Beyond the Sea Mist

by Mary Gillgannon

  “How much?” Magnus asked, feeling impatient. He hated being away from Ailinn for long. Niall’s tale of what had happened to his woman was hardly reassuring.

  They agreed on a price and Niall sent one of the slaves to the back area to get the payment. As they waited, Magnus said, “I have another favor to ask of you. One of my men was wounded in the skirmish on the docks. Is there a healer in the settlement?”

  Niall nodded. “There’s a wisewoman who lives down by the river. Her name is Niamh. You can tell her I sent you.”

  Feeling relieved he might have found someone to help Orm, Magnus watched as Niall weighed the coins he was offering in payment for the jewelry. Some of the coins were gold. Magnus picked one up and examined it. It showed a man sitting in an ornate chair.

  “That’s Constantine, the king of Byzantium,” said Niall. “Some metalsmiths would have melted it down for scrap, but I liked the design.”

  “It’s very fine,” Magnus said. “But my concern is how many warriors it will hire.”

  “Irish warriors?”

  Magnus nodded.

  “It may not be easy to attract the local people to your cause. The Irish aren’t like the Norse, willing to serve any man who pays them. They may be reluctant to fight for an outsider.”

  “My lady isn’t an outsider. Before he was killed, her father was chieftain over a substantial territory.”

  “Then you may not need gold or silver to get them to fight for you. There might be men with ties to her father who would be eager to join you.”

  Magnus shifted restlessly. “As I am eager to set sail this day.”

  Niall grunted his assent and dumped the coins into a leather pouch. Handing it to Magnus, he said, “Fare you well, Magnus Gunnarson. And have a care for your lady. Though many men scoff at the thought, no amount of metal—be it gold or silver—can replace the satisfaction of having a woman who truly cares for you.”

  As he left the shop, Magnus considered the truth of the metalmith’s words. He’d realized his dreaming of owning a ship twice over, and come into possession of great riches, but he knew he would willingly give it all up for Ailinn.

  Accompanied by the three warriors, Magnus returned to the dock. He left his guard there, then boarded the Dragonsbreath. Ailinn immediately came to greet him. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she said. Her green-gray eyes glowed with warmth as she looked up at him. He wanted to pull her in his arms and kiss her, but knew it wasn’t the right time.

  “I’m going to tell the men to gather on the dock so I can speak to them about my plan,” he said. “I want you by my side as I do so.”

  She smiled at him. “I will always be at your side, Magnus.”

  He smiled back at her, then asked, “How fares Orm?”

  “He’s still weak and in pain, although he denies it.”

  Magnus nodded. “I’ll have a couple of men help him join us on the dock.”

  “Brina won’t be pleased.”

  “I want him there,” Magnus said. “Wounded or not, he’s my most certain ally. Afterwards I’m going to take him to a healer.”

  “I’ll explain that to Brina,” said Ailinn. She started toward the tent.

  The men were scattered about the ship, cleaning weapons, playing board games and dicing. Magnus went to each group and told them to disembark and gather on the quay. At the stern end of the vessel, he saw Asgar and Esbjorn with Ullach and Gormlaith. The two women were seated on seachests, while the men relaxed nearby.

  “It was getting crowded in the tent,” Esbjorn said as Magnus approached. His blue eyes sparkled and his thin face was flushed.

  “Aye,” Asgar agreed. “We thought the fresh air would do them good.” He grinned at Magnus.

  The two women seemed relaxed and content. Gormlaith even had some color in her thin cheeks. The thought came to Magnus that having his crewmen form attachments to Ailinn’s companions would make them more likely to join him in fighting for Ailinn’s lands.

  “I need you to gather on the quay with the other men,” he told Asgar and Esbjorn. “I have something to say to all of you.”

  Asgar and Esbjorn both gave him a look of curiosity, then said farewell to the two women.

  “Before you disembark, I want you to fetch Orm from the tent,” ordered Magnus. “Carry him if you have to, but I want him on the dock as well.”

