“Lady Alanna, I know.” The Irishwoman smiled again, a dimple appearing in her right cheek. “I am Ula, Blackie’s woman.”
“Blackie?”
“Blackie Bain, Pirate King of the Skerries,” Ula told her, placing a cloth-wrapped packet on the oar-bank. “Oatcakes and some cheese. ’Tis all we have until we reach Skerray.”
“Thank you,” Alanna said again, taking an oatcake. “Your husband is a pirate king?”
Ula’s eyes crinkled. “We’re not married, though we may as well be, long as we’ve been together. He fetched me from an alehouse in Dublin many moons ago.” She leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. “Best thing that ever happened to him, I tell you,” she finished, winking.
Alanna returned her smile, liking the woman. “Is he really a pirate king?”
“He likes to think so.” Ula helped herself to a bit of cheese, smiling as she chewed. “In truth,” she said after swallowing, “I suspect he likes the romance of pirates. What I’d call him is a king of broken men, but don’t tell him I said so.”
“Broken men?” Alanna blinked. “I always heard the Skerries were robber isles, home to sea raiders and pirates. Not that I believed such a place even existed. Bards spin tales about the isles.”
“So they do, as they embroider many things.” Ula paused as Gubbie poked his big gray head up out of the covers, fixed her with his green stare. “The Skerries are out there,” she said, reaching to pet Gubbie. “They’re just too bleak and cold and rocky to interest most folk. And they’re so far out to sea that it’s too much trouble to find them should anyone wish to bother.
“That’s why the isles are such a haven for broken men.” She scooted closer to Gubbie, smiling when he purred for her. “Clanless men and others who, through no fault of their own, belong nowhere and to no one. Those are the men Blackie leads, not true pirates.
“Indeed, I can’t think of a single time any of them stole something from anyone,” she said, sipping her own ale. “They do not raid or attack other ships. They lend their ships and swords to certain causes now and again. Times when might and secrecy is required, usually by high-placed nobles who have quibbles about certain engagements, matters that require a wee twist or bend in the laws – that’s the best way I can describe our Skerrymen.”
“You mean they’re outlaws.”
“Perhaps.” Ula shrugged. “It depends on who you ask. The King would tell you Blackie and his men are heroes.”
Alanna reached for another oatcake, beginning to understand. “Callum told me about King Robert and the Earl of Dunwhinnie. He said the King wanted me brought to the Skerries. Somehow he knew someone has been trying to kill me.”
“So we heard.” Ula nodded. “The King’s messenger and his men came at the start of Yule. Callum left with them, and now you are here, or soon will be.”
“Why Callum? He didn’t say except once, claiming he knew my land ‘better than I do.’”
“And so he might.” Ula peered through the tiny gap in the two sailcloths, lowered her voice. “Did he tell you his name?”
“Only Callum.”
“I am not surprised.” A shadow passed over Ula’s face. “He’s a MacCulloch. Centuries ago, his family built Draugar Hall, the ruin on the cliffs a good way from your home, but still on your land. His ancestors came from the Northlands. Vikings, the family aye believed. Whoever they were, Scotland wasn’t good to them. Time passed and their luck ne’er improved. When one of their lairds allied himself with the losing side of another clan’s blood feud, they lost all and Draugar Hall fell to ruin.
“The Draugar MacCullochs believed the first ancestor to land on Scottish soil brought Viking treasure with him. Family legend tells that he hid the treasure in caves along north Scotland’s coast, but no one could find it.
“And so…” She shook her head, sighed. “The family suffered, were forced to leave their home and land. They became fishing folk like so many who fall on hard times in those parts, but…” She took a sip of ale. “Their bad luck followed them and they became embroiled in a fight over fishing grounds. That strife lasted generations and cost Callum his father and later his uncle, who raised him.
“Callum’s uncle’s enemies ran them from their land, giving the family no choice but to flee by boat. Only-”
“Dinnae tell me someone did something to the boat?” Alanna had a strange feeling that was so.
Ula’s nod proved it. “Aye, or so Callum believes.”
“How terrible.”
“It is, or was.” Ula sighed. “He was but a lad, and the horror marked him. The boat sank too far from shore for any of them to swim back. Callum’s uncle grabbed him and jumped overboard, just making it to a reef where he thrust Callum onto the rocks, or a ledge, I’m not sure. Blackie happened to pass by and saw him, pulling him from the sea and bringing him home to Skerray.
“Blackie is only ten years or so older than Callum, but he raised him as his own son.” Ula leaned back, pressed her hands together. “That’s about all I can tell you about our braw Skerrymen. All the lads have such tales in their past and they dinnae like talking about things they cannae change.”
“I’m glad you told me.” Alanna’s mind raced, trying to absorb everything the Irishwoman revealed. “If I understand rightly, then Callum is heir to part of my land. Leastways Draugar Hall and that stretch of moorland,” she said, other thoughts swirling as well, ones she didn’t yet want to share.
“That is how he sees it, aye.”
“With reason, I’d say.”
