Wolfskin (45 page)

“I did not intend to do you any harm,” Tadhg said.

Eyvind smiled. “No, I don't imagine so. I'm sorry I was rough. It could have been anyone. Can you tell me—” No, he could not ask.

“What is it you wish to know? I spend little time with your people now. Somerled finds my style of translation ill suited to his purpose. King Engus was less than pleased with the offer of peace your friend made to him.”

There was an assumption there, Eyvind thought, that he would be aware of this; surely Tadhg could not know where he had been?

“Has Somerled sent a messenger yet asking for the king's decision?” he asked cautiously. “Has Engus given an answer?”

“Not yet,” Tadhg answered, showing no surprise whatever at these questions. “The first day of spring, that was the deadline. We are coming close. But matters have overtaken Engus somewhat. His sister died this morning. It is a time of great sorrow for the Folk, made more painful yet by so many other losses since the summer. For these people the royal line is always the women's line, and this lady was a princess in her own right.”

Eyvind bowed his head and said nothing.

“Tonight is a time of solemn ritual on the Whaleback,” Tadhg went on. “I saw them this morning, but I will not stay for that; it is an observance of deep mourning. All will gather there to bid the lady a last farewell, and the ceremony will last deep into the night. Once she is laid to rest perhaps Engus will be ready to make his decision.”

“I heard—it seemed to me—the king did not see this as a choice,” Eyvind ventured. “It seemed that he would sacrifice his people rather than agree to Somerled's terms.”

Brother Tadhg was watching him intently. “It seemed to me thus, as well,” he said. “I believe we are poised on the edge of disaster, Eyvind. There are others on the Whaleback who agree with me.” There was a question in his tone.

Eyvind looked down toward the ruffled waters of the lake and the
sweet soft curves of the hills beyond. He felt the strength of the great stone at his back, he saw how the sky here seemed so wide, so open that it bathed the land in light. “You remember,” he asked, “how you once spoke to me about truth? About being my own man?”

Tadhg nodded.

“How much time do you think we have left?” Eyvind asked quietly. “I am hoping he will listen to me, if I go there now and try to tell him—he is my friend, after all, almost a brother. How long before the first day of spring?”

“Long enough, warrior.” Tadhg's eyes were bright. “But you should make haste. Your friend has gathered quite a force of armed men. My knowledge of warfare is somewhat limited, but it is plain even to me that Somerled will be ready to move the instant he hears from Engus. His men are hungry for battle.”

“It would not be battle,” Eyvind said, “but a bloody massacre. He must not do it. The treaty was ring-sworn; a man who breaks such an oath must bring down the gods' fury not just on himself, but on all his people. He must listen to me. I should go now. It's still a long way, and I'm not as strong as I was.”

“As to that,” observed Tadhg, “it seems to me you are a great deal stronger: a different man, almost. I think you have made a new friend since I saw you last.”

“Two,” Eyvind said.

“What will you say to Somerled when he asks you where you have been all this time?”

Eyvind had been pondering this earlier as he walked. “I can't remember anything at all since the day I left there—since Ramsbeck. It is all gone from my mind.”

Tadhg gave a nod of approval. “I've heard a blow on the head can do that. Now let me give you some advice, and then I too must be gone. I'm to meet Brother Lorcan not far from here and go on to the safe harbor. We've a chapel there and a small house where three of my brothers dwell. It looks across the water to High Island. Eyvind, if you have friends you can trust among your own people, make use of them now. If there is any way I can aid you, tell me. We both seek truth. We both seek to avoid the dark path that lies before all of us if Somerled proceeds unchecked.”

Eyvind looked at him. There had been a great deal unspoken. Still, the priest knew, as Somerled would know by now, that it was in a sacred place
of the Folk that the ghost of Eyvind and his spectral hound had manifested themselves. And Tadhg, it seemed to him, was the sort of man who worked things out rather quickly.

“I…there is one thing,” he said with some hesitation. “My brother Eirik—you said you were going south? Will you be close to Hafnarvagr?”

