The Swordswoman Read online

  It was as simple as that. One minute Melcorka was settled in the home she had known all her life and the next her mother had decided they would leave.

  'Where are we going?' Melcorka asked. 'Why are we going?'

  'Don't ask, don't argue, just do as you are told.' Bearnas opened the door and touched Melcorka's shoulder. 'All your young life you have wanted to travel, to see what was beyond the confines of our small island. Well my dear, now you are going to do just that.' Her smile lacked humour as her hazel eyes seemed to drive into Melcorka's soul. 'It is your destiny, Melcorka; it is your birthright.'

  'What do you mean?' But Bearnas said no more and the day passed in a frenzy of packing and preparing.

  'Bearnas,' Granny Rowan gestured to the window. 'Your friend is back.'

  Melcorka heard the harsh call before she saw the sea-eagle land on the stunted, gnarled apple tree that stood outside the house. The bird sat still, with its head swivelling until it stared right inside the cottage window.

  'Open the window, Melcorka,' although Bearnas spoke quietly there was complete authority in her voice.

  The eagle hopped inside, perched on the top of the bed, looked around the room and jumped on to Bearnas outstretched arm.

  'Welcome back, Bright- eyes,' Bearnas tickled the bird's throat.

  Melcorka shook her head. 'It's not a welcome back, Mother. We have never seen that eagle before.'

  'The sea-eagle is my totem bird,' Bearnas seemed to be musing, so quiet were her words. 'Your bird is the oystercatcher, Melcorka. Watch for the oystercatcher. He will guide you to do what is best.'

  'Mother…' Melcorka started, but Bearnas had left the room, taking the sea-eagle with her.

  Granny Rowan watched her go. 'There will be a time when you are grateful for the flight of an eagle, Melcorka.' Her eyes were opaque. 'That time is not today.'

  Somebody had found clothes for Baetan so he stood in a corner of the house wearing a linen leine, the ubiquitous shirt that everybody, male and female, wore. Baetan's leine strained to reach around his chest, while his loose tartan trousers barely extended past his knees.

  'We need a boat,' Baetan said.

  'Of course,' Bearnas agreed.

  'We don't have a boat,' Melcorka started, until Granny Rowan put a hand on her shoulder.

  'There are many things you don't yet know,' Granny Rowan spoke quietly; 'it's best if you hold your tongue and let the world reveal its wonders to you.'

  'Where are we going?' Melcorka asked again. 'Are we going to Mainland Alba?'

  'Better than that; we're going to see the king,' Bearnas told her, 'and that is as much as I know myself.'

  'The king? Do you mean the Lord of the Isles?'

  'No!' Bearnas' tone could have cracked granite. 'Not the Lord of the Isles. We are going to see the king himself!'

  'We will need a boat,' Baetan persisted.

  'We have a boat,' Bearnas ignored Melcorka's repeated head shake. 'Come this way.'

  Seabirds screamed harsh greetings as Bearnas left the cottage where Melcorka had spent all her life and walked in a straight line, eastward over the rising moorland, toward the mid-morning sun. Melcorka followed, wondering. 'Mother…'

  'Don't ask, Melcorka.' Bearnas glanced to her right, where the sea-eagle circled.

  A westerly wind whispered through the damp heather, a friendly hand on their back that pressed them onward. 'Mother … this is the way to the Forbidden Cave.'

  'Thank you, Melcorka.' Bearnas did not try and hide her sarcasm. Bright-Eyes landed to balance on her shoulder as if it had never perched anywhere else.

  A dip in the moor cracked into a gulley that deepened with every step until they were descending along a narrow gut with walls of rock on both sides. A cave loomed ahead, ten feet high, black and cold. All her life Melcorka had been warned not to enter this place but now her mother strode in without looking to left or right.

  'Mother…' after wanting desperately to explore the Forbidden Cave, now Melcorka hesitated. She took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  Darkness wrapped around her like a cloak, crisp, cool and scented with salt. She peered ahead, listened to the confident padding of her mother's feet and the heavy tread of Baetan. She could identify either just by the sound of their footsteps, although she did not know how, or why.

  'Here we are.' Even in the dark, Bearnas seemed to know exactly where she was. She stopped beside a niche in the wall and lifted out two rush torches. Striking a spark with two pieces of flint, she allowed the dry rushes to catch fire. Yellow light pooled around them. 'Hold that,' she handed one to Baetan, 'it's not far now.'

  Melcorka heard the water before she saw it, and then the light from the torch was reflected from their left and she realised they were walking along a rocky ledge with water surging and gurgling beneath them. The sound of surf grew louder until it echoed around the cave. 'Where are we?'

  'This cave extends from the side of the hill to a sea exit in the Eastern Cliffs,' Berneas explained. 'Now stand still and don't get in the way.' Bending down, she rolled back what Melcorka had thought was the wall of the cave. 'It's not magic, Melcorka, don't look so surprised! It's only a leather screen.'

