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“If that is the case,” Leif said, “I shall outgrow my seat in the longboat.”
“Well now. Mayhap we have finally found a way to keep your feet on dry land.”
Leif chuckled. “Or a reason to build a bigger boat.”
She shook her head affectionately. “One day, Leif. One day, you shall find a reason sufficiently compelling to put down roots.”
“Why would I do that when I have the opportunity to visit places yet to be discovered and see the lands my ancestors once knew?”
His mother looked at him quizzically. “Is there a boat returning to the north countries soon?”
“If there is, I have not heard of it.”
She accepted his response but studied him more closely. “You mentioned the land of your ancestors, so I assumed . . .” Her voice trailed off, and he thought he saw concern flicker in her hazel eyes. “Is something amiss, Leif?”
“Would you tell me what you remember of your grandmother? The one who was a Cymry.”
Understanding flooded her face. “Ah. You stepped on Cymry’s soil this time. Is that it?”
“Yes.” He was not yet ready to share the whole of his experience, but his mother knew him well enough to know that something had been stirred within him. “I felt something there unlike anything I have experienced in our raids along the coast of Ireland.”
“Sit with me.” She waited until he had moved the chair in the corner next to hers before resuming her seat. Taking up the spinning distaff again, she appeared momentarily lost in memories.
“Mother?”
She sighed. “I was but twelve years old when Nain died.”
“Nain? Was that her name?”
“It was not her given name, but it was what I called her.” His mother smiled. “She had a big heart and a fiery temper. She used to say that Farfar forced her to learn the Norse tongue and Norse ways but that her children would eat laverbread and her grandchildren would call her Nain.”
“Laverbread?”
“It must have been something she ate in her homeland,” his mother said. “She made it with seaweed.”
Leif grimaced. “I’m surprised Farfar was willing to tolerate such food.”
“I think Farfar would have done almost anything for her. He was part of the raiding party when she was captured. According to all the family stories, she was brought back to Dyflin to be sold as a slave, but he fell in love with her. He bought her only to make her a free woman and ask her to be his wife.”
Leif pondered this. Most of the slaves who came and went through Dyflin’s market had been born into slavery and knew nothing else. Occasionally, however, a raiding party would return with captives who were then sold to merchants from around Europe.
His thoughts inevitably returned to Rhiannon. Rune had entertained the idea of bringing her back to Ireland. Leif had seen it in his eyes. But for some reason—even though Leif had grown up within a social system that included slaves—the very prospect had seemed abhorrent to him.
May God have mercy on your souls. He clenched his hands as her tortured words echoed through his mind.
“Did your Nain ever speak of her former life? Of her people or . . . or her God?” he asked.
His mother became thoughtful. “There is one memory I have never shared with another.” As though turning back time, the distaff spun in her hand. “Nain and I were walking along the seashore together. I cannot tell you where, exactly, but we were alone. She held my hand and pointed to the clear, blue sky and then to the sea. ‘Astrid,’ she said, ‘that very same sun shines over my home in Gwynedd, the same water laps at its shores, and the same God watches over us all.’” His mother smiled sadly. “Nain stood gazing out to sea for some time after that. I was young, so I did not press her to explain the meaning of her words, but perhaps I should have.”
“Why would she single out one god when there are so many?”
“I cannot say for certain. But it may be that notwithstanding how long she had lived amongst the Norse people, her belief in the god she had known in her youth remained.”
“The Cymry believe in only one god?”
“So I am told. And the Irish, the same.”
Leif frowned. One god who oversaw all things would be powerful indeed.