  Having given his message to all the men on the Dragonsbreath, Magnus made his way down the loading plank and along the dock to the Seawolf. As he approached the smaller vessel, he felt a hint of trepidation. He didn’t know these men or have any sense of their mood. Would any of them see fit to join him in this venture to Ireland?

  He gave the crew of Seawolf the same message he’d given the other men, then returned to the dock. Most of the crew of the Dragonsbreath were already gathered there.

  Magnus was on the verge of boarding the ship and seeking out Ailinn when he saw her coming down the boarding plank. She was followed by Asgar and Esbjorn, supporting Orm between them. Orm looked pale and uncomfortable, but not feverish.

  Magnus took Ailinn’s arm and led her to the center of the group of men.

  A few more crewmen joined them, then Magnus gestured to Ailinn and said in a loud voice, “This is Lady Ailinn, heiress to lands in the southwest of Ireland. Those lands were stolen from her and she was taken captive by Croa. I plan to return to Ireland and regain everything she has lost. I intend to defeat the chieftain who did this to her, and take control of his lands. Then I will settle there and farm the lands I’ve won.”

  He looked around the group of men. “I’m offering all of you a choice. You can join me, or you can go your own way. I plan to take the Dragonsbreath to Ireland. Any man who doesn’t wish to go with me can stay here or sail on the Seawolf.”

  The crew stared at him. Many seem puzzled or confused. Finally, Bragi said, “If we stay on the Seawolf, who will serve as captain?”

  “You’ll have to choose a captain from among yourselves,” Magnus answered.

  “You’re giving up control of the ship?” Oleif appeared astounded.

  “Aye. I have no use for two vessels if I’m fighting on land.” Magnus glanced around again. “I know that some of you chose the life of a seaman because you like the thrill of being on the ocean and traveling to far away places. For others, like myself, it was the only means you could see to improve your circumstances. If I hadn’t joined a ship’s crew, I would have been stuck on my brother’s steading in Norseland, never possessing enough wealth of my own to be able to take a wife or have a longhouse of my own.

  “If you go with me to Ireland, there’s a chance we will be able to take possession of some rich, prosperous lands. If we succeed, there will be opportunities for all of us. But there are great risks as well.” He nodded to Ailinn. “My lady’s enemies are fierce and ruthless. It’s possible we’ll be defeated.”

  Asgar spoke up. “Look around you. We’re less than three score. Even if all of us decided to fight, how can we hope to defeat this wealthy chieftain? He’ll undoubtedly have his own warband, as well as the means to call up an army.”

  Magnus was very glad he’d told Niall of his plan. The metalsmith had given him the answer that might convince these men they had a chance. “We won’t be fighting alone. There will be men loyal to Lady Ailinn’s father who also lost property and prestige when he was killed, and they’ll be hungry to regain what was taken from them. You’ve no doubt heard the tales of the Irish, of their fierce tempers and their passion for doing battle with each other. There are many men who’ve suffered losses at the hand of this MacTighe who will be more than willing to join us.”

  As he said this, Magnus wondered how much of it was true. What would they find when they got to Ireland? Would they have allies for this battle, or would they have to buy them with gold and silver?

  The men began to talk among themselves, and Magnus grew restless. What if none of them were willing to go to Ireland? He needed at least a score of crewmen to man
the ship, and he dare not arrive in Ireland with a force less than that if they were to travel safely through the countryside.

  As the men continued to talk among themselves, Magnus’s muscles grew taut. To calm himself, he looked at Ailinn. Although she smiled at him, he sensed she was as nervous as he was.

  Orm’s voice abruptly rose above the murmuring crowd. His voice was weaker than usual, but still compelling. “The prospect of someday possessing land of my own is enough to entice me. I will join Magnus Gunnarson!”

  A moment later, Asgar unsheathed his sword and raised it up. “To land in Ireland!” he cried.

  “To land!” Another voice joined in.

  In moments, the dock was alive with men shouting “Ireland!” and “Land!”

  Looking around, Magnus wondered if there would be any who chose not to join him. As the other men gradually quieted, Bragi spoke. “I have no desire to settle on one piece of land for the rest of my life. I’m a seaman, bred of a long line of seaman. I would not give up the life for any amount of riches.”

