Manannan Trilogy

by Michele McGrath

  Emer tried to be comforted, knowing that both her mother and Renny would add their voices to his, once they knew what had happened. Yet, in the black corners of her mind, she realised that for Dag, Edan, Renny and Ragnar, the return of Nele was the most important outcome of this journey. Olaf was a grown man, not blood kin to them and without powerful friends of his own. Only Niamh and herself loved him and needed him to come home.

  It was not surprising that she took a long time to fall asleep; her thoughts ran in wild confusion. Emer seemed only to have closed her eyes when she woke again, screaming and thrashing around, clutching her green stone so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

  Ete, the headman’s wife knelt beside her, looking terrified. Then Dag arrived, with Dubne. Emer glimpsed Atli peering over their shoulders.

  “Emer, why are you shouting?” Dag asked. “Who has harmed you?”

  Emer looked at him with startled eyes. “No one. I dreamt an awful dream.”

  “The girl’s had a nightmare, that’s all. Tell her to shut up, so we can all get back to sleep,” someone grumbled

  “If it was me, I’d take a belt to her bum.”

  “I’ll stay with her,” Ete offered, “until she falls asleep again.”

  “No need. I’m awake now,” Finnr flopped down beside Emer, putting an arm around her shaking shoulders and smoothing her hair.

  Gradually, all the disturbed sleepers went away to their own beds again, save only Dag and Finnr. Atli lingered within earshot, rolling himself up in his blankets and feigning sleep. When Emer stopped trembling and her sobs quietened, Dag asked,

  “Was this dream similar to the one that brought us here, Emer?”

  “Yes.”

  “How so?”

  “I met the Guide of Souls again and she took me on another journey.”

  “Where to?” Finnr asked eagerly.

  “A place I’ve never been to before. Where dark hills come down to the sea and otters play along the shore.”

  “That sounds a bit like Skuy. I went there once many years ago,” Dag said. “Were we with you?”

  “No, I was alone, running away from someone. Footsteps followed me, men’s footsteps. I had to lead them away…”

  “From what?”

  “I don’t know.” Emer dropped her head into her hands. When she looked up again, tears ran down her cheeks again. “I never saw the place I was running from or who was there with me. I only knew I had to run as fast as I could. The coloured light came again and suddenly I saw my father in a longship, heading out into the sunset. A man spoke to him but he didn’t answer and I realised he could no longer talk.”

  “Had they cut out his tongue?” Finnr asked, appalled.

  “No, he was unharmed in that way, but he had been badly flogged.” Emer gulped. “His back looked raw.” It was several moments before she could speak again.

  “Go on, Emer. Do you know where the ship he was on was heading?”

  “One of the men spoke of Thule.”

  “Thule!”

  “I thought Thule was a myth,” Finnr said. “Does it really exist, Fadirbrodir?”

  “I’m not sure. There is an island of fire and ice that lies far out in the west. Other islands, which we call Landnám, are closer. The name could refer to either of them or somewhere else entirely.”

  “Then is Olaf going to a place that is unknown or may not be real?” Finnr asked, fear in his voice.

  “No, it exists,” Emer said sharply. “My father left the ship and walked upon the land. It was covered in snow but there was no fire there.”

  “What did the place look like?”

  “There were lots of little islands with cliffs but no mountains. The ground was a reddish brown in colour. Seabirds wheeled around, diving onto the shoals of fish.”

  “Sounds like the Landnám islands, but it could be anywhere. When we get home I’ll ask old Samr. He was the one who told me about Thule years ago. Did you see anything else?”

  “No, that was all.”

  “And you only met Olaf and this Guide of Souls?”

  “There were other people in my dream but I did not know them.”

  “Good.” Dag rose to his feet. “Try to sleep now. We leave for home at first light.”

  Obediently, Emer turned over and closed her eyes. Dag was correct and she would need her rest, but sleep would not come. Eventually she rose to go to the privy.

  She was on her way back when a figure stepped out of the darkness right in front of her. Emer gasped.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the figure said and Emer recognised Atli’s voice.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “There is a place for you on my ship, if you would prefer to journey north rather than south,” he said quietly.

  “I have no wish to be your slave!”

  “Someone with your gift will never be a slave. Knowing the future is a skill I have only ever heard of before, never witnessed.”

  “How do you know about my dream?”

  “I listened to you telling your story. Dag thought I was asleep.”

  “I didn’t mean you to overhear.”

  “As well for you I did. If what you dreamed comes true, your father will no longer be on Skuy when your friends return to look for him there. He’ll be far out at sea; too far for them to follow in their longship. Kufri owns one of the special ships that travel on the deep oceans and he trades with the Landnám islands amongst other places. He told me he goes there several times a year. As it happens, I own another of these ships, which my son sails for me. The journeys are often unpleasant and I am getting too old for such things now. Rolf is young, keen and a good sailor. He can easily take us there. If you will return with me to Skuy, I’ll give you passage on Rolf’s ship and sufficient silver to buy your father’s freedom.”

  “Why would you do such a thing for me?”

