The Viking

by Talbott, Marti

  The girls ranged in age from five to fourteen and all began to talk at once. “We have come to help,” said the eldest.” Andrina was a pretty girl whom often wished she and Kannak could be friends. She suspected Eagan forbid it in the past, but now that he was gone, she was hopeful.

  “We are good at planting and we have finished ours,” another of the girls proudly announced. “And we noticed…could not help but notice, yer chickens need a pen to keep them safe. We can put up three walls, if’n we use the back o’ yer shed for the fourth. We make excellent walls and yer land has plenty o’ rocks.”

  The smallest child pushed her way through the others, came in the door, raised her arms to Jirvel and waited for her to pick her up. “I am Suria. We seen three berry bad wolves. I are a feared o’ ‘em, are ye?”

  “Nay, we have Stefan to protect us.” She smiled at the child’s father and since there were so many of them, decided to carry the little one outside to talk. Kannak was thrilled and quickly walked out to stand beside Andrina.

  But Stefan was not so pleased. While they needed the help and badly, he did not like the way Ronan looked at Jirvel and he had not forgotten what Diarmad said the day before about bribing the priest so she would be free to marry. Nevertheless, he politely greeted the girls and then spotted Diarmad standing by a tree holding the reins of two horses. He preferred to ride their horse but the mare would not come to him. He needed Jirvel to whistle and she was busy talking.

  Jirvel set the child down and curtsied to Ronan as a sign of respect even though it was not required for any man save their laird. “Ye are very kind to help us.” She meant it too. They only had two chickens left and with no pen, Jirvel had to rely on her nightly prayer to keep them safe.

  “Ye may not be so happy once ye see what these can eat o’ a noon meal. Just in case, I brought two loaves o’ bread.” He handed her a cloth sack. “If that be not enough, I can send the laddies for…”

  “‘Tis more than enough.”

  Ronan nodded and went to his horse. “Best ye take our other horse for yer ride into the village, Stefan, and leave the mare incase the lassies need to come get us for some reason.” He mounted and then rode his horse out of the courtyard and turned down the path.

  But the other horse Diarmad held the reins to had a saddle and Stefan much preferred to ride bare back. Before he even asked, Jirvel whistled and it wasn’t long until the mare came running. He bridled her, mounted and then turned to the woman he was beginning to think of more as a mother than just a good friend. “We will not tarry long.” When he looked, Kannak and Andrina were whispering, looking and him and giggling. Stefan rolled his eyes.

  “Enjoy yer day, Stefan. Perhaps ye should see more o’ our land and meet more o’ the people. We will be well.” She saw the look of worry in his eyes and sought to comfort him further. “Ye forget, we have weapons now and we know how to use them. Be gone with ye two.”

  He still hesitated, but finally led the way up the same path Ronan took. After a time and when the path was wide enough, Diarmad moved his horse up beside Stefan’s. “There be a certain lad we might consider for Andrina. His name be Blair and he has already had a wife, but she died six months ago with the birth o’ her first. A lass in the village cares for her bairn, but Blair visits often. To my way o’ thinking, only a good lad would do that.”

  “I agree.” He let Diarmad take the lead and as they rode past farm after farm, Diarmad had this and that to say about each, mostly good things but occasionally he was critical of the man for his farming skills. It appeared farming skills were far more important to Diarmad than the man’s care of his wife and children, but Stefan kept his thoughts to himself.

  When they came to a place in the path that was flooded, Diarmad halted his horse. “Searc and Sionn have been here, I see.” He turned his horse off the path, found the creek and just as he thought, rocks and mud had been piled in the creek to force the water onto the path.”

  “Why do ye suspect Macoran’s sons o’ this?” Stefan dismounted and began to move the rocks out of the creek.

  “Who else would do it? They are a pest and blight on us all. The laddies particularly like to cause the widow Sarah’s discomfort. She has a sharp voice when she be riled and they do all they can to get her so. Once they put eggs in her chair and she neglected to look before she sat. Her screeching was so loud, half the Limonds came to the river to see if they were needed.”

