Rebel Warrior (Medieval Warriors #3) (30 page)

A shriek from inside the tent when a Northman stepped on it told Steinar the lass was inside and afraid. “Stay down, Deidre!” he shouted, hoping she would draw comfort from his use of her name.

For a time, he and Colbán fought back to back until one of the Northmen lunged toward Niall who stood in the prow nocking another arrow. Steinar raced across the deck and blocked the sword aimed at Catrìona’s brother. The Northman turned from the archer to engage Steinar and the fighting continued.

*     *     *

The sounds of battle erupted all around Catrìona, echoing in her ears as they had on the day the vale was attacked, the same sounds she had heard in her dreams. When Deidre screamed, she could be patient no longer.

I must get Deidre to safety.

Bracing herself for what lay ahead, she cautioned Giric, who stood at her side. “Do not board the ship. You must promise.”

“Aye,” the boy said reluctantly. “I promise.” But he picked up some rocks and followed close on her heels as she left her hiding place and ran to the side of the longship where the fighting raged.

She could hardly blame the boy for wanting to be of use, for she did not like standing idly by as those she loved fought her enemies.

Surveying the deck from where she stood, she saw the fighting stretched from midship to the prow. Assuring herself the king’s men lived and Steinar and her brother stood strong, she scrambled over the side and hurried toward the back of the tent. “Deidre!” she hissed a whisper.

Her handmaiden emerged and flew into Catrìona’s arms. “Oh, mistress,” she sobbed. “You found me!”

“I never gave up,” said Catrìona. “Come, we must get you away before we catch one of those swords.” She pulled Deidre toward the side of the ship, thinking to drag her to safety, when one of the Northmen, seeing them escaping, plunged toward them, his sword flashing.

“And now we have two,” he said as he reached them and slowly brought the edge of his sword to her neck, stopping just short of her skin. “Ivar will be pleased.”

She froze, afraid to breathe.

Beside her, Deidre cried, “Nay!”

Suddenly, behind the Northman loomed Steinar like a vengeful god. The sword held to her neck flew away with a blow from Steinar’s short blade. Dropping his sword, Steinar grabbed the Northman’s long hair, drew back his head and sliced across his neck.

Blood spurted onto Catrìona, the smell of it nearly making her retch.

“Go!” shouted Steinar and picked up his sword, turning to confront another.

Catrìona dragged Deidre to the side and they scrambled over the gunwale to the ground. As she looked back, she saw Colbán trip over a body on the deck, leaving his shoulder open to a Northman’s blade. He grunted as it sliced through his tunic and he sagged to the deck. Steinar ran to defend him against the killing blow, but before Steinar could reach him, an arrow whooshed through the air and lodged deep in the Northman’s chest.

From the prow, Niall shouted, “ ’Tis two!”

*     *     *

Steinar could feel his leg weakening from his many stumbles on the deck, now slippery with blood and strewn with bodies of two Northmen. Colbán was wounded and unable to lift his sword. The two remaining Northmen breathed heavily as they plunged their swords toward Steinar and Angus but the two fought side by side, battling the Northmen back. Niall, unwounded in the prow, nocked another arrow.

’Twas then the Northmen’s dark-haired leader made his appearance, leaping onto the deck of the ship. “You would dare take what is mine?” He waved his sword slowly back and forth in front of Steinar. Even in the gloaming, the steel glistened. Beside the man called Ivar stood the one Steinar had dubbed Husky, returned now that he had his master to fight with him.

“She is not yours, Ivar,” said Steinar. “Do Thorfinn’s sons know you took her in your attack on the Vale of Leven?”

“They know naught of it. And there will be no one to tell them once you and these few with you are dead.”

Ivar’s arrival had brought a pause in the fighting and distracted the Northman fighting Angus. Out of the corner of his eye, Steinar saw Catrìona’s guard seize his opportunity and plunge his sword into the man’s belly, piercing through his body.

Angered, Ivar and Husky attacked with vengeance, the third Northman joining them, three swords against two. Steinar had been in worse scrapes but he was tiring and liked not the odds. Ivar was skilled and fresh for the fight. But Steinar’s determination to kill the man who had destroyed Catrìona’s family gave him new strength.

