Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) (46 page)

“For how long?” That came back without any undue delay. It seemed as though the stipulating of actual places and boundaries had brought Godfrey to the point of decision. Thorfinn and Somerled exchanged glances.

“For sufficiently long to be sure of you!” the latter called. “A year? Perhaps two. We shall see.”

“I will get all back thereafter? My full kingdom?”

“If you keep the peace, yes.”

“I have your oath on it, Somerled? Before all these as witness? You will not name this son of yours king here if I agree to this?”

“You have my word. A score of months and we shall see.” In a year-and-a-half Dougal would be eighteen and his own man.

“Very well. For peace and the kingdom’s sake, I accept. That line—from Maughold to Knocksharry. No more. No raiding or threatening. No interference south of that. No seeking to raise my people here against me. And you will return to your Argyll?”

“All that—although I shall leave ships and men with the Lord Thorfinn. For his comfort. In the north. And he can send to me, in one day, I remind you!”

“Yes. Be it so, then.”

“I shall send you papers, for signing and sealing. That all may be done in good and lawful fashion. Is all understood?”

“Yes.”

“Then I bid you a good day, good-brother. Shall I give the Queen Ragnhilde your greetings?”

There was no response to that. Grinning, Somerled turned to Gillecolm and signed to him to take them back to the waiting fleet.

It was a victory, of a sort, after all.

They sailed north to Ramsey, the nearest sheltered haven to Thorfinn’s lands, and in the bay there the fleet lay for a few days, for much-needed rest, repairs and tending of the wounded. Somerled wrote out two copies of an agreement, signed one and sent them south in a longship to Rushen, getting Godfrey’s signed copy back in due course. Conn turned up, with no fewer than seventeen damaged craft and some hundreds of survivors of the battle. Leaving these ships for repair and also a score or so of others for Thorfinn’s support, under Dermot Maguire’s command, in mid-January Somerled re-embarked and set sail for home.

Young Dougal at least was vastly relieved that he was not left behind as nominal King of Man.

Ragnhilde and her husband eyed each other in the little boat rocking on Loch Finlaggan of Islay, as Somerled rested on his oars. The cuckoos were calling hauntingly from the lochside alders, answering each other across the water. The couple were alone, and deliberately, as so seldom these days, with the children left behind at the castle. For once they were not listening to the cuckoos nor consciously joying in the Hebridean summer.

“She is so young,” Ragnhilde said, not for the first time. “Still no more than a child in truth. It is too soon.”

“She is fifteen. Almost as old as you were when first we met. When first we began our loving of each other, Hilde.”

“That was different. My life had been very much other than Anna’s. I had lost my mother early, was reared in a broken household, had to look after my ailing father, take decisions. Anna has had none of that. She is too much of a child to be facing marriage.”

“This is scarcely marriage, only betrothal. And only God knows whether it would ever in fact come to marriage, with the situation as it is, whether he will indeed live to marry.”

“But that is the very reason for this betrothal, is it not? To save Donald? Or a large part of it.”

“Yes. But it may not serve. His position is not good. Many of the Normans would have him dead. If his father cannot pacify the North I would not give much for Donald’s life. And now, with the King gone, the Normans rule Scotland.”

“Poor Donald! I grieve for him, yes. But—Anna! It is unfair for
her
to pay the price.”

“Anna has always liked Donald. They are good friends. And she will have to marry, one day.”

“You sound as though you
approve
of this! Do you?”

“No-o-o. But . . .”

“I believe that it is because Donald’s wifejust conceivably might one day be Queen of Scotland that you favour this, Sorley!”

“I do not favour it, lass. I but grope for a right judgement. There is so much at stake here. This
could
be a good marriage, and I must seek to do what I can for my sister and her son. The position in Scotland also means much to me . . .”

They eyed each other in doubt and perplexity—which was something fairly unusual with that couple.