  “And Macoran does nothing to stop his sons?”

  “They are well trained to keep out o’ sight and not get caught.”

  “Trained by whom?”

  “Mistress Agnes, ‘Tis said, though none have the proof. If they did, they would tell Macoran. God help us all when those two are grown. We will no doubt be tempted to tell the Vikings where to find them.” Diarmad joined his laughter to Stefan’s, watched him get back on his horse and then led the way back to the path. “The twins particularly like fire and more than once a lad or lass has pulled them away from one just in time. At least we have one saving grace.”

  “What might that be?”

  “In the spring, Macoran sends them off with their mother to the Brodie’s. ‘Tis the most blessed time o’ the year for us all.”

  CHAPTER IX

  Kannak could not have been happier. Andrina was full of gossip and while the younger girls went off to gather heather to mix with the river clay her mother went to fetch, the older girls began to fill baskets with rocks.

  “He be handsome enough, I suppose,” said Kannak. “But Stefan grows more awkward by the moment. Mother says he be growing and all boys become ungainly when they dinnae realize their size.”

  “‘Tis true, my brothers are the same.”

  “When do they grow out o’ it? I sometimes fear Stefan will trample me.”

  “When they stop growing. Awkward or not, Stefan be almost as handsome as…”

  Kannak put a rock in her basket and then tested the weight to see if it was getting too heavy. “As who?”

  “I best not say.”

  “Why not? I would not tell even if I had other friends.”

  “Do ye pledge it?”

  “Of course.” She added two more rocks and decided it was heavy enough.

  Andrina leaned a little closer. “William be the most princely lad I have ever seen.”

  “William? The William who lives just east o’ us?” She waited for Andrina to lift her basket and together they carried them back to where Jirvel was digging a hole in which to mix the clay with water. Already the younger girls had gathered a full basket of heather to mix in the mortar. They dumped the rocks in a pile and went back.

  “Do ye know him, William I mean?” asked Andrina.

  “Not well, but I have seen him often. He seems pleasant enough.”

  “I think so too. I have not yet had occasion to talk with him much. Come to think o’ it, I have not talked to him at all.”

  “Why not?”

  “I dinnae know precisely. It would help if he was our direct neighbor, but ye live between us, ye see. I did catch him looking at me during the festival, but he did not approach.” Andrina tossed several more rocks in her basket and then stood up to stretch her back.

  “Is that how it be done? The lad approaches the lass he hopes to marry?”

  “How else is he to know if she has a soft enough voice or if she smells. A lad does not like a lass who smells, ye know.”

  Kannak had never thought of that reason to keep clean and decided she would take more care of her personal grooming in the future, just in case Jirvel ever let her marry, which she doubted would be any time soon…if ever. “What do they talk about when a lad approaches.”

  Andrina giggled. “I have only been approached once. It was Friseal and he asked if I was a good cook. I did not like him, so I shook my head and he went away. My father glared at me for the rest o’ the day.”

  “Yer father wishes ye to marry?”

  “He wishes us all to marry and quickly, save th
e brothers. He has too many mouths to feed and no wife. But ye dinnae see my meaning.”

  “Meaning o’ what?”

  “Macoran dinnae let a lass choose, but if she be very, very wise, she can do the choosing anyway. All she need do is be pleasing to the lad she wants and…”

  “Addlebrained to the one she dinnae want?”

  “Or worse if need be. She might laugh too loud or too often, whisper so he cannae hear her, or I dinnae know…there must be many ways to discourage him.”

  *

  It was a beautiful glen that marked the last of the Macoran land and at the end was a vast holding filled with sheep, cattle and horses. A couple of Macoran guards sat their horses at the edge of the land and kept watch for strangers and visitors. The dirt road was wide enough for a cart and the large cottage was surrounded by flowers. “He sees to all this by himself?” Stefan asked.

  “Macoran sends lads to help when ‘tis needed, but mostly Blair cares for it himself. I would like to see Andrina living in such a fine home. Since our mother passed, she has carried a heavy load. Come, we will meet him and ye can help me decide.”

