Chapter One
Extract
AD 873—Islay, Viking-controlled Alba.
Modern-day Scotland.
‘No good giving me that reproachful look of yours, Coll. I made a promise, so we have to go, even if I’d rather be anywhere else but there.’ Eilidith gathered her thin woollen cloak tighter about her body and tried to ignore the biting cold while her wolfhound padded softly beside her.
In the half-light before dawn, Liddy could make out the Northman stronghold in the distance and, beyond the forbidding wooden walls, the purple-grey Paps of Jura rose. Appearances were deceptive. While she expected to arrive before the assembly day, Liddy knew she had at least a full day’s hard walk in front of her. She had refused to travel in a boat since the accident which killed her young twins, Keita and Gilbreath.
Behind her, the footsteps which had been keeping pace with her for the last few miles stilled.
Liddy reached down and grabbed her wolfhound’s collar. Her mother had objected to her taking Coll, even to the point of calling her by her proper name, Eilidith, and reminding her that she was a lady of the Cennell Fergusa, not an urchin without a noble kindred. Liddy had insisted and her mother had given way as she often did these days, commenting as Liddy left that for once she sounded like her old passionate Eilidith, the one who had vanished when her husband died.
Liddy rolled her eyes and continued walking. Her old self had vanished long before the day she heard of Brandon’s demise. That self had ceased to be when her children drew their final rattling breaths and her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.
Liddy reached down and stroked the dog’s ears. Coll leant into her and gave a reassuring nuzzle of her hand.
In the aftermath of Islay’s final fall to the Northmen, outlaws roamed the woods and desperate men were prepared to do desperate things. However, even a desperate man would think twice when confronted with a full-grown wolfhound. Coll’s head came up to her chest. He had a scar running down his nose, a legacy from a tumble he took as a puppy, rather than a fight, but it gave him a fearsome appearance that made most people and dogs avoid him. But it made Liddy love him more.
She, too, had a disfigured face—a birthmark decorated the lower part of her jaw. When she’d been small and children teased her, her grandmother, her seanmhair, had declared her kissed by an angel at birth and that she’d bring good luck to the Cennell Fergusa. However, her late husband had considered the mark ugly and his mistress had declared her cursed at birth. After the twins died, she knew that woman had spoken the truth—she bore a curse. Her husband had even sworn in church, risking his immortal soul. Rather than risking the whispers, she shunned people and had become a virtual recluse, but now she had no choice—she had to act.
‘We can do this, can’t we, Coll? We can free my father and brother. Lord Ketil’s promise to my father must mean more than empty words.’
Coll gave a soft woof and nudged her hand in agreement, as if he believed the words were truth rather than noise to fill the silence and bolster her flagging courage.
Liddy squared her shoulders. No one was going to stop her. She would get her father and brother released. There had been a misunderstanding. Unlike her late husband, her father had sworn an oath of allegiance to the Northman overlord at the first opportunity. To protect his people and the land he’d been entrusted with by his father, he swore. Peace brought its own prosperity and it was the land which mattered. Cennell Fergusa had to endure on this land. It was in their blood and sinew.
Her hand balled into a fist. Even the Northmen in their great fortress had to have some sort of honour. They, too, had laws and a king. The Northern jaarl simply had to be reminded of his obligations. He would see it was in his best interest to hold fast to the laws. He wanted peace and prosperity, not war with the islanders. And there was a tiny part of her which hoped that her seanmhair was right and she would bring good luck to the family.
‘You walk with a determined step and a strong purpose,’ a faintly accented voice said behind her, making her jump. ‘Most people would shun this place at this hour.’
She half-turned and saw the same cloaked figure she’d been ignoring for the better part of an hour. The man had started following her a good mile or two back. He was tall and his face was hidden. There was no stoop in his back or shuffle in his step. Or rather not when he considered no one was watching. Under her gaze he seemed to shrink and hunch his shoulders as if he was attempting to seem less than he was.
She forced a steadying breath. No need to be frightened of a solitary man, not with Coll by her side and a knife stuck in her belt.
‘What business is it of yours?’ she asked and advanced another step on the path. She was glad that her remaining gold necklace was safely sewn into the hem of her gown. Nowhere that any robber would think to look. It was not much, but her