“Indeed I will. Our little church and cottage are a short walk along the shore from that settlement. You want me to find Eirik? Will he listen to me?”

“I must speak openly, I think, and hope I can trust you.”

Tadhg waited.

“My brother should be told that I am safe and well; my disappearance will have caused him some grief. But any messenger could bear him that news. It is for another reason that I ask you to seek him out. I intend to lay the truth about…certain matters…before Somerled today, as soon as I reach his hall and can speak to him in private. I have a piece of evidence that may surprise him. But I know he is clever, and highly skilled in matters of law; I know he has many supporters. It would be useful if…it would strengthen my case if—”

“I understand. It's highly unusual for a crime of this kind to have no witnesses at all, Eyvind. Your brother, placed as he is among the remnants of those men who sailed to High Island, might be in a position to gather information for you.”

“It must be quick, I think. Who knows how soon spring will be here? But I don't want to put Eirik at any risk. Getting home safe to his woman and children in Rogaland is his first wish.”

“Then I will simply lay things before him as best I can and leave the choice in his own hands,” Tadhg said quietly.

“I am grateful. You're a man of great courage. But you should take care. There are some on this island who have little respect for what you represent. I think even a priest must guard his speech and watch his step now.”

“We are all God's children, whatever our beliefs,” said the brother. “He holds us in his hand. If we can protect these innocent people from farther losses, we are bound to do so. I frowned once to see those matching scars, yours and his; it disquieted me to learn of the bond between you. But that very link may be our most potent weapon. If it gives you the power to alter Somerled's course, to turn him from his dark pathway, then you may yet make all good. Be brave, warrior. Hold fast to the truth.”

“That was what she said,” Eyvind whispered. “
We can make things bright and good again.
”

“If she can hold on to that hope,” said Tadhg, “after such terrible losses,
then it should not be so difficult for us. Now I must be off; Brother Lorcan does tend to fret when people are late. Farewell, Eyvind. I hope we may meet again in better times.”

“Farewell, and thank you. You should find Eirik staying with a man called Thord, a big fellow with a scar on his face. The cottage is at the eastern end of the settlement, by the water. Tell him to be careful.”

“I will. Go with God, Eyvind.”

Eyvind walked on as fast as he could, cursing his weakness. Once, before Ramsbeck, he could have covered this whole distance easily between sunup and midday. Now he would be lucky if he reached Somerled's hall before darkness fell. His mind was on Eirik, and the good times back home in Hammarsby: the snow fights, the long solitary walks under the dark pines, the exhilaration of speeding across the wide expanse of the ice-hardened river. Then there were those long evenings by the fire, warm together in the light of seal-oil lamps while the snow fell outside, blanketing the longhouse in quiet: the women's fingers fashioning things of beauty with needle and fine wool, Karl carving a tiny walrus from soapstone, and Bjarni frowning over his pattern board. He could imagine Eirik telling some tale of battles won, watched by dark-haired Oksana and her small, blue-eyed sons. Eyvind felt a wave of cold pass over him. Eirik must go home, he had folk waiting for him there. He should not have asked Tadhg to find Eirik. When the
Golden Dragon
sailed again for Rogaland, his brother must be on board, fit and well. They owed that to Ingi, and to all who waited, counting the days until their men came home again. It was strange, Eyvind thought, feeling the deep aching of his legs as he climbed a rise between dark, looming rocks—it was quite strange that he could no longer see himself anywhere in this vision. For one reason or another, it seemed to him that he would not be going back.

 

By the time he reached the outer perimeter of the settlement, his legs felt as if they scarcely belonged to him, and his sight was blurred by the throbbing in his head. The place was surprisingly quiet; only a few torches burned in the creeping dusk, and there was no movement of folk. The sentries challenged him; he stepped forward into the light, helm safely under his arm this time, and saw terror blanch their faces and cause their swords to shake in their hands before he summoned words of reassurance.

“Easy, lads,” he said. “I'm no ghost, but flesh and blood: the same man who shared your voyage from Rogaland last spring and sat with you at
table many a night. I've been away. Sick. Now I am returned and I must see Somerled without delay. Will you let me pass?”

