by Jen Black
“Where’s Emer? Have you seen her?”
“Not since this morning,” Oli said truthfully. “She’s probably already inside. Let’s go and see.”
A slave lit the last of the soapstone lamps with a taper as they walked in. Flane’s corner was empty. “Let’s eat,” Flane said, glancing down at the boy. “She’ll turn up soon.”
Oli experienced an unaccustomed twinge of guilt. The urge to tell Flane that Emer had gone was very strong, but he had promised to give her three days as a fair start before anyone set out after her.
“The little thief is probably hiding somewhere.” Katla’s overloud remark to one of her friends carried to Flane’s ears. “Simply proves her guilt, if you ask me.”
He turned, scowling. Katla saw it and glared back at him.
Skeggi walked into the hall, joined them and said he hadn’t seen Emer since early morning. “Oli was the last one to see her,” he pointed out. “You took her to the woods, didn’t you?”
Oli nodded, suddenly wary. “I took her some food. She’s hiding out for a while.”
“That’s no good,” Flane said. “She’s got to come back. Where did you take her?”
“Um…to my den.”
“Not that ancient stone cairn? Oli, you didn’t leave her there, did you?”
Oli nodded. “She’ll be all right, Flane, really.”
Flane looked at Skeggi. “We’ll go and bring her back as soon as we’ve eaten. I wouldn’t like to spend a night in that den of his, never mind Emer. She’ll be demented come morning.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my den!”
“Have you ever spent a night in it? No, I thought not.” Flane grinned. “It’s one of the cairns the old people left behind. They buried people under the stones, Oli.”
Oli pulled a face. “Ghosts don’t scare me!”
As soon as he’d finished his meal, Flane put a bowl of fish stew to one side for Emer. “Look after that,” he said to the boy, with a sidelong glance at Grendel. “And don’t let that dog eat it.” He lit a rush torch at the fire, and he and Skeggi set off.
It was darker in the woods where they leaves blocked out the last of the daylight, and the flame flickered eerily on the scarred tree trunks. “She’ll be scared to death,” Skeggi whispered. A faint wolf howl sounded somewhere out on the hillside.
Flane called Emer’s name as soon as they neared the cairn. “He wouldn’t have left her in the dark, would he? Emer!” He crouched down at the entrance to the cairn and called again. Cold, dank air drifted from the tunnel, and there was no sound from within.
“She’s not here,” Skeggi said blankly. “Where…?” He wheeled round as if expecting Emer to step out from behind a tree, but they were quite alone in the gloom of the forest. They called for some time, with no result and slowly made their way back to the steading.
Skeggi shook his head at last. “Flane, we’ve looked everywhere. She’s not here.”
“She must be somewhere. We have to find her.”
“We’ve checked Oli’s den, the stables, the byres, the hay loft and the bathing hut. Unless she’s crept in with the ducks or bedded down with the sow, she’s not in the steading.”
Flane stared at the small, round wattle-and-daub duck-house in the light of the torch and let out a half-snort of laughter. “Even Emer couldn’t get in there. I give up, then. She’s gone, and we don’t know where.”
“It’s full dark. Let’s get some sleep and start looking again in the morning.” Skeggi clapped a sympathetic hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll start at first light, which is not far away now.”
Flane couldn’t sleep for a long time. He tossed, turned and went over snatches of his conversations with both Katla and Emer, remembered Oli running out into the woods while he talked to Katla on the jetty. He frowned. Oli must know something. She could have sworn him to secrecy. Emer would assume the marriage to Katla would go ahead, and she might be upset about that, but would she complicate everything by running away?
***
Emer had walked steadily through the morning, always alert, taking notice of her surroundings, keen to spot the markers Oli had drummed into her. It would not do to lose her way. She slept in the warmth of the afternoon and set off again in the evening. All through the short summer darkness she kept moving, chanting Oli’s directions to herself at regular intervals.
She walked slowly, careful of her footing. Hare and deer shied away from her; occasionally some heavy bird blundered into the air and sometimes the bracken rustled as a small creature fled her approach. Moon and starlight helped her keep going, and though the wind was soft on her face, the air was cool. She shivered and regretted her lack of adequate clothing. If a summer storm burst over her head, she would be drenched.
