Emer's Quest (Manannan Trilogy)

by Michele McGrath

  “I want to speak to you when my father is laid to rest. But come with me now; it is time for the funeral.”

  “Of course, but first I must use the privy or I shall disgrace myself and defile Atli’s memory. Will you wait for me?”

  “Yes, I’ll be by the door of the longhouse.”

  “Good. I won’t keep you long.”

  Emer walked in the direction of the privy and was not surprised to find Freydis waiting for her there.

  “I sneaked round the other side of the hut,” Freydis explained. “Hurry and we can get away.”

  “He’ll come looking for me if I don’t return.”

  “He can’t organise a proper search for you now. He hasn’t got time. When the sun’s rim touches the horizon, the fireship must be launched or the gods will be angry. After the funeral it will be too dark to find you, so he’ll have to wait until morning. Come now, we must be well away when he realises out you’re not going to return.”

  The two girls hurried down the twisting path until they came to the rocks where Freydis had hidden the skiff. Njall was waiting.

  “Are you sure you want to come with us?” Emer asked as soon as she spotted him.

  “I’m sure. Get in now. We’ve little time.”

  Emer and Freydis clambered aboard and picked up the oars. Njall gave a great shove and pushed the boat into the water. He waded out and pulled himself over the side. The girls rowed while Njall fended the skiff off from the surrounding rocks. Freydis rose to untie the sail but Njall stopped her.

  “Don’t. They might see a sail; they won’t see us rowing. We’re too low in the water.”

  “Let’s row then.”

  “Freydis, change places with me and guide the boat. You know the bay better than Emer.”

  Freydis moved, rocking the boat as she did so, and took the tiller post.

  It was a long pull out to the centre of the bay, but it was high water and the usual current had diminished. Even so it was hard work. Njall’s pull was stronger than Emer’s and he frequently had to back-paddle so the boat did not turn circles. Emer was almost at the last of her strength when Freydis said they had gone far enough. They sat, rocking in the swell, correcting their position from time to time. Emer pulled her bundle forward and took out her bow and arrows.

  “What are you doing?” Freydis asked. “We’re too far from shore to shoot anyone.”

  “Is there any thin rope in the boat?” Emer asked.

  “Of course.” Freydis fumbled in a small chest lashed under the seats. “What do you want it for?”

  “Watch.” Emer tied the thin leather to the shaft of an arrow. She hefted it, testing the weight. “The rope will change the way the arrow flies but the target is large enough for it not to matter.” She coiled the rest of the rope out loosely and tied the other end to the mast.

  “Look!”

  The rim of the sun started to slide down into the waves. To the west, the clouds were glowing red and gold. In the east, the land was grey with the coming night. A mighty shout went up as a dark shape glided out over the waters, black against the darkened shoreline. Horns sounded and a whoosh as arrows trailing fire arced into the evening sky.

  “Quick,” Freydis said. “Row as fast as you can. That fire won’t take long to spread.”

  But Emer stood up with her back against the mast.

  “Don’t row! Keep still,” she ordered as she drew her bow. Her arrow flew fast and straight into the timbers of the looming ship. “Pull! Not too hard or the knot will come undone.”

  Njall and Emer pulled at the line until the skiff grated against the hull of the fireship. Emer tied the little boat to the gunwale while Njall scrambled aboard and then put down a hand to help her.

  “Freydis stay there and be ready to take Hari’s body from us,” he ordered. “Where did you see him?” he asked Emer.

  “In the bows,” she gasped.

  They raced forward into the scene Emer had seen in her dreams. The bound and gagged body lay just where she knew he would be, his eyes pleading for his release. With quick slashes, Njall cut his bonds and dragged him to his feet.

  “Hurry,” Emer said, casting a frightened look at the towering wall of fire the sails had become. A few arrows had hit the deck but the patches of flames had not yet had time to join together. More arrows sped towards them but the ship was sailing and most of them fell short.