From the side of the ship, rocks flew through the air to pelt their Norse adversaries. Out of the corner of his eye, Steinar glimpsed Giric raising another rock. “Get him out of here!” he yelled to Niall.

Niall dropped from the prow and came around the side to grab the boy from his perch.

Steinar and Angus fought on, managing to hold off the three Northmen. It took all of Steinar’s strength to keep Ivar at bay, slicing his sword through the air in rapid strikes while dancing to avoid the Northman’s skilled blade.

An arrow flew through the air, piercing the chest of Husky, sending him to the deck.

“ ’Tis three,” came Niall’s cry.

“This one,” Steinar said, his tone full of scorn as his eyes narrowed on Ivar raising his sword, “is mine.” Blocking the sword’s blow with his own sword, he sent up a furious attack that backed the dark Northman to the side of the ship.

“And this one is mine!” yelled Angus as he swung his powerful sword at the man he fought. “Fer my lord, Cormac!” he shouted, cutting off the man’s head in one powerful stroke. The Northman’s body crashed to the deck, his head rolling to hit the side of the longship.

Steinar sheathed his short blade and gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands. “Now ’tis only you that remains,” he said to Ivar, disdain dripping from his words. Faster than the Northman could follow with his eyes, Steinar sliced across Ivar’s chest, leaving a long line oozing forth blood.

Ivar looked down at the widening streak of red, stunned.

Mayhap he has never been wounded
. A weakness Steinar did not have, for he was not afraid to take a blade. With all his strength, he swung and caught Ivar across the throat just as the Northman looked up.

*     *     *

Relieved the last of the Northmen had been dispatched to Hades, Catrìona leapt over the side of the ship and ran to Steinar, flinging herself into his arms and kissing him with wild abandon.

“Oh, Steinar!”

From behind her, Angus coughed. She turned to see her guard standing there with a disapproving look and blood coating his tunic.

A movement at the prow drew her eyes to where Niall stood with Giric, smiles on both their faces.

Realizing she had become a spectacle, she stepped back.

“I see,” said Colbán.

At his words, she turned to see him sitting against the hull, blood dripping from his shoulder. Guilt gripped her as she remembered the king’s captain had taken a blade. Rushing to him, she kneeled at his side. “Oh, sir, you
are
wounded.”

“Most grievously, madam,” he said sarcastically. She wondered if he referred to his shoulder or seeing her display of affection for Steinar. “But the wound will keep,” he said. “ ’Tis time we return to the king.” Colbán struggled to rise. Angus came to help him to his feet. “Malcolm will be sorry to have missed this,” said the king’s captain. “He does love a good fight.”

Colbán sagged in Angus’ arms and Steinar rushed to support the captain’s other side.

“Mind the rocks Giric has left on the deck,” said Niall with a smirk in the boy’s direction. Then, more seriously, he added, “They will make it hard going.”

Her brother offered to go to the tower to bring horses and a cart. Steinar agreed it would be better that Colbán not have to walk the distance.

Catrìona’s suggestion she ride in the cart with Colbán was accepted.

When the cart arrived, she climbed in to sit beside the wounded captain, pressing a cloth to his shoulder to staunch the bleeding. Deidre joined her. Steinar and Angus rode on either side of the cart and Niall behind.

The king’s captain dozed while Deidre told Catrìona of the last year the handmaiden had endured with the Northman named Ivar. “We did not go at once to Orkney,” she began. “The Northman, Ivar, made other ports as he plundered his way north. At some, he unloaded men and all the women, save me.”

“Why did he keep you?”

“Oh, mistress. You saved me, you did. He thought I was you!” At Catrìona’s puzzled expression, Deidre said, “Remember, I wore your gown. When the attack came, I was alone in your chamber, packing your things. ’Twas from there I was taken. Ivar could speak Gaelic as some of his men, that is how I learned he meant to ransom me, but then he changed his mind. I heard him tell one of his men he was going to take me with him to Norway. If you had not rescued me from his ship, I might never have seen you again!”

Catrìona reached out to grasp Deidre’s hand. “I never gave up hope. I never stopped praying you would be found.” She could not see her maidservant’s blue eyes but she heard the quiver in her voice. Relief flooded her and she thanked God for bringing Deidre back to her.

