Ragnhilde protested at this, declaring that she was not to be treated as helpless and a mere impediment. She was, after all, the daughter of a long line of Vikings. She would take charge of the ships.
Gillecolm pleaded to be allowed to go with his father but Somerled would have none of it. This would be a desperate venture and no occasion for beginners to learn the trade of war. Besides, his part was to look after the Queen.
The parting was tense.
With some one-hundred-and-ten men, Somerled splashed ashore and started to climb inland, making for Creag Bhan. He reckoned that the hill was one sure place where the invaders would be unlikely to frequent; and it ought to provide the necessary viewpoint above the worst of the smoke, even though it was no mountain, no more than a few hundred feet in height. There were no houses nor farmeries to be seen on these north and west slopes.
Although his crewmen were scarcely enthusiastic climbers they made it to the ridge near the summit in fairly good time, with only a mile to cover. Leaving the company below the skyline, Somerled took Manus O’Ryan up to the ridge with him, to peer over. There was a thin film of smoke even here, but not sufficient to blanket-out all prospects.
The scene which met their gaze was grim, however anticipated. At least a dozen isolated homesteads were burning, down there, apart from the larger conflagration which was Ardminish township, between the hill and the east coast, two comparatively near, on the lower hill-slopes. A little to the south a herd of cattle was being rounded up. And further over, nearer Ardminish, there appeared to be some sort of gathering, although what was going on was unclear, owing to distance and smoke.
The two men strained their stinging eyes, trying to make out which burnings were new, or at least which were still occupying the attentions of the raiders, and which were now left to burn out. It was hard to tell, in all the obscurity. But when a sudden burst of flame and new, blacker smoke arose from a point a little further to the north, not half-a-mile away, there could be no doubts.
“We start there!” Somerled decided, and hurried back to his people.
Instructions were minimal, consisting mainly of the command to follow him and to keep quiet. He led the way, partly downhill at first and curving round to the north, to cross the ridge much lower down, in thicker smoke now. This grew worse as they proceeded, setting men cursing beneath their breaths. But however unpleasant, it was of course greatly to their advantage, giving them all the cover they required, difficult although it made direction-finding. When Somerled judged that they had gone far enough, he turned due southwards again. Eyes streaming, men sought to cover their faces as best they could.
Tripping and stumbling, they advanced. The orange-red murky glow of flame through smoke guided them. They soon could hear men’s shouting and women’s screams ahead. At least they were not too late, here. When they were within one hundred yards or so of the conflagration Somerled halted his men, formed them into something like a crescent and, himself at the centre, waved them forward. Swords, axes and dirks in hand, they surged silently on.
It was, of course, utter and complete surprise. Out of the rolling brown smoke-clouds they burst upon the scene of terror, providing a new dimension thereof. The timber-and-thatch buildings of what had been a fair-sized farmery were all alight; and a little south of the centre, out of the smoke, about a score of Norsemen were busy. Some were in process of hanging three men on an improvised gallows; others were raping four women, one old, one only a girl, but all naked; still others abusing cowering children; some merely gulping down liquor. They were all too much engaged to perceive the Argyll men before it was too late to put up any effective resistance. In yelling, bloody astonishment, they died, one and all, none being allowed to escape to warn their compatriots.
It was all over in a minute or two, almost too easy.
Although Somerled had every sympathy with the victims, he did not permit the delay which would have resulted from helping them further. Anyway, they were all probably too shocked to respond. Leaving them with their slain attackers and burning premises, he rounded up his men for the next assault. Clear of this conflagration it was not difficult to perceive how they should proceed. The colour and density of the various smokes was a simple guide. When it was black and thick but shot with flame the fires were newly lit and so apt still to be occupying the attention of the invaders. Brown represented somewhat earlier burning and might now be abandoned. Blue, thinning smoke could be left alone.
Somerled’s further strategy was self-evident. It was to try to keep always within the cover of the denser smoke, however much back-tracking and circling this called for, so as always to approach the scattered, burning homesteads from the north; and to try to ensure that while they were attacking one group, another would not be likely to spot them at it and so be warned—this last being more difficult. They were aided, of course, by the crofts and farmeries being, by their nature, seldom close together, each sitting in its own small territory, and so could be approached individually and carefully.
The second one produced a mere dozen or so Vikings; but was too late to save the lives of the occupants, a man, two women and a child. The third was better, a larger place which had attracted a larger group of raiders, who were still at their grievous sport with the owners. There were over thirty Norsemen here when the bodies came to be counted, but assailed without warning by one-hundred-and-ten they had no least chance.
They reached the east coast thereafter and Somerled sent a couple of men climbing back to signal to his ships from the top of Creag Bhan, before turning inland south-westwards again.