  Hari could not walk; he had been trussed up for hours. Njall and Emer had to pull him across the smouldering planking. He weaved like a drunken man. Sparks flew from the sail, raining pinpoints of fire around their feet. Some fell on their clothes and they beat them out quickly before they could catch fire.

  “We’re wasting time!” Njall gave a grunt and hoisted Hari over his shoulders. He staggered to the gunwale and slid him down to where Freydis was waiting to steady him. Hari fell with a thump and a groan against the rowing bench. Njall went after him to balance his weight and keep the boat upright.

  Emer started to climb down after him when she looked back. She caught a fleeting glance at Atli. His beard and clothes were starting to burn. She had no time for more. With a roar, the main sail fell covering Atli and most of the deck and knocking her away from the skiff.

  The next thing Emer knew she was gasping and struggling in icy water. Then hands grabbed her and hauled her into the boat.

  Njall held the tiller post while Freydis loosed the small sail and they headed out into the sea.

  “We’ll be seen,” Emer cried. “You said so. Pull it down!”

  “They won’t see anything. We’re ahead of the fireship and the flames will hide us.”

  “Take your clothes off,” Freydis said, “if you don’t you’ll freeze.” She tore off her cloak and thrust it at Emer. “Put this on.” Freydis rummaged under the seat and brought out a tunic. “And this. Just as well we were prepared.”

  “I must see to Hari,” Emer said when she was dressed again and could stop her fingers shaking. The flames of the fireship lit up Hari’s battered face. Emer started to run her hands over him, to check for other injuries when he gave a gasp, pulled her into his arms and hugged her. He was shaking. She loosened her cloak and drew it over him.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  “Bruises, scratches that’s all. How did you find out where I was?”

  “I saw you there in a dream.”

  “And you never told me?”

  “I couldn’t tell anyone, even you. I was given the vision so I knew what to do when the time came.”

  “I’m glad you were. Otherwise I would now be in hell. No doubt I’ll get there one day but I’d rather be here with you right now.” He kissed her hair. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you coming for me.”

  After a while, Njall asked, “Where are we heading for?”

  “As far as we can get for now,” Emer replied. “They think Hari’s dead.Rolf won’t bother to look for me until the morning or even later. Only when they miss this boat, they’ll come after us.”

  “And only when my brother has recovered from his hangover at that. Odin damn him to hell,” Hari muttered.

  Silence fell for a few minutes, while Njall steered and the girls tended to the sail. The wind was rising and pushing the boat across the rippling waves.

  “This wind is driving us south,” Njall said. “If we run before it, we can put some distance between ourselves and any pursuit. After that, where do you want to go?”

  “Hari?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Your mother came from Colonsey, why not there?” Freydis asked.

  “Too near Skuy. Atli also met Emer on Colonsey and Rolf will remember that if he bothers to come after her at all.”

  “You wanted to return to Eyin Helga,” Emer reminded him.

  “The brothers would offer us shelter, but we can’t stay there for long. If Rolf hears I’m still alive, he’ll certainly come there to search for me.”

  “Only the four of us know that you were not b
urned to death on the ship. Why should he find out?”

  “Because, little love, once we come ashore on Eyin Helga, people will recognise me and gossip spreads. The secret won’t be a secret for long.”

  “What did you just call me?” Emer asked.

  “Little love,” he ran a hand down her cheek. “Thank you for saving me. I owe all of you a great debt. I didn’t realise how much I wanted to live until I was alone on the ship, waiting for death. Njall, Freydis, you had no need to help me; we have never been close friends. I appreciate all you have given up. Why did you do it?”

  Surprisingly it was Njall, the quiet man, who answered.

  “If Freydis had stayed, she would certainly have been questioned about Emer and possibly also about you,” Njall replied. “I didn’t want her to be hurt. Neither did I want her to run away without me. She could easily have been escaping one danger to fall into a worse one. Two women and an injured man are easy prey. Better I came too.”