It was dark when they arrived back at the tower. Much confusion and many questions awaited them but all was delayed when the king saw his wounded captain.

“Summon my physic at once!” Malcolm yelled to his steward.

With Margaret’s permission and feeling responsible in some measure for what had happened to the bold captain, Catrìona followed the men carrying Colbán to his chamber high in the tower, leaving Steinar and the others to answer the king’s questions.

Audra, her eyes anxious with fear, hurried up the stairs behind Catrìona, saying she might be of assistance to the physic. Remembering the love Catrìona had seen in the eyes of Duff’s daughter for the king’s captain, she wholeheartedly agreed, urging Audra to come.

Colbán was awake when the physic cleaned and stitched his wound, bearing the pain uncomplaining. The king’s captain said little, but his eyes followed Catrìona as she helped the physic, handing him the things he requested from his pouch of medicines. The bear of a man lay back against the pillows, his muscled chest bared for the physic’s ministrations.

When the wound was stitched, Catrìona asked a servant to request the Culdee monk, who served in the chapel, to make a plaster for the wound. She had observed his well-kept herb garden and perceived he was knowledgeable in potions. The plaster the woman returned with smelled of mint but the servant told her it also contained yarrow.

“He said ’twill help the wound heal, my lady.”

Catrìona thanked her and when the physic was finished, with Audra watching, she applied the plaster to the wound herself.

Colbán gave her a small smile. “ ’Tis probably good the scribe was not wounded or I would see little of your care this night.”

“You have one better than I, good captain.” She looked toward Audra who had been attentive to Colbán’s every move. “Audra has taught me much and her heart is ever sympathetic to those in need, which you are, at least tonight. You have my thanks for aiding my guard and my brother.”

When the physic had gone, Colbán finally succumbed to sleep and Catrìona got to her feet, wanting to wash and change her bloodstained clothing before meeting her mistress.

While Colbán was awake, Audra had kept a discreet distance, sitting by his bedside. Now that he slept, she took his hand and held it between hers in a gesture, which, to Catrìona, spoke of more than just concern.

Tears began to fall from Audra’s eyes as she glanced up at Catrìona. “I will stay with him.”

Seeing the love in the woman’s eyes, Catrìona nodded, knowing that when she returned in the morning to check on the captain, Audra would still be here. “I will bring you some willow bark tea to give him for pain and a potion for sleep should he not be able to rest the night.” Then, thinking of her fellow lady, she added, “And some food for you.”

Audra gave her a faint smile. “Thank you.”

Catrìona placed her hand on Audra’s shoulder in comfort. “He fought bravely. You can be proud of him.”

Tears flowing unheeded, Audra said in a whisper, “I am always proud of him.”

Catrìona was aware that much happened after the battle on the Northman’s longship, but because she had been tending to Colbán, she had been spared the questions of the king and the Orkney jarls. But once she had changed, she went to see the queen, knowing she owed Margaret an explanation.

The queen was mild in her scolding. “You should have come to me, Catrìona, but I can understand your desire to save your maidservant. ’Tis clear that God was protecting you and for that I am most grateful.”

The queen was right, of course. To rescue Deidre had been an impulsive act, but she had not trusted Ivar to be honest, even with the king. She regretted Colbán’s wound, but she was not sorry for having gone after Deidre, who was now to share the chamber with her and Fia.

The next morning, Steinar assured her that he and Angus had answered all to the king’s and the jarls’ satisfaction. “Truth be told,” he said when they broke their fast, “I believe Paul and Erlend were embarrassed to have one such as Ivar living in their midst, hiding his perfidy behind their hospitality. They made excuses for not having spent much time with Ivar. It seems he was gone much of the time and now they know why.”

During that day, Colbán remained abed and Duff, still recovering from his own wound, rarely moved from his chamber. When Audra was not with Colbán, she was seeing to her father, running between the two. Catrìona worried for the lady’s well-being and frequently checked on her, offering help where needed.

Often, when Catrìona came to see the king’s captain, he would be protesting his confinement. “I should be on the practice field with my men!” Catrìona was unsurprised. Such a man, used to being outside, commanding his warriors, would rebel at having to remain abed.

Both she and Audra ignored his complaining.

The next day, Catrìona came to check on Colbán’s progress. When she approached his chamber, she found the door ajar.