“The shielings are not fit for winter use. It will snow heavily today,” said a younger man. Arne had thought his clothes looked Dal Riatan and although he spoke Norse, his accent certainly marked him as a Gael.
Njal nodded and nudged the younger man with his elbow. “Nechtan here is our local guide. He has a sense of the weather, very useful when up on the mountains.”
“These are hardly mountains, Njal,” Arne said. “Not like the ones at home.”
“These are moors. The mountains are further north,” Nechtan said a little defensively and Arne hid a smile.
Njal laughed and slapped Nechtan on the arm. “Yes, you are right. There are many mountains north of here, although none as high as the ones we have left behind. Perhaps one day, Nechtan,you will accompany us to the Norselands and see for yourself.” Njal smiled at Arne. “We were heading for home in Tairmbert and, like yourself, decided to do some hunting. Supplies have grown short, as it has been a bitter winter and many have over-wintered at the isthmus.”
Arne said nothing, but noted their lack of carcasses. Perhaps they had camped nearby.
“You are living there?”
“Yes. There is good money to be had from those who require assistance and accommodations when portaging.”
“Today you are heading south?”
“Not as far as Kirkjaster,” Njal assured him. “Our boat is on the shore but there are more deer in the woods higher on the moors. A pity the Britons do not always appreciate either the Dal Riatans nor the Norse hunting on their lands.”
“You have allies amongst the Dal Riatans, then?”
“We do. Nechtan is one, along with his family. And I also have a Dal Riatan wife. Which brings many advantages. I may never go home.” Njal grinned. “And what of Kirkjaster? Will you stay?”
“I will stay as long as Tormod wants me to and as long as our alliance with the Britons holds.”
“There is no dividing the Brothers of Thunder, is there? Oh, in case you see them—”
“See whom?”
“There were Britons in Tairmbert a few days ago. The king’s soldiers, or so they said.” Njal stopped and frowned as if something had just occurred to him.
“Oh?” Arne did his best not to react in any way that might draw suspicion.
“They are looking for a woman and her child. A boy. They are offering a reward if they are returned to the king of Strath Clut in Perthawc.”
“The king is looking for a woman and her child?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure it is the king who is looking for them?”
“King Rhun, yes.” Njal tilted his head to one side.
“And do you know why?”
“The soldiers said the king was concerned for their safety. More likely he is tired of his wife. Let us hope the Dal Riatans do not discover this. King Causantin would not be pleased if anything happened to his sister.” The hunters all laughed, with the exception of the Dal Riatan, and Arne joined in.
“King Causantin will not be happy if anything happens to Queen Eithne of Strath Clut,” Nechtan said, shaking his head. “I doubt a woman and child would survive alone on these moors in weather like this.”
“Probably,” agreed Arne. He noticed many of the others were watching his reactions carefully. “Well, if I do come across a strange woman and her child, I will be sure to claim the reward.”
“Not if I find them first,” Njal said, laughing. “You have not seen them in Kirkjaster? I had heard there were Britons living amongst you.”
“There are indeed some Britons living there.”
“What about a boy?”
Arne frowned, as if deep in thought. “There is a boy… a Briton… of around nine years. His mother is maid to the jarl’s wife. Could it be him these men seek?”
