Nessa’s hands were clutched tightly together; still, her voice was that of a leader, level and considered. “My lord, I thank you for your wisdom in choosing to withdraw your men from the Light Isles. That is a great gain for my people. As to the future, I am not so foolish that I cannot see a time of change is upon us. All I seek is a respite, enough time to prepare. Without that, the wisdom of the ancestors will indeed be lost. My lord, I am not entirely without practicality. Many of our able-bodied men were slain, in the rout at Ramsbeck, in the assault on the Whaleback, or alone and silently while on watch in darkness. Our women and children are strong, but not so strong that they can make up all that was lost. We need help. Your Wolfskin, Eyvind, is prepared to stay and offer us that if you will release him. We had hoped that he would stay.” The well-controlled voice cracked. It had been a very long time to remain strong.
“Your problem can be solved another way,” Magnus said, and Eyvind remembered that the Jarl himself had always had a fondness for games. “When I allowed my men to journey here with Ulf, some of them were given leave to stay on and settle. Hakon was one. Alas, Hakon is no longer with us. Thord might be persuaded to remain here; I’m told his woman has taken a liking to the place. I dare say one or two other volunteers may be found, provided you’re able to guarantee their safety once the rest of us sail. An easy matter, I think. You should get your complement of able-bodied men.”
“My lord,” Nessa’s voice was shaking now, “I don’t think I have made myself sufficiently clear. My grasp of your tongue is less than perfect, I know. If one or two men wish to stay on, I will consider them. But it is this warrior, in particular, whom I wish to retain.”
Somerled grinned. “As I said,” he commented.
“Mmm,” mused Magnus with the trace of a smile. “A dilemma, for I, too, wish to retain him. Let’s hear what the man himself has to say. Step forward, Eyvind.”
He stood before them, his wolfskin on his shoulders, his sword by his side, the beating of his heart now strong and steady. The rage was gone and with it the last traces of uncertainty. He looked at Nessa. “You know what’s in my heart,” he said. “I have sworn to be guard and protector to your people, and I would do no less for you. It is a lifelong promise. My lord Jarl, I ask to be released from my bond to you and permitted to remain on the islands. You are a fine and fair leader, a model for any man to aspire to. But I must walk on my own path now, and follow the voice within me. Will you let me go?”
“Lifelong promise, huh!” Somerled spat. “Our friend here breaks vows and changes allegiance as often as a courtier changes his shirt. What about his oath of loyalty to me? What about his lifelong vow to Thor? You can’t trust him, Nessa. He’ll serve you awhile then toss you aside as soon as another great cause takes his fancy. Eyvind is no hero. He’s nothing but a big man with a limited capacity for thought and a newfound penchant for attempting what’s just a little beyond him. You’d have been much better to stick to killing, old friend. You’re so good at that.”
“Enough!” Magnus’s voice was like a thunderclap; everyone jumped. “I did not give you leave to speak. Well, Eyvind,” this in a different tone, “I see a solution here. A test: a test of your ability to carry out the duties this lady seems to envisage for you. We know you are strong and determined. We know you are steadfast and courageous. Now you must show us that you have also learned wisdom.”
“What do you mean, my lord?” Even as he spoke, Eyvind realized what was intended. A dark matter indeed: the most perilous of games.
“You must pronounce sentence on Somerled,” Magnus said quietly. “Lady Nessa herself set you the task, and I think you must pass the test not simply to satisfy myself and the folk assembled here, but also the lady. If I am content with your judgment I will release you from my service. And I will consider your offense of disobedience to your chieftain fully acquitted. If your decision fails to please me, or the court, or the lady, then you must honor your vow to me and return to Rogaland with my vessel, before next full moon. Once in Freyrsfjord, I would expect at least another five years’ service from you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Do you need time to consider? This man’s life hangs in the balance, after all, and he is your brother, sworn in blood. Such a decision is not made lightly.”