  “In return, once your father has returned home, I want you to remain in my house as the wife of my son. When I ask you to do it, mix your substances and dream your dreams so I shall know what is about to happen. I have several trading ventures which are risky and I would be very glad to find out whether they will succeed or not.”

  “You spoke of marriage. There is something I must tell you. I cannot be sure I would be able to dream again once I am married. When I was born my mother never dreamed again, nor did her own grandmother, although my…” Emer stopped herself suddenly.

  “Go on — what were you going to say? My?”

  Emer bit her lip, her thoughts whirling wildly but she could not find words to explain her slip.

  “My grandfather begot a child and yet his visions continued.”

  “So this ability to dream occurs in men and only in women who have never been pregnant? Is that so?”

  Emer nodded.

  “Then my offer still stands. If you have no baby you will dream for me, or, if you do, your children will. Do you accept?

  “I would never see my mother again if I agreed to your proposal!” Emer’s tears leapt into her eyes at the thought.

  “Your home is five days at most from Skuy. My son shall take you to visit your mother. What do you say?”

  “Do I have time to think about it?”

  “You have until first light, when Dag proposes to sail. If you wish to come with me, creep out while he is making his farewells to Dubne. A boat will be waiting for you. They won’t follow you onto my ship and, if they did, there are places where you may lie concealed.”

  Emer spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, trying to make up her mind. If she returned home with Dag, she would be with her friends and her mother again. She would also be in time to help with the birth of her brother or sister. Yet she had a shrewd suspicion that another voyage north to search for Olaf would not be anyone’s priority except her own and her mother’s. Even if it was, she would be unlikely to be taken on the next trip. Could she sit idly at home while terrible things might be happening to her father?

 
If Atli meant all he said, Fadir would be free and able to return to her mother. Yet she knew nothing of Atli or the place he lived. She would live her life far away from her home and her own people, perhaps never see them again, if her husband did not choose to take her there.

  Atli was a slave trader. What was there to stop him selling her as a slave? She felt vulnerable and scared at the thought. Yet he had said a girl with her gift would never be a slave. She turned his words over in his mind. They had the ring of truth. He valued her for this awful ability she had inherited from her mother. Perhaps he would treat her well and let her find her father. The price would be to wed this unknown boy. She realised suddenly that she had always expected to marry Finnr, one day. They had never spoken about it, but she thought he had become more interested in her now she was growing up. Could she give him up? If she must, it would be kinder to do it before anything was settled and Finnr considered her to be his own. The choice came down to instinct in the end. It was a gamble and she had always been impulsive.

  Before the light was in the sky, Emer crept from her bed and left the longhouse. She slipped away towards the beach where, sure enough, a small skiff was waiting.

  “Who are you?” a gruff voice grunted out of the darkness and a shape loomed over her.

  “My name is Emer… ” she faltered.

  “I have been told to wait here for you and row you out to the ship.”

  “That’s right.”

  The man swept her up in his arms and waded out through the waves. He put her down in the boat and climbed in himself.

  “No sense in getting your pretty little feet wet, is there?”

  Emer did not answer, although she felt a little chill of fear at the familiarity. It was too late now, she was committed. Even if she threw herself over the side, he would be able to catch her. Soon enough she was scrambling up the steep side of the merchant ship with the man who had rowed her there boosting her up from below.

  “So you decided to come with us.” Atli came up to her. “You won’t regret it.”

  “Swear to me on your sword hilt that, by Odin, you will take me to my father and set him free,” Emer demanded, quoting her father’s favourite oath. “In return, when he is home, I will marry your son and do whatever else you ask of me.”

  Atli laughed. “Do you doubt me?”

  “A little.”

  Atli laughed again. He shook back his cloak and unsheathed his sword. Holding it in one hand he said,

  “By Odin, I swear I will take you to find your father, free him and take him back to his family.” He lowered the sword so the point rested on the floor. Then he held out the sword hilt to Emer. She took it in both her hands, steadying it.

  “By Odin, I swear that, once my father is free, I will do anything Atli asks of me,” she said.

  “Good.” Atli sheathed his sword again. “Now go with Gaggar. We leave at once.”

  The sky began to lighten. By then, the boat was well out to sea and about to pass the headland to the north of the settlement. Emer leaned on the rail, looking backwards towards her friends. She wondered if she would ever see any of them again and if they had discovered her absence. There was no sign of anything unusual, so she thought they had probably not missed her yet. Then the land cut off her view and she slumped back onto the bale of wool she had been given to sit on. It was some time later when Atli came to find her.

  “I have food for you, come.”

  A small brazier had been set up in the space around the mast. Atli gave her a beaker of a hot, sweet tasting drink that ran through her veins like fire. A bannock and some fried fish completed the meal.

  “How long is it to Skuy?” Emer asked when she had satisfied her hunger.

  “If this wind holds and does not drop any further, by tomorrow night you will feast in my hall,” Atli promised her.

  5

  Skuy, when Emer first saw it, looked a forbidding place. Huge dark cliffs, like the wings of some great bird seemed to rise out of the sea to surround her. She felt trapped and had to breathe hard to dispel the illusion. Atli came up beside her and pointed down a narrow winding inlet.

