Page 15 of The Refuge

Catrìona had enjoyed the travel over the water, bringing them home so much sooner, but the ship was confining and, worse, constantly moving beneath her feet. Then, too, being under the watchful gaze of the king’s captain made her nervous. The few times she and Steinar had laughed over something Rhodri had said caused the bear of a man to shoot Steinar disapproving looks. She wished Colbán could see the love shining in Audra’s eyes whenever she looked at him, but sadly, the man remained oblivious to the lady’s affections.

It was afternoon and the sun still high in the sky when the king’s tower was finally sighted rising above the trees a few miles north of the River Forth. The sail was quickly furled and the men took up oars to bring the ship to land, just as two longships came into view resting on the sand in the small inlet that served as harbor to Dunfermline.

The king’s ship passed close to the two longships and she studied their form and decoration for anything she might recognize. Many ships looked alike, but she shuddered at dragonheads carved into the stems. The resemblance of these two to the longships of the Northmen who attacked the vale was striking.

“Seems my Orkney relations are paying me a visit,” boomed the king’s voice from the prow. “Margaret, come see!”

The queen stepped from the tent midship and gazed toward the longships.

“I hope they have my son, Duncan, with them,” Malcolm said to the queen. “’Tis time he is done with his fostering.”

At Catrìona’s side, Giric gasped. She looked down to see his eyes wide and his mouth agape as he stared at the two ships.

She crouched down next to the boy. “What is it?”

“The ba… banner,” he stuttered nervously. “’Tis… ’tis the black raven… like the one on the ship of the man who killed my father!”

Catrìona shielded her eyes and looked again at the two ships. At the top of the mast of one waved a pale yellow banner bearing a black raven in the Norse style, like the one she had seen that day when the vale was attacked.

A shudder ran up her spine. Could it be the same? Might the man who killed her father be a relation of the king?

The king’s men, straining at the oars, gave force to the ship so that it glided out of the water and up onto the wet sand. Jumping over the side, they hauled the ship to the broad sandy landing.

Catrìona took Giric’s trembling hand and followed the queen and the others from the ship. She bent to Giric and whispered, “Wait till we are in the king’s tower, then we will know if ’tis the same man. More than one Northman may fly such a banner.” She was trying not to panic but her heart pounded in her chest and her lips trembled.

Giric nodded and tightened his hold on her hand.

As they walked past the prows of the two longships, Catrìona caught a brief glimpse of a woman aboard the ship with the raven banner, but a sharp command from a Northman standing guard had her ducking under a tent. Before she disappeared, Catrìona saw the woman’s tunic was of a Norse design but there was something oddly familiar about her. The slender figure had hair the same color as Deidre’s only longer.

Once inside the tower, Catrìona scanned the hall for strangers, but saw none.

Nechtan, the king’s steward, hastened toward their party. “My Lord,” he addressed the king, “Paul and Erlend Thorfinnsson have arrived. You must have seen their ship.”

“Where are the jarls?” the king asked.

“I have seen them to their chamber, the one they usually occupy. They have brought young Duncan, who awaits you in your chamber.”

“Good. The queen and I will see Duncan and then have a bit of time ere we dine with our guests.”

As the king reached for Margaret’s hand to escort her to the stairs, the steward said, “My Lord?”

The king turned back, “Aye?”

“Your stepsons brought another with them, a distant cousin from Norway who has been sojourning with them for the last year or so. His name is Ivar Kalison. I have put him in the far chamber next to your stepsons.”

“My thanks for seeing to our guests,” Malcolm said. To Margaret, he said, “I do not know that name. Do you?”

The queen shook her head and they proceeded to the stairs.

Catrìona turned to Giric. “Find Niall. I must speak with him. Tell him to come to the hall and wait for me. I must change.”

“But what about—”

“Shh!” she cautioned the boy. “We can do naught until the evening meal when we will see these Northmen. If the one who killed your father is among them, he may be the same barbarian who murdered my parents.”

