Page 2 of Summer Warrior

She had no desire to leave. But she knew her stepmother wanted to be rid of her troublesome stepdaughter. Affraic was only a few years older than Ragnhild but not so pretty as Ragnhild’s mother had been. The queen was jealous of the respect and freedom Olaf bestowed upon his only daughter. Why, Ragnhild could not imagine. In truth, Affraic wanted little to do with the duties of running the castle that Ragnhild embraced.

But she knew her father’s thinking. An alliance with Orkney’s earl, particularly Rognvald, who was closely aligned with the King of Norway, would assure there would be no interference by the Norse in the affairs of Man and the Isles.

Fairhair nudged her shoulder, nickering.

“What am I to do?” she asked, turning to gaze into his obsidian eyes. “My father’s wife would have me gone, and now that she has given birth to a male child, Father will not gainsay her.” The look in Fairhair’s eyes seemed to convey sympathy, or mayhap it was pity.

Feeling the sun’s warmth on her back, Ragnhild brushed her fingers over the soft skin of Fairhair’s muzzle. “For certes, she is behind this unseemly match that would send me far from the shores of Man.” Using a rock as a step, she lifted herself onto the horse’s back, knowing she must return. “Had I not promised Father I would oversee tonight’s feast for the earl and his men, I would ride the twenty miles to the other end of Man and never return.”

On the bank of the river Gear Abhain, Loch Aline, Morvern, later that summer

SOMERLED EYED the large salmon just beneath the surface of the river Gear Abhain at the headwaters of Loch Aline. Its silver scales glistened in the pale afternoon light as it neared the surface of the dark waters, tempting him mercilessly.

The elusive creature had managed to avoid his spear these past many days, but he was determined to have it for dinner this night.

“Should I bring forth the remnants of last night’s meal?” asked Domnall with a raised brow and sarcastic tone as he stepped toward the riverbank.

“Nay, I shall have the great beast this day or die trying.” Somerled and his men had returned to Morvern where he lived simply in a cave near Loch Aline. After the battle that had robbed him of his father and so many of his clan, Somerled had not sought to return to Ireland. There, the son his wife had borne him before her childbed death, lived with his mother.

The boy was too young to follow a warrior, even a defeated one.

At the moment, Somerled had no other ambition save to catch this elusive fish.

Just as he was about to thrust his spear into the suddenly still salmon, the sound of heavy footfalls coming through the brush brought his head up and his spear to the fore.

“There you are!” said his brother. Angus resembled Somerled, save he was younger and his hair was a dark gold, his short beard brown, and his eyes a deeper blue.

Somerled lowered his spear.

Behind his brother stood a half-dozen MacInnes men with whom Angus had been sojourning, their clothing marking them Gaels. “We’ve news.”

Somerled waded from the waters to greet the men and join his brother on the riverbank. “What is it?”

The somber look his brother gave him spoke of tragedy. The faces of the men with him confirmed Somerled’s belief the tale they brought to him would not be welcomed.

When Angus spoke, his tone was solemn. “Our cousin, the MacInnes chief, has been slain by the Norse pirates raiding Argyll.”

The news hit him like a blow and a heaviness settled into his chest. Another chieftain lost to the pirates. And this one had been not only his cousin but a good man, one respected by all.

A MacInnes man in trews and a saffron-colored linen shirt and wide leather belt, stepped forward. Somerled recognized Ruairi MacInnes with his long brown hair and short beard. “The tribes could not agree on which of their chiefs should lead us. A wise elder recalled that the MacInneses left the field of battle in good order, led by a young man valiant in the fight. He named you, Somerled, and that choice was acceptable to all. So, we have come to ask for your help to rid Morvern of the wretched Northmen once and for all.”

“They remember your skill with a sword,” explained Angus, “and your way with men. They will follow you as they might not another.”

“Aye,” said Ruairi. “We remembered that our chief’s cousin lived, one who was raised in the old ways, untamed by the Norse tyranny—Somerled, son of Gillebride the Brave.”

Somerled met the stern gazes of the MacInnes men and registered each nod, pleased to see the spirits of their fathers rising in them.

Finally.

He glanced back to the river where the big salmon swam unconcerned and recalled a story his Culdee priest once told him about a great general. “I put to you a challenge.”

“Tell us,” said a burly man behind Angus. “We will meet it.”

“If you can catch the large salmon that has escaped my spear these past many days, I will consider your request.” Like Naaman in the Bible, asked by God’s prophet to do something he considered ridiculous to cure his leprosy, the MacInnes men grew angry, grumbling among themselves.

Somerled recalled that when Naaman finally succumbed to the pleading of a servant girl to do as the prophet asked and wash in the river Jordan seven times, he was cured. Mayhap if these prideful men, who thought this request beneath them, would agree, they might accept without question his orders to follow.

“That is hardly a challenge for a warrior!” growled a harsh-looking man, one whose face was red with anger.

“Yet the fish has eluded me,” said Somerled with a wry smile. “Only best me at this task and I will look favorably upon your request that I should lead the clans against the Norse.”

“Very well,” said the one who had spurned the challenge. Raising his spear, he stepped into the dark waters up to his knees and waited. The men on the shore watched in silence as the salmon swam around before diving deep as if teasing them.

Then, suddenly, the salmon rose to the surface of the dark waters and the MacInnes warrior struck fast, his spear a blur. After some struggle by the powerful fish, with a broad smile, out of the water the MacInnes man pulled the largest salmon Somerled had ever seen—more than two feet in length. “A good omen,” pronounced the MacInnes man.

“It seems God has favored your request,” said Somerled. “Come, let us dine on the fish and discuss this cause of ours.”

Angus let out a huge sigh as the men trudged back to Somerled’s camp, startling a flock of crows that had settled into the branches above them. “I might have known you’d have them seek a sign, Brother.”

Somerled laughed, batting away the midges that swarmed about his face. “Or, mayhap I am merely hungry for a salmon dinner.”