  They spent an hour with Blair, but it was apparent he still mourned his wife and was not ready to have another. Even so, Stefan had another new friend and he liked the man very much. Blair had a love for animals and children, the same as Stefan.

  On the way back, they next visited Fergus. He was unmarried and he too kept his place well cared for growing wheat and oats mostly. But his cottage was smaller than Jirvel’s and when Diarmad suggested he build a new one, Fergus was offended. The boys quickly crossed him off their list as too quick to anger.

  There were other farms, but those men were married and as they rode the path, Diarmad and Stefan simply nodded and continued on. On the village side of Jirvel’s land lived William and Colin whom they visited respectively. They too were pleasant and Stefan could not find fault with either of them. Both were young, hardworking, not taken to drink and friendly. How would they ever choose? It appeared matchmaking was not as easy as they supposed. One thing was stuck in Stefan’s mind and it galled him – why was Jirvel’s land so run down compared to the others? Did no one care to help all these years, even her neighbors?

  *

  As soon as Macoran spotted Stefan riding into the village he grew concerned. Hiding it well, he stood on the landing with his hands clasped behind his back and waited until the young boys approached. “Good day to ye, laddies.” He watched them nod and then had to know, “Is something amiss?”

  “We have come to ask if ye want Jirvel’s cow bred.” Diarmad blurted out.

  “‘Tis Jirvel’s cow, ask her.”

  “Ask a lass?”

  “Ah, I see yer meaning. Let me say this then. I cannae be at hand always and I trust Stefan to do the right thing. If he happens to seek Jirvel’s advice on a matter or two, so be it.”

  Diarmad found it very perplexing. Never had he heard of asking a lass’s advice on a matter such as this. But if he suspected something, he held his words. “So be it.”

  “Have ye eaten?” When both shook their heads, he smiled. “Nor have I. Perhaps ye might share a bite with me and tell me all the news.”

  Diarmad was excited. Until now, he believed he was not yet old enough to be invited inside and especially not for a meal. He dismounted, let another man take his horse away as though he was an honored guest and followed Stefan up the stairs.

  The two-story home of Laird Macoran was spacious and clean. It had a kitchen in the back, a stone staircase, a balcony leading to four bedchambers and a large great hall that took up most of the bottom floor. With a stone hearth at one end, the great hall was well furnished and held a polished long table and several high backed chairs.

  A great hall was often a place to show off the clan’s wealth and if not, the hunting or battle skills of their laird. As soon as he was inside, Stefan spotted an array of confiscated Viking weapons and at first pretended not to notice.

  But Diarmad was entranced and slowly walked down the wall examining each article, so Stefan felt he should as well. He hoped he would not recognize any of them but the latest addition to the collection was his father’s shield. It was all he could do not to gasp, but he held his face stoic and swore he would have that back someday. At least his father’s sword was not among the prizes. The old ways of the Vikings demanded a man’s sword be buried with him to take into the next life.

  Diarmad came across a weathered rod with several leather strips attached to it, “What be this, Laird Macoran?”

  “‘Tis a whip used for flogging by the Romans. Blair found that when he dug his fruit cellar. I dinnae believe the Romans made it this far into Scotland, but there’s the proof. Wretched looking thing, is it not?”

  Stefan expected Macoran’s wife and sons to join them, but they were nowhere in sight. “Is yer wife unwell?”

  “Nay, she prefers to keep to her bedchamber.” He glanced up at a partially closed bedchamber door and frowned. “Take no offense, laddies. ‘Tis me she hates.”

  Macoran motioned for each to sit on opposite sides of the table and then sat down at the head. He patiently waited for the servers to bring more food and extra bowls before he spoke again. “As I recall Diarmad, ye have not been in my company since ye got caught throwing rocks at…”

  “Rosa,” Diarmad put in. “I recollect it as though it were yesterday. Ye tanned my backside and then my father burned a hole clean through it when he got me home.”