The courier from Moray had reached Islay the previous evening, from Malcolm, Earl of Ross, bearing a strange message and plea. Malcolm was released at last, after all the years of captivity, not exactly a free man but on parole, his wife and son still prisoners at Rook’s Burgh. He had been sent north, even confirmed in his earldom of Ross for the occasion, with the task of convincing the northern earls and chiefs that they should be reconciled with the present royal house, withdraw their profitless opposition and come into King Malcolm’s peace. It seemed that the young King of Scots was to leave his country for a while—was already gone, presumably. He was known greatly to admire the dashing King Henry the Second of England, and that monarch had persuaded the younger man to go south to Chester to do homage to him for the English earldom of Huntingdon, to receive knighthood at Henry’s hand, and then to accompany the English army on an expedition to France to assert Henry’s authority over Aquitaine, which he had gained title to by marriage. This extraordinary programme for a King of Scots seemed to have been accepted without major reluctance or suspicion by the younger monarch. But he—or at least his Norman advisers—had concern that there should be no renewal of revolt by the Celtic earls during his absence. So Malcolm of Ross, as the representer of the ancient royal house, was temporarily released and sent north to counsel peace and moderation—but his son and wife remained as hostages.

It was this hostage situation which appeared to worry Earl Malcolm, on two counts. One was that he was not finding the northerners easy to convert and convince; and he had been warned that a failure of his mission would have unfortunate consequences for Donald and his mother. The other was that a powerful faction of the Norman lords at court wanted to execute Donald out-of-hand, for treason and rebellion—himself also, perhaps—as the best way of ensuring that there were none of the old royal line left to challenge the present incumbent. If this faction gained the ascendancy over the more moderate lords during the High King’s prolonged absence, as was distinctly possible, then Donald’s life would be in grave danger.

In this situation the Earl Malcolm turned to his brother-in-law for help. The Normans did fear Somerled, with his ability to land from his fleet an army anywhere he chose around the Scots coastline. Why the Kings of Scots had never built or assembled a navy of their own was a mystery, but there it was. Somerled’s fleet was a perpetual threat. So some indication that the King of Argyll and the Isles was much concerned over the present situation of his sister and nephew would be most valuable. The Earl Malcolm urged that his good-brother would announce the betrothal of his daughter Anna to her cousin Donald, Earl of Moray, forthwith. This would serve warning on the Normans that Donald was not to be endangered and also strengthen Malcolm’s hand in the North. Moreover it would be an excellent match in every way, giving Somerled a permanent lever against the present Scots crown.

This, then, was the situation confronting Anna’s parents in their boat.

“Surely there is some other gesture you could make to show that you are concerned for Donald’s fate?” Ragnhilde said. “Why must it be a marriage?”

“I
could
sail another fleet along the Scots coast, as threat. But if I do this once more, without making a landing and striking a blow, I will lose all credit and effect. And I have not the strength, nor the wish, for all-out war.”

“No—not that, never that. But you could send a message to these Normans. Telling of your concern for your sister and nephew.”

“That would be taken as the surest sign of weakness. When Somerled of the Isles starts writing letters instead of drawing sword, then all will say that he is not the man he was. No, this of a marriage—or a betrothal, at the least—has much to commend it. Not only towards the Normans and Scotland. But towards your brother Godfrey.”

“Godfrey? What could it serve there?”

“It would warn him that I am strengthening my power. By an alliance with the Celtic forces of Northern Scotland, of old Alba. See you—at present I am but an island kingdom, alone. I have lost all touch with Fermanagh and Ulster. A move to ally myself with the old Alba, the Scots North, where the Normans and the house of Canmore have no power, must greatly strengthen my influence. Good-brother and then wife’s father to the alternative High Kings of Scots.”

“But what is that to Godfrey?”

“Do you not see it? Godfrey’s strength is not in himself and his unhappy Man. It lies in his friendship with the King of Norway. And with the Norse Orkney sea-power. That is always a threat to me. The Outer Isles, Lewis, Harris and the rest, are in their hands now—and should be in mine. Now—where is there any threat to
Orkney?
Only in the Scots North. Orkney dominates the Celtic earldoms of Caithness and Sutherland—and the other earls hate that. There is always war simmering between them. Ally myself to the northern earls in some fashion and Orkney must take heed. And be less eager to send aid to Godfrey.”

“You have thought it all out, I see! All considered.”

“I have long wondered how to warn off the Orkneymen—and the Norse raiders they shelter. Without going to war. Now here is a way which might serve, at little cost. And warn Godfrey. For he is not mending his ways. He oppresses and threatens still. Thorfinn much fears more trouble, as you know . . .”

