was love she saw in his eyes, and though she had seen the same expression on Rory’s face a few hours ago, she knew not to pretend it was aught but lust.

“Has he been guid for ye, Werna?”

“A wee lamb as always. I’m happy to look after him any time, Ainsel.” She glanced down at Axel whose arms were waving and feet kicking. “It’s always a pleasure.”

Bending to lift Axel, she cradled him in her arms as he made indecipherable noises she knew meant he was happy she had come back for him, and therein lay her problem. She loved Axel with all that was in her, heart and soul, yet she would have to abandon him again.

Guilt stabbed at her again.

Guilt for the way she had fallen for Nils’s black-hearted lies, had believed his flattery enough to marry him o’er quickly for his true colours to show, and too late had seen the light of day. All of which meant she had see nae way to assuage her conscience other than to fight against the Irish alongside the settlement’s warriors—and leave Axel behind.

“There is a favour I must ask ye, Werna. Ye know that war is sitting out there on our horizon, and that the settlement could be invaded. I’m sure yer thinking that there is naught ye can do to help, but that’s not true. Ye can help me. If ye take care of Axel, I can become a shield-maiden again, be ready to stand face to face with yon Irish scoundrels whau would do us harm, and I really need to help protect us. I’m sure ye know why.” Werna merely nodded but the glint in her eyes said she was eager. As a lass whaus man had tossed her aside, she not only needed what she could earn frae wet-nursing to keep frae starving, and if anyone could understand how Ainsel felt it was Werna. “Ye know how much my grandfather loves Axel. If aught happens to me, he will make certain he rewards ye for all yer help in caring for the bairn.”

With her free hand Ainsel reached down, smoothing a long strand of flaxen hair behind the lass’s ear. She squeezed Werna’s shoulder while the lass stared down at her now empty hands. “I’ll do whatever I can, whatever ye tell me,” she mumbled and glanced up, biting her lip, her pale golden-eyed gaze holding Ainsel’s then said, “I dinnae want to die.”

Ainsel couldnae help smiling, kept it sympathetic, aware that though Werna was at most, only three years younger than herself, there was a hundred years difference betwixt them in nous. “I’m determined to join the fight, and I need to be sure Axel is well cared for. Which means that yer care of Axel will allow me to fight. That can be yer contribution to the fight when it arrives. Here is what I want ye to do.”

Accomplishing the most important task she had set herself made Ainsel’s heart lift as she walked frae the kitchens into the Great Hall. Her eyes immediately focussed on her grandfather’s carved chair. That alone pronounced him Jarl, head of the settlement of Caithness, though it actually wasnae needed. She had always thought that apart from his great age, Olaf’s upright bearing was enough to proclaim his stature.

Ainsel’s knees felt weak the closer she got to Rory. He and her brother were part of the group surrounding her grandfather. Ghillie, the lad her grandfather had said was a cousin, knelt near Olaf’s feet. He was a strange one; his eyes looked straight through her, as if he saw everything in her heart, guid and evil. Her whole body trembled and, as if he sensed her dismay, Axel whimpered. She smoothed the bairn’s soft cheek, holding him tight while humming under her breath. It wouldnae do for Axel to cry and draw Rory’s attention to her, yet she wanted to hear what was going on.

Her face coloured at the thought of standing near him with all her memories of the night afore circling her brain. How could she do it without everyone guessing why she couldnae control her blushes? She had just made up her mind to take Axel back to the broch in the hope that he would sleep. In fact she had one foot o’er the threshold when Gilda came flying through it.

One look was all that was needed to tell her Gilda was excited. “I’ve been searching for ye and couldnae find ye at home or in the Hall then someone told me to look in the kitchen.”

Ainsel forced a laugh, her thoughts still reaching out to Rory while she said, “And here I am. What’s all the fuss? I thought ye would still be busy with Calder the way ye were for most of yesterday.”

“Aye, well so I was, but honestly, Ainsel, can ye blame me? I’m in love and I’ve decided…”

Puzzled, she frowned at Gilda asking, “Decided what?”

“When he leaves for Dun Bhuird, I’m going with him. I just need to find a horse. Do ye think Finn would sell or trade with me for one?”

Ainsel fought hard to keep the fear out of her voice, “Go with him? This is sudden, Gilda. Are ye sure ye know him well enough? I knew Nils a lot longer afore we wed and look what I got.”

Gilda sniffed. Ainsel gathered that she had hoped her auldest friend would be as excited as she was about the choice she had made. Her friend’s glance dropped to Axel, asleep in her arms. She recognised that expression, the touch of envy she had felt herself for others with men whau loved them. “Mayhap, but I can see what ye got out of it. Nae one could have a bonnier bairn, and that’s what I want. Ye also got to be a widow and that’s guid fortune for both ye and the bairn, but I’ve yet to be a wife and I’m certain Calder loves me enough to make me his.” Gilda sighed as she lifted her gaze, stared Ainsel straight in the face and told her, “If I go with him to Dun Bhuird, it will give us both a chance to be certain. What I cannae do is let him go away without fighting for what I’m certain Calder and I could have. He came back to Caithness for me, the least I can do is follow him home. I love him so much!” she cried as her voice broke brittle with too much emotion and, aye, honesty.

Holding Axel in the crook of one elbow, Ainsel reached out and pulled Gilda close. They both stood there hugging each other with the still sleeping Axel squashed betwixt them. Tears flowed but nae word was spoken. What need was there when a sisterly embrace said so much? Gilda was as near to a sister as Ainsel had ever known, and she would miss her when she went south with Calder. That didnae mean she grudged Gilda what she herself would ne’er know, life with a man whau loved her enough to travel all this way to find her again.