  There had been an occasional visit from boats to Dachaigh, normally fishing boats blown off course by the fierce squalls of the Western Ocean, but the boat that Bearnas revealed behind the screen was different to anything Melcorka had seen before. Both the stem and stern rose to a sharp point, while the hull was narrow and made of shaped wooden planks, overlapping in clinker fashion. There were holes for six oars on each side and space amidships for a mast to be fitted. At the bow, rising in an open-mouthed scream, a sea-eagle's head glared forward.

  'What do you think, Melcorka?' Berneas stepped back.

  'It's huge,' Melcorka did not hide her surprise. 'But where did it come from?'

  'We put it here before you born,' Berneas said. 'I did not want you to know about it until it was time.'

  'It was time for what, Mother?'

  'Until it was time for you to leave the island; until it was time for you to meet the king; until it was time for you to become who you really are.' Berneas slapped the hull of the boat. 'You like her?'

  'I do like her,' Melcorka said. 'But I know who I am. I am Melcorka, your daughter. Are we really going to meet the king?'

  'She's a beauty, isn't she?' Berneas ran her hand along the smooth line of the hull. 'We call her Wave Skimmer because that is exactly what she does.' When she looked at Melcorka her eyes were level and calm. 'Yes, we are going to meet the king.'

  'Why?' Melcorka asked.

  'Baetan gave me some information that we have to pass on,' Berneas said quietly. 'After that…' she shrugged, 'we'll see what happens.'

  'What information did Baetan give you?' Melcorka asked.

  'That was for me,' Berneas said. 'If the king wishes you to know, he will tell you. Or if our situation alters, then you will know.'

  'We might be better going to the Lord of the Isles,' old Oengus suggested.

  'You know full well that we will not approach that man,' Bearnas snapped, 'and I will not hear his name again.' Her voice was as grim as Melcorka had ever heard.

  Multiple gleams of light reflecting on the water warned Melcorka that they were not alone. When she looked back it seemed that most of the population of the island had followed them into the Forbidden Cave. Torchlight highlighted cheekbones and deep eye sockets, weather-tanned foreheads and the determined chins of men and women she had known all her life. Some carried sundry bundles and casks, which they placed on the rocky shelf beside the boat.

  'Mother – should we not see Donald of the Isles before we see the king?' Melcorka tried again.

  'You should do what you are told,' Berneas emphasised her words with a stinging slap to Melcorka's rump.

  Oengus shook his head and touched Melcorka on the shoulder, 'best keep your tongue between your teeth, little girl,' he said.

  'But why?'

  'There i
s history there,' Oengus said quietly, 'old history.'

  'But Mother..,' Melcorka began.

  'Enough!' When Bearnas lifted a single finger Melcorka clamped her mouth shut.

  'Let's get her launched,' Oengus said, and within minutes everybody had crowded round. 'Come on Melcorka: you too!'

  There were log rollers stacked between the boat and the wall of the cave, but even with them, Wave Skimmer was heavier that Melcorka had expected. It took them an hour to manoeuvre her onto the water, where she took on her true appearance, long and low and sleek. Something surged within Melcorka so she wanted desperately to board that boat and sail her to … to she did not know where, exactly. She only knew that something deep within her was calling.

  Despite his grey beard and the pink scalp that shone through his thinning hair, Oengus leapt on board like a teenager, tied a cable around her stern post and attached it to a stone bollard on the shelf. 'All secure, Berneas.'

  Bright Eyes fluttered to the tall figurehead and perched on top, a flesh and blood eagle on top of carved wood and Melcorka was unsure which looked the fiercer. Berneas stepped on Wave Skimmer and balanced easily in the bow. 'Are we all here?' Although she did not raise her voice her words penetrated even to the back of the cave.

  'We are all here,' the reply came in a unified chorus from everybody except Baetan and Melcorka.

  'Who are we?' Berneas nearly sang the words.

  'We are the Cenel Berneas.' The words echoed around the cave.

  Berneas cupped a hand to her right ear: 'who are we?'

  The reply came, louder than before: 'we are the Cenel Berneas!'

  'Who are we?' Berneas nearly shouted the question and the reply came in a full throated roar that made Melcorka wonder that these people who she had known all her life could make so much noise. She looked around at her friends and neighbours, the smiling farmers and grumpy potter, the peat cutters and dreamers, the sennachie and the ditch- digger. She knew them all yet here they were unfamiliar. Who were they?

  'We are the Cenel Berneas!' The words echoed around the cave, and re-echoed again.

  'Then let us BE the Cenel Berneas!' Berneas shouted and the islanders gave a triple cheer that raised the hairs on the back of Melcorka's neck. She joined in with the rest, raising her fist in the air and stamping her feet on the deck, even though she had no idea what or why she was cheering.

  The noise faded to a whisper that slid away, leaving only the surge and suck of the waves and the slightly ragged breathing of the islanders.

  'The Cenel Berneas,' Melcorka repeated the words, 'that means the people of Berneas, but you are not the head of the island, mother.'

  'You have much to learn, Melcorka,' Aunt Rowan said. 'It would be best if you kept your tongue firmly between your teeth, watched, listened and did exactly as you were told.'