Doubts set in. Perhaps…she should not have listened to Oli. He was very bright and used to fending for himself, but he was, after all, only a child. She should have known better than to set out on this madcap venture.
***
Oli found Flane and Skeggi already awake, eating bread and cheese by the warm embers of the hall fire. He scrambled out of bed to join them, bit into a piece of bread and then found he couldn’t chew it. He spat the dry mess into his hand and offered it to Grendel.
Flane, chewing hard, noticed. “What’s the matter, lad? Off your food?”
Oli looked at Flane, and guilt overwhelmed him. “She’s run away.”
“What!” Flane’s brows shot up. “Where’s she gone? When?” His brows drew down toward his nose. “You weren’t going to tell me?”
Oli shrank back. “Don’t shout at me, Flane!”
Skeggi put a restraining hand on Flane’s arm.
“I’m not shouting at anyone!” Flane shouted. He twitched Skeggi’s hand off his arm. Seeing the shock in Oli’s face, he made an effort to control himself. “If I’m shouting,” he added more quietly, “it’s because it relieves my feelings, that’s all.”
“You’ll wake everyone up,” Skeggi said mildly.
Flane swung back to Oli. “Well? Why didn’t you tell me she’d gone?”
Oli managed an uncertain smile. “She made me promise.”
“Perhaps it is just as well she’s gone,” Skeggi said. “You are better off without her. You should marry Katla.”
“Don’t make my decisions for me, Skeggi.” Flane snapped. “Where she’s gone, Oli? Do you know?”
“Snorri’s settlement.”
“That’s three days away on foot. When did she go?”
Oli coughed miserably and cleared his throat. “Yesterday morning. She wants to go to Skye. She—”
“Has an aunt there, I know!”
Oli sat very still, both hands gripping his thin arms tight. Grendel pressed close to his side, whining.
Flane forced a smile. “I’m sorry I shouted, Oli, but for the love of Thor, tell me everything you know.”
Oli found relief in the telling. When he finished, Flane seemed speechless. “She set off while I was arguing with Katla on the jetty? But that’s most of a day and a night she’s ahead of us!”
“I know.” Oli gulped, nodded and wiped his wrist across his nose. “She wanted a head start before anyone chased her. She made me promise not to tell you for three days.” He looked up as Flane got to his feet. “Will you go after her?”
“Of course I’ll go after her!”
A hesitant smile broke across the boy’s pale face. “Will you bring her back?”
A feminine voice broke in. “Of course he’ll bring her back.” Katla stood behind them, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy from weeping. She glared at Flane as if he were her worst enemy. “He’d fight Odin himself to get her back, wouldn’t you, Flane?”
“Katla—” Flane stretched out a hand toward her. He did not love her, but he had grown up with her and felt some sympathy for her.
Katla jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me! I hate you, Flane Ketilsson, and I will not rest until your bones lie in the earth, and those of your
bed slave beside you!”
Flane’s hand fell back to his side. The two men and the boy stared at her in stony silence. Flane inclined his head and spoke with grim irony. “It is just as well, then, that we shall not marry.”
She glared at him. “My father requires me to marry Longnose. The steading will not come to you now!”
“So be it,” Flane said without a hint of regret.
Katla stalked out of the hall, her cheeks pink with high emotion, and the three of them watched her go. Unnoticed, Oli got to his feet. The men’s voices followed him as he headed for the small door at the back of the hall.
“Phew!” Skeggi blew air through pursed lips. “You made an enemy there, my lad.”
Flane shrugged. “She’ll get over it when she’s married to Snorri and lording it over two settlements.” He looked round. “Where’s Oli gone?”
***
Oli watched Katla turn the corner of the hall. Her expression reminded him of his friend Erland, who always sulked if he lost a fight and wouldn’t smile again until he’d got his own back on whoever had bested him. Katla was used to having everything she wanted, and Oli thought she was likely to do something drastic, just like Erland. He wiped his hands down the front of his tunic, and set off after her.
