Page 7 of Summer Warrior

The other girl smiled at the scene before her, but Somerled saw only despair and sadness in her eyes. Did she have a sister or brother lost to the raiders’ axes? Likely so. “There are no others?” she asked hopefully.

The older boy shook his head balefully. “Nay, Lucia, only us.”

Her expression was pained and her body rigid as if she were making a great effort not to give in to hysteria. When her tears flowed freely and she looked to collapse, the other girl bore her up.

The bittersweet reunion caused Somerled to shake his head in sorrow. “I am sorry we did not arrive sooner.”

“You did what you could,” said Deidre. Then casting a glance at the blood-soaked bodies on the beach, she said, “You avenged our kin.”

“Know this,” said Somerled, “you will all have a home with the MacInneses. Good men and their wives.”

As the Drimnin youth slowly climbed up the hill, leaving the dead Norse to be piled up and burned by his men, Somerled continued his walk among his warriors still on the beach. On the faces of all were smiles like he had never seen before, the smiles of free men. They had not fought for the kings of Ireland, Scotland or England. They were Highlanders and Islesmen who had fought for their people and the lochs, glens and bens that held their hearts.

His heart swelled in his chest.

They had wanted Somerled to lead them and so he would, not just to free them from the Norse, but to secure for them a kingdom independent of the foreign powers surrounding them. A place where their children and their children’s children could thrive.

To his men who were not among the wounded, he said, “We will wash the blood of the defeated from us and then go to Drimnin to bury the slain.” A large group broke off from the others and, once they had washed in the waters of the sound, followed him up the coast to see to the somber task.

When the deed was accomplished, he and Domnall led the men south, back to the top of the rise.

As they approached, Somerled’s mouth watered at the smell of the cattle being roasted. He had not eaten all day save for the stale bread and smoked fish he’d had that morning. “I am reminded that I must pay the farmer for his cattle. I would not take from our own.”

“Aye, Somerled, I will see it done,” said Domnall. With a grin, he added, “In addition to the girls, we found gold beneath the boards in the two longships we recovered.”

“See if the MacInnes man who took the boys will take the girls. Whoever agrees to raise the Drimnin children should receive some of the gold.”

Domnall nodded and went about the task.

When the meat was cooked, Somerled, his cousin and brother sat with him in front of the blazing fire and feasted on thick slices of roast beef.

“The men are calling you the Thane of Argyll,” said his brother. “You have earned the title and, by rights as our father’s eldest son, it should be yours.”

Somerled wiped the meat’s juice from his mouth. That the men had called him “thane” pleased him but there was yet more to reclaim before he would feel comfortable with the title “Lord”.

His mouth hitched up as he considered his younger brother. “If I be the Thane of Argyll, then you are surely now Chief of the MacInnes.”

Angus smiled sheepishly. “The men have spoken of it.”

“Good.” Somerled gazed across the Sound of Mull as the sun drifted low in the sky turning a blood red, the ominous hue reflected in the glistening waters of the sound. He hoped it would keep the superstitious Norse from their shores. “Tomorrow, we retrieve our other ships and go to Mull where the rogue Norse still prey upon our people.” And then with a smile, he added, “We have need of more of the enemy’s longships for our many warriors.”

Domnall slapped him on the back. “Aye, Cousin, more ships!”

Somerled now had five longships and two galleys. Enough for his men but, if they were to reclaim all that the Norse had taken from them, they must fight more battles where they would gain more ships. Ships that could defeat the Norse dragonships.

In the back of his mind, he had a thought to build a fleet of galleys and an idea about how to make them turn more quickly. “I’ve an idea to replace the steering board on the right side of the ships we have with a moveable stern rudder. ’Twould render them more maneuverable. In a close sea battle, our galleys would be faster.”

“Aye,” said his brother, “’tis a worthy idea.”

“It has not been done before,” said Domnall, “but I can see how it might work as you conceive.”

Sipping ale from his goatskin, Somerled sat back and stared into the fire, seeing the future as he imagined it. Around him, his men ate and drank, speaking in low voices.

His thoughts on the day were mixed. They had not been able to spare Drimnin but they had rescued a remnant and obtained justice for the others. One by one, he would retake the coastal lands and the isles of his forefathers. As the people were being freed of the Norse yoke, he would turn his attention to the isle that had never left his mind—the Isle of Man.