The iron lance

THIRTEEN

Night lay heavy on the house and on Murdo's soul. He stared into the darkness, unable to sleep for the ceaseless whirling of his mind. He thought about the journey to come and the trials he might endure, and how he would find his father. Niamh had written a detailed and passionate plea for Ranulf's return, but Murdo reckoned the campaign would probably be.finished by the time he reached Jerusalem, and anyway, he would have little difficulty convincing his father and brothers to hasten home and redress the outrage practiced against them in their absence.

He thought about the wickedness of Bishop Adalbert, and Abbot Gerardus; he cursed them breath and bones. He thought about how he would get himself a place aboard one of King Magnus' ships. Most of all he thought about Ragna. Tomorrow he was leaving Cnoc Carrach, and he did not know when he would return. After being near her every day for the last many weeks, the prospect of not seeing her as she went about her chores, not hearing her voice in the morning as they broke fast together, not being near her and knowing he might catch sight of her at any moment-to be so deprived seemed an almost insufferable hardship.

As if in answer to his thoughts, he heard the creak of a floorboard outside his room, and an instant later the latch of his door lifted. He sat up in bed. The candle had burned low, but he took it up and stood; unable to sleep, he had not bothered to undress. The door swung open and Ragna stepped into the room, pulling the door shut silently behind her.

She saw him standing with the candle, as if he knew she would come and was waiting for her; she smiled and moved quickly to his side, her limping step more prominent with bare feet.

'Ragna, what do you -' he began.

She lay a finger to his lips. 'Shh! Not so loud. Someone will hear us.'

'What are you doing here?'

'Do you want me to leave?'

'No-no.' He looked at her wide eyes and long unbraided hair, the gentle swell of her breasts under her nightdress, and desire welled up inside him. 'Stay,' he said. 'I could not sleep.'

'Neither could I,' she told him. 'This is your last night and after tomorrow I will not see you anymore.'

'I will come back,' he pointed out hopefully.

'I know.' She bent her head unhappily. 'But then everything will be different. You will go back to Hrafnbu and I will stay here, and…'

'No,' he said, and surprised himself with this reply. Ragna glanced up quickly, her eyes shining in the candlelight. 'We will be together,' he suggested.

'Do you think so? I would like that, Murdo. I would like that very much.' Suddenly embarrassed by her own audacity, she hesitated and looked away. 'You must think me wicked,' she said softly.

'Never,' Murdo protested gently. 'I think you… beautiful.'

She smiled again. 'I brought you something.' From a fold in her mantle she brought out a slender dagger and held it up in the candlelight. 'It belonged to my mother, but she gave it to me last Yuletide.'

He took the knife and hefted it in his hand. The blade was thin and the handle light; it was a woman's weapon, but exceedingly well made: the edge was straight and sharp and the tip pointed as a serpent's tooth. It was obviously very expensive. 'Are you sure you want me to take this?'

Ragna nodded. 'I thought if you kept it inside your siarc it would help keep you safe.'

'Thank you.' He looked at the knife for a moment, and then at Ragna. 'I have nothing for you,' he confessed.

She lay her hand over his. 'I have everything I want-at least, I will when you return. Promise me you will come back for me, Murdo.'

'That I will, Ragna.'

'Promise,' she insisted.

Murdo nodded solemnly at the young woman who held him with her burning eyes. 'With all my heart, I promise: I will come back to you. Murdo Ranulfson makes this vow.'

She put her hand to the back of his head, drew his face near, and kissed him. Her lips were warm and he wished he might linger there forever. Never had leaving seemed such a bleak and daunting prospect as it did then.

After a moment, Ragna pulled away and held her cheek against his. 'I will wait for you, my love,' she whispered in his ear. 'Pray God, let not that wait be long.'

Rising, she turned and stepped from the bed, casting a last glance over her shoulder. She hesitated, and Murdo, seeing the hesitation, reached out and caught her by the hand. 'Stay,' he said.

She looked at him, her eyes wide, then glanced towards the door hesitantly.

'Please,' he said, swallowing hard.

She came into his arms in a rush. They fell back onto the bed together, their bodies entwined, mouths searching, kissing hungrily. Murdo's hands stroked her body, feeling the warm and willing flesh through the thin stuff of her nightdress. He gave a groan and sat up all at once.

Ragna rolled away. 'What is wrong?'

'Nothing,' he said. 'Wait.'

He slid off the bed and went to the chest where he had placed his belt and pouch. Taking up the belt, he unfastened the pouch and withdrew the small silver pilgrim's coin the merchant Dumas had given him for the gattage at Jerusalem. Returning to the bed, he took up the knife Ragna had given him and pressed the sharp edge into the small disc of silver.

Ragna, on her knees now, watched him, her heart beating so fast and hard in her breast she could not speak.

Laying aside the knife, Murdo took the silver coin between the thumb and first finger of either hand, bent it and, bringing all his strength to bear, tore the coin in two. He offered one of the halves to Ragna, saying, 'As this is torn, so shall our souls be torn when we are parted.'

Ragna took the coin and, holding it out towards Murdo's half, reunited the two pieces. 'As this is joined, so shall our souls be joined.'

They then clasped hands over the coin and said together, 'From this night, and henceforth, forever.'

Murdo drew her to him once more and they kissed to seal the vow. Ragna threw aside the bedclothes, and pulled Murdo down with her into their marriage bed. Their first lovemaking fled past Murdo in a blind frenzy of heat and aching need. Afterwards, they lay panting in one another's embrace.

