Beyond the Sea Mist (34 page)

The men began to talk among themselves, and Magnus grew restless. What if none of them were willing to go to Ireland? He needed at least a score of crewmen to man the ship, and he dare not arrive in Ireland with a force less than that if they were to travel safely through the countryside.

As the men continued to talk among themselves, Magnus’s muscles grew taut. To calm himself, he looked at Ailinn. Although she smiled at him, he sensed she was as nervous as he was.

Orm’s voice abruptly rose above the murmuring crowd. His voice was weaker than usual, but still compelling. “The prospect of someday possessing land of my own is enough to entice me. I will join Magnus Gunnarson!”

A moment later, Asgar unsheathed his sword and raised it up. “To land in Ireland!” he cried.

“To land!” Another voice joined in.

In moments, the dock was alive with men shouting “Ireland!” and “Land!”

Looking around, Magnus wondered if there would be any who chose
not
to join him. As the other men gradually quieted, Bragi spoke. “I have no desire to settle on one piece of land for the rest of my life. I’m a seaman, bred of a long line of seaman. I would not give up the life for any amount of riches.”

“I feel the same,” Lodur said.

“Aye, also,” agreed Ketil.

There were about a dozen in all who chose to go their own way on the
Seawolf
. They gathered together on the dock to make plans and choose a captain. Magnus, meanwhile, was busy answering the questions of the men who’d agreed to join him. Some things he couldn’t answer, and he had to defer to Ailinn, which made some of the men uneasy. Magnus could tell they weren’t used to listening to a woman. But Ailinn’s shrewd answers soon got their attention.

He was impressed with her knowledge of politics and warfare. She listed her father’s clients, then suggested which men might be allies and which would likely be pleased he was dead. While it was clear O’Donovan had made a few enemies, it sounded as if there were also a substantial number of men who might be swayed to fight against MacTighe.

Magnus let the discussion go on for awhile, then suggested that if they were to sail the next day, they’d best ready the ships for the journey. Those men sailing with Magnus had to get their things from the
Seawolf
while those remaining on the
Dragonsbreath
had to obtain their possessions from the other vessel. Magnus had purchased supplies of drinking water, salt fish and hard bread the previous day. While those things were being loaded, Magnus went to see how Orm was faring.

Orm insisted he didn’t want to return to the tent, so Magnus had the men drag a sheepskin pallet over to the prow of the ship, where Orm could lie on the deck and breathe fresh air. Ailinn and other women were gathered nearby, sewing. Magnus motioned for Ailinn to come and speak to him.

“How is he?” he asked her.

She sighed. “The wound is swollen. He also seems to be in more pain.”

“It probably wasn’t a good idea for him to shout out his support for me so exuberantly,” Magnus said with chagrin. “Although I’m glad he did. Sometimes it takes the courage of just one man to sway a whole group of men.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Ailinn said. “If the wound festers, it’s no fault of yours.”

Magnus shook his head. “If Orm dies, it
is
my fault. He was wounded while looking after my interests. But I don’t intend for him to die. I’ve decided I must take him to a healer.”

“Now? But what about your plan to leave tomorrow?”

“He may have to remain here. I fear he’s too ill to travel.”

“But what about Brina? She’ll never agree to leave him.”

“I know. I’m afraid we’ll have to leave her behind as well.”

“Leave Brina? But how will I get along with out her?” Ailinn looked distressed.

“The same way I’ll get along without Orm,” Magnus answered. “I won’t let his loyalty to me be the end of him.”

* * *

“I can walk,” Orm grumbled as he tried to sit up in the hand cart Magnus was pushing down the pathway to the river. “There’s really no need for any of this.”

“Aye, there is,” Magnus asserted. “I won’t have you dying on the journey to Ireland.

“I’m not going to die,” Orm answered. But even as he said the words, he lay back in the cart, his face ashen.

Brina, following behind the cart, muttered something in Irish.