Once outside he grabbed Grendel before the dog scampered too far ahead, held him by his collar and cautiously peered around the corner. Katla headed straight for the stables, and then beyond. Apprehension flared in Oli’s belly. He ran across open ground, tip-toed along the side of the building and stopped when he heard voices. Pressing his shoulders to the wood, he held a wriggling Grendel in his arms and stole a glance around the corner.
Katla shook the kennel-boy awake and issued instructions so vehemently Oli heard every word. His eyes widened. He turned and bolted back to the hall, shedding Grendel from his arms on the way. He flew through the main doors, shrieking. A few of the men were up and about, seeking food and ale. A rumble of concern went up at the boy’s shouts but Oli didn’t hesitate. He threw himself at Flane and words tumbled out. “She’s set the dogs off after Emer!”
Flane and Skeggi stared at him, and then both spoke at once. “What? What did you say?”
Oli swallowed, took a deep breath and said it all again slowly. “I heard her! Katla told Karli to set three of the dogs off. You remember the bit of cloth Emer used to dry her face every morning? Well, Katla gave it to him and told him to use that to give the dogs Emer’s scent. She told him she didn’t care if the girl never came back.” Oli trembled. He stared up at Flane. “If they catch her…”
Flane dropped to one knee and caught Oli in a brief, rough clasp. Reassured by the familiar odour and warmth of the embrace, Oli found the courage to let go. Flane met his gaze. “The scent will be cold after a day and night, but Skeggi and I will do our best to stop them, won’t we, Skeggi? But we have to go now, right now.”
He bit his tongue to prevent the words in his head from being said aloud. Before the dogs find her…
Skeggi was already at the door. Flane followed him, and hesitated as Katla stalked back into the hall. When she would have walked by Flane without a word, he dragged her to a halt and then let go of her arm as if he could not bear to touch her. “Have you been to the kennels? Did you set the dogs after Emer?”
Her brows rose in two smooth arcs. “Yes.”
Flane’s hand lashed out with the speed of a striking stoat. His palm connected with Katla’s cheek.
Oli let out a yip of excitement that went unnoticed as Katla stumbled against the door post and slid to her knees. She looked up, one hand to her face, her breathing unsteady, tears springing and overflowing. Oli danced up and down on the spot, his hand clapped across his mouth to hide his huge grin.
Flane towered over her. “I almost feel sorry for Longnose, who does not know what a cold hearted bitch he will get for a wife.”
“I will have you whipped for that remark.” The deep voice rang across the hall.
Flane jerked round. Skuli Grey Cloak stood not ten yards away, his eyes cold and hard. “Take him! Take him to the whipping post! He will learn not to dishonour my daughter.”
Men seized Flane, and in the confusion Skeggi stood riveted by the door, his glance flicking from Flane to Katla and back. Katla struggled to her feet, wiped blood from her lip and stared after the struggling group that forced Flane outside.
Oli edged by, hoping not to be noticed, but Katla saw, and made to strike him. Grendel showed his teeth and growled. Oli sidled out into the sunshine and called his dog. Grendel ran after him.
Katla lifted her head. “Tell your friend Flane not to come back here.”
Oli did not stop, gave no sign he had heard. From a safe distance he glanced back in time to see Katla crumple against the doorpost, saw her slide down to the floor, cradle her head in her arms against the wood and cry as if her heart would break.
Chapter Fourteen
Grey Cloak’s warriors, his own companions, men he had thought to lead one day, held him fast and would not look him in the eye. Flane snarled and struggled, intending to fight them every foot of the way to the whipping post.
“Grey Cloak’s orders,” muttered Paul, gripping his right arm. “You shouldn’t have hit the girl.”
For a moment Flane stopped fighting the men who held him. The thought of Emer, who had no idea the hunting dogs were on her trail, had filled his mind to the exclusion of everything else, but Paul’s comment made him pause and recall striking Katla.
He supposed Skuli Grey Cloak could not allow a man to go unpunished after publically striking his daughter. Flane snorted. He should have beaten her in private and no one would have objected. As soon as the whipping was done, he would set out to find Emer.