Giric’s eyes grew large as he realized the terrible past they shared. “Ye?”

“Aye. Orphaned like you, remember? Go now and find Niall.”

***

Steinar watched Catrìona flee up the stairs. She had not been aware of him when he entered the hall with the others, which was not surprising given how strangely she was acting. She and the lad whispered urgently to each other as if something of great import was afoot. With the firebrand, he could never be sure what she would get involved in next.

Giric raced past him and out the tower door. Steinar followed, curious to know what mischief the two were up to.

“Giric, wait!” he yelled.

The boy slowed to a walk and turned. Giric did not look guilty, as Steinar had expected. He looked frightened.

“Where are you going in such haste?”

“I… I am to find Niall. His sister wants him.”

“Why?” The boy struggled with a response, as if uncertain he should confide his mission to his friend. “Come, lad, you know I would never harm you or Catrìona. I mean you only good.”

The boy let out a breath and walked to Steinar, looking up at him. “’Tis the Northmen who’ve come.”

Steinar’s brow furrowed. “The king’s stepsons, Paul and Erlend?”

“I know not if they be the ones. But one ship flies a raven banner, like the ship of the Northman who killed my father. Catrìona’s parents, too.”

Steinar’s mind quickly sorted through the possibilities and found a reasonable explanation. “Many ships from Orkney fly such banners, Giric.” But he could see his words had not calmed the lad.

Giric’s eyes grew anxious. “May I go? The lady asked me to hurry.”

“Aye.” The boy turned and ran toward the archery field, leaving Steinar to wonder why Catrìona would want to see Niall about the Orkney ships.

***

Catrìona said nothing to Fia, but quickly washed and changed into a fresh gown. “I must see Niall,” she said, not waiting for her cousin’s reply, and hurried out of their chamber.

In the hall, there were only a few men standing around as the servants bustled from table to table in preparation for the evening meal.

Near the tower door, Niall waited with Giric.

“I am glad you have returned,” said her brother, brushing her cheek with a kiss. “Why have you taken me from archery practice? Giric told me to hurry but he would not tell me the reason for haste.”

She put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Aye, I wanted to speak with you first. Come, let us walk outside.”

The three of them slipped through the tower door and went some distance before she turned to her brother. “Did you know that Northmen from the Orkneys have come to Dunfermline?”

“Nay. When?”

“Sometime today, I think. The king says they are his stepsons. I have not seen them, but I have seen their ships. One carries the same banner as the ship that led the attack on the vale.”

Niall turned to look south, toward the River Forth. “You are certain?”

“I am certain of the banner.” Seeing Giric’s fearful expression, she added, “Giric recognized it, too.” The boy’s eyes shifted from Niall to her and back again. “And there is more, Niall. I saw a woman on the ship. I did not get a good look at her but the more I think of it, she could be Deidre.”

“Deidre! Did she see you?”

“I cannot say. If she did, I am certain she did not recognize me, but then Deidre would not expect to see me here. The woman I saw was clothed in Norse garb, a brown linen tunic with some kind of Norse designs on it. Her hair was unplaited but ’twas Deidre’s color. Think, Niall. It has been over a year. They might have clothed her as one of their own to hide her among them.”

Niall seemed to ponder her words as he took his bow and quiver of arrows from his shoulder. “What do you propose?”

“First, we should find Angus and tell him. He will know if ’tis the same man. The Northmen will come to the evening meal. There, we can see them. If the one who led the attack on the vale is among them, then it may be Deidre who is on that ship. If it is, we must save her, Niall.”

“Aye, we must.”

“Angus will help us,” she said. “Then we can deal with the one who led the raid.”

A look of concern crossed Niall’s face. It was not for lack of courage. “What if he is a relation of the king?”