They were less successful at their next place, owing to a sudden veering of the wind which blew the smoke off to one side, revealing the attack when still some distance off, so that this time the Argyll men had to do some fighting. Even so, vastly outnumbering the enemy, they fairly quickly beat down a distracted and unready opposition. But unfortunately two or three Vikings made good their escape, bolting off southwards, to be lost in the smoke.
Somerled now had to reconsider. These would warn their colleagues and surprise could no longer be assumed. Admittedly there still would be much confusion amongst the Norse as to the situation; the comprehensive smoke would ensure that, numbers would not be known, nor as to what had happened to the others—nor, even, who were the attackers. Also, at first at any rate, these escapers might well get no further than the nearest group of their compatriots.
He was not forgetting that gathering which he had seen from the hilltop. Whether this was still going on they had no means of knowing, for even without the smoke they would not see the place from this low-lying position, for it had been in hollow ground near Ardminish. If the fugitives ran there, as they might, then the results could be more serious, warning a larger concentration of the enemy than at any single farmstead. He had no idea what proportion of the total had been assembled there, but assuming that some four hundred had come ashore from the four ships and that this gathering represented the leadership, there could well be up to one-third involved—perhaps more than his own numbers. Warned, and coming to look for him, they could be dangerous.
He decided to change tactics and go seek a major confrontation whilst surprise was still on his side—however risky. He consulted O’Ryan, and together they came to the conclusion that the assembly had been just inland of the little peninsula which formed the northern horn of Ardminish Bay, north-east of the burning township by about half-a-mile—which would make sense, to be out of the worst of its smoke but still in the most populous part of the island. How best, then, to seek to approach that area unseen? They decided that back along the actual shoreline would be best, for although there was least smoke there, the natural drop of the land surface to the beach produced the usual bank, no cliffs or high dunes in this instance but enough of a rise to offer some cover from sight from inland.
So they turned back for the beach, however doubtful O’Ryan was as to the wisdom of it. They reached the rockbound shore at another sm
all, low headland, and in the blue haze could just make out the larger peninsula which was their landmark, with its offshore islet, about half-a-mile to the south. There was no sign, as yet, of Norsemen.
Keeping as close under the bank as possible, and necessarily strung-out, they made their difficult way round the broken, curving, stony coastline, which was scarcely a bay. They attained the root of the peninsula without incident, and leaving the men there, hidden, Somerled and O’Ryan moved up to the higher ground. They found, nearby, the ramparts of another Pictish fort which offered both cover and a vantage-point. Creeping thither, they prospected the area from behind the grass-grown mounds.
They had no difficulty in perceiving the situation. They were approximately right in their direction. The hollow ground they had seen lay some three hundred yards ahead to their left, and still was thronged with men. But what had been a gathering now was scarcely that but a feasting. There were fires here too, but not from burning buildings and thatch, cooking-fires, many of them, with great sides and haunches of beef being roasted on spits, with cauldrons steaming. Men stood and lay about, many men, everywhere. Clearly no alarm had reached this company as yet.
Also clear was what the earlier gathering had been about. Fully a score of white bodies hung from an erection of poles normally used for drying fishing-nets—white splashed with red, that is, for all these bodies hung upside down, by the feet, and were headless. From another rail, just discernible nearby, hung the heads, by the hair.
“I feared something of the sort—God’s curse on them!” Somerled said. “How many Norse, would you say?”
“Over one hundred, to be sure.”
“I would think half that again. This will be the main body, the leaders. And they do not expect us—not yet!”
Carefully they surveyed the scene and the lie of the land, assessing, visualising their attack.
“Two parties,” Somerled decided. “You take forty. Round to the south yonder. When you can get no nearer without being seen, make a display, a flourish. Come on, shouting. Then, when they are distracted, I will fling in the seventy, from here. Confuse them. Two attacks will seem greater numbers. Unready, they will not have time to form any real defence. You have it?”
“Yes, then. You will have to give me time, to get there. Unseen.”
“To be sure. Come, then . . .”
Back with the men, Somerled told them the situation and plan and divided them into the two unequal-sized groupings. O’Ryan’s party would have to continue along the beach for some distance before they could take advantage of more broken ground and whin-bushes, to get into a suitable position. They hurried off.
Somerled took the main body up to the dun, some of the way having to be crawled on hands and knees. They had plenty of time. The ramparts gave ample cover thereafter. They crouched, waiting.
Even the best-laid plans can go agley, however. They were still waiting when there was a development not anticipated, an alarm—but not O’Ryan’s. Two Norsemen came running down to the feasting-area from the west in obvious urgency. It was too far to hear what they shouted but their gesticulations and pointings were sufficiently eloquent. Somerled cursed. Clearly they were announcing the attacks inland, however belatedly.