  “Do I mean so much to you?” Freydis asked softly, wonder in her voice.

  “You do.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me so before? I have been waiting for you to speak.”

  “I didn’t have the right words and I was afraid of your answer.”

  “Danger changes all things,” Hari said. “Emer, you might have been a rich widow by now…”

  “Or dead. Burned as a witch.”

  “More likely being raped by my brother. He fancies you.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought for a while that you preferred him to me.”

  “I did when I first saw him, but almost at once I found out what a fool I was. That notion died long before we became friends and I married you. A kind fate decreed I wed the better brother in spite of myself.” Hari kissed her and for a while silence fell. Then Hari raised his head.

  “You may live to regret that decision,” he said grimly, “and the one all of you made to rescue me. Look behind you. The wind is rising.”

  Emer’s memories of that terrible night stayed with her for the rest of her life. She was icy cold, her hair whipping her face and stinging. Her fingers became cramped from hanging onto the gunwale. The gale howled like demons from hell. They dropped the sail and stowed it away or it would have been lashed to pieces. Freydis made an unwary move, which nearly sent her over the side. It was only Njall’s quick action that saved her. After that everyone tied themselves to the boat, so they could not be swept overboard.

  “None of us would survive in this sea,” Njall said. “If the boat breaks up or turns over, these timbers will float and support us. It’s a small chance but it might work. May the gods protect us long enough to find shelter.”

  16

  In some ways Emer was glad the night was dark and moonless. She did not want to see how high the wave crests were; she was frightened enough already. They were thrown about and twisted, first to one side and then the other, as they used their weight to keep the boat upright. They had to bale constantly. The bottom of the boat was awash with water and they came near to floundering several times. It was as well that all of them had sailed boats since they were children. They were lucky to stay alive. The morning light showed that they were not far from a rocky coast and fast approaching a headland.

  “Gods, look at that!” Freydis cried.

  Njall untied the tiller which he had lashed when he could not control it any longer, even with Hari’s help. He wrenched the rudder to the left. For an aching moment they all wondered if the boat would come round in time and then gradually it turned away from the land.

  “Does anyone know where we are?” Emer asked, watching the rocks beneath the cliffs race past with a shudder.

  “I’m not sure. We’ve come a long way with this wind behind us. This might be Myl but I can’t see either of the islands on the other side of the channel with all this water in the air.”

  “Should we try to land? We’re all exhausted.”

  “If we can round this headland, we should be more sheltered. Then we can raise the sail and head for shore,” Hari replied grimly. “Njall?”

  “Let’s try.”

  They rounded the cliff in a flurry of spray, keeping well out from the land, in case of hidden rocks. All of them had to throw their weight on the tiller post; the boat was bucking so much. Almost immediately, as they lurched round the corner, the wind died.

  “Now!” Hari cried.

  With frozen fingers, they untied the sail, lashed it to the spar and set it for the first time since the storm began.

  “It will fill once we come out from the shadow of the cliff. It may jerk us forward as it does so. Hold on, all of you,” Njall said.

  For a few moments, nothing happened. Freydis seized an oar and started to row.

  “Good idea.” Emer moved beside her and took the other oar.

  The boat slid forward and then — SNAP! The sail filled and the boat shot forward propelling both girls into the bilges. Fortunately they clung to their oars until they were able to scramble to their knees and bring them inboard. The boat raced forward into a long channel. Another inlet opened on their left.

  “I know where we are now,” Njall said. He pointed to the right. “That is Myl, as I thought. We are in the passage between the island and the mainland.

  “If we keep going, we can come to Eyin Helga from the east,” Hari said. “The monks will give us shelter until we decide what to do next.”

  “How far is it?” Emer asked.

  “A long day’s sail in a fair wind.”

  The girls looked at each other and then Emer said, “I don’t think Freydis or I can stay awake so long. We need to warm ourselves and sleep, or we might make mistakes. Is there anywhere where we can come ashore?”