“Eyvind!” The man's tone suggested there might still be some doubt. “You're alive!”

“Most certainly.” Eyvind slapped the fellow on the shoulder, and felt the ache in every muscle of his arm. It was just as well he had not been called upon to draw sword or brandish axe, for he doubted he'd the strength to lift either right now. “Feel this? I am no specter, but a living man.”

“Maybe so, but you seem far from yourself, Wolfskin,” observed the other fellow, an older man who had been one of Ulf's household guards. “You're nothing but skin and bone. Best be off indoors and stir the women to find you a bit of roast meat and a pot or two of ale. Then you'll want to be away again, no doubt.”

The first man nodded. “You got here just in time. That'll please the king well.”

Eyvind's head was fuzzy; he didn't seem to be understanding. “King?” he echoed.

“Not yet, maybe, but he will be by morning.”

Through the pounding of his head, Eyvind struggled to comprehend. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Who?”

The younger guard raised his brows. “Where've you been?” he queried in amazement. “Somerled Horse-Master, of course, King of Hrossey. I'll tell you something, that fellow may seem hard at times, but there's a man who knows how to make up his mind quickly and step forward without hesitation. A true leader, he is.”

There was a shadow in Eyvind's thoughts, though he still struggled to piece together the full meaning of the man's words. “I must see Somerled,” he said, “now, straightaway. I must talk to him, and persuade him—”

“He's not here,” said the older guard. “They left a while back. Best go in, have a bite to eat before you head off again. Long walk. Not so hard for your kind, I suppose.” And when Eyvind only gaped at him, he added, “Dawn attack, that's the plan. He'll welcome you with open arms, lad. How can they fail, with the hero of Ramsbeck leading them forward?”

Somewhere within Eyvind's mind the pieces of the puzzle locked together, and gave him an answer that turned him cold with horror. “You're saying he plans to attack Engus tonight? That he has already gone to the Whaleback?”

The two guards nodded. “Just our luck,” observed one, “to score sentry duty. Still, someone has to keep an eye on the womenfolk. There might be a
few more of them by tomorrow; some of those island girls aren't half bad, though they're on the scrawny side. I wouldn't say no, given the chance.”

“You've time to get there, Wolfskin,” said the other. “Low tide's just before dawn; that's when he'll move in.”

Now Eyvind's heart was thumping like a deep warning drum. Miraculously his head cleared and his mind began to work fast, faster than it had ever done before. “Who is here?” he demanded. “Thord? My brother?”

The sentries shook their heads. “Still in Hafnarvagr, the two of them. Somerled never called them in.”

No help to be had there. Very well, he must cast wider. “What about Lady Margaret?”

“Gone away. Somerled sent her off to stay on one of the farms, with her woman and a couple of guards. Safer, he reckoned.”

There was no time to ponder the oddity of that. It seemed to Eyvind quite obvious that the safest place was the settlement itself; besides, did not Margaret have a role to play as a leader of this community? Never mind that. She wasn't here; there was nobody else he might approach for help.

“I must go,” he muttered more to himself than to the guards. “I must be there before he advances on the Whaleback. It seems Somerled does not know these folk are in mourning. King Engus's sister died today: a royal princess. Tonight the king's people will be gathered for the solemn ritual of farewell. To attack at such a time is against all the rules of right engagement; truce in time of funeral rites is understood and respected even between the bitterest of enemies. Besides, didn't Somerled say he would await King Engus's reply before he attacked? Wasn't that supposed to be the first day of spring?”

The older guard's eyes narrowed. “Where have you been?” he asked sharply. “Who have you been speaking to?”

“Maybe we should take you in to answer some questions,” said the other. “Somerled doesn't like that kind of talk.”

Eyvind's hand moved to where Biter was slung on his back; his fingers curled around the handle. “Have you forgotten everything you learned among Ulf's fighting men?” he asked quietly. “Have you forgotten the very principles of combat? These folk will be weary, distressed, ill equipped to put up even a rudimentary defense. To mount an attack at such a time is an act of barbarism; it would be like mowing down a group of children.”