Page 13 of Summer Warrior

“Good day,” said King Olaf, reaching Somerled. “I trust you slept well?”

“I did and thank you for your hospitality.”

They walked together toward the castle door, the guard dropping back allowing Somerled and Olaf to talk.

“Will you and your companions join me at the high table to break the fast?”

“Aye, we will. And the princess has promised to show me more of Castle Rushen. Then we must sail.”

When they arrived at the castle, the king was met by his daughter, who greeted Somerled with a smile. She wore a blue wool bliaut, its waist, long sleeves and hem decorated with a Norse-patterned braid. Around her head was a circlet of silver from which cascaded a veil falling down her back. Her long red braids, shining in the morning light, reached past her waist to her hips. In the sun, she was more fetching than even the night before when he had seen her by candlelight.

As he waited for her father to finish what he had to say to her, Angus and Maurice approached and he excused himself to speak to them.

“Our ships in the harbor were undisturbed through the night,” began Angus, “possibly because Domnall had more men stationed on deck so as to discourage whatever the Norse pirates might have planned.”

“From the battlements,” said Maurice, “I viewed your ships resting outside the harbor. I imagine, after lingering so long in one place, the men will be glad to depart.”

“We won’t be long,” said Somerled. “We are to join the king to break our fast when I would speak with him further about an alliance. After that, the princess has offered to show me more of the castle ere we leave.”

“You have obviously captured the attention of the king’s daughter,” said Maurice.

Somerled darted a look in her direction, taking in her fair skin and rosy cheeks as she spoke to her father. “For certes, she has captured mine.” By Somerled’s reckoning, Ragnhild was eighteen or nineteen. If Olaf valued her advice, as was told, then he might delay her marriage for another year or two. Somerled prayed there would be time.

When Ragnhild left her father, Somerled excused himself and crossed the hall to join her. “My lady, you are a vision this morn.”

Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. “Thank you, my lord.”

“I look forward to seeing more of the castle with you but, first, I have business with your father.” He hoped she saw in his gaze his intent to make her among the topics they would discuss. He bowed. “I beg your leave to join him.”

She acknowledged his words with a nod of her head and hastened off to address the servants bringing platters of food to the tables. The men who had been sleeping had now risen to take their places at the trestles. Other men and their wives descended the castle stairs to join the king’s morning meal. Among them was Sweyn Asleifsson who gave Somerled a surly look as he took his place at a trestle table.

At the high table, Somerled and his two companions took the places Olaf indicated.

“Does the princess not join you?” Somerled asked the king.

“Most often but, today, with so many guests, she will likely stay busy directing the servants until all have food. Ragnhild enjoys being my chatelaine. There is a place for her next to the queen when she is ready to join us.”

On Olaf’s right sat his wife. Somerled remembered the queen, a plain woman, from the night before. Maurice had told him Affraic’s mother was one of King Henry’s bastards. Affraic’s appearance recalled to mind what he had once heard, that the Conqueror’s line bred no beauties.

Affraic remained aloof as she surveyed the hall. As the mother of Olaf’s heir, she would have a place of honor but Somerled doubted she would ever replace her stepdaughter in the hearts of the people.

He cut off a piece of the warm barley bread and added cheese and salted herring in mustard sauce to his wooden trencher. Servants poured ale into the goblets. “’Tis a hearty fare you serve your guests to break their fast, King Olaf.”

The king gave him a satisfied look. “We have long fished the waters of the Irish Sea and we are blessed with a rich abundance of food grown on the isle.”

Somerled’s gaze shifted to Ragnhild, who was moving about the hall, instructing the servants and greeting the guests, seeing to their comforts. “Your daughter is very capable and unselfish, attending to the needs of your guests before her own.”

“Indeed, she is.” Then, setting down his goblet, the king changed the subject. “What is your destination when you leave Man?”

“I had thought to sail to Irvine where I’m told King David holds court. At some point, I must discuss with him the matter of my brother-in-law Malcolm MacHeth.”

Olaf laughed. “Ah, MacHeth. I know of him. A rebel many times over. But then every family has its troublesome members. Doubtless, David will appreciate your efforts to chase away the pirates from his western shores and may help you with your brother-in-law. I think he will like you, for you two are of a similar nature. Both of you weigh strategy before committing to war. But beware any alliance he offers you; it will come with a cost.”

“As I expect, though it is in the interest of my people to be at peace with the Scots and to have David’s blessing for all I would do. As it would be for me to be at peace with you, Your Grace.”

“Well said. An understanding between us would suit,” said Olaf, spearing a piece of herring on his eating knife. “As you provide a benefit to David, so you provide one to me.”

Somerled’s eyes had followed Ragnhild as she attended to the king’s guests. Once she was finished, she took her place at the high table on the other side of her stepmother. The last to break her fast, Somerled noticed she did not take long in partaking of her small meal. Her slender but well curved form attested to the fact she did not eat overmuch. When she caught him looking at her, she met his gaze for a brief moment and smiled before returning her attention to her trencher.