On the thought, he let them lead him on through the cool, breezy sunshine. A faint twinge of guilt touched him now that he thought of Skuli’s daughter. He had struck her hard, and his palm still stung a little from the impact with her cheek. She would bear a bruise for some time, but that was a small thing compared with what might happen to Emer.
The crowd surged behind them, and spread out at the whipping post s to gain a good view of the proceedings. Flane looked up at the tall wooden frame and clenched his jaw. Tofi held the coiled leather whip, and Flane wondered at Grey Cloak’s anger. If the whip stripped his back raw, he might not be able to ride for a day or so, and that would have fatal consequences for Emer.
He got one arm free before they rushed at him. Strong, trained warrior that he was, Flane went down under the combined strength of six men who held him and roped him into position. Hide ropes bound his wrists, ran through a groove in the top of the thick wooden pillars on either side of him and held him poised on his toes between them.
“Remove his tunic,” Grey Cloak snapped.
The knife blade was cold on his back, and cool air breathed over his skin. Someone wrenched his tunic apart and left the fabric rucked on each shoulder. Flane faced the dark trees of the forest behind the settlement. Immediately in front of him, pale sunlight heaved shadows across the ground. One shadow moved, and came closer than the others; the elongated shape of a tall man holding a huge whip.
Grey Cloak let the whip uncoil and flicked it to get the feel of it.
Breathing fast, Flane watched the shadow, waited for the hand to lift and strike. Skuli’s voice came out of the background hubbub. “Flane Ketilsson. You raised a hand to my daughter and struck her in front of witnesses. For that, you must be punished.”
Get on with it, man. Flane tightened his grip on the ropes. Rigid, every muscle taut, he waited for the first blow. Was Katla here, watching? He fought the urge to look for her. He did not want to see her gloating. The shadow moved and Flane’s gaze jerked to follow it. He saw the hand rise, saw the thin line of the whip go up, but did not see the black line fly toward his back.
He flinched, gritted his teeth and snapped his eyes shut against the stinging pain that ripped through his back. He drew a long gulp of air and br
aced himself for the second blow, thinking he was ready for it; but it shocked him still.
Red hot and terrible, the pain shrieked up his spine to his brain and made him dizzy. It took every ounce of will power he possessed to stand there and not cry out. That was two, he thought wildly. Skuli didn’t say how many. Three? Five, perhaps? Too much of this and he wouldn’t be able to go after Emer. He had underestimated Grey Cloak’s anger.
There was a sixth, and a seventh. Perhaps ten would be the limit. Surely the tenth would be the last? He thought he could bear it. The pause seemed long, and Flane ached for it to come, for it to be over. He clenched his aching jaws and curled his hand around the rope in readiness. Come on, man, get it over with!
He felt movement beside him, and opened his eyes. “It’s finished,” Paul muttered. “Grey Cloak’s gone back inside.”
The relief was overpowering. He watched them loosen the ropes, and thought he might be sick. He swallowed several times and lowered his arms slowly. They marched him back into the hall and left him standing below the dais, facing Skuli Grey Cloak’s empty chair. Before he had time to think of leaving, Skuli snapped the red curtain aside and strode through from his private quarters.
The silver hanging-lamp shivered as Grey Cloak thumped down into the ornate, carved wooden chair beneath it. Flane eyed the heavy torque of twisted gold, the symbol of Grey Cloak’s leadership. Was worse punishment about to befall him? He looked up and clenched his fists as he met his leader’s steely, angry gaze. At least no one else was within earshot. He doubted anyone would risk Grey Cloak’s anger today for the sake of overhearing what was said.
The crimson curtain behind the dais twitched. Katla would be skulking behind it, listening to everything that was said.
Skuli cleared his throat. “You struck my daughter.”
“I did, lord.” Flane bowed his head, but lifted it straight afterwards, ignoring the red hot sensation that accompanied the movement. He was not going to behave like a craven coward before Grey Cloak, and if this conversation went on too long, he would walk out.