The iron lance

TEN

The old grave mound had been raised by the first inhabitants of Dyrness in times past remembering. It was a single long chamber marked out and roofed over with great slabs of stone and covered with earth. Its low entrance opened onto the sea, and from any distance its shallow hump appeared as nothing more than a hillock of grassy turf.

There was an old tale that the People of the Otter had built the mound as a tomb for their revered dead; there might have been something in this, so far as Murdo knew, for some men near Orphir had once found skulls and leg bones, beads, and carved stones in a similar mound; even so, he had never found anything but bits of shell and a few otter teeth, and he had been inside many times.

By the time he reached the tumulus, Murdo was out of breath. He had led the intruders a furious chase, allowing them tantalizing glimpses of him as he drew them further and further away from the coast, before losing them in the bracken of the valley. He then doubled back to the hill and, when he was certain he was not followed any longer, raced along the cliff track to the barrow.

'Hin,' he called softly, kneeling at the small dark entrance. 'Jotun.'

He waited a moment. When he did not receive any reply, he called again. Again, there was no answer, so Murdo knelt down and, cursing Hin's stupidity, wormed his way into the mound. The interior was cool and still as any cavern. He knew, before opening his mouth to call for the third and last time, that Hin was not there.

He backed out and climbed to the top of the mound and lay down on his stomach, scanning the fields between the cliff-top and the house. There was no sign of Hin, nor was there any sign of Lord Orin's men.

The devil take him, thought Murdo angrily, as he slid down the rounded rump of the mound. He had little choice now but to make for the cove and hope that Hin, having grown tired of waiting, had ignored his instructions and gone there instead.

Murdo struck off along the coast track, adopting a peculiar low trot which, though uncomfortable, would keep him out of sight from the house and surrounding fields. Upon reaching the bay a short while later, he looked down to the strand below, saw the boat, Peder, and his mother standing nearby-but neither Hin nor Jotun were anywhere to be seen.

He scrambled down the stepped path. 'Where is Hin?' he called as soon as his feet touched the sand.

'He went with you and has not returned,' his mother replied, hurrying to meet him. 'Why? What has happened, Murdo?'

'Intruders have taken the house,' he informed her. 'They killed Fossi -'

'No!'

'Yes – killed with the sword. The intruders chased us, but we got away,' Murdo explained. 'I told Hin to wait for me at the barrow. I was just there, but could not find him.'

'Why would they kill Fossi?' asked Niamh, struggling to keep her voice steady as the shock of his words struck her.

'I will explain it later.' With that he turned and started away again. 'Stay here.'

'Murdo, no!' she cried, even as she marvelled at her son's courage.

'I am going to find Hin,' he shouted behind him. 'Help Peder make ready to sail. Put to sea as soon as you see us on the cliff.'

Murdo reached the tumulus and, once again, called for Hin. Receiving no reply, he edged around the side of the mound and looked back towards the bu. As his eyes swept the expanse of empty fields, he heard a shout in the distance, looked in the direction of the sound and saw Hin running to meet him, Jotun loping easily at his side.

Stepping quickly from behind the mound, Murdo put his hands to his mouth and urged them to hurry. Even as his shout hung in the air, the intruders appeared-four big men, armed with spears.

They were gaining on Hin, but Murdo reckoned he would reach the cove before the intruders could catch him. 'Run!' he cried. 'They are onto you, man! Run for your life!'

Hin put his head down and ran the harder. Seeing his master, Jotun, too, increased his pace. Murdo thought to run back to help ready the boat for their escape, but could not tear himself away from the chase before him. He could not help Hin by staying; neither could he leave. 'Faster!' he cried.

Murdo glanced across the cliff-top towards the hidden cove, torn between going and staying. He looked back to the chase just in time to see Hin stumble and fall headlong to the ground. 'Get up!' cried Murdo, dashing towards his fallen friend.

Hin regained his feet in an instant, and started running again. The wild whoops of the pursuers pierced the air, and Murdo, crying encouragement, raced empty-handed to the rescue.

He had taken but a dozen steps, however, when the hapless Hin, risking a look behind him, tangled his feet and went down again. He sprang up and ran on-but not as fast as before, his gait laboured. One of the foremost pursuers, seeing a chance, put back his arm and, with a mighty heave, loosed his spear into the air. The shaft landed only a few paces behind the struggling Hin.

Murdo cursed the brute's cowardly heart, and shouted for Hin to hurry. The second spear was in the air before Murdo drew breath again. He watched the deadly thing arc and fall beside his friend. Hin ran on.

'Hin! Jotun!' cried Murdo. He could see Hin's face now, and knew he was injured. 'Come, you both! The boat is waiting!'

Murdo did not see the third spear thrown-merely the cruel glint of the blade in the air as it dropped, and then Hin's face as he felt it strike home. The force of the blow carried him forward a few steps before he fell.

Murdo halted and stood gazing in horror at the spearshaft protruding from Hin's back. Jotun, too, sensing the terrible distress of the human with him, turned and began pulling at the wooden shaft as if he would draw it with his teeth.

Hin made to rise. He pushed himself up on stiff arms and looked to Murdo. White-faced, eyes wide and bulging, the unlucky youth opened his mouth to call out, but collapsed as the foemen rushed upon him.

Murdo spun away and did not look back-not even when he heard the cheers of the victors. The world became a blur around him-grass, rocks, sea, sky – everything melted and merged, and Murdo ran as he had never run in all his life, rage and fear lending speed to his flight. He ran, tears in his eyes and a curse between his teeth. Upon reaching the cove, he flung himself headlong down the cliff-side, shouting, 'Go! Go! Go!'

