Rebel Warrior (Medieval Warriors #3) (29 page)

“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?”

“If the Northman is the one who murdered our parents, I care not.” 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 befriend him. What need ye?”

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

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

*     *     *

Margaret stepped through the door of their chamber 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. Duncan was tall for twelve summers and stood very straight, his features finely carved and his eyes dark like Malcolm’s. She could tell he was trying to play the man for his father.

“Good day, sir.”

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 English,” he added with a glance in Margaret’s direction.

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

The youth bowed before her. “Greetings, My Lady,” he said in the Saxon tongue.

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. He was aware 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. Unlike most evenings when she came with her cousin to join the queen’s ladies, 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.

Angus walked 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 stood still waiting for the captain to catch up.

When Colbán reached him, the captain appeared angry and panting 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 very 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 the others, hidden in a stand of trees on one side of the harbor, her heart telling 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 not fail to act.

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 see to 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 let out a sigh. The man was impossible. “My maidservant, Deidre, is on that ship and I must save her ere the murderer sails with her to Norway.”

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

“Aye, I suppose we must. Lead on, Scribe.”

Catrìona felt a sudden wave of relief wash over her. In truth, she had been concerned for her brother and Angus. They 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 falcon 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 close where he could protect him.

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’s 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. Steinar drew his sword as his feet touched the deck, the steel hissing 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 men had been sleeping, but quickly roused to grab their 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 slid 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. The Northman swung his sword, slicing through air as Steinar stepped to the side, avoiding the bulky Northman’s blade.

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

Steinar heard the sounds of swords clashing behind him. “You face an English rebel 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, like cornered animals, fought Steinar, Angus and Colbán. 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 had stumbled. Still, each man fought on, seeking mastery over his opponent.