Magnus exchanged a glance with Ailinn. What if there was nothing the healer could do?

Reaching the end of the pathway, they saw a daub and wattle dwelling with small neat garden next to it. As they drew near, a young woman with long dark red hair came out of the house. “Are you looking for me?” she asked.

“We’re looking for the healer,” Magnus said. “Is she at home?”

“Why have you sought her out?”

Magnus gestured. “My friend here took a sword thrust to the belly.”

The woman approached the cart and scrutinized Orm, who was lying down with his eyes closed. “A sword thrust to the belly,” the woman said. “That’s a bad sort of wound.”

“Are you the healer?” asked Ailinn.

“Aye,” the woman answered.

“But you’re so young!” exclaimed Magnus. “And fair to look at. I thought... that is...”

The woman looked amused. “As far as I know being old and ugly is not a requirement to being a good healer.”

“Can you help my friend?” Magnus asked. “Can you heal him?”

“Perhaps,” the woman answered. “How long ago was he injured?”

“Early this morning.”

“Is his belly swollen and hard to the touch?”

“It’s a little swollen, but not hard,” said Magnus.

“Good. That means he doesn’t have bleeding inside his belly. When that happens, there’s little to be done. Now the main worry is whether the wound is poisoned.”

“If it does become poisoned, is there anything you can do for him?” Magnus’s voice was pleading. He looked so distraught; Ailinn felt a surge of sympathy.

“There are medicines.” Niamh appeared thoughtful. “Herbs that can sometimes fight the poison and keep it from taking over the whole body. I can try to aid him, but it will take several doses of medicine over several days.”

“Which means we must leave him here with you for a time,” said Magnus.

Niamh nodded. At the same time, Orm seemed to come to life. He sat up and said, “I can’t stay here. I must sail with you tomorrow!”

“I’m sorry, old friend,” said Magnus. “I can’t let your risk your life any more than you already have.”

“Where are you bound for?” asked the woman.

“Ireland.” Magnus motioned to Ailinn. “My lady has land there.”

Niamb looked Ailinn over carefully. “I’ve heard tales of women who ruled their clans, but I thought that with the Christians and their dislike of women, such things were no more.”

“You’re Irish, aren’t you?” Ailinn said suddenly. “Were you captured and enslaved? Is that how you ended up here?”

Niamb smiled faintly. “’Tis a long tale, and this is not the right time for the telling.” She motioned. “You must bring your friend into my house so I can look at his wound.”

Over Orm’s weak protests, Magnus lifted the smaller man out of the cart and carried him into the dwelling. Bundles of herbs were hung from the ceiling and all around the walls. In the center of the structure was a hearth with a steaming cauldron. Magnus lay Orm on a pallet by the fire. Brina entered and watched anxiously as Niamh knelt beside Orm and began to examine him.

Feeling uncomfortable inside the crowded dwelling, Magnus went out to wait with Ailinn.

“I hate to think of leaving Brina here,” she said. “What if Orm dies? What will happen to Brina then?”

“She can go to Niall the Metalsmith. If Orm is unable to do so, then I’m certain Niall could find someone trustworthy to take Brina back to Ireland.”

Ailinn nodded, looking grim.

A short while later, Niamb came out of the dwelling and said, “He’s sleeping now.”

“What do you think?” Magnus asked. “Will he survive?”

“There’s no way to know. Much depends on how strong his body and his spirit are.”

“I must say goodbye to him,” said Magnus.

“You may do so as soon as he wakes,” Niamb answered.

“When will that be?”

Niamb shrugged. “

“We should fetch Orm and Brina’s things from the ship,” said Ailinn. “Perhaps by the time we return he’ll be awake.”

“We should also fetch your payment,” Magnus said, looking at Niamh. “What is it you desire? Gold? Silver? Or would you rather have foodstuffs or firewood, practical things?”

“What I would like is for you to promise to do something for me.”

“What’s that?” asked Magnus.