“Odin’s bones, can we just get on with this?” Somerled’s tone was brittle. “I’ve never known such a tedious, long-winded debate—”
“I need no farther time,” Eyvind said. His heart was beating hard now, hard and quick, and yet at the same time he felt a curious sort of calm settle over him. There was no need to think about what he would say. The answer was there inside him, arrived complete and unbidden. He turned to face Somerled. “You are indeed my brother,” he said quietly. “The marks we bear are witness to that bond, and I have done my best to honor it. You think I have betrayed that promise, I know. But it is not so. I have watched as you made your path through life, as your mind grew ever more cunning, your decisions and your actions harder to understand. I have wondered, often, what it was that drove you, why the craving for recognition burned in you so strongly that it rendered you blind to the consequences of your actions. It seemed you could see no man’s pathway but your own. In time I recognized the way you had chosen was wrong; it came to me that you had taken an ill turning a long time ago, that you had wandered almost beyond the reach of the most loyal friend. There was a foretelling—you must remember it—”
“Get on with it, will you?” muttered Somerled.
“It is never too late for a man to go back to that fork in the road and try again,” Eyvind said. “Brother Tadhg would tell you it is just a matter of recognizing you were wrong. You haven’t learned how to do that, Somerled. Your eyes are still closed to the possibility, but that does not mean you cannot learn. I have not betrayed our oath. That I speak these words tonight, after all that you have done, is proof of my loyalty to that bond.”
“What is it you’re proposing, to incarcerate me among a gaggle of proselytizing Christians so that I suffer a gradual demise from sheer boredom? Come on, Eyvind. You know how to do this neatly and quickly. I’ve seen you dispatch numerous victims with the ruthless touch of an expert hunter. Just get it over, will you?” His eyes were shadow-dark; a terror of the unknown looked out from their depths. Eyvind saw that, perhaps for the first time in his life, Somerled had absolutely no idea what to expect from him.
“I would not choose imprisonment,” Eyvind said. “There is no place here in the islands where you could be held: no place where your life would be worth more than a scrap of straw from the midden. I would not send you back to Rogaland. There’s not one among our countrymen would offer you safe passage. Nor would I weigh your penalty in ells of cloth or pieces of silver, for there’s no treasure in the world would buy pardon for what you have done.”
“Then,” Somerled said with a crooked smile, “there’s not much choice, is there? Death at sunrise seems the only remaining option.”
“You know,” Eyvind said, “I might once have thought that myself. Indeed, I’ve come very close to administering your punishment by my own hands: as close as a hair’s breadth, I think. I’ve been contemplating courage, Somerled. I’ve been called courageous tonight, and it warmed my heart to hear it. But there are far braver folk here.” He looked about him: at Nessa’s lovely face, now touched by a delicate pink flush in the cheeks; at Margaret’s tight lips and ashen pallor; at Rona standing grim and strong, with the dogs by her side. He looked at Brother Tadhg, who bore a strapping around his ribs, and bruises on his face. “Fine people, who have endured far worse than I ever faced, and remained strong and good. I see in their faces the marks of your cruelty, the scars inflicted in your blind quest for power. And I see in them a strength that you could not combat, for all the grip of fear you placed on our own men, so that they obeyed your will, despite themselves. It seems to me you never stopped to think, to consider. It seems to me you never allowed yours
elf the time for that.”
“You hold up girls and old women and weakling priests as models for me?” Somerled raised his brows; his mouth twisted. “This is ridiculous. There is no logic to your reasoning. These folk are nothing. They are the merest of pawns in the struggle for dominance here. They will not last. Our own kind must prevail. You speak of time. It will not be so long before time proves the truth of my words.”
Eyvind took a deep breath. “You dismiss the priest as weak. Do you know how he and his kind made their way to this shore?”
Somerled did not reply. His expression changed almost imperceptibly. He had always been very quick at working out puzzles.
