“Yes, though no one is sure exactly what the name covered. It seems to be a general term for different peoples of the Eastern Mediterranean. The Greeks called them Phoenicians. They were great seafarers. Their trade routes covered the whole of the Mediterranean and somewhat beyond. If you look closely at the coin, you’ll see that one side depicts a ship with armed warriors and some kind of sea beast.”
“Huh,” Duncan said, interested. “Like our Viking ancestors.”
“Exactly. And like the Vikings, they established towns and settlements that became trading ports.”
“A thalassocracy then.” Seeing Ramsay’s expression, his grandfather gave a hoarse laugh. “Didn’t expect me to remember my Greek, did you? Thalassocrats. People who settled along the shores but weren’t interested in conquering inland.” He turned the coin over and squinted at the embossed head on the other side. “Who’s the curly-haired fellow?”
“I have no idea,” Ramsay said cheerfully. “A king, presumably, but it will take a lot more study before we know things like that. There are so many ancient civilizations we know almost nothing about. I’ve spent much time in my traveling years looking for traces of these Phoenicians. That almost got me killed in Portugal. I don’t suppose I told you the whole story.”
His grandfather’s ferocious brows drew together in a frown equal to his best. “It was some years back. You wrote that you’d visited Porto to look at some nearby ruins but the French decided to invade and you left in a hurry.”
“That was true as far as it went, but it was a much more exciting visit than that.” Ramsay thought dryly thatexcitingmeant damned near lethal. “Porto is on the north bank of the estuary of the Douro River, with the smaller city of Gaia on the south bank. The bridges over the river were destroyed to stop the French advance, but the residents of Porto were desperate to escape, so a temporary bridge was cobbled up out of small boats lashed together.”
“I read about that,” Duncan said, his voice thready but his interest obvious. “The bridge of boats broke apart. Many of those trying to cross drowned, including a number of women and children.”
Ramsay nodded grimly. “They’ll never know the true death toll, but it was chaos as people on the shores tried to rescue as many victims as possible. I was part of a group pulling out nuns and their little girl students. We were successful, but by chance, several of the other men were also British. A French colonel captured everyone suspicious and threw us into a cellar so we could be shot in the morning as British spies. There were four Britons and one Royalist Frenchman unlucky enough to be caught in the net.”
The bushy brows rose. “Obviously you didn’t die.”
“One of the group figured out an escape route. Working together, we managed to get out before dawn,” Ramsay explained. “It was a memorable night. Having shared bad brandy and danger, the five of us have kept in touch in a haphazard sort of way. We all seem to have survived the wars, amazingly.”
“For which I’m grateful,” Duncan said in a rasping voice. “The living people here need you more than the dead stones do. There is much work to be done in Thorsay.”
“Is it me that’s needed? The fact that I’m your grandson doesn’t necessarily make me the best choice to be the next laird,” Ramsay said bluntly. “I grew up here, but I’ve been away for almost half my life.”
“Thorsay needs new ideas and new energy. You’re a natural leader and are Thorsay’s best hope for the future.” Duncan’s voice was barely audible. “The day-to-day business you can learn from Signy. She’s been a godsend these last years.”
“You should name her the laird,” Ramsay said half seriously.
The faintest of smiles showed on Duncan’s face. “I considered it. But she’s not close blood kin. She was born in Norway. And she’s a woman.”
“All true, but she’d still make a better laird than I will.”
“Probably.” Duncan sighed and his eyes drifted shut. “You should marry her.”
Ramsay stared, wondering if that was a serious suggestion. Surely not! But the conversation was over, as his grandfather had fallen asleep. With the animation gone from the old man’s face, he looked next door to death. As Ramsay rose wearily, Odin leaped from the table to the bed and curled up next to the laird’s right side. After one last glare at Ramsay, he closed his eye, tucked his nose under his tail, and fell asleep.
Ramsay left the sickroom, feeling the fatigue of his long journey and of the expectations laid on him. He was grateful that no one else was about. With a sudden desperate need for fresh air, he left the house and headed south on the path that led along the bluffs edging the sea. The brisk wind cleared his head, and his legs appreciated the chance to stretch.
The path led to Clanwick, the capital and most sizable town on Mainland, Thorsay’s largest island. Clanwick was built on the best harbor in the islands, so it had become the center of commerce.
Thorsay consisted of a multitude of islands, some no more than wave-splashed rocks. Most of the larger islands had residents, usually a few families that farmed and fished. All of the inhabited islands had been as familiar as the back of Ramsay’s hand when he was a boy. Growing up, he’d always seen Thorsay as his destiny. Now he wondered what the devil he’d do with himself for all the years that lay ahead.
The path led past a shallow cove on his left that was edged by a pleasant little beach where Ramsay and the other children used to swim. The beach was a favorite sunning spot of local seals. He smiled down at the half dozen that basked on the sand like dark furry teardrops. Traditionally seals and swimmers left each other alone. Humans had to be in harmony with nature to survive on these far northern islands.
The coastline rose as he walked along, turning from a gentle bluff into a cliff that loomed over the North Sea as waves broke fiercely on the rocks below. At the highest point a couple of weathered benches had been placed for walkers who wanted to rest and enjoy the view.
Ignoring the benches, he paused to survey the landscape. To the right, he could see Clanwick in the distance, ship masts visible in the harbor and the tower of the sturdy little cathedral of St. Magnus rising above the houses and shops.
Directly ahead of him was a massive islet with a half-dozen rocky outcroppings scattered around it. The grouping was called the whale and her daughters.
He was a long, long way from the deserts and mountains of Asia Minor. His gaze dropped to the waves crashing at the foot of the cliff. Despairing people had been known to jump here if they were seeking a quick end to their misery.
“Why don’t you jump?” a harsh female voice said from behind him. “It would save everyone a great deal of trouble.”
Startled to discover he wasn’t alone, he pivoted and found Signy Matheson watching him with ice in her eyes, her red-gold hair and golden shawl snapping in the wind.
“Sorry, I’m not the suicidal sort,” he said mildly. “Are you angry because I’ll inherit even though you’re the one who has been here doing the work of running Thorsay? I suggested to my grandfather that he designate you as the new laird, but he cited several reasons why that wasn’t possible. A pity, because you would do a better job than I.”