“I do not believe the king would protect a man who murdered his mormaer.” Then another thought crossed her mind. Turning to the boy, she said, “Giric, do you know the king’s son, the one called Duncan? He would be older than you, mayhap ten or twelve summers, not yet a man.”

“Nay, but if he comes into the hall I can speak to him. What do ye need?”

“I want to know about the girl I saw.”

Giric was eager to help. “I can do it!”

** *

Margaret stepped through the door of their bedchamber Malcolm opened for her. Afternoon sunlight filled the large space. A dark-haired youth dressed in a tunic of Norse design stood with his back to them looking out the window. He turned and, for the first time, she glimpsed her husband’s eldest son. Duncan was tall for twelve summers and stood very straight, his features finely carved and his eyes dark like Malcolm’s.

“Good day, sir.”

She could see he was trying to play the man for his father.

Malcolm strode to the lad. “I’ll have none of that, son. ’Tis a man’s hug I’ll be having from you.” He reached down to embrace the slim youth. Margaret inwardly smiled. The two had long been separated because of the lad’s fostering and she knew Malcolm had missed him.

When they broke apart, the boy asked, “You are well, Father?”

“Aye, very well, even better now that you are here. I can see I need not ask about you. You have grown like a young oak, sturdy and true. Someday you will make a fine king, Duncan. Did the jarls teach you your letters?”

“A monk taught me both Gaelic and Norse. I can scrive in two languages now,” the youth said proudly. “And I know some Latin and some of the Saxon tongue,” he added with a glance in Margaret’s direction.

Malcolm beamed his approval. “That is good.” Then he turned the lad to face her. “Greet your stepmother, the queen.”

The youth bowed before her. “Greetings, My Lady,” he said in her language.

When he rose, she said, “We welcome you to your home, Duncan. ’Tis time you are with us. You must see your younger brother, Edward. He is a year now and soon,” she said, patting her belly, “there will be another who will be following you around.”

After more questions, father and son filled each other in on the last few years. At times, she heard a Norse word or two. Finally, Duncan said, “Would it be possible to have some food?”

Malcolm laughed. “I have forgotten how hungry I was at your age. Aye, there is food aplenty. Just ask any of the servants in the kitchen to fetch you some and take no scolding for it not being the supper hour.” Margaret smiled when he glanced at her. She did not favor eating all day, but even she made allowances for growing boys.

Duncan raced from their chamber and she went to kiss Malcolm. “I think that went well, My Lord. He is glad to be with you.”

“And I with him,” said Malcolm, drawing her into his arms.

***

Torches and candles blazed in the hall that evening as Steinar stood in the shadows, watching Catrìona. Most evenings she came with her cousin to join the queen’s ladies, but tonight she came alone and met Angus, Niall and Giric. ’Twas odd to see the boy since he did not typically eat in the hall in the evening, but given what he had told Steinar, he expected they waited for the king’s guests.

A moment later, all eyes were drawn to the stairs as the king and queen descended with three Northmen and a youth. The Northmen were of fair coloring except for one who was dark. The two who were fair had shorter hair and could have been twins for they looked much alike. All three had mustaches and short beards. The youth had Malcolm’s coloring and his hair was short. A handsome youth, tall and proud in the way he carried his body. Must be Duncan.

The king had his arm draped over the youth’s shoulder. As they headed toward the dais, Steinar heard the king say, “You will sit beside me and the queen, Duncan.”

Steinar turned to see Catrìona. Her face had gone pale and, even from this distance, he could see her expression was hard and her hand gripped the hilt of her knife. Beside her, Angus was reaching for his sword as his eyes narrowed on the Northman with dark coloring.

He is the one! Before Steinar could take a step forward, Catrìona and her companions disappeared through the tower door.

Striding across the hall, he followed outside to see them hurrying in the direction of the harbor where the ships were anchored. Why?

The sun, a golden ball over his right shoulder, would not set for hours. He had plenty of light to follow them down the path to the River Forth. Once his leg had warmed to his forced pace, he gained on them.