'They might -' Murdo began when he could speak again. 'They might try to challenge our vow -

'Hush,' Ragna whispered. 'We are hand-fasted, and joined in the eyes of God. No one can separate us now. When you return we will confirm our vows before the altar.'

'I will never set foot in that cathedral again.'

'In our chapel, then,' Ragna suggested.

'Very well,' he agreed, 'in your chapel.' He bent his head to kiss her once more. ‘I wish I did not have to go. But it will be morning soon and-'

She placed a fingertip to his lips. 'Speak no word of leaving. This is our wedding night.' So saying, she sat up and, taking the hem of her nightdress, lifted it over her head. Murdo saw the exquisite fullness of her breasts and the supple curve of her hip as she bent to extinguish the candle. And then she was beside him again, kissing him, caressing him, guiding his hands in their discovery of her body. Their second lovemaking was slower, and sweeter, and Murdo wished it would never end; but it did, leaving Murdo's heart cleft in two for the beauty of Ragna's giving of herself to him.

They slept then, their faces close, breathing one breath, their bodies sharing one space, one warmth. Ragna rose and slipped from his room just before dawn, and Murdo knew he would never be whole unto himself again. Part of him would remain with Ragna forever.

Later, after breaking fast, Niamh, Ragnhild, and Ragna walked down to the cove with Murdo. Peder and two of Lord Brusi's men were waiting at the boat. The early morning sun had burned away the low-hanging mist, and the day was coming clear. 'A good wind out of the north,' Peder called as they approached. 'We shall have a fair run to Inbhir Ness.'

Niamh halted on the path. 'You will turn back if there is trouble,' she said.

'As I have told you.'

'Or, if you cannot get a place on one of the ships,' she added.

'Mother,' answered Murdo with gentle, but firm resolve, 'we have talked about this a hundred times. I am no pilgrim. I will not fight. I mean to find my father and bring him home. That is all.'

'And your brothers,' added Niamh.

'Of course.' He gave a gently exasperated sigh.

Niamh halted on the path. 'It's just that you are the only one left to me. If anything should happen to you, Murdo, I do not think I could -'

Embarrassed to be overheard by Ragna and her mother, he turned and quickly reassured her. 'Nothing is going to happen to me. I am not going alone. I will be travelling with a large warband, after all. Nothing will happen. I promise.'

They started walking again. 'I will be home again before you know it,' Murdo said, trying to lighten the sombre mood settling around him. Now that the moment of leaving was upon him, he was far less eager for it than he had been even the day before. Indeed, after his night with Ragna, he wanted nothing more than to stay in Orkneyjar and for the two of them to remain together always.

If he stayed, however, that would never happen. The way Murdo saw it, his only hope of making a life for himself and Ragna was to regain possession of Hrafnbu. The only way to do that was to find his father and bring him home.

If his zeal for the journey had waned, these thoughts reminded him that there was even more at stake than recovering stolen property, his future happiness was at risk so long as intruders held their lands. So, Murdo put iron to his resolve and set his face to the sea.

His mother continued to offer advice and elicit his promises to be vigilant and careful, but Murdo was no longer listening. The sooner he was away, the sooner he could return, and his heart was set on a swift returning.

Upon reaching the shingle, Murdo turned at the water's edge and thanked Lady Ragnhild for her continued care and hospitality of both himself and his mother, and thanked her, too for the fine new clothes he was wearing-a handsome red-brown cloak of wool; a pair of sturdy breecs of the same cloth and colour with a wide belt and soft boots of new leather; and a long siarc of yellow linen. He also thanked her for the money she had given him to aid his travels, and promised to repay it at the first opportunity.

'It is nothing I would not do for my own blood kin,' Ragnhild told him; her emphasis on the last words, along with the lift of her eyebrow and not altogether approving gaze gave him to know that Ragna must have told her mother what had passed between them during the night. 'Your mother and I are more than sisters,' Ragnhild continued, 'I do welcome her company, all the more so with the menfolk away. We will be safe here, never fear. Look to yourself, Murdo, and God speed your return.'

He then embraced his mother for the last time while Ragnhild and her daughter stood a little apart, looking on. When Niamh had finished her farewells, she moved aside and Ragna stepped quickly before Murdo and kissed him chastely on the cheek. 'Come back to me, Murdo,' she whispered.

'I will,' he murmured, longing to take her in his arms again, and crush her willing body to his own.

'God speed you, my soul,’ Ragna said, already moving away. Before he could reply, she had rejoined her mother. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but that was impossible with everyone looking on. So, pressing his hand to the dagger beneath his siarc, he silently pledged his love to her; she saw the gesture, and answered him with her eyes.

Promising yet once more to return with all haste, Murdo stepped into the sea and waded out to where Peder was waiting at the oars. He pulled himself up over the rail and took his place at the prow, while the two servingmen turned the boat in the water and gave it a push to send it off. Murdo shouted farewell one last time as Peder plied the oars and the boat moved out into the bay. He did not take his eyes from the figures on the shore, but stood and watched them dwindle away to mere coloured flecks against the grey rock of the cove.

Presently, Peder called for him to raise the sail, which he did. When he turned back, the cove had disappeared behind a rocky shoulder and the watchers could no longer be seen. Still, he lifted his hand in a final farewell, and then returned to his work.