The sickness remained in his gut.
“They are bound to come raiding,” Borald said like a man trying to reason with himself. “They always come raiding as soon as they can get their damned longboats out o’ the northern slips. Why should they hit us, though? They hit the monasteries, mostly. Or the isolated settlements. We ha’ always put up a strong defense. Just like last time.”
When Quarrie’s da took his injury.
“They will no’ want to throw themsel’s at us again.” When Quarrie said nothing, Borald added, “Why would they?”
Quarrie knew why. The Norse came, aye, in search of wealth. Valuables stolen from the churches. Gold and weapons from settlements. Slaves. They did not waste their time or resources killing for the sake of it.
But for revenge?
Last summer, in the act of taking his dire wound, Da had killed the leader of the Norse attackers. Quarrie had himself witnessed that battle—a vicious one, it had been. Fought right down there on the rocks of the shore.
Airlee MacMurtray had generations of good warriors behind him. He had taken the attacker’s head. It had seemed to affect the whole of the attacking force powerfully.
They had called off the raid, taken the body of their leader and their numerous other dead. They had not returned.
That did not mean they would not. They’d had a winter and a spring to lick their wounds. To nurse their grievances.
Who was to say those northern warriors with their strong blades and their cold eyes would not come seeking revenge against those who had killed their leader?
If so, they would come here.
“Tell the men to keep a close watch,” Quarrie told Borald. “No’ ye,” he added when the man looked at him. “Ye go to yer bed.”
“I think no’. I will stay a while yet.”
“As will I.” Quarrie narrowed his eyes on Oileán Iur again. He would stay to be sure, just until this feeling inside him consented to lie down.
Chapter Two
Quarrie’s bone-deep wearinessdid not fade, but he had to retreat from the walls eventually, leaving other men, all severely cautioned, in his place. He had more tasks to which he must attend.
By the time he entered the keep, the sun had risen high and strong. It would be a beautiful day, and any sails playing at hiding among the offshore islands would be clearly seen.
He wondered why that knowledge did not reassure him as it should.
His mind ran through a list of possible catastrophes and solutions as he went looking for breakfast. The settlement, large and thriving, had spread outside the walls and nearly up the hillside. If attack came, all the women and children would have to be gathered within the protection of the walls. Either that, or they must be sent away inland until the attack ended. One way or the other, if he thought they stood in danger of being overrun, it would be his duty to see that happened.
He made these kinds of decisions now, not Da—even though in name, Da remained chief. And would, so long as Quarrie could assure it.
Gathering the women and children into the fold would mean they’d need sufficient food. Fortunately, they had a well inside the walls. But there needed to be enough weapons, also.
The Norse were not known for launching a siege. They were hit-and-run attackers, bringing blood, destruction, and often flame, seizing whatever they could in the confusion.
Could he defend against an attack? He stopped where he was, outside the great hall, to contemplate the question. It depended on how many longships came. It might be one—a scouting party or a lone venturer. It might be a trio or as many as ten.
Whether or not he thought he could defend their land would make the difference in bringing the women and bairns inside, or sending them away. He could not bring them in only to be overrun and see the lot of them slaughtered.
The women would include Norah. And her babe.
That thought hit him like a punch to the gut. It had not stopped hurting yet. At one time, he’d believed that Norah’s children would be his own.
He knew better now.
“Quarrie?”
His mother stood leaning out the door of the hall, striving for his attention. She looked weary and drawn, not having obtained any more sleep last night than he. She it had been who’d helped hold Da down throughout all those long, dark hours.