Ahead, he could see Angus walking on one side of Catrìona. On the other side walked Niall, carrying his bow and arrows. Beside him was Giric, trying to keep up.

Steinar was tempted to scold Catrìona for whatever she had in mind. Surely the king could handle this. What can she mean to do?

Half the way there, Steinar heard footsteps following him and turned to see Colbán closing the distance between them. Steinar waited for the captain to catch up.

When Colbán reached him, the captain’s face bore an angry expression and he panted for breath. “Do you think to meet the lady in some hidden glen, Scribe? For, if you do, know I will not have it!”

Steinar pulled Colbán to the side of the path where they could not be heard. “Do not be foolish. I merely follow the lady, her guard and her brother who, I am certain, are headed to the ships from Orkney.”

The captain looked puzzled. “Why would she come to see ships she saw this afternoon?”

“Because she believes one of them belongs to the Northman who led the attack on the Vale of Leven, her home. What I do not know is why she comes now to the ship since the Northman I speak of is in the hall with the king.”

Colbán let out a huff. “Well, that being the case, I will go with you and we will see this mystery solved. I knew little of the attack on the vale; only that it occurred.”

As they took the last mile, speaking in a low voice, Steinar told the captain of all that had happened. “Then this afternoon,” he said, “Giric told me Catrìona thought it might be the same ship and the same Northman.”

“Not Paul and Erlend,” Colbán protested. “They are loyal to Malcolm. God’s blood, they are his stepsons and Duncan their half-brother. They would never attack Scotland.”

“What of the other one?”

“I only met him briefly. His name is Ivar Kalison, some distant relation from Norway. He says little, a gruff character.”

Steinar found the description ironic coming from Colbán, but he only nodded.

By now, they had nearly reached those they followed. Ahead of them, loomed the small inlet where the ships were drawn onto the sand, the king’s larger one on one side and the two Orkney longships on the other.

***

Catrìona stood with Niall, Angus and Giric, hidden in a stand of trees next to the king’s ship on one side of the harbor. Her heart told her the woman she had seen aboard the longship was Deidre. But as she gazed at the ship in the light of the setting sun, fear snaked up her spine. Northmen stood guard over it. For all she knew they might be among those who had attacked the vale. Her fist clenched around her knife hilt. She might be afraid but she would do what she must to rescue Deidre.

Giric had learned from Duncan, who had come into the hall looking for food, that the one called Ivar had brought with him a woman. She was assumed to be Ivar’s concubine as he had kept her in the stone house he occupied while he was visiting Paul and Erlend in the Orkneys. Duncan had heard her speak only twice.

“Duncan told me ’twas Gaelic she spoke, not Norse,” Giric had said, adding, “Duncan speaks both Gaelic and Norse like his father, the king.”

Giric had also learned that the one called Ivar intended to take the girl with him to Norway. “Duncan told me ’tis why she is with him now.”

Knowing the man who killed her parents was soon to be leaving Scotland made Catrìona desperate to rescue Deidre and see justice done. She did not trust the barbarian not to lie and deny the raid and claim Deidre was some other woman. He might even kill the handmaiden to hide his despicable acts.

As they stood watching the Northman’s ship, Angus said, “Ye and the lad stay here, while Niall and I deal with the guards. I see none on the second longship but they could be out of sight.”

Niall pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it.

“Nay!” she protested. “I want Deidre to know I am here. She will be afraid. While you two handle the guards, I can see her to safety.”

“I’ll not argue with ye, milady,” said her guard. “Ye’ll stay. ’Tis bad enough ye have come this far.”

Catrìona said nothing. Once they disabled the guards, she would be there for her maidservant. She would not fail her.

Angus and Niall crept closer, ducking behind the king’s ship for cover.

From behind her, she heard a familiar voice speak. “Did you think Angus and Niall could dispatch those Northmen without help?”