  “I feel the same,” Lodur said.

  “Aye, also,” agreed Ketil.

  There were about a dozen in all who chose to go their own way on the Seawolf. They gathered together on the dock to make plans and choose a captain. Magnus, meanwhile, was busy answering the questions of the men who’d agreed to join him. Some things he couldn’t answer, and he had to defer to Ailinn, which made some of the men uneasy. Magnus could tell they weren’t used to listening to a woman. But Ailinn’s shrewd answers soon got their attention.

  He was impressed with her knowledge of politics and warfare. She listed her father’s clients, then suggested which men might be allies and which would likely be pleased he was dead. While it was clear O’Donovan had made a few enemies, it sounded as if there were also a substantial number of men who might be swayed to fight against MacTighe.

  Magnus let the discussion go on for awhile, then suggested that if they were to sail the next day, they’d best ready the ships for the journey. Those men sailing with Magnus had to get their things from the Seawolf while those remaining on the Dragonsbreath had to obtain their possessions from the other vessel. Magnus had purchased supplies of drinking water, salt fish and hard bread the previous day. While those things were being loaded, Magnus went to see how Orm was faring.

  Orm insisted he didn’t want to return to the tent, so Magnus had the men drag a sheepskin pallet over to the prow of the ship, where Orm could lie on the deck and breathe fresh air. Ailinn and other women were gathered nearby, sewing. Magnus motioned for Ailinn to come and speak to him.

  “How is he?” he asked her.

  She sighed. “The wound is swollen. He also seems to be in more pain.”

  “It probably wasn’t a good idea for him to shout out his support for me so exuberantly,” Magnus said with chagrin. “Although I’m glad he did. Sometimes it takes the courage of just one man to sway a whole group of men.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Ailinn said. “If the wound festers, it’s no fault of yours.”

  Magnus shook his head. “If Orm dies, it is my fault. He was wounded while looking after my interests. But I don’t intend for him to die. I’ve decided I must take him to a healer.”

  “Now? But what about your plan to leave tomorrow?”

  “He may have to remain here. I fear he’s too ill to travel.”

  “But what about Brina? She’ll never agree to leave him.”

  “I know. I’m afraid we’ll have to leave her behind as well.”

  “Leave Brina? But how will I get along with out her?” Ailinn looked distressed.

  “The same way I’ll get along without Orm,” Magnus answered. “I won’t let his loyalty to me be the end of him.”

  * * *

  “I can walk,” Orm grumbled as he tried to sit up in the hand cart Magnus was pushing down the pathway to the river. “There’s really no need for any of this.”

  “Aye, there is,” Magnus asserted. “I won’t have you dying on the journey to Ireland.

  “I’m not going to die,” Orm answered. But even as he said the words, he lay back in the cart, his face ashen.

  Brina, following behind the cart, muttered something in Irish.

  Magnus exchanged a glance with Ailinn. What if there was nothing the healer could do?

  Reaching the end of the pathway, they saw a daub and wattle dwelling with small neat garden next to it. As they drew near, a young woman with long dark red hair came out of the house. “Are you looking for me?” she asked.

  “We’re looking for the healer,” Magnus said. “Is she at home?”

  “Why have you sought her out?”

  Magnus gestured. “My friend here took a sword thrust to the belly.”

  The woman approached the cart and scrutinized Orm, who was lying down with his eyes closed. “A sword thrust to the belly,” the woman said. “That’s a bad sort of wound.”

  “Are you the healer?” asked Ailinn.

  “Aye,” the woman answered.

  “But you’re so young!” exclaimed Magnus. “And fair to look at. I thought... that is...”

  The woman looked amused. “As far as I know being old and ugly is not a requirement to being a good healer.”

  “Can you help my friend?” Magnus asked. “Can you heal him?”

  “Perhaps,” the woman answered. “How long ago was he injured?”

  “Early this morning.”

  “Is his belly swollen and hard to the touch?”

  “It’s a little swollen, but not hard,” said Magnus.

  “Good. That means he doesn’t have bleeding inside his belly. When that happens, there’s little to be done. Now the main worry is whether the wound is poisoned.”

