more complicated than I
would have wished. I didn't ask for much. The security and peace of Sevenwaters, the chance to use my craft well and be warmed by the love of my family. I wasn't sure if I had it in me to do more than that. I
could not see myself as one who might influence the course of destiny. How Sean would laugh at this notion, if I told him.
The season wore on, and Eamonn did not come back. The druids left us again, walking silent footed into the forest at dusk. Niamh became unusually quiet and took to sitting up on the roof slates, gazing out over the trees and humming softly to herself. Often, when I looked for her to help with a piece of sewing or the preparation of fruit for drying, she was nowhere to be found.
In the evenings she never wanted to talk anymore but lay on her bed smiling secretly, until her eyelids dropped over her beautiful eyes and she slept like a child. I slept less easily myself. We heard conflicting reports from the north. Eamonn was fighting on two fronts. He had advanced into his neighbor's territory. He had retreated to his inner wall.
The raiders were Norsemen, come back to harry a shore we had long thought safe. They had settlements far south, at the mouth of a great river, and they sought to expand their holding up along the coast and even into the heart of our own lands. They were not Norsemen at all but Page 22
Britons. They were neither, but some more foreign breed; men who wore their identity on their skin in a secret, coded pattern. Men with faces like strange birds and great fierce cats and stag and boar; men who attacked in silence and killed without mercy. One had a face as black as the night sky. Not even men, perhaps, but Other-world warriors. Their weapons were as odd as their appearance; cunning pipes through which a dart with poison tip might be launched into the air; tiny metal balls studded with spikes that traveled fast and bit hard, clever use of a length of fine cord, no sword or spear, no honest weapons.
We did not know which of these stories to believe, though Sean and Liam favored the theory about
Norsemen as the most likely. After all, such invaders were best placed for a quick strike and retreat, for at sea they were as yet unmatched, employing both oar and sail to move faster than the wind over the water. Maybe their ornate helmets had given rise to the strange tales. And yet, said Liam, the Norsemen
fought unsubtly, with broadsword, mace, and axe. Nor were they known for their prowess in wooded terrain, preferring to keep their hold on the coastal margins rather than venture inland.
The theory did not fit quite as neatly as one might have wished.
Eventually around the time when day and night were of equal length and Father was busy with planting, Eamonn sent for help, and Liam despatched a force of thirty well-armed men off to the north. Sean would have liked to go and so, I think, would my uncle himself. But as it was, something stayed them both. There was Aisling, still dwelling in our house where she would be out of harm's way, and anxious for her brother's safety. That was enough to keep Sean at home for now. And Liam said it was too risky, with the threat not fully understood, for either of them to be in the front line along with both Eamonn and his grandfather. They would wait until they got a report from Eamonn himself or from Seamus. That would be fact and not fancy. Then would be time to decide whether to take further action.
I noticed, though, that they spoke long and seriously in the evenings and studied their maps.
Iubdan, too.
My father might have sworn not to take up arms, not if the enemy might be his own kind, but Liam was enough of a strategist to recognize and make use of the skill his sister's husband had with charts and with the planning of offense and defense. I heard him remark that it was a pity Padriac had never come back the last time he'd sailed off in search of new lands and fresh adventures. Now there was a man who
would have wished. I didn't ask for much. The security and peace of Sevenwaters, the chance to use my craft well and be warmed by the love of my family. I wasn't sure if I had it in me to do more than that. I
could not see myself as one who might influence the course of destiny. How Sean would laugh at this notion, if I told him.
The season wore on, and Eamonn did not come back. The druids left us again, walking silent footed into the forest at dusk. Niamh became unusually quiet and took to sitting up on the roof slates, gazing out over the trees and humming softly to herself. Often, when I looked for her to help with a piece of sewing or the preparation of fruit for drying, she was nowhere to be found.
In the evenings she never wanted to talk anymore but lay on her bed smiling secretly, until her eyelids dropped over her beautiful eyes and she slept like a child. I slept less easily myself. We heard conflicting reports from the north. Eamonn was fighting on two fronts. He had advanced into his neighbor's territory. He had retreated to his inner wall.
The raiders were Norsemen, come back to harry a shore we had long thought safe. They had settlements far south, at the mouth of a great river, and they sought to expand their holding up along the coast and even into the heart of our own lands. They were not Norsemen at all but Page 22
Britons. They were neither, but some more foreign breed; men who wore their identity on their skin in a secret, coded pattern. Men with faces like strange birds and great fierce cats and stag and boar; men who attacked in silence and killed without mercy. One had a face as black as the night sky. Not even men, perhaps, but Other-world warriors. Their weapons were as odd as their appearance; cunning pipes through which a dart with poison tip might be launched into the air; tiny metal balls studded with spikes that traveled fast and bit hard, clever use of a length of fine cord, no sword or spear, no honest weapons.
We did not know which of these stories to believe, though Sean and Liam favored the theory about
Norsemen as the most likely. After all, such invaders were best placed for a quick strike and retreat, for at sea they were as yet unmatched, employing both oar and sail to move faster than the wind over the water. Maybe their ornate helmets had given rise to the strange tales. And yet, said Liam, the Norsemen
fought unsubtly, with broadsword, mace, and axe. Nor were they known for their prowess in wooded terrain, preferring to keep their hold on the coastal margins rather than venture inland.
The theory did not fit quite as neatly as one might have wished.
Eventually around the time when day and night were of equal length and Father was busy with planting, Eamonn sent for help, and Liam despatched a force of thirty well-armed men off to the north. Sean would have liked to go and so, I think, would my uncle himself. But as it was, something stayed them both. There was Aisling, still dwelling in our house where she would be out of harm's way, and anxious for her brother's safety. That was enough to keep Sean at home for now. And Liam said it was too risky, with the threat not fully understood, for either of them to be in the front line along with both Eamonn and his grandfather. They would wait until they got a report from Eamonn himself or from Seamus. That would be fact and not fancy. Then would be time to decide whether to take further action.
I noticed, though, that they spoke long and seriously in the evenings and studied their maps.
Iubdan, too.
My father might have sworn not to take up arms, not if the enemy might be his own kind, but Liam was enough of a strategist to recognize and make use of the skill his sister's husband had with charts and with the planning of offense and defense. I heard him remark that it was a pity Padriac had never come back the last time he'd sailed off in search of new lands and fresh adventures. Now there was a man who
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