Whirling around, Catrìona faced Steinar. With him was Colbán whose face was set in a harsh frown. “Aye, madam, did you conceive this plan? You should be in the hall with the other ladies.”

She lifted her eyes to the trees above. The man was impossible. “My maidservant, Deidre, is on that ship and I must save her ere the murderer sails with her to Norway. ’Tis where he is bound.”

“Ah, so that is it,” said Steinar. Shooting the captain a glance, he said, “We had best help them rescue the lass.”

“Aye, I suppose we must.”

Catrìona felt a sudden wave of relief wash over her. In truth, she had been concerned for her brother and Angus. She did not know how many of the Northmen guarded the ship, but however many there were, they would be well armed with swords, battleaxes and knives.

***

Steinar crept up behind Angus where he waited with Catrìona’s brother, watching the longship. Not wanting to startle them, he spoke in a quiet voice. “You are not alone, Angus. ’Tis Steinar and Colbán come to help you rescue the lass.”

To his credit, Angus did not jump but merely looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Ye’re most welcome, lads. I was beginning to think I should go fer help.”

Niall dipped his head to Steinar and the king’s captain.

“How many?” whispered Colbán.

“At least five or six on the longship with the raven banner,” replied Niall.

“We’ve seen none on the other,” said Angus, “but we canna be certain.”

Steinar said, “Some of us must get around to the other side so we can come at them from both directions. I will take Niall and go around, crossing where the trees lie close to the path.” He was determined to keep Catrìona’s brother with him where he could keep him from danger .

When the sun was halfway below the horizon, he and Niall managed to cross over the path to wait next to the longship belonging to the brothers, Paul and Erlend. A quick glance over the side told him there was no guard on the deck. The ship with the raven banner lay between this one and the king’s ship.

Steinar waved to Colbán, the signal they had agreed upon, and silently crept toward the longship where Catrìona had seen the woman. The king’s captain and Angus approached from the other side. As Steinar neared the guarded ship, he heard a conversation in Gaelic.

“He means to ransom the girl,” said one with a husky voice.

“Might have at one time,” said another in a lecherous tone, “But I think he’s changed his mind. Ivar would have her for himself. She is the mormaer’s daughter, after all. But ’tis going to be a cold night once the sun is down and I could do with a woman’s warm flesh. What say ye we sample the goods?”

“A fool’s thought,” said Husky. “For that, Ivar would unman ye. He might share the plunder, but never the women he takes. Besides, this one is still virgin. As long as he thought to ransom her, he did not touch her. He would know if ye were to take her first.”

Seeing Colbán and Angus move into position, Steinar gave the signal and the four of them bounded over the sides of the ship. As his feet touched the deck, Steinar drew his sword. The steel hissed as it left the scabbard.

Husky and Lecherous leapt to their feet, yanking their swords free, the sound of sliding steel ringing in the air. Three other men, lying on the deck, roused from sleep to grab axes and long knives.

“We come for the girl,” said Steinar. “She is not your master’s to take. She is a Gael and one of ours.”

“Ye’ll not have her,” said Husky, who Steinar now saw to be a large muscled Northman with long scraggly hair and beard.

“As you wish,” said Steinar, drawing his short sword from his hip to add to his raised sword.

The one Steinar had dubbed Lecherous—a thin weasel of a man—lunged at him from several feet away. Before his blade struck, Niall let fly his arrow. It sank into the man’s neck. The Northman made a choking sound and fell to the deck clutching the arrow .

“One down,” said Niall with a smile.

Rhodri would be proud, but Steinar could not allow the youth to remain in the fray. The remaining Northmen charged toward them as Steinar shouted to Niall, “Go to the prow! ’Tis a better place to shoot.”

The youth obeyed as Steinar fought off the enraged Husky. Behind him, Steinar heard the sounds of other swords clashing. The Northman swung his sword, slicing through air as Steinar stepped to the side, avoiding the bulky man’s blade.