  “If it does become poisoned, is there anything you can do for him?” Magnus’s voice was pleading. He looked so distraught; Ailinn felt a surge of sympathy.

  “There are medicines.” Niamh appeared thoughtful. “Herbs that can sometimes fight the poison and keep it from taking over the whole body. I can try to aid him, but it will take several doses of medicine over several days.”

  “Which means we must leave him here with you for a time,” said Magnus.

  Niamh nodded. At the same time, Orm seemed to come to life. He sat up and said, “I can’t stay here. I must sail with you tomorrow!”

  “I’m sorry, old friend,” said Magnus. “I can’t let your risk your life any more than you already have.”

  “Where are you bound for?” asked the woman.

  “Ireland.” Magnus motioned to Ailinn. “My lady has land there.”

  Niamb looked Ailinn over carefully. “I’ve heard tales of women who ruled their clans, but I thought that with the Christians and their dislike of women, such things were no more.”

  “You’re Irish, aren’t you?” Ailinn said suddenly. “Were you captured and enslaved? Is that how you ended up here?”

  Niamb smiled faintly. “’Tis a long tale, and this is not the right time for the telling.” She motioned. “You must bring your friend into my house so I can look at his wound.”

  Over Orm’s weak protests, Magnus lifted the smaller man out of the cart and carried him into the dwelling. Bundles of herbs were hung from the ceiling and all around the walls. In the center of the structure was a hearth with a steaming cauldron. Magnus lay Orm on a pallet by the fire. Brina entered and watched anxiously as Niamh knelt beside Orm and began to examine him.

  Feeling uncomfortable inside the crowded dwelling, Magnus went out to wait with Ailinn.

  “I hate to think of leaving Brina here,” she said. “What if Orm dies? What will happen to Brina then?”

  “She can go to Niall the Metalsmith. If Orm is unable to do so, then I’m certain Niall could find someone trustworthy to take Brina back to Ireland.”

  Ailinn nodded, looking grim.

  A short while later, Niamb came out of the dwelling and said, “He’s sleeping now.”

  “What do you think?” M
agnus asked. “Will he survive?”

  “There’s no way to know. Much depends on how strong his body and his spirit are.”

  “I must say goodbye to him,” said Magnus.

  “You may do so as soon as he wakes,” Niamb answered.

  “When will that be?”

  Niamb shrugged. “

  “We should fetch Orm and Brina’s things from the ship,” said Ailinn. “Perhaps by the time we return he’ll be awake.”

  “We should also fetch your payment,” Magnus said, looking at Niamh. “What is it you desire? Gold? Silver? Or would you rather have foodstuffs or firewood, practical things?”

  “What I would like is for you to promise to do something for me.”

  “What’s that?” asked Magnus.

  “I have cache of treasure hidden away in Ireland,” Niamh answered. “I wish for you to bring it to me.”

  “Where is this treasure to be found?”

  “It’s in the northwestern part of the island, near a place called Lissanglas.”

  “And you want us to retrieve it and bring it here?” Magnus asked.

  “Aye. That’s my price for healing your friend.”

  Everything grew more and more complicated, Magnus thought with a wave of weariness. Once they finally got to Ireland, he had to defeat Ailinn’s enemies, regain control of her family’s lands, and now accomplish this feat. He felt like a hero in a skald’s tale who must overcome a dozen obstacles to impress the gods and win their favor. Yet he had no choice but to agree to Niamh’s request. If he didn’t say he would retrieve the treasure, she might let Orm die.

  “Is this treasure guarded?” he asked.

  Niamh smiled. “Only the spirits of the dead. It’s in a grave.”

  Magnus repressed a shudder. He’d almost rather fight an army than search a grave.

  “I’m the rightful owner of the treasure, if that’s what concerns you,” Niamh said.

  “I’ll fetch you this treasure,” said Magnus, “But only if Orm lives. He must recover and find me in Ireland. Then the two of us will seek out this treasure and return it to you.”

  Niamh gazed at him for a long while. He grew uncomfortable, and little prickles of dread built along his spine. At last, she nodded. “It’s a bargain.”