Chapter 24
It was worth all they had been through to see the smile on Ainsel’s face when Gilda appeared and flung herself at Ainsel. They clung together, tears streaming down their faces, all signs of the shield-maidens he had seen fighting off these same folk disappeared.
After they had calmed down, Gilda took Ainsel by the top of her arms, above the leather arm shields she wore and complained, “How could ye do this, come after me, and with only three of ye. It will ne’er work.”
“Calm down, Gilda, it already has. Look at MacLoughlin and Thorsen, they’re near daggers drawn, but yon auld bears are nae important. Calder is alive.”
Rory thought Gilda’s knees might buckle, sliding her down at Ainsel’s feet. He left MacLoughlin and Thorsen arguing and caught her afore she fell. “It’s true, Gilda. He went into the Ness but managed to grab hold of the mast as it toppled. He was fortunate to survive, for he floated most of the night afore washing up on the beach.”
Gilda’s breath left her lungs in long shudders, pressing a fist against her breastbone as she tried to come to terms with the news. On any other day, a woman would be laughing, delighted to learn her man wasnae dead, as she had believed. However this wasnae a day like any other and, after all they had been through, Gilda had felt her love lost. While Rory ached for Calder, Ainsel did for Gilda—for their friendship. It wasnae likely either of them would e’er experience another day to match it. When she could finally speak, Gilda looked frae Rory to Ainsel and ventured a question, “Where is he now?”
“He’ll be all right, Gilda, I promise ye.” Ainsel looked up at him as if begging for support.
“The lad was cauld as an iceberg when they found him. When we left they were warming him up again and seeing to the wound in his ribs.”
That set the lassie off again—hysterical. “I saw him get wounded. We were fighting side-by-side, doin’ well. Then this big lout frae the Orkney boat cut him and pulled him o’er the bow. I tried catch him, but it wasnae to be.” Gilda was crying again but the water pouring frae her eyes didnae halt her tale as she sobbed. “Fire was swallowing up the other boat, and after Calder hit the water the mast came down on him. I didnae see him resurface. I was certain he was dead.”
Gilda turned toward Ainsel now. “With Calder gone I had naught to live for, whereas Ainsel—“
The raven let out a screech, cutting Gilda off and startling the two men, making it worthwhile.
Rory saw a look pass betwixt the women that puzzled him, then she was speaking again. “Ainsel had Axel and a bairn needs its mother. That’s why I did what I did, claimed to be Ainsel so she and the bairn…”
If Rory let them go on talking the tide would turn against them. They needed to move soon back to the boat or the power of their initial approach would diminish. As it was, he could hear the quarrel stutter to a halt and swiftly said, “Come now lassies, let’s be off afore they realise we’ve gone.”
Too late. MacLoughlin stepped down among them. “I’m still missing a wife,” he muttered as Rory stepped in his way.
Gripping the hilt of his sword, he suggested, “Mayhap that’s a subject ye should bring up with yer guid friend, Thorsen.” Rory shot an intimidating glance at the other man, aware he would be the one to yield first. A man whau had very little always felt as if he had the most to lose, so Rory continued, “After all, Nils Larsen came frae Orkney. Ainsel is already a widow, it would be a pity were it to happen twice in the same year.”
He hadnae expected Ghillie to speak up, yet he did. Stepping closer, he let the raven perch on his arm while he stroked its head. “The results might not be what ye both wished for. I dinnae necessarily see either of ye dead just yet, if ye tread carefully. That said, I do see others as leaders in yer place.”
MacLoughlin grimaced like a cornered squirrel, all red hair and protruding front teeth. “I could cut ye down where ye stand.”
Ghillie started to laugh. “Ye remind me of stories my father told me about my grandfather Erik the Bear. He was an expert at bluster. It didnae keep him alive. Rory’s father and his uncle, the McArthur, both had a hand in the Bear’s death. Isnae it strange how some things run in families? And in case ye have not counted there are more than a guid handful of us here, four against yer one.”
There was a smile on Ghillie’s face as he paused and looked past Rory, toward the shore, and finished by asking MacLoughlin’s pardon. “I’m afraid I miscounted; the rest of us have just arrived.”
Rory swung around on his heel, though his hand remained fisted on the hilt of his sword in case Ghillie was up to mischief. When he discovered his cousin spoke true, he too began to smile. “MacLoughlin and Thorsen, let me introduce others of my family and friends.”