“Ye look like a Dane,” said Husky, “but ye do not fight like one.”

“You face an Englishman in King Malcolm’s service,” he said as he beat back the man’s sword and took a slice out of Husky’s unmailed sword arm. “The last man you will see before death.”

With an oath, the Northman backed off and leapt over the side of the ship and ran into the woods. To his master, most likely.

One was dead and one had fled but there were still three to dispose of. The battle erupted into a clash of metal and men’s grunts as the three remaining Northmen fought like cornered animals. The sun was beginning to set and it became more difficult to see. The ropes and tools left on the deck made the footing treacherous and, more than once, Steinar stumbled. Still, he and his two companions fought on, seeking mastery over their opponents.

One of the Northmen stepped on the tent and a shriek sounded, telling Steinar the lass was inside and afraid. “Stay down, Deidre!” he shouted, hoping she would draw comfort from his use of her name.

For a time, he and Colbán fought back to back until one of the Northmen lunged toward Niall who stood in the prow nocking another arrow. Steinar raced across the deck and blocked the sword aimed at Catrìona’s brother. The Northman turned from the archer to engage Steinar and the fighting continued.

***

The sounds of battle erupted all around Catrìona, echoing in her ears as they had on the day the vale was attacked, the same sounds she had heard in her dreams. Hearing Deidre scream, she could be patient no longer.

I must get Deidre to safety .

Bracing herself for what lay ahead, she cautioned Giric, who stood at her side, “Do not board the ship. You must promise.”

“Aye,” the boy said reluctantly. “I promise.” But he picked up some rocks and followed close on her heels as she left her hiding place and ran to the side of the longship where the fighting raged.

She could hardly blame the boy for wanting to be of use, for she did not like standing idly by as those she loved fought her enemies.

Surveying the deck from where she stood, she saw the fighting stretched from midship to the prow. Assuring herself the king’s men lived and Steinar and her brother stood strong, she scrambled over the side and hurried toward the back of the tent. “Deidre!” she hissed a whisper.

Her handmaiden emerged and flew into Catrìona’s arms. “Oh, mistress,” she sobbed. “You found me!”

“I never gave up,” said Catrìona. “Come, we must get you away before we catch one of those swords.” She pulled Deidre toward the side of the ship, thinking to drag her to safety, when one of the Northmen, seeing them escaping, plunged toward them, his sword flashing.

“And now we have two,” he said as he reached them and slowly brought the edge of his sword to her neck, stopping just short of her skin. “Ivar will be pleased.”

She froze, afraid to breathe.

Beside her, Deidre cried, “Nay!”

Suddenly, behind the Northman loomed Steinar like a snarling lion. The sword held to her neck flew away with a blow from Steinar’s short blade. Dropping his sword, Steinar grabbed the Northman’s long hair, drew back his head and sliced across his neck.

Blood spurted onto Catrìona.

“Go!” shouted Steinar as he picked up his sword and turned to confront another.

Catrìona dragged Deidre to the side and they scrambled over the gunwale to the ground. As she looked back, she saw Colbán trip over a body on the deck, leaving his shoulder open to a Northman’s blade. He grunted as it sliced through his tunic and he sagged to the deck. Steinar ran to defend him against the killing blow, but before Steinar could reach him, an arrow whooshed through the air and lodged deep in the Northman’s chest.

From the prow, Niall shouted, “’Tis two!”

***

Steinar could feel his leg weakening from his many stumbles on the deck, now slippery with blood and strewn with bodies of two Northmen. Colbán was wounded and unable to lift his sword. The two remaining Northmen breathed heavily as they lunged toward Steinar and Angus but, fighting side by side, they battled the Northmen back. Niall, unwounded in the prow, nocked another arrow.