“I have cache of treasure hidden away in Ireland,” Niamh answered. “I wish for you to bring it to me.”

“Where is this treasure to be found?”

“It’s in the northwestern part of the island, near a place called Lissanglas.”

“And you want us to retrieve it and bring it here?” Magnus asked.

“Aye. That’s my price for healing your friend.”

Everything grew more and more complicated
, Magnus thought with a wave of weariness. Once they finally got to Ireland, he had to defeat Ailinn’s enemies, regain control of her family’s lands, and now accomplish this feat. He felt like a hero in a skald’s tale who must overcome a dozen obstacles to impress the gods and win their favor. Yet he had no choice but to agree to Niamh’s request. If he didn’t say he would retrieve the treasure, she might let Orm die.

“Is this treasure guarded?” he asked.

Niamh smiled. “Only the spirits of the dead. It’s in a grave.”

Magnus repressed a shudder. He’d almost rather fight an army than search a grave.

“I’m the rightful owner of the treasure, if that’s what concerns you,” Niamh said.

“I’ll fetch you this treasure,” said Magnus, “But only if Orm lives. He must recover and find me in Ireland. Then the two of us will seek out this treasure and return it to you.”

Niamh gazed at him for a long while. He grew uncomfortable, and little prickles of dread built along his spine. At last, she nodded. “It’s a bargain.”

Magnus, sitting on his sea chest, wielded the long oar in rhythm with the rest of the crew. Their progress was slow, but gradually the
Dragonsbreath
made its way down the River Laune in southwest Ireland. Magnus doubted they would be able to travel too far inland. Ailinn had warned this was a relatively shallow river without enough draft to keep a large ship afloat. But since the river ran through her family’s lands, it seemed like the best place to put in.

He glanced briefly toward the prow, where Ailinn stood, watching the river bank intently. Before he started rowing, he’d gotten a good look at the surrounding landscape, and it was every bit as green and lush as he’d imagined it would be. His pulse raced with excitement, and he had to remind himself they still had a long way to go before they took possession of this territory. But if they succeeded, it would be a dream come true.

His thoughts went back to the day he’d helped row another vessel into the longphort of Dublin. He’d been filled with a sense of expectation, as if he knew something was going to happen that would change his life forever. And it had. He’d gone from being a hired crewman with hopes of someday owning his own ship, to the captain of a large vessel. Now he was on the verge of taking possession of something he hadn’t dare dream of a month ago: land, rich, fertile land. Even more amazing, he would end up being a lord of sorts. A jarl, or king as the Irish called their leaders.

He glanced again at Ailinn, admiring the way the soft light of the overcast sky brought out the rainbow hues of her coloring. Her hair, gleaming gold with hints of red. Her fair skin, the soft shade of rose petals. Her eyes, rare and magical with the colors of sky, sea and meadow. Ah, the memory of the first time he’d seen her. She’d been so lovely, so regal. He’d known immediately she was a princess. Now—if they succeeded in their plan—she would be a queen.

His thoughts returned to the struggle ahead of them. But before he had time to consider their plans, there was a scraping sound as the ship’s hull encountered the river bottom. From his position at the steering oar, Oleif called, “That’s it. She’ll go no farther.”

Magnus gave the order to stop rowing, then rose to confer with Oleif, who’d become their steersman since Vibold had decided to remain with the
Seawolf
. Oleif pointed out that the starboard channel was slightly deeper. If they could get the ship unstuck and into that channel, they should be able to get closer to the shore, so they could dock the vessel properly.

Magnus ordered most of the men to disembark. Standing chest deep in the water, they began to push the ship in the direction Oleif had indicated. Gradually, she came free of the river bottom, and they were able guide her into the other channel and then the short distance to shore. As they were landing, Ailinn called down to Magnus, “Look.”

He glanced to where she pointed and saw two youths on the bank up river. It appeared they’d been fishing, but now were collecting their gear. They moved with haste and their expressions were fearful.