  Macoran laughed. “Ye’ve not thrown a rock since, I venture to guess.”

  “I have not even skipped a pebble across the river since that day.”

  Again Macoran laughed, “And will ye warm yer son’s backside when he does it.”

  “Not if he throws it at Rosa, she deserved it.”

  “How so?”

  “She called my mother a bletherskite.”

  At that, Stefan could not help but smile. “It seemed to be a favorite word among the Macorans. Kannak calls me that when she be put out.”

  Macoran filled a bowl with mutton stew and handed it to Stefan. “Are yer families well?” He filled another for Diarmad and a bowl for himself.

  The boys both answered and told of their ride, the visits and the places they had seen. Macoran noticed all the men they visited were unmarried and wondered why, but he let them finish eating before he asked, “Are the two o’ ye thinking o’ taking wives?”

  Stefan nearly choked on his last bite of stew. “I dinnae want a wife.”

  But Diarmad was far more serious. “At what age do ye recommend marriage, Laird Macoran?”

  “There be no particular age, but a lad must be able to care for a wife and the children she will bear afore I give my permission. Why did ye not bring Kannak with ye, Stefan?”

  “She builds a wall, which reminds me we should get back to help.”

  “My father took all his daughters to Jirvel,” Diarmad added. “He thought she might as well get to know them. Of course it be to help build a pen for the chickens as well.” He saw the look of displeasure on Macoran’s face and caught his breath. “Did I talk out o’ turn? My father said he already asked for Jirvel.”

  Macoran dared not let his jealousy be exposed particularly since he knew his wife was listening, as she always was. “Nay, laddie, ye did not talk out o’ turn. I was just surprised yer father would take such a bold step. I have not yet given my permission. He be not the only lad who has asked for her.”

  “Oh, I see. I dinnae believe my father knows that. But he was the first and I have heard ye give yer favors to the first.”

  “They say that, do they? I suppose they are right, but not by design. I know ye will find this hard to believe, but I do try to give a lass to a lad who be deserving o’ her. It be not as easy as ye may think. If I choose wrong, the other lad will hate me and when I need him to fight, he will be o’ no use to me.”

  Stefan could not help himself, “I have heard that a lass has no say in the matter.�
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  Macoran stared at Stefan a little longer than he might have otherwise. “Do lasses in the north do the choosing?”

  “In some places.” Again fearing he was about to get caught in his lies, Stefan quickly continued. “If there be love, sometimes an exception be made.”

  “Ah love. When I know about it I take it under advisement too. Most men think they are in love when they ask for a lass, but a lass can learn to love her husband no matter who I choose for her.”

  Stefan thought to argue the point but was certain it would take more than one afternoon to convince Macoran otherwise, and he did not have that kind of time. “We should get back. I worry about leaving Jirvel and Kannak alone.”

  “If that be the case, yer free to leave.” Macoran watched the young men walk out the door and then mumbled, “Love…love will be the death o’ us all.”

  *

  Half the wall was finished, the neighbor girls agreed to come back the next day and the three in Jirvel’s little family were almost too exhausted to talk during their evening meal. But if they were to be a real family, which Stefan sorely wanted to be a part of, there could be no secrets between them. “Diarmad says the lads will ask for Andrina soon and I am curious; why do the Scots not let the lass have a say in matters of marriage?”

  “‘Tis because they are daft,” Jirvel scoffed. “I have yet to know a lass, forced to take a husband she does not want, who be happy in her marriage.”

  “But Macoran claims a lass will learn to love her husband no matter who she be matched with.”

  “Aye, that be what he claims and that be what the lads want him to believe. What lad will admit he cannae make his wife happy?”

  “But do the lasses not tell Macoran?”

  “‘Twould do no good. He would just pat their hands and tell them to give it more time.”

  “Andrina says a wise lass can out think Macoran.” Kannak had their full attention and savored the moment by taking a sip of water and then slowly setting her goblet down. “I am not to tell, but she prefers William and wants no other, not even ye, Stefan.”