“You do know, I see that. But perhaps the Jarl and our newly arrived comrades do not. The brothers came here by sea, in tiny curraghs of skins and wattles. They set out from their home shore with no map but that of the heart, with no certainty of landfall but that which the voice of their god whispered in their ears. They journeyed under the soft light of the stars and the fierce heat of the midday sun. Little enough they carried with them: a water cask, a fishing line, a book of prayers. They floated at the mercy of ocean surge and treacherous current, driven by storm and gale, on a path known only to whale and seal, to gull and serpent, until the tide cast them up on the shore of the Light Isles. They sent up thanks to their god, and made a new life. That is courage, Somerled. It is a shining example to every one of us.”
Somerled waited, dark eyes fixed on Eyvind’s face.
“I was witness to the sickening sight of your men beating this priest,” Eyvind went on. “I heard his voice, steadfast as the blows rained down, calmly reciting the fair words of a prayer. A strong man indeed. Let us see if you can be as strong.”
A ripple of excited anticipation ran around the hall. Somerled folded his arms.
“You propose to administer a beating while I compose verses?” he queried in a show of bravado.
“No, my old friend. I would obtain just such a small boat as that which bore Tadhg and his kind safely across the sea from their homeland. I would place in it a water cask and a fishing line. And on the first tide after sunrise, I would set you adrift in this frail craft, on a westerly current into exile. Your path, then, would be determined by ocean and storm, and your destiny placed in the hands of whatever gods might have mercy on you. My hope would be that you learn wisdom and peace as Brother Tadhg did. It seems a fitting penalty.”
Somerled’s eyes had widened. For a moment, stark horror transformed his face as he recognized the finality in Eyvind’s words. Then the mask came down again, and he was once more calm.
Eyvind turned back to Magnus. “This is the sentence I have determined, my lord. I hope you think it satisfactory.”
“You know,” Magnus observed expansively, “I did think the young lady might be just a little biased when she referred to you as the only man among us capable of making this decision. A Wolfskin, young and impetuous, at the mercy of the fierce call to battle—such a man, surely, could not possess the wisdom required for such an impossible task. I see now that I was wrong. You are still the same man who charged forward against my enemies, a warrior brave to the point of insanity. That determination and that courage still blaze in your eyes. But you’ve changed. You have become the man these women see in the future of their islands: the father of kings. Your decision pleases me very well. Are all of you in agreement?”
The answering roar of approval made the whole hall shudder. Perhaps they had wanted blood, but there was a satisfaction in this that went beyond that. It was like the working out of an ancient tale, deeply strange and yet somehow inevitable. Surrounded by the clamor of acknowledgment, the pounding of fists on tables, Eyvind looked across and saw Nessa’s little smile and the warmth in her eyes, and a moment later he saw her turn suddenly white and crumple at the knees. He reached her side in two long strides, catching her in his arms before anyone else had time to move. His heart was pounding. Surely the gods would not be so cruel, not now, after everything…
“Sheer exhaustion,” Margaret observed, looking as if she herself were barely staying on her feet. “And she couldn’t eat, before. You’d best carry her through to my quarters and I’ll tend to her. A very strong girl; she’s been through a great deal.”
Nessa was feather-light in his arms. She was snow-pale and as limp as a doll, her long hair hanging to the floor as he carried her to the chamber she was sharing with Margaret. Rona followed just behind him, muttering to herself. He laid Nessa down on a pallet and tucked the covers over her. It was necessary, then, to give way to the wise woman, who produced a little vial, uncorked it and released a powerful, pungent odor that made his nose sting and his eyes water. Nessa’s eyelids fluttered. She stirred, and opened her eyes. Eyvind hovered, expecting to be banished at any moment from this domain of women, yet quite unable to tear his eyes away from her.
Now Rona was pouring water into a cup and putting it in his hand, gesturing. It was Margaret who spoke.
“You’re being given a little time, I think. Not much. I’m overly weary myself, and do not plan on undressing and getting into bed when there’s a Wolfskin present. Be quick. There are certain matters still to be attended to, but the two of us won’t be long at all.”