’Twas then the Northmen’s dark-haired leader made his appearance, leaping onto the deck of the ship. “You would dare take what is mine?” He waved his sword slowly back and forth in front of Steinar. Even in the gloaming, the steel glistened. Beside the man called Ivar stood the one Steinar had dubbed Husky, returned now that he had his master to fight with him.

“She is not yours, Ivar,” said Steinar. “Do Thorfinn’s sons know you took her in your attack on the Vale of Leven?”

“They know naught of it. And there will be no one to tell them once you and these few with you are dead.”

Ivar’s arrival had brought a pause in the fighting and distracted the Northman fighting Angus. Out of the corner of his eye, Steinar saw Catrìona’s guard seize his opportunity and plunge his sword into the man’s belly.

Angered, Ivar and Husky attacked with vengeance, the third Northman joining them. Now it was three swords against two. Steinar had been in worse scrapes but he was tiring and liked not the odds. Ivar was skilled and fresh for the fight. But Steinar’s determination to kill the man who had destroyed Catrìona’s family gave him new strength.

From the side of the ship, rocks flew through the air to pelt their Norse adversaries. Out of the corner of his eye, Steinar glimpsed Giric raising another rock. “Get him out of here!” he yelled to Niall.

Niall dropped from the prow and came around the side to grab the boy from his perch.

Steinar and Angus fought on, managing to hold off the three Northmen. It took all of Steinar’s strength to keep Ivar at bay, slicing his sword through the air in rapid strikes while dancing to avoid the Northman’s skilled blade.

An arrow flew through the air, piercing the chest of Husky, sending him to the deck.

“’Tis three,” came Niall’s cry.

“This one,” Steinar said, his tone full of scorn as his eyes narrowed on Ivar, who was raising his sword, “is mine.” Blocking the sword’s blow with his own blade, he let loose a furious attack that backed the dark Northman to the side of the ship.

“And this one is mine!” yelled Angus as he swung his powerful sword at the man he fought. “Fer my lord, Cormac!” he shouted, cutting a swath through the man’s chest in one powerful stroke. The Northman’s body crashed to the deck.

Steinar sheathed his short blade and gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands. “Now ’tis only you that remains,” he said to Ivar, disdain dripping from his words. Faster than the Northman could follow with his eyes, Steinar sliced across Ivar’s chest, leaving a long line oozing forth blood.

Ivar looked down at the widening streak of red, stunned.

Mayhap he has never been wounded . A weakness Steinar did not have, for he was not afraid to take a blade. With all his strength, he swung and caught Ivar across the throat just as the Northman looked up.

***

Relieved the last of the Northmen had been dispatched to Hades, Catrìona leapt over the side of the ship and ran to Steinar, flinging herself into his arms and kissing him with wild abandon.

“Oh, Steinar!”

From behind her, Angus coughed. She turned to see her guard standing there with a disapproving look and blood coating his tunic.

A movement at the prow drew her eyes to where Niall stood with Giric, smiles on both their faces.

Realizing she had become a spectacle, she stepped back.

“So that’s as it is,” said Colbán.

At his words, she turned to see him sitting against the hull, blood dripping from his shoulder. Guilt gripped her as she remembered the king’s captain had taken a blade. Rushing to him, she kneeled at his side. “Oh, sir, you are wounded.”

“Most grievously, madam,” he said sarcastically. She wondered if he referred to his shoulder or seeing her display of affection for Steinar. “But the wound will keep,” he said. “’Tis time we return to the king.” Colbán struggled to rise. Angus came to help him to his feet. “Malcolm will be sorry to have missed this,” said the king’s captain. “He does love a good fight.”

Colbán sagged in Angus’ arms and Steinar hurried to support the captain’s other side.

“Mind the rocks Giric has left on the deck,” said Niall with a smirk in the boy’s direction. Then, more seriously, he added, “They will make it hard going.”

Her brother offered to go to the tower to bring horses and a cart. Steinar agreed it would be better that Colbán not have to walk the distance.

