King Hereafter
Page 108
Having agreed to it, he placed the matter with firmness to one side of his mind and began to look for the people he wanted.
There were not so many. Bishop Jon and Bishop Hrolf, because the disjointed kingdom would not make matters easy, and there were some ways of solving the problem. Gillocher and Morgund and Scandlain and some of the other young men, who would need all the tact they hadn’t yet got to survive. Tuathal, whom he had lost temporarily, and Lulach his stepson, who kissed him and said, ‘As soon as my mother leaves, I shall be gone. I have nine months. I told you.’
He paused. ‘What are you thinking? That I didn’t warn you of this? But I am only a river, with all my voices. And no two drops of water reflect the same way.’
‘What am I thinking? I was wondering,’ said Thorfinn slowly, ‘what story the river will carry of me?’
Lulach smiled his sweet smile, and his swan-white hair shone in the sunshine. ‘So many stories,’ he said, ‘that, a thousand years from today, every name from this world will have faded save those of yourself and your lady. That is immortality.’
‘The dream of every Viking. Instead of truth, I think today you offer me comfort. You were always kind,’ Thorfinn said. ‘Help her, Lulach.’
‘You know me,’ said Lulach. ‘You know me now. I will say anything.’
He met Tuathal at the door of the hall, where it was hard to talk because of the excitement, with people pressing about and shouting to him. They appeared to be quite confident that he would defeat and kill Malcolm. He said to Tuathal. ‘I’d better talk to them presently, so that they know what to do. And Thorkel Fóstri has to be told. He’ll make no effort to stay. The wind is still from the south.’
Tuathal said, ‘They’ll get to Orkney in time.’ His face looked grim and drawn. ‘The Lady is wondering why Malcolm accepted the challenge. I must confess, so am I.’
Change, and adapt. Sitting in one’s silks in the sunlight and observing, unobtrusive among the servants of Tostig, a familiar face: that of Copsige of Cornholm, who sometimes fished off the Gloup. Thorfinn said, ‘Oh, Malcolm knew I would lose. He has that kind of conceit.’
Tuathal said, ‘My lord … You must prepare her.’
Thorfinn said, ‘She is prepared. As she was Gillacomghain to Moray, so she will be Thorfinn to Alba. You, too, will be needed. Under you, the land will hold steady.’
‘I cannot care,’ Tuathal said. ‘This is a day when the priest needs a priest. I cannot feel God’s friendship. I cannot accept such an ending.’
‘Why not, if I can?’ said Thorfinn. ‘I failed. I pay the price of my failure. There is no injustice there. As to the good or bad in what I have done, I am content to leave others to judge.’
His face was calm. He said, ‘Forget that Scotia ever existed. There will still be Alba. And Orkney.’
To Groa he said, ‘They will take you to a tent, and you will not look out.’
‘I will not look out,’ she said.
He said, ‘You have everything there is of me, save a little I gave to my people. Now you hold that as well.’
And last of all, when he had released her and moved to the door, to stand outside where all the sky was enclosed with thick hills and dark, heavy forests, he said, because he could not prevent himself, ‘When next you stand by the sea, say goodbye for me.’
She walked quietly to the tent they gave her among the Northumbrians, and her attendants walked with her in silence. Once inside, they left her alone, and although Sinna watched her without cease, Anghared and Maire did not.
When the noise of the crowd became louder and then changed suddenly to rolls of shield-rattling and the blaring of trumpets, she sat with her arms round her knees and stared into the little fire they had built for her, which she was ’glad of, although it was August.
Looking at it, she hardly heard the single voices declaiming, although you could not ignore the bellow that greeted the speech-maker. During the wave of bustle and expectancy that came after, she stared at the light until her eyes began to sting, and she squeezed them shut and then studied the fire again.
There was a brief chime of sound such as a smith might make, trying an anvil, and then a roar bigger than any that had gone before, which continued.
She continued to stare at the fire.
Not very long afterwards, the door of the tent stirred, and someone held it aside, and shadows moved up and down, of people approaching. One shadow stepped through and became a man, still not very clear, as her eyes, when she looked up, were dazzled and he stood blocking the light.
He was not of any great size, and his voice, when he spoke, was ordinary and rather breathless.
He said, ‘Which is Ingibjorg, Bergljot’s daughter?’
‘I am,’ she said.
The man said, ‘Ingibjorg, Bergljot’s daughter, I have to tell you that Thorfinn your husband is dead.’
There was a silence.
She realised she did not have to think of anything new.
She said, ‘Then I suppose I am your prisoner. Will you ransom me?’
‘Ransom?’ he said. ‘I am Malcolm, son of King Duncan. I am going to marry you.’
O Befind! Will you come with me
To a wonderful country which is mine …
‘Of course,’ she said; and, rising, walked out at his side, and faced her stricken peoples, and saw the hope and the pity born together once more in their eyes.
Edinburgh
20th March 1981
THE LYMOND CHRONICLES BY DOROTHY DUNNETT
THE GAME OF KINGS
In 1547 Frances Crawford of Lymond returns to defend his native Scotland from the English. Hunted by friend and enemy alike, he leads a company of outlaws in a desperate race to redeem his reputation.
Fiction/0-679-77743-1
QUEENS’ PLAY
Lymond is sent to France, where a very young Queen Mary Stuart is sorely in need of his protection. Lymond insinuates himself into the glittering labyrinth of the French court.
Fiction/0-679-77744-X
THE DISORDERLY KNIGHTS
Lymond is dispatched to Malta, to assist in the island’s defense against Turkish corsairs. But he shortly discovers that the greatest threat to the knights lies within their own ranks.
Fiction/0-679-77745-8
PAWN IN FRANKINCENSE
Lymond cuts a desperate path across the Ottoman empire of Suleiman the Magnificent in search of a kidnapped child, an effort that may place this adventurer in the power of his enemies.
Fiction/0-679-77746-6
THE RINGED CASTLE
Between Mary Tudor’s England and the Russia of Ivan the Terrible lies a vast distance indeed, but forces within the Tudor court impel Lymond to Muscovy, where he becomes advisor and general to the half-mad tsar.
Fiction/0-679-77747-4
CHECKMATE
Francis Crawford returns to France to lead an army against England. But even as he succeeds on the battlefield, his haunted past becomes a subject of intense interest to forces in both the French and English courts.
Fiction/0-679-77748-2
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