He hadnae expected his father to be pleased, but the frown on his face was made worse by the way his scar cut across his face, through his eyebrow from brow to cheek. Rory ignored it, for he usually ne’er noticed. “Father, this is MacLoughlin frae Ireland, the one whau abducted Olaf’s wife when ye were at Caithness all yon years ago. Now he’s intent on stealing Olaf’s granddaughter.” Rory’s lip curled. “Given his age, I call that ambitious.”
Gavyn scowled at the Irishman, exactly as Rory had hoped. As a weapon his father’s scar had its uses. “The other is Thorsen, Jarl of Orkney.”
Gavyn was also capable of turning the other cheek. “I’m sorry for the trespass. Word reached us of the attack on Caithness. Olaf is a cousin of the Comlyns.” He nodded at his companions one after the other, “Nhaimeth Comlyn, Ghillie’s father, Rob McArthur, my nephew, and Jamie Ruthven all trained by the McArthur of Cragenlaw. Ye will have heard of him as a guid friend of King Alexander and with them, Dhugal Robertson of Sgian, whau saved Alexander’s life.”
Rory’s father looked around all these men—family and lifelong friends whau had faced enemies greater than a jumped up Irish chieftain, one whau had cozened an impoverished Jarl into aiding him attack an auld friend, all because he obviously wasnae man enough to keep his wife happy.
The fight had completely deserted Thorsen, and MacLoughlin seemed somewhat diminished in the presence of a true chieftain and leader of men. “What do ye say, Father? Is this a guid time to return to Caithness?”
Gavyn sent an unnecessarily grim nod in his direction and Rory knew talk of his rebellion was merely postponed. “Aye, let’s be off, men. There’s naught for us here.”
So that was Rory’s father. Ainsel couldnae prevent herself staring open-mouthed. She’d thought Rory took up a lot of space in the world. Put him beside his father and that space doubled. It was nae wonder Thorsen was shaking in his boots. Even MacLoughlin appeared aware he had more than met his match, and whau wouldnae be nervous when ye looked at the men Gavyn Farquhar had brought with him? The newcomers made a formidable force.
To Ainsel’s mind, Rory’s scheme would have worked, just as his plan for the dragon-boats had successfully put paid to Thorsen’s contribution to MacLoughlin’s o’er-blown ambitions.
Gilda was still hanging onto her arm, fingers curled around her armguard as if scared to let go. That wasnae what dragged a sigh frae Ainsel’s darkest depths. It was the knowing that all Rory’s efforts hadnae changed aught. She still couldnae leave Caithness to live with him at Dun Bhuird. Her shame, and finally fear, had penned her into a place she was unable to move past. Worst of all was being aware that all of the hurdles blocking her way were of her own making.
She heard Rory ask, “What do ye say, Father, is this a guid time to return to Caithness?”
With a nod, Farquhar put an end to the strife Nils had landed her in—her and Gilda both. “Aye, let’s be off, men,” he said easily, full of confidence. “There’s naught for us here.”
She hugged Gilda then pulled her friend with her as she made to accompany Rory and the men whau thought enough of him to leave their homes, determined to make certain nae ill befell him. This time her sighs didnae signal frustration at her foolishness, simply relief and, surprisingly, a tinge of the kind of contentedness she had ne’er experienced, not since she fell for Nils’s silver tongue and into a dark pit of his making. She couldnae remember the first time he had threatened her grandfather’s life, for it hadnae been the last. It shamed her now to realise how she had let it tie her hands
Ainsel was leaning close to Gilda, whispering, “If there was ever a better way to prove that ye love me…” she shook her head and squeezed Gilda’s arm. “Ye have always been a mite impulsive, and I love ye for it but, Thor’s hammer, I’m glad it’s all o’er.” A sigh she had feared to release afore left her lips. “Just think, it willnae be long till ye see Calder again.”
That was when the Orkney woman attacked her.
“It’s all yer blame that Nils is dead,” she shouted. Ainsel released Gilda’s arm and turned, using her shield to fend the stranger off. “Thought ye had a braw man, did ye? Well, ye were mistaken,” she yelled, dodging round the shield and reaching for Ainsel’s face, fingers curved like claws. “He ne’er was husband to ye, couldnae be.”