It was true that Rory too had returned, but frae what she could tell, his journey had been made to keep Calder company. She had heard not a whisper about him being at Caithness to search for a woman he had come upon in the darkness during last solstice.

When their arms fell away she said, “So we had better find ye a horse.”

Two little lines appeared in the space betwixt Gilda’s gold-coloured brows. “I have a little silver and goods that were my parents’ that I could trade to make up the rest.”

“Nae, ye must keep yer silver. I have a better notion—one that will cost ye naught but the time to let the horse know ye. Nils had one that Finn occasionally rides, but in truth it’s merely eating its head off at Grandfather’s expense—much like Nils did—ye must take it.”

Ainsel’s grin was wide, a result of Gilda squealing loud enough to be heard the breadth and length of the Hall. It didnae trouble Ainsel, not even when Rory’s eyes bored into hers across the distance betwixt them. For a moment it felt as if all movement ceased. that even the smoke drifting up to the blackened rafters frae the fire-pit stood still, a pale drift of haze that dimmed the light frae the door. A moment, a lifetime, and all turned back to normal as Gilda grabbed her hand, pulling her back into the kitchens where she had come from, saying with a squeal that woke Axel, “Let’s go see that horse.”

It took all Rory’s control, his sense of priority, to stop himself frae following Ainsel, even though he sensed the conversation with Olaf had come to a crucial point.

“Mayhap,” the auld Jarl was saying, “I should just should just lie down on my pyre and we can finish all that needs done at one time.”

“I’m sorry ye feel I’m doing ye a disservice, uncle. That said, ye asked for a plan, and this is the best I can come up with in so short a time. The lay of the land surrounding the Ness is too open for any sort of surprise. Ye have nae palisade to halt their progress, nae defences. Too much is being left in the lap of the gods.”

Olaf was the only one of them seated. Frae his lower position, his gaze travelled o’er all their faces: Calder, whau had joined them last, with Rory himself, Finn and Ghillie. “I expect ye think I’m a foolish auld man. I’ve been Jarl of Caithness longer than any of the four of ye have been alive. O’er yon long years I always believed I’ve been a harsh but fair leader, always putting the needs of the settlement first. Can ye blame an auld man for dreaming that after all that time, when I went to Walhalla it would be in the fiercest dragon-boat I could have built.”

He stopped as if to catch his breath, smoothing one wrinkled hand pitted with dark freckles across the skirt of the long, deer-skin coat he wore, dyed crimson and edged with lynx fur. The coat proclaimed his status while he still lived. Olaf expected the dragon-boat to proclaim his status once he was dead. But when he opened the lips surrounded by white moustaches to speak, Ghillie interrupted. “There will be time to build another dragon-boat afore ye go to that place where the Walkyries ride.” Ghillie paused a moment and bent to take the hand that worried at Olaf’s deer-skin coat. “I promise ye, uncle. There will be danger and turmoil—flames—but ye will still stand Jarl of Caithness once the danger has passed.”

Rory left it to his cousin and Olaf, staying silent, unwilling to be seen as forcing the auld Jarl’s hand. At last Olaf gave them the permission they needed. “Finn, take Rory and the others to the site of the dragon-boat. Mayhap its fierce visage will be more use frightening Irish than Valkyries. Discover what’s needed to make the plan work and Finn will make sure it’s all to hand.” With that he nodded a dismissal.

As they strode through the wide doors that let light into the Great Hall and their boots touched the cobbled area fronting the Longhouse, they all turned to Rory with questions in their eyes. Like him, they knew the proposition was risky at best, but it was all they had. If they could ram a fire-ship amongst the Irish boats as they sailed up the Ness, at least they might reduce the number of warriors attacking the settlement. As he looked at all their faces it was Finn’s eyes he caught, “Lead the way, Finn. Ye know it much better than I do.”

Besides, when he had returned frae the river last night with Ainsel by his side, the sky had been pitch black with clouds covering the moon and, for all it was the solstice and a fine day, he could wish for more clouds tonight and hope for a slight advantage.

He tried to keep his mind on the plan and off Ainsel as they walked along the shore, the tide was full out, and by tonight it would be in, a fact he depended upon to make his plan work. By the time he had answered all his friends’ questions and listened to what turned out to be excellent suggestions, they had reached the riverbank and, like the others, he followed Finn to the inlet where Olaf’s mighty dragon-boat bobbed at anchor.

As afore, the red sail covered the funeral pyre, but Rory had seen it last time, and his attention shifted to the crushed grass where he had lain with Ainsel, fathoms deep in need and desperate passion that still left his brain in a spin. Thankfully, the rest of their quartet were far more concerned with the means and the manner which would keep the boat riding with its bow at the point of the inlet that would send it down the river. Added to that, they needed to judge how much rope it would take to accomplish that and whau was going to go back and fetch the coil.

Calder volunteered, said he would run to the stables, fetch his horse and return to the secret mooring with the rope. Unfamiliarity with the practical routines that Norsemen went through afore a body could be sent to Walhalla made Rory wonder about the differences betwixt Scots and Norse, about lying under the sod with a stone cairn to keep out the wolves as opposed to going up in flames in a dragon boat, yer ashes falling to the bottom of the sea.

Finn said the rest of them could each carry a barrel of pine-tar back to the boat then douse wooden pyre and boat with the contents ready for the fire-arrow that would set it alight. Which led to an argument about whau was best able with a bow. Someone with a strong arm and guid aim to loose the arrow into the boat while it floated down the Ness toward the Irish.

One would have thought the danger didnae exist with the amount of laughter ringing, accompanied by a lot of pushing and shoving as they walked back to the settlement, and naught they did would have suggested to anyone the dangerous invasion they were preparing to meet head on.