entrance to the cove.
Xára’s knees wobbled. She grabbed onto the rough stone of an arrow slit to remain standing. Had Néill returned with Godfraid’s formidable army?
Chapter Four
Dráddør and Tighe stood side-by-side in the center of the cove fronting the base of Lathairn’s cliffs. The morn had dawned with the bleakness of the coming storm.
Tighe grunted. “The men are grumbling.”
“Aye. They’ve been spoiling for battle for the last few days.” When Tighe and Dráddør had left Dalriada not five days ago, they both had anticipated either a swift, bloody attack or a prolonged siege. Either way, battle fever had their warriors on edge and, since Dráddør had forbidden swiving until he was assured the castle and lands secured, the men had not been able to appease their pent-up tension.
Dráddør had recognized the langskips sailing toward Lathairn as his brother’s even before he crested the peak of the lookout mound. To his men’s disappointment, he’d curtailed all the frenzied preparations for a possible invasion. To counteract the warriors’ growing restlessness, he’d ordered a score of men to the hunt and assigned the rest to cleaning the castle and whitewashing the walls. They were piddling chores to be cert and while his commands spawned grouses and complaints; they also kept idle hands busy and prevented scores of fights 2tween the Viking soldiers and Arnfinn’s ragged bunch of mercenaries and men-at-arms.
“Think you war is brewing and Harald Bluetooth calls you to arms?” Tighe, not one to stand idle for long, whittled a piece of driftwood he’d found on the rocks.
“Why else would Konáll bring an extra langskip?” Dráddør could not afford to leave Lathairn until the castle was secured and Xára full with child. Even then, ’twould be a grievous risk to go to war for winter was setting in. “Loki’s prick be severed. I need not this now.”
The tall cliffs separating the castle from the bay cast deep shadows over most of the rocky beach. Konáll’s langskip, Dauði Dkellr, named for his axe, Death Blow, sailed through the entrance to the bay. The ship rode the rough waves and on each trough, the mast of the boat following rose like a beacon.
When Dauði Dkellr anchored in the middle of the bay and let down a small rowboat, Dráddør shaded his eyes and squinted. “’Tis Konáll, to be cert.”
“Do my eyes deceive me or is that a woman they are lowering into your brother’s arms?” Tighe peered at the small boat.
Dráddør clamped his dropped jaw tight. “Nay, you have the right of it. ’Tis Nyssa. I cannot believe Konáll set out to journey here with his wife swollen with child. He is as nervous as a nun about the babe and in less than three sennights the channels will freeze. Why would he take such a risk? If ’twere not for King Harald and King Kenneth’s urgent summons, e’en I would have waited until the spring to claim Lathairn and the title.”
“Thanks to your god, Odin, you did not. Néill most cert would have raped Xára and claimed both the title and the lands long before spring.” Tighe laid the bleached branch on a flat boulder and with quick, short flicks carved the outline of a sword.
Dráddør tracked the boat approaching the cove.
“Hail.” The shout echoed around the bay.
Dráddør waved and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Best you disembark in the calm pool to your right.”
The two Vikings rowing the boat changed direction.
Tighe pocketed the small sword he’d carved. Both men walked to the one spot of tranquility in the bay, a tiny alcove where the ocean lapped the rock-strewn sand instead of pounding and thrashing away the beach clinging to the cliff’s base. They watched as Konáll hopped out of the small boat and stood in the knee-deep water to swing Nyssa high against his chest. The grim cant of his mouth spoke volumes.
Dráddør braced himself for his brother’s anger.
Konáll strode forward. He kicked
Xára’s knees wobbled. She grabbed onto the rough stone of an arrow slit to remain standing. Had Néill returned with Godfraid’s formidable army?
Chapter Four
Dráddør and Tighe stood side-by-side in the center of the cove fronting the base of Lathairn’s cliffs. The morn had dawned with the bleakness of the coming storm.
Tighe grunted. “The men are grumbling.”
“Aye. They’ve been spoiling for battle for the last few days.” When Tighe and Dráddør had left Dalriada not five days ago, they both had anticipated either a swift, bloody attack or a prolonged siege. Either way, battle fever had their warriors on edge and, since Dráddør had forbidden swiving until he was assured the castle and lands secured, the men had not been able to appease their pent-up tension.
Dráddør had recognized the langskips sailing toward Lathairn as his brother’s even before he crested the peak of the lookout mound. To his men’s disappointment, he’d curtailed all the frenzied preparations for a possible invasion. To counteract the warriors’ growing restlessness, he’d ordered a score of men to the hunt and assigned the rest to cleaning the castle and whitewashing the walls. They were piddling chores to be cert and while his commands spawned grouses and complaints; they also kept idle hands busy and prevented scores of fights 2tween the Viking soldiers and Arnfinn’s ragged bunch of mercenaries and men-at-arms.
“Think you war is brewing and Harald Bluetooth calls you to arms?” Tighe, not one to stand idle for long, whittled a piece of driftwood he’d found on the rocks.
“Why else would Konáll bring an extra langskip?” Dráddør could not afford to leave Lathairn until the castle was secured and Xára full with child. Even then, ’twould be a grievous risk to go to war for winter was setting in. “Loki’s prick be severed. I need not this now.”
The tall cliffs separating the castle from the bay cast deep shadows over most of the rocky beach. Konáll’s langskip, Dauði Dkellr, named for his axe, Death Blow, sailed through the entrance to the bay. The ship rode the rough waves and on each trough, the mast of the boat following rose like a beacon.
When Dauði Dkellr anchored in the middle of the bay and let down a small rowboat, Dráddør shaded his eyes and squinted. “’Tis Konáll, to be cert.”
“Do my eyes deceive me or is that a woman they are lowering into your brother’s arms?” Tighe peered at the small boat.
Dráddør clamped his dropped jaw tight. “Nay, you have the right of it. ’Tis Nyssa. I cannot believe Konáll set out to journey here with his wife swollen with child. He is as nervous as a nun about the babe and in less than three sennights the channels will freeze. Why would he take such a risk? If ’twere not for King Harald and King Kenneth’s urgent summons, e’en I would have waited until the spring to claim Lathairn and the title.”
“Thanks to your god, Odin, you did not. Néill most cert would have raped Xára and claimed both the title and the lands long before spring.” Tighe laid the bleached branch on a flat boulder and with quick, short flicks carved the outline of a sword.
Dráddør tracked the boat approaching the cove.
“Hail.” The shout echoed around the bay.
Dráddør waved and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Best you disembark in the calm pool to your right.”
The two Vikings rowing the boat changed direction.
Tighe pocketed the small sword he’d carved. Both men walked to the one spot of tranquility in the bay, a tiny alcove where the ocean lapped the rock-strewn sand instead of pounding and thrashing away the beach clinging to the cliff’s base. They watched as Konáll hopped out of the small boat and stood in the knee-deep water to swing Nyssa high against his chest. The grim cant of his mouth spoke volumes.
Dráddør braced himself for his brother’s anger.
Konáll strode forward. He kicked
Similar Books