  “Yes.” Njall said. “There are little inlets which will shelter us for a short time.” He turned the boat’s head towards Myl. “Hari, go forward to the prow. Take an oar with you and fend off any rocks.”

  Hari stretched himself in the bow and Njall guided the boat into a shallow bay. They only had one scare, when Hari saw a submerged rock almost too late. He shouted and pushed at it with his oar, fortunately in time for Njall to turn away. The keel grated onto a sandy beach at last, and they pulled the boat up above the tide line. Hari tied the boat to a rock while both girls collapsed on the sand, oblivious to the wind and the spatter of raindrops.

  When Emer woke up, a drift-wood fire was spluttering nearby, with a pot boiling on the flames. Someone had dragged a piece of tarred sailcloth over her, so she was no longer soaked although her clothes were damp. She stretched aching muscles and then scrambled out from the covering. She shivered as the wind hit her.

  “Here,” Freydis handed her a steaming beaker. She sniffed.

  “Fish stew?”

  “Freydis is wonderful; she didn’t forget the fishing lines!” Hari said with a laugh.

  “Indeed she is. We’d be lost without her.” Emer smiled at her friend.

  When they had finished their meal, they examined the boat. It had sustained a little damage — a couple of planks had been cracked, fortunately neither of them below the waterline. Hari hammered them into place with a stone.

  “That should do for the short distance we have to travel, unless we meet another storm,” he said when he had finished. They packed the boat again and set it to rights. Then they shoved off and rowed until they were away of the shadow of the land. Then they raised the sail again.

  “It’s too late to reach Eyin Helga today,” Hari said. “If we go part way while the wind is fair, we can be certain to be there tomorrow.”

  That is what they did, coming ashore on another beach, around the east side of the island. They made a better camp than they had the day before. Rested now, they started early and this journey was a pleasant one. The sun came out and the waves sparkled.

  “The storm pushed us so fast that we will reach Eyin Helga well before any pursuit, even if Rolf bothers to chase you,” Hari said. “If he knew I was alive, he wou
ld definitely come.”

  “Most likely he will be enjoying lording it over everyone now you and your father are both out of his way,” Freydis said acidly and Njall nodded.

  “I agree. He gave orders more sharply, once Atli gave him command of his ship. Not everyone liked it.”

  “Well, they will have to put up with him now, for a while at least.”

  “What are you mean?” Emer asked.

  “If I can find enough friends or mercenaries to help me, I’ll go back and make him sorry for what he did to me.” Hari grinned at her. “Don’t look so worried; I’ve few friends who are warriors and no money to pay anyone else. Rolf is safe for a time, if not forever.”

  All that morning they sailed around the coast, until another island loomed beyond the last headland.

  “Eyin Helga,” Hari said, pointing to it. “We’re almost there.”

  Emer thought it was a strange island. It lay low in the water and had bumpy hills that looked as if its shape had been made by a child out of wet sand. Long grey buildings clustered together on a white beach. Njall steered them in and a shout went up as they were spotted. Hari stood up, holding onto the mast and waved.

  Two men waded out and helped them haul the boat up past the tide mark.

  “Where are you lot from?” one asked. “Wait a minute. I’ve seen you before.”

  “Well met, Calum, indeed you know me. Hari from Skuy — remember?”

  “Brother Ailig will be pleased to see you again. He says you’re the only one who appreciates his stories.” Hari laughed, a carefree sound Emer had never heard from him before. She said a little prayer, hoping he would remain carefree for the rest of his life.

  “Where is Brother Ailig?” Hari asked. “I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”

  “In the scriptorium, or he was earlier. You remember the way?”

  “I do, but perhaps we’d better report to Abbot Zephan first.”

  “He’ll be at his house or in the church.”

  “Thank you.”

  They picked up their belongings and walked up to a grey stone building at one end of the abbey.

  “Hari,” the white-haired old abbot said, as he stood to receive them, “has your father relented and allowed you to join us?”