  “My home lies at the end of this fjord and my sons will be watching for my return. I bid you welcome.”

  Emer smiled, although she looked strained. “Thank you.”

  As they rounded the final corner, the settlement became visible, a cluster of huts with a big longhouse in the middle. A small quay had been built out into the deeper water. Boats lay on the narrow beach or were tied up alongside the jetty. Some of them seemed to be under repair or being built, because fires burned brightly and the sound of hammers rang out, echoing from the surrounding hills. The boat was seen, for someone shouted and people waved. Willing hands caught the ropes that were tossed to them from the trading ship and they were quickly made fast.

  “Welcome home.” A tall, thin woman who was richly dressed came forward to greet them as they stepped up onto the quay.

  “This is my wife, Drifa, the mother of my youngest son.” Atli drew Emer forward. “This is Emer Olafsdottir, our guest. Attend to her needs,” he ordered.

  Drifa nodded but she did not look pleased and her voice was sharp as she said to Emer,

  “Come with me.”

  She led the way through the crowd who had gathered. Emer followed, the centre of all eyes. Most were curious, some open and some hostile. She was glad when she was able to escape into the darkness of the bathing hut.

  “You will want to bathe and change your clothing,” Drifa said, “while a meal is prepared for you and the others who have just arrived. Your things will be brought to you from the ship.”

  “I have none.” Emer found it hard to meet the woman’s startled glance. “I left in a hurry with no time to pack.”

  “Then I will send clothes to you. In the meanwhile, Freydis, here, will see to your needs.”

  The woman swept out and a young girl came forward out of the shadows.

  “The tub is over here, Lady, and this is the peg for your things.”

  “Thank you.” As Emer moved forwards, the firelight flickered over her companion’s face. The girl was a few years older than she was, with a round face and dark hair in two long braids. “But I am no lady. My name is Emer Olafsdottir.”

  “And I am Freydis Jarnisdottir. Welcome to Skuy.”

  Freydis helped Emer climb into the tub and she sank into the warm water with a deep sign of relief. It was days since she had used the small tub her father had built for them at home. All at once, grief for her past life swept over her and she found she was sobbing uncontrollably. When she had no more tears to shed, a hand came over the side of the bath and Freydis gave her a beaker of sweet mead.

  “Drink this and you will feel better,” she said.

  Emer did so and found it helped, a little. She handed the beaker back and scrubbed her face clean. She had barely done so when an older woman came into the bathhouse carrying a bundle of clothes. She sniffed when she saw Emer peering at her.

  “Drifa sends these clothes for you, stranger. She says you are to go to her in the hall when you are dressed.” She plonked her bundle onto one of the benches, turned on her heel and left.

  “Who is that?” Emer asked.

  “Her name is Halla. She’s Drifa’s body-servant and messenger.”

  “Why doesn’t she like me? I’ve never seen her before.”

  “She doesn’t like anybody except Drifa. Watch out for her, I do. Hurry now. We must get you dry and clothed. Drifa will not be pleased, if she is kept waiting.”

  The garments were clean and of good quality although they were worn. The hem of the dark green tunic had been mended several times and the leggings were frayed at the top. Nevertheless, they were both better than Emer’s own clothing, which had seen rough usage in the last few days. Freydis gave her the pair of soft leather shoes and gathered up Emer’s discarded clothes.

  “Leave these with me and I will launder them for you.”

  “Oh no, I
have nothing to pay you with,” Emer said, realising again how little she possessed of her own.

  “No payment is necessary. I’m sure you’ll find a way to help me in return,” Freydis answered. “That’s a fine stone you are hanging round your neck.”

  Emer tied the leather thong carefully. “It’s an heirloom of my house. It was my grandfather’s many years ago and is now mine. The only thing I own that reminds me of home.”

  “The gods help you then. Better it were silver, as far as Drifa is concerned.”

  Emer only smiled, unwilling to share the stone’s secret with anyone, even such a friendly girl as Freydis. She began to plait her long fair hair and twisted it up on top of her head.

  “Wait a moment.” Freydis went to the other end of the bathhouse and returned with a strip of leather which she used to secure the wet braids.

  “There, you look well now. Come with me and I will take you to Drifa.”

  The hall took up most of the longhouse, with large fires burning at intervals along its length. Before one of these hearths, Drifa was sitting in a fine carved chair, sewing. She looked up when Emer approached and seemed to assess her critically. Emer found it hard to meet her eyes, but she forced herself to do so. The woman was trying to cow her and she knew she would be wise not to let her succeed.

  “Sit.” Drifa pointed to a small stool. Emer sat down and found herself looking up at the older woman.

  “Well, you look tidier now.”

  “Thank you for the loan of these clothes.”

  “Your own are certainly not fit to be worn again here. Atli has told me a part of your story, but not why you were on board a longship and totally without possessions. What made you leave your home so abruptly?”

  Emer gave her a shortened version of her story and Drifa listened carefully saying nothing until she had finished.

  “Atli said you are a dreamer and will be useful to us in the future. Personally I have no use for dreamers, only for those who work hard and do what they are told to do.”