The boat was in the water a few dozen paces from the shore. Peder had already turned the vessel; the prow was pointing seaward.

'Go!' Murdo shouted, and saw the oars strike the water. 'Row!'

The invaders gained the top of the promontory and started down the narrow trail. Murdo leapt the last few steps, and fell sprawling on elbows and knees in the deep sand.

He heard his mother scream, and he scrambled forward, crab-like, hands and feet churning. In the same instant, a spear struck the sand in the very place he had landed. Half-rolling, half-running, he struggled on, the soft sand dragging at his feet.

'Row!' cried Murdo. 'Row, Peder!'

Behind him, Orin's men, having sighted the boat and its passengers, loosed wild whoops and flew down the cliff-side trail.

Murdo gained the water's edge and splashed to his knees in two bounds, then lunged into a dive and came up swimming, all the time shouting 'Row, Peder! Row!'

The boat had increased its distance from the shore, and was moving more quickly now as Peder's swift sure oar-strokes carried it forward. For an awful moment, Murdo thought he would not be able to swim fast enough to catch it. Tired from his run, he could already feel the strength ebbing from his arms and legs. His lungs burned and he felt himself sinking lower in the water.

Closing his eyes, Murdo swam until he thought his heart would burst. He heard a voice call out to him, and felt something hard strike him and wrap him in stiff coils. He opened his eyes to see that his mother had thrown a rope. He grabbed it and felt himself drawn through the water.

Three heartbeats later, he bumped against the side of the boat, reached up a hand and somehow grasped the rail. Then his mother's hands were on him, hauling him up from the sea; he kicked his legs and was dragged over the rail. He slid into the bottom of the boat and lay gasping and panting like a landed salmon.

His mother, bending over him, brushed the water from his face and searched him with her eyes. 'I-I,' he wheezed, 'I am-not hurt.'

There came a raw cry from the beach and Niamh turned towards the sound. Murdo, pushing himself up, leaned against the side of the boat and looked back at the beach to see a dark mass streaking across the sand towards the water.

'Jotun!' cried Murdo.

As if in answer to his name, the great hound barked once and sped between two Norsemen. One of the men lunged at the dog with his spear, missed, and fell onto his knees as the animal raced by.

'Come, Jotun!' shouted Murdo, dragging himself up. 'Jotun! Here!'

All four Norsemen were on the beach now, and two were wading into the water as if they might give chase. The dog, swimming mightily, passed out of reach, but the intruders, having lost the boat and its passengers, appeared reluctant to allow the animal to get away, too. Picking up stones from the beach, they threw them at the dog and at the retreating boat, venting their frustration in curses and crude abuse.

Gripping the rail, Murdo leaned over the water and called encouragement to the hound. Jotun paddled with renewed fervor, but it was clear the animal could not overtake the boat. 'Stop rowing, Peder!' called Murdo. 'He cannot reach us.'

So saying, Murdo, rope in hand, plunged over the side once more and swam to meet the dog.

'Murdo!' screamed Niamh, striking the rail with the flats of her hands. 'He'll drag you down, son!'

The invaders, seeing Murdo in the water once more, redoubled their efforts. The stones came thick and fast. One of the foemen dived into the sea and began swimming towards the youth and his dog.

Ignoring his mother and the commotion on the beach, Murdo swam to Jotun, seized a handful of wet fur at the nape of the beast's neck, and shouted, 'Pull us in!'

Upon reaching the boat, Murdo gripped the rail and tried to lift the dog out of the water; the animal was too heavy-it took both Peder and Lady Niamh to drag the soggy hound into the boat. Murdo followed, slithering over the side like an eel. He then had to brave Jotun's wet and happy welcome, while Peder and his mother stood looking on.

As the dog licked his master's face with great lashes of his tongue, Murdo took his head in both hands and tried to hold him back. 'Down! Jotun, down!'

Suddenly, a tremendous splash sent water cascading over the rail. 'They's on the cliff!' shouted Peder, taking up the oars once more.

Murdo raised his eyes to the promontory high above them and saw three Norsemen raising an enormous chunk of stone. They swung it once… twice… and let it go. The rock tumbled slowly as it sank, striking the cliff-face and spinning out into the air to smash into the cove a mere hairsbreadth from the stern.

'Row!' shouted Murdo, leaping to the bench. Settling himself beside Peder, he took an oar and began pulling with all his might.

By the time the third stone struck the water, the boat was moving again, slowly, edging away from the cliff. Two more stones were thrown – each further away than the last, and Murdo knew they were finally out of reach.

They gained the mouth of the cove and Peder, shipping his oar, dashed to the tiller, calling, 'Up sail, boy!'

Murdo leapt to the mast, quickly untied the loosely-secured line, and dragged it towards the prow. The yard rose slowly and came around as the sail unfurled; he then pulled for all he was worth, and when the yard gained the top of the mast, he quickly ran to secure the line once more. For a few agonizing moments, the sail flapped idly, slapping the mast in an uncertain wind. Peder gave a few mighty heaves on the oars, and the boat came clear of the cove. All at once the lank sail snapped smart, filled, and the boat lurched forward, the prow biting deep into the swell.

'Hruha!' cried Peder. 'Hruha-hey!'

Murdo, sweating and exhausted, stood and watched the figures on the shore and sea ridge dwindle away, and even when he could no longer see them, he still watched. Niamh came to stand beside him. Neither one spoke, until Peder, manning the tiller, called out to know what course he should set.

'Hrolfsey,' Niamh told him. 'We will return to Cnoc Carrach, and hope we can warn them in time.'

'They will have taken those lands, too,' Murdo pointed out. 'They have taken everything.'

'Maybe,' allowed his mother. 'But I do not see what else we can do.'