Page 82 of The Refuge

Chapter 15

Catrìona had enjoyed the travel over the water, bringing them home so much sooner, but the ship was confining and, worse, constantly moving beneath her feet. Then, too, being under the watchful gaze of the king’s captain made her nervous. The few times she and Steinar had laughed over something Rhodri had said caused the bear of a man to shoot Steinar disapproving looks. She wished Colbán could see the love shining in Audra’s eyes whenever she looked at him, but sadly, the man remained oblivious to the lady’s affections.

It was afternoon and the sun still high in the sky when the king’s tower was finally sighted rising above the trees a few miles north of the River Forth. The sail was quickly furled and the men took up oars to bring the ship to land, just as two longships came into view resting on the sand in the small inlet that served as harbor to Dunfermline.

The king’s ship passed close to the two longships and she studied their form and decoration for anything she might recognize. Many ships looked alike, but she shuddered at dragonheads carved into the stems. The resemblance of these two to the longships of the Northmen who attacked the vale was striking.

“Seems my Orkney relations are paying me a visit,” boomed the king’s voice from the prow. “Margaret, come see!”

The queen stepped from the tent midship and gazed toward the longships.

“I hope they have my son, Duncan, with them,” Malcolm said to the queen. “’Tis time he is done with his fostering.”

At Catrìona’s side, Giric gasped. She looked down to see his eyes wide and his mouth agape as he stared at the two ships.

She crouched down next to the boy. “What is it?”

“The ba… banner,” he stuttered nervously. “’Tis… ’tis the black raven… like the one on the ship of the man who killed my father!”

Catrìona shielded her eyes and looked again at the two ships. At the top of the mast of one waved a pale yellow banner bearing a black raven in the Norse style, like the one she had seen that day when the vale was attacked.

A shudder ran up her spine. Could it be the same? Might the man who killed her father be a relation of the king?

The king’s men, straining at the oars, gave force to the ship so that it glided out of the water and up onto the wet sand. Jumping over the side, they hauled the ship to the broad sandy landing.

Catrìona took Giric’s trembling hand and followed the queen and the others from the ship. She bent to Giric and whispered, “Wait till we are in the king’s tower, then we will know if ’tis the same man. More than one Northman may fly such a banner.” She was trying not to panic but her heart pounded in her chest and her lips trembled.

Giric nodded and tightened his hold on her hand.

As they walked past the prows of the two longships, Catrìona caught a brief glimpse of a woman aboard the ship with the raven banner, but a sharp command from a Northman standing guard had her ducking under a tent. Before she disappeared, Catrìona saw the woman’s tunic was of a Norse design but there was something oddly familiar about her. The slender figure had hair the same color as Deidre’s only longer.

Once inside the tower, Catrìona scanned the hall for strangers, but saw none.

Nechtan, the king’s steward, hastened toward their party. “My Lord,” he addressed the king, “Paul and Erlend Thorfinnsson have arrived. You must have seen their ship.”

“Where are the jarls?” the king asked.

“I have seen them to their chamber, the one they usually occupy. They have brought young Duncan, who awaits you in your chamber.”

“Good. The queen and I will see Duncan and then have a bit of time ere we dine with our guests.”

As the king reached for Margaret’s hand to escort her to the stairs, the steward said, “My Lord?”

The king turned back, “Aye?”

“Your stepsons brought another with them, a distant cousin from Norway who has been sojourning with them for the last year or so. His name is Ivar Kalison. I have put him in the far chamber next to your stepsons.”

“My thanks for seeing to our guests,” Malcolm said. To Margaret, he said, “I do not know that name. Do you?”

The queen shook her head and they proceeded to the stairs.

Catrìona turned to Giric. “Find Niall. I must speak with him. Tell him to come to the hall and wait for me. I must change.”

“But what about—”

“Shh!” she cautioned the boy. “We can do naught until the evening meal when we will see these Northmen. If the one who killed your father is among them, he may be the same barbarian who murdered my parents.”

Giric’s eyes grew large as he realized the terrible past they shared. “Ye?”