Ghillie’s raven flew at the madwoman’s head. That was the moment Ainsel saw the dagger coming at her in the woman’s other hand and did what came naturally to her. The toes of her boots scraped a crescent in the dirt as she spun, using the shield as she had been taught, the way she had practiced less than a se’night ago with Rory.
How everything had changed! As she finished the instinctive movement, the woman’s back touched the ground, one of Ainsel’s boots holding her down, the other on the wrist of the hand clasping the dagger, while Ainsel’s sword pointed at her throat—done swiftly the way she ought to have done to Nils.
Not even that shut the Orkney woman’s mouth. She screamed abuse at Ainsel, flailing under the weight of Ainsel’s boot on her chest as she sought purchase, fingers scrabbling in the dirt. “He was ne’er yer husband, he was mine. I’m his widow, and ye are naught but the slut he thought to get rich frae.”
For a few moments, Ainsel had almost felt sorry for her, another poor soul whau had fallen into Nils’ toils. By the looks, she was a guid few years aulder than Ainsel, her clothes far frae new, but Ainsel’s sympathy dissolved into thin air as she recognised the dagger lying by her attacker’s hand. Nils had taken it with him, had it at his belt the day he left. “Gilda, pull her to her feet.”
Rory was there afore Gilda. “I’ll do it, be more than happy to since ye just made my father smile,” he said. Gripping the woman around her shoulders, he pulled her upright.
Ainsel returned her sword to its scabbard then bent to pick up the dagger, turning it in her fingers, testing its weight and examining the carving on its hilt. “Where did ye get this?”
“Nils gave it to me for protection.” A sly smile slanted across her lips. “He told me if his plan didnae work out, I might need it to protect myself. He ne’er said it might be frae his slut.”
“Yer saying he came here afore he left for Ireland?”
“Aye. He said he had missed me. He was but a lad when we wed, and me already a widow, but when the silver my first husband left me ran out, he decided to go to Caithness in search of more. It was a pity yer grandfather hadnae been more generous to ye. Otherwise he wouldnae have had to abduct MacLoughlin’s wife. He meant to hold her for ransom.”
Ainsel looked about her. Everyone was listening as she heard the last few years of her life reduced to a few sentences, yet somehow she nae longer cared. She felt more free than she had since she met Nils. Though it didnae excuse her deception of Rory, she did feel that the discussion she needed to have with him must happen once they returned to Caithness and Axel.
Rory’s father took it upon himself to have the last word. He strode forward and, although MacLoughlin was a step higher, he faced him eye to eye. “MacLoughlin,” he said in a gruff tone that made Ainsel wonder how Rory had had the courage to defy him—defy his father to come back for her. She hoped in time he would decide she was worth it.
The Irishman shifted nervously on the step, waiting for Farquhar to continue. Indeed he was a sorry sight, his grizzled hair and beard blowing about his face in the breeze that had risen off the land—the rising wind that would take them back to Caithness.
Turning his head, Rory’s father looked first at the woman Rory had under control, then back toward MacLoughlin. “I thought I might leave ye to the condemnation of yer men, but I’ve decided on a better punishment. Since it was Nils Larsen whau stole yer wife and lost her at sea, then ye shall have his real wife in place of her—to my mind a much more fitting solution. I have but one suggestion for ye: Dinnae let this one near yer weapons.”
The four of them would sail home in the dragon-boat she, Rory and Ghillie had arrived in, as would the Scots whau had followed them to Orkney. On the way back to their vessels, Ghillie’s father stayed at his side, talking, talking, talking. Nhaimeth Comlyn was the first dwarf she had laid eyes on, and she admired how his group of friends didnae treat him differently frae any of the others.
She felt heart-sore, knowing that Rory would likely turn away frae her once he was told the truth. However, after a word with the younger men, he came back to her and Gilda with some news of his own. “My mother rode up to Caithness with the others. She is tending to Calder, which we can count as fortunate as she is a skilled healer. By the time we get back to Caithness, Gilda, I’ve nae doubt he’ll be on the shore waiting to lift ye frae the boat.”
His mother: the words echoed in Ainsel’s brain.
If Gavyn Farquhar was his father, what kind of a woman was strong enough to make her life with him? Ainsel might nae longer feel herself totally to blame, but she couldnae lie, she was terribly worried about the future.