So surprise was gone. What, then? To assail them at once, before they formed up and became a fighting body? But O’Ryan would know nothing of this and there would be confusion. His seventy might well be overwhelmed before the others could join in, and all lost.
Watching the stir of alarm amongst the enemy and biting his lip in momentary indecision, another thought occurred to Somerled. This new situation might hold advantage as well as the opposite. All the pointings westward would certainly give the Norse leaders the impression that there was a force, possibly a large one, in that direction, and none so far away. When two more forces erupted on either side of them here, would the effect not be the more shattering? Surrounded. Outnumbered. Dire danger. It might serve him none so ill . . .
He was so considering when O’Ryan’s party made their appearance. He and his men saw them first, about five hundred yards away, for the Norse tended to be looking in the other direction, north and westwards, or huddled in discussion. But the shouts and bellowings, sufficiently threatening, swiftly swung them round. Yelling, brandishing axes and swords, the forty came on at the run.
Somerled gave them time to get fairly close to the agitated enemy as they rushed for their arms, difficult as it was to restrain his own men. Then leaping up, and crying his Argyll slogan, he led his seventy down.
It was not much of a fight, in the end. Unprepared, relaxed and drink-taken, assailed on two sides, the Norse defence was on the whole scrappy, unco-ordinated. Some fought well but most were really beaten before they began. No doubt, fears of another force to the north, as reported, had its effect. And another unplanned aspect may well have had an influence. Somerled attacked from the north-east, O’Ryan from the south-east, the threat of further trouble was to the north and west; which left only the south and south-west open, and thither lay Ardminish and the ships. Longships were always both the Norse strength and their weakness, representing safety as well as power. They were never happy far from their vessels.
So, as the attack developed, the tendency was to give ground in the one free direction, towards the ships. And as the struggle went against them, the tendency became a drift, and the drift before long a frank retiral. And then, as glances tended to turn over shoulders towards Ardminish Bay and the four waiting craft, there round the north headland came the three Argyll ships.
It was the last straw. The raiders broke off piecemeal and fled.
Somerled made a pretence of pursuit, but it was only that. There would be men left aboard the enemy craft and these would be likely to come ashore to the aid of colleagues if they saw them hard-pressed—but would be apt to stay on their ships if they saw only the others hurrying back. Let them go, then. There was still much work to be done in dealing with the remaining invader parties. Somerled blew his horn for a recall.
It was a strange situation. At a guess, adding the numbers disposed of here to those already slain, his own party were still likely to be outnumbered two to one. But they held the initiative, and the remaining enemy would not know their numbers, nor even, in the main, of their existence probably. For himself, it was difficult for Somerled to know what to do next. Just to go back into the general smoke, looking for further groups to surprise was scarcely a prospect to attract his now tired and sated men—and they were at the wrong side of the conflagrations here. Moreover, he was beginning to become worried about his own ships. If these four Norse vessels were to sail out and attack them, practically unmanned as they were, there could be disaster. Ragnhilde—would she perceive the danger and draw off?
He decided, after all, to hurry on after their fleeing foes, to Ardminish. At least it would keep up the pressure, perhaps prevent them from essaying any attack on the Argyll ships. It would enable himself to see what went on; indeed, there would almost certainly be fishing-boats on the Ardminish boat-strand, one of which he might be able to send out with instructions for Ragnhilde. He would have to leave the other Norse parties inland meantime.
Belatedly leading his men on southwards, anxious again, breasting an intervening small ridge, he obtained a good view over the bay, less than half-a-mile off. What he saw gave him pause. There was much activity about the four longships, the fled Norsemen already there. But something about the activity was odd, not what he would have looked for. Then he realised—they were transferring all the men to only two of the ships, leaving the others empty. It made sense, of course. With the crewmen who had been left aboard and the survivors from the attack, they could fairly fully man two; and the other two would be left for the remaining pirates if they could reach them. He might well have done the same.
So—with only two longships and the odour of defeat on them, would they be apt to attack the three Argyll ships out there? Probably not—unless they themselves were
assailed. And, unmanned as they were, Ragnhilde would never order that. Somerled felt distinctly better.
Hurrying on towards the smoking township, they watched the two Norse vessels head out to sea—and thankfully Somerled saw that they made directly for the southern horn of the bay, at speed. The Argyll ships were still lying off the north horn. Quickly the enemy rounded the point and disappeared from sight.
“We are richer by two longships!” Somerled told his people. “Come, let us take them.”
The ruined, reeking township was abandoned save for some poultry which had eluded the raiders. Bodies lay scattered, however. First things first, Somerled waded out to the longships. They found all more or less in order aboard, everything just hastily left. Surprised, they found something else left behind—a man, so completely drunk as to be incapable of movement. O’Ryan had his dirk out to despatch him when restrained by Somerled.
Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) Page 28