Taking a deep breath, she said “Very well. I will try it, but I’m telling you, it won’t work.”
Saga squared her shoulders and stood straight.
“Close your eyes and see where they are; then call them. They will come if you imagine them walking toward you. They will feel the energy in your voice and follow it. Let your voice connect with the cattle.”
Saga put her hands on either side of her mouth and closed her eyes. She envisioned the cattle grazing on the other side of the hills and let out the first high pitched notes of her call. It was always the same and one their grandmother had taught them. The cattle had heard the same call their entire lives and so knew it was the one to follow home. Saga understood this, but what she didn’t understand was how her voice seemed to flow out of her now with little effort.
As she visualized the animals, the song drifted across the field; high notes and long low ones all blending in a special come home message only they could understand. Her grandmother had proved the effect one summer when she tried their call on another’s cattle who didn’t even look up.
She continued to sing and heard the faint clang of an animal’s bell.
“Saga, open your eyes.”
Singing a particularly high note, she opened her eyes. Several cows crested the hill and were running toward her. Tears welled in her eyes as she watched them approach and she could not help but laugh while still singing her cattle song.
“You’re doing it! Saga, your voice is so clear and strong. They love it!”
Great pride welled up inside her. She had never been able to do this before. What had changed to bring about the effect she could not say, but she was thrilled with the result.
She only finished singing when the last of the cattle joined the herd. Three or four of them nuzzled her hand.
“I did not know you possessed this talent, Sister,” Gunnar said from behind her.
Startled, she turned around to see him and the two Scots standing a few paces away. The tall one, Giric, watched her with a curious expression, his dark eyes piercing her. She frowned at them and moved away to secure the fencing to keep the animals safe until the morrow.
“Will you join us for the evening meal?” a male voice said from behind her.
When she turned, he was right there staring down at her. Damned man was a few inches taller than her so she could not even use her own height to intimidate him. She stepped back a pace which prompted a grin from him.
“I always dine in the hall with my brother and today will be no exception,” she said, not trying to sound like a spoiled child, but she did not want to stand near him or dine with him.
“I shall reserve a space for you,” he said and turned back to Gunnar.
After the men walked back to the path leading to the hall, Vigdis wrapped her arms around Saga’s waist.
“He unsettles you,” she said.
“I do not like what he stands for,” Saga said.
“Are you certain that’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ja, he’s a Scot, but he is tall and muscular and rather handsome, don’t you think? All that dark hair and those intense eyes. He could not take them off you, Saga.”
She didn’t know what to think when it came to Giric MacDomnail. And she did not wish to entertain his physical attributes.
“I do not care if he is the handsomest man in all of Alba and the world. I want nothing to do with him and his politics.”
“Are you certain you want to be so restrictive in your choice of mate, Saga?”
“Of course I want to be restrictive. Don’t you?”
“I do, but I will not dismiss a man without really knowing him.”
“I do not need to know him. I know his kind. He thinks he can come here and convince my brother that this kind of change will be good for us, but he is wrong. If we are to preserve our way of life, we need to keep men like him out. I will talk to our brother and make him see reason.”
“And what reason is that? Pack up everything we have here and move to Iceland? Is that your plan? Because if so, I will not be a part of it. We can live here in peace. While I am not convinced this plot is the proper solution, I am prepared to hear it through,” Vigdis said.
