with that, the young girl turned and sprinted away.
“So, how many fair damsels are awaiting our arrival with open arms this time?”
Prince Henry lowered the hand that was protecting his eyes from the early morning sun and gave his Italian friend a poisonous stare. Antonio’s twinkling dark eyes rolled heavenward, and he shook his head sadly, allowing the thick black curls that covered his head to sway back and forth. Prince Henry returned his gaze to the coast.
“Do not forget that I am paying you to complete the mapping of this voyage. Next time leave your secret ambitions of being a court jester in Venice.”
Antonio smiled at his captain. He often thought of the life Prince Henry could have had if he had chosen not to accept his inherited role as Protector of the Templar Order. He had seen on many occasions the countless number of wealthy and beautiful women who had attempted to woo the ruggedly handsome prince. He had caught the female whispers at castle dinners as they admired his chiselled Nordic features and the thick, wavy blond hair that framed his penetrating blue eyes. Prince Henry could have married a princess, enjoyed the royal trappings of mistresses, wealth and power and lived a comfortable life without ever having to take one step beyond the borders of his beloved Scotland. And yet this charismatic man chose to stay true to his two true loves, his wife, Princess Janet, and his devotion to the Templar Order.
Yet those qualities were not the ones which had bound Antonio to his leader and best friend. The intoxicating power of the sea ran equally through their veins. They both had a burning love for the challenge and adventure of ocean exploration. Their duty to the Templar Order had taken them to the coasts of Africa and Asia Minor. But those voyages paled in comparison to the miraculous crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. Together, they had followed the ancient maps of Prince Henry’s Viking ancestors to the land the Nordic explorers called Vinland. It had been almost four hundred years since the last European had set foot on these distant lands! Vinland was indeed beautiful and seemingly endless. But as the Viking sagas foretold, it was a land already claimed.
“Are they stained red like those at our last landing?”
Prince Henry shook his head. “No red stain this time. They are all dark-skinned.”
“Praise the Lord,” Antonio replied. “We might not need the cannon this time.”
Prince Henry smiled. “Let’s hope not.” He nodded. “This reception seems quite different. No sign of weapons. The people actually seem to be enthusiastic to see us, not nervous or angry.”
“Enthusiastic to have us for dinner, perhaps?” Antonio quipped.
Prince Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Prepare a skiff for launch.”
Antonio squinted at the people lining the shore. “I’ve always trusted your amazing eyesight, Henry. If you think they’re going to throw us a welcoming party, then I believe you. But do you think it prudent of me to still prepare the cannon? Just in case?”
Prince Henry’s blue eyes sparkled in the morning light as he lifted a battle-tested helmet and placed it over this thick mat of yellow hair. “Fools only hope for the best without preparing for the worst. Aye, Antonio. Prepare the cannon.”
He stood in the bow of the landing craft as a half-dozen of his most trusted knights paddled for shore. The men were dressed in full battle gear, their metal breastplates, helmets and swords glistening in the bright spring sunshine. As they neared shore, the men raised their paddles, and the boat skidded up onto the pebbly shoreline.
Prince Henry stepped over the rail of the boat and onto the shore facing the leather-clad crowd. Almost a hundred people approached and surrounded their tiny craft.
A gasp rippled though the native population as they noticed Prince Henry’s eyes. They were as blue as a clear winter sky. What could that mean, they wondered? Such eyes had never been seen before. Surely he was not of this world.
The rest of the crew jumped off the boat and fell into a v-shaped position on either side of their leader, one hand resting on the handle of their swords. Prince Henry stepped forward and addressed the gathering in Gaelic. “My name is Prince Henry Sinclair. I come to you in peace.”
The crowd looked at each other, then back to the strange visitors. A voice from the back of the crowd spoke up. Prince Henry did not recognize the unusual tongue, but it had an effect on the crowd, for the wall of people parted and allowed a young man with long, black, braided hair to step forward, seemingly out of breath. Prince Henry assessed the wiry young man. His lean, muscular shoulders were well-defined, and he moved with a natural agility. Like most of the men of the gathering, he was wearing only a simple loincloth and leather shoes.
His dark, calm eyes examined Prince Henry as he caught his breath. The prince looked to his men, and not sensing any danger, simply shrugged and waited to see what would happen next. The young man reached toward Prince Henry’s head with his hands and touched the helmet. Then, with surprising quickness, he lifted the helmet right off the prince’s head! The move surprised the soldiers beside the prince, and they began to draw their swords.
Prince Henry raised his hand, ordering them to stand down. The crowd rippled in apprehension as the raised helmet released the prince’s golden locks. Even Na’gu’set stepped back in surprise.
“Glooscap was not to have hair as golden as maize,” he muttered.
It was Prince Henry’s turn to be surprised. He stared at the young stranger in awe. “Did you just speak in the Celtic tongue? How is that possible?”
Na’gu’set was still staring at his golden hair, the helmet now secure under his arm. “You do not know about the Village of The Teachers? How is that possible when you speak The Teachers’ tongue?”
Prince Henry tried to make sense of it all. “Why did you call me Glooscap?”
“The Ancient Teachers predicted your return. You are Glooscap, the Pale One. Your people taught us the ways of the Great Manitou. They said to always be prepared for this day. It is an honour for me to be the one to welcome you back to our land. My name is Na’gu’set. I am your humble servant.”
Na’gu’set lowered his head submissively. From around his neck, a stone pendant dangled and gleamed in the bright sunlight. Prince Henry’s blue eyes crinkled in joyous amazement as he reached forth and examined it. He then grabbed hold of Na’gu’set’s shoulders and straightened him back up.
“Na’gu’set, my name is not Glooscap. My name is Prince Henry of Orkney, and although I am a prince, I consider everyone of my faith a brother or sister. You are a servant to no one but God Almighty Himself. And by the love of St. Mary, boys . . . look at this!”
The men gathered round and were stunned by the intricate Celtic stone cross that Prince Henry displayed in his palm.
“So those old legends were true!” blurted one.
“How can this be? We are an ocean away from Eire!”
Prince Henry smiled. “I have been to see the Irish monks on Iona, and they have written records of those early voyages to the far western island they called the Land of Promise.”
“But those were just tales of legend, were they not?” questioned another sailor. “Are you saying that the ancient Irish