“At little cost, you say! To you! What of Anna? Do you not think of her?”

“My dear—I do think of Anna. I love the lassie. But she will marry someone, one day. Who? Have you thought of any husband for her? Suitable for our daughter? She knows and is fond of her cousin. And
we
know him, for a man of good nature and life. We like him also. I think our Anna might be none so ill-disposed to this match.”

“How can you say that? You do not know. Nor could she. She may have girlish dreams—but marriage, to a fifteen-year-old, is but rosy fancies . . .”

“
Betrothal
at fifteen, not marriage, lass. It could be years before they are wed—if ever. Donald is a prisoner, and like to remain one. This is to save his life, perchance, not to release him. It may not save him, but it is worth the trial. And it will serve us well enough in other ways, I say.”

“So you are becoming set on it, Somerled? Marry our daughter, our own flesh-and-blood, for the sake of statecraft! As you would have used Dougal, over Man. Aye—and as my father would have wed me to the Earl of Orkney!”

He wagged his head at her. “My love—this is not like you! Is marriage so ill a state? Have
we
found it so? Anna may find it none so grievous . . .”

“We were in love. And took notable steps to prevent marriage being forced upon me. Can you deny that?”

“No, nor would wish to. The cases are entirely different.”

“We are both king’s daughters, having marriages forced upon us.”

“Well—shall we make a compact on it, my dear? Announce the betrothal—but inform Malcolm and Donald privily that Anna is too young for marriage meantime. And that, when she is older, if she strongly wishes not to marry Donald, she must not be held to it. How that?”

“M’mmm. That is better, yes . . .”

“Indeed, that may suit Donald also, who knows? This may all be only his father’s notion, not his own. He may come to desire another woman. If he survives!”

“True. Very well—let it be that way. So long as it is well understood, by Anna as well as by Donald and Malcolm . . .”

They rowed back to the castle-isle.

Later, when together they revealed and explained the situation to their daughter, Anna surprised them by being enraptured with the entire idea, even clapped her hands in spontaneous reaction. She thought that Donald was wonderful, she announced. So darkly handsome and attractive. There was no-one she would like better to marry. And one day, if he had his rights, he would be High King of Scots and she would be his Queen. Did they call her High Queen? It was all most splendid. Poor Donald!

Her parents actually found themselves playing the project down somewhat. It was all girlish romance, of course, unconnected with reality, giving Anna a fine glow of excitement and glamour. Also suddenly giving her a welcome sense of importance for once above her brothers.

Gillecolm, who had always loved Donald, was scarcely less delighted; and even his half-brothers were happy about it, these sort of dramatics appealing to the youthful fancy.

Ragnhilde’s doubts remained, but all the others sent the courier back to Morayland with a fair show of enthusiasm.

Somerled stamped the stern-platform of his dragon-ship, angry. That he should be heading southwards again with another large fleet, for Man, only twenty months after the previous expedition, was deplorable. There were a great many urgent affairs which he would have preferred to be about; indeed he had had to cancel at short notice an important gathering of Skye chiefs, in favour of this Manx business, and Skye was presenting him with problems. Also, because of the suddenness of this call, he had had to come away with a much lesser force than last time—fifty-three ships and only some three thousand men—September, the Highland harvest month, being the worst time of the year for taking men on military ventures. The entire affair was a major nuisance and Godfrey a plague. Yet he had to be dealt with, and swiftly, if Somerled’s kingdom was not to be seriously menaced.

Godfrey, of course, had been misbehaving throughout most of the agreed eighteen-month interval. Thorfinn Ottarsson’s reports and complaints had started within a comparatively short time of Somerled’s departure from Man. At first they had been fairly minor infringements of the terms laid down; but they had grown worse, with interference in the northern half of the island, raids over the declared boundary and boasts that Godfrey would soon be in possession of all again. Somerled had held his hand, in the hope that his wretched brother-in-law would not push matters too far, although Thorfinn was pressing for another descent on Man, the dethroning of Godfrey and the proclamation of Dougal as king. Dougal was now eighteen, but with no enthusiasm for ruling Man.