Loch Garman_A Novel of Viking Age Ireland by James L. Nelson

Author:James L. Nelson [Nelson, James L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fore Topsail Press
Published: 2017-11-17T05:00:00+00:00

Twenty-One

That we were known for warriors mighty;

There with sharp spears wounds we scored,

Let blood from wounds. And reddened the brand.

Prose Edda

Harald was heading north, up into the hills, or so he guessed. He had run and then walked as fast and as far from Airtre’s camp as he had been able. Miles, by his guess. He was pretty sure that he had been going east when he first ran out into the dark, and then he had turned and run off in another direction, and he suspected that was north.

When he could walk no farther he had found a thicket into which he secreted himself and he beat down a patch of earth and lay down and fell asleep. The sun was up when he awoke, the overcast breaking up, having threatened rain but not delivered these past four days or more. He was stiff, his bruises ached, he was ravenously hungry and terribly thirsty. But he was alive. And for the moment, apparently, safe.

He sat up and peered out of the thicket. He could see nothing save for meadow rolling along. He listened. Birds, insects, nothing more. He remained like that for a long time, listening for the sound of horses, men shouting, the jingle of chain mail. The sounds of pursuit. But there was nothing.

Slowly, suppressing groans as he stretched stiff joints, he stood and once again looked around, but even at full height there was nothing to change his belief that no one was hunting for him, at least no one nearby. He stepped out of the thicket and walked a little ways until he had as unobstructed a view as he could get. With the sun on the rise he now knew which direction was which, and though he could not tell the direction from which he had come the night before, he still felt as if he had been walking north.

North… he thought. Very well. It didn’t really make much difference, since he had only a vague idea of where he was, or where he needed to go.

This doesn’t happen at sea, he thought. It’s better being at sea. Under sail, skirting the coast, he never was faced with the problem he had now, not knowing where he was. As long as the coast was in view, a sailor had a road to follow. Now Harald was reminded of those few times when he had crossed open water, journeys of several days out of sight of land. His father seemed always to have an idea of where he was, but Harald did not, and he found it a bit unnerving.

He felt like that now.

So, I began on the coast, and fell in with Airtre, and from there I think we traveled north and west. Mostly west, I think… Harald tried to picture a map in his head, but other than the coastline, which he knew somewhat, having sailed past it, he had no idea of what the country looked like.

Father and the rest of them,

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