They left, not without a rather penetrating look from Rona. It was a warning of sorts; he knew he must continue to meet their expectations, that he would be measured and judged for the rest of his life. That was not such a bad thing.
“Did I faint?” Nessa asked as he held the cup to her lips. “I never did that before. Maybe I should have eaten some supper. It’s been such a long time, I hardly know if it is night or day.”
“Shh,” Eyvind said, easing her back to the pillows. “Don’t try to talk. You must rest.” His thumb lingered by her temple, brushing the soft strands of hair back from her face. She gazed up at him, her eyes slate-dark in the lamplit room.
“You’re sad, aren’t you?” she whispered. “Sad that you couldn’t make him understand.”
Eyvind bowed his head, saying nothing. She seemed to see right inside him sometimes, uncovering secrets he had hardly known were hidden there.
“And you’re sorry you had to do what you did,” Nessa said. “But it was right, Eyvi. You have given him a second chance. A generous gift; he has been less kind in his friendship.”
“I don’t know. It could be cruel. Such a journey is fraught with peril. It is a voyage across trackless seas. Who knows what landfall may be found before world’s end? He wanted death.”
“And you gave life. A man such as yourself could make no other choice. Eyvi?”
“Mmm?”
“Margaret will be back soon, and Rona will give you a lecture on keeping me awake, and another on not looking after yourself properly.”
“Mmm,” he said, his fingers stroking her hair where it lay like dark brown silk across her neck and shoulder.
“I wish you could stay here,” she said in a small voice.
Eyvind swallowed. “Might I kiss you good-night, do you think?” he ventured. Despite what had been between them, things seemed different now. He felt a certain constraint, almost as if they were starting all over again now that death did not overhang them so closely.
“Certainly not,” Nessa said, but she was smiling. “Don’t look so crestfallen, Eyvi. You have a jaw that’s covered in bruises and swollen like a ripe fruit, and I happen to know you had a tooth pulled earlier today. Such pursuits must wait—”
Her words were lost as he drew her up into his arms again, and touched his lips to hers quite gently, for a kiss, after all, can be as light as a butterfly’s wing provided one exercises control. It was only after a moment that her lips parted, and he felt her hands moving against his back and her tongue sliding across his own, jolting his body to instant, painful hardness. The kiss deepened; his fingers slipped inside her tunic to touch the smooth curve of her breast. And then he winced in pain, and Nessa drew away, a little breathless, laughter and concern mingled i
n her soft voice.
“I told you. One should not attempt so much so soon. There will be a time for us; it won’t be so long to wait. Will you sleep tonight?”
Between the ache of longing in his body and the consideration of what must be done at dawn, Eyvind thought that unlikely. “I’ll try,” he told her. “Now close your eyes and rest. Perhaps I should go.”
“Oh, no, not yet.” Her fingers tightened on his.
“Just a little longer, then. Though I have to say that to be so near, and not to do what I want so badly to do, causes me some discomfort.”
Nessa smiled. “Such discomfort is not solely the province of men, believe me. Still, we must not shock Rona. Perhaps you might put one arm around me, above the blankets, and rest your head here by my shoulder. Mmm. That feels very good. Maybe I really can sleep.”
In fact, when Rona did return not long after, she had to wake him, and as she ordered him off to the men’s quarters there was a smile on her weathered features. Margaret was with her, looking worn out; Ulf’s widow would be eager to return home now, Eyvind thought, back to her family in Rogaland. He bent to touch his lips once more to Nessa’s pure brow, to her heavy, shadowed eyelids, and very lightly to her mouth. She was fast asleep. Sleep sweetly, my Bright Star. My hand in yours. Rona made some further comment, not ungently. He must take steps to learn the language as quickly as he could, so he could talk to her, so he could talk to all of them. He would ask Tadhg to help him.
“Eyvind,” Margaret said dryly, “if you’re not out of this chamber by the time I count to five, I’ll summon your brother to drag you out. Good-night and sleep well. You chose wisely tonight.”