Catrìona’s suggestion she ride in the cart with Colbán was accepted.

When Niall returned, she climbed into the cart to sit beside the wounded captain, continuing to press a cloth to his shoulder to staunch the bleeding. Deidre joined her. Steinar and Angus rode on either side of the cart and Niall behind as they headed for the tower.

The king’s captain dozed while Deidre told Catrìona of the last year she had endured with the Northman named Ivar. “We did not go at once to Orkney,” she began. “Ivar made other ports as he plundered his way north. At some, he unloaded men and all the women, save me.”

“Why did he keep you?”

“Oh, mistress. You saved me, you did. He thought I was you!” At Catrìona’s puzzled expression, Deidre said, “Remember, I wore your gown. When the attack came, I was alone in your chamber, packing your things. ’Twas from there I was taken. Ivar could speak Gaelic as some of his men, that is how I learned he meant to ransom me, but then he changed his mind. I heard him tell one of his men he was going to take me with him to Norway. If you had not rescued me from his ship, I might never have seen you again!”

Catrìona reached out to grasp Deidre’s hand. “I never gave up hope. I never stopped praying you would be found.” In the dim light, she could not see her maidservant’s blue eyes, but she had heard the quiver in her voice. Silently, she gave thanks that God had brought Deidre back to them.

It was dark when they arrived at the tower. Much confusion and many questions awaited them but all was delayed when the king saw his wounded captain.

“Summon my physic at once!” Malcolm yelled to his steward.

With Margaret’s permission and feeling responsible in some measure for what had happened to the bold captain, Catrìona followed the men carrying Colbán to his chamber high in the tower, leaving Steinar and the others to answer the king’s questions.

Audra, her eyes anxious with fear, hurried up the stairs behind Catrìona, saying she might be of assistance. Remembering the love Catrìona had seen in the eyes of Duff’s daughter for the king’s captain, she wholeheartedly agreed, urging Audra to come.

Colbán was awake when the physic cleaned and stitched his wound, bearing the pain uncomplaining. The king’s captain said little. He lay back against the pillows, his muscled chest bared for the physic’s ministrations. But his eyes followed Catrìona as she handed the physic the things he requested from his pouch of medicines.

When the wound was stitched, Catrìona asked a servant to request the Culdee monk, who served in the chapel, to make a plaster for the wound. She had observed his well-kept herb garden and perceived he was knowledgeable in potions. The woman returned with a plaster that smelled of mint but the servant told her it also contained yarrow.

“He said ’twill help the wound heal, my lady.”

Catrìona thanked her and when the physic was finished, with Audra watching, she applied the plaster to the wound.

Colbán gave her a small smile. “’Tis probably good the scribe was not wounded or I would see little of your care this night.”

“You have one better than I, good captain.” She looked toward Audra who had been attentive to Colbán’s every move. “Audra has taught me much and her heart is ever sympathetic to those in need, which you are, at least tonight. You have my thanks for aiding my guard and my brother.”

When the physic had gone, Colbán finally succumbed to sleep and Catrìona got to her feet, wanting to wash and change her bloodstained clothing before meeting her mistress.

While Colbán was awake, Audra had kept a discreet distance, sitting by his bedside. Now that he slept, she took his hand and held it between hers in a gesture that spoke of more than just concern.

Tears began to fall from Audra’s eyes as she glanced up at Catrìona. “I will stay with him.”

Seeing the love in the woman’s eyes, Catrìona nodded, knowing that when she returned in the morning to check on the captain, Audra would still be here. “I will bring you some willow bark tea to give him for pain and a potion for sleep should he not be able to rest the night.” Then, thinking of her fellow lady, she added, “And some food for you.”

Audra smiled. “Thank you.”

Catrìona touched Audra’s shoulder. “He fought bravely. You can be proud of him.”

Tears flowing unheeded, Audra said in a whisper, “I am always proud of him.”