  'I see you brought supplies: how much?' Berneas asked.

  'Enough for a five day trip,' Oengus answered at once.

  'That should see us to where we have to be,' Bearnas said quietly. 'It is time to become ourselves again.'

  The islanders spread out inside the boat, each taking a place on one of the wooden thwarts that ran from starboard to larboard side, with Berneas retaining her place in the bow and Oengus sitting at the long steering oar in the stern.

  There was silence as if everybody was waiting for a signal. Berneas gave it.

  'Dress,' she said simply.

  The islanders opened chests that sat beneath the wooden thwarts and each extracted a package. They changed slowly and with care, so it took them a full fifteen minutes to affect a transformation from quiet-living islanders who tended cattle and grew barley to a boat load of warriors in chain mail. Melcorka stared at these people she had grown up with yet did not know at all.

  Standing in the stern, Oengus looked formidable with an iron helmet close to his head and a shirt of chain mail taut over his belly. Granny Rowan was amidships, holding her oar with as much aplomb as she had ever tended bees in her apiary. Lachlan, who spent his life cutting and stacking peat, was near the bow, smiling as his rough hands ran the length of his oar. Yet their presence faded to nothing when compared to her mother, Bearnas, who wore a chain shirt that descended to her calves, and a helmet decorated with two golden wings.

  Bearnas looked over the boat. 'Weapons,' she said and her crew delved into the chests or groped on the bottom of the boat. They emerged with a variety of swords and spears, which they lay beside them on the rowing benches.

  Melcorka could only stare as her mother lifted a silver handled sword.

  'Are you ready, Cenel Bearnas?'

  'We are ready,' they responded at once.

  'Mother?' Melcorka felt the tremor in her voice.

  'Cast off!' Bearnas' voice was like gravel being ground under a farm gate. When she met Melcorka's eyes, there was humour mingled with the steel, force with the compassion but authority above all. 'Push off!'

  The rowers closer to the shelf pushed themselves into the water so Wave Skimmer eased sideways.

  'Row!'

  The rowers took a single short stroke, then another and Wave Skimmer eased toward the semi-circle of light that marked the outside world.

  'In oars!'

  The rowers withdrew the slim, bladeless oars and Wave Skimmer burst out of the cave and hit the swell of the Western Ocean. The eagle figurehead rose so it seemed to be pointing to the sky, then plunged down until Melcorka felt her stomach slide, and then it rose again. Bright-Eyes balanced easily on top, gave one harsh call and began to preen its feathers. A seagull swooped close, had a look at the sea-eagle and decided not to investigate further.

  'Raise the mast!' Bearnas ordered, and with no apparent effort the crew positioned a thirty foot tall length of straight pine upright in the centre of the boat. Oengus gave gruff orders and stays were fastened to keep it secure, a cross-spar was hoisted and secured near the top and a great red canvas sail hoisted and dropped, to swell in the breeze.

  'Out oars,' Bearnas ordered, 'in time now, just like the old days.'

  Granny Rowan began a chant that was quickly taken up by the others so they rowed in unison, hauling at the oars with small gasps of effort with Oengus proud at the steering oar and Bearnas standing in the bow, looking forward.

  Wind blowing, seas rising

  And a man shouting wildly

  My land is rich hiuraibh ho ro

  Melcorka swallowed hard and watched as Wave Skimmer rose higher and higher. She looked behind her as her home diminished with distance.

  'That is your past, Melcorka,' Oengus said softly, 'say goodbye; your future is coming.'

  Melcorka was not sure how she felt. There was sadness there, and uncertainty at the suddenness of it all, but mingled with the doubt was a surge of excitement and wonder at all the new things she knew she would see.

  Sea spume and surging weather

  And an elemental storm wearying them

  My land is rich hiuraibh ho ro

  She looked at the crew of Wave Skimmer; she had known these people all her life as quiet living farmers and inshore fishermen, bird egg-hunters and peat cutters; now they sat hauling on the long oars as the ship rose and fell, dashing aside the waves from its sharp prow. The youngest was middle-aged, the oldest in his dotage, yet here they were pulling lustily at the oars and singing as if all the fires of youth burned in their collective belly.

  Rushing wind lashing

  And the white-headed waves grating

  My land is rich hiuraibh ho ro

  The chants continued, verse after verse with Granny Rowan starting the opening words and the crew joining in as they leaned forward and hauled back. A shaft of sunlight probed from the east, reflecting from the waves in a myriad diamonds of light and highlighting the faces of the rowers.

  Never would their courage shrink

  The stout-hearted crew

  My land is rich hiuraibh ho ro

  Suddenly they did not look like farmers and peat cutters. The sun cast sha
dows from high cheekbones and strong jaws so for the first time Melcorka saw the hidden strength of these people. She saw the deep eyes and set mouths and wondered how these men and women would have looked twenty or thirty years or so back, when they were in their prime.

  At last, they saw the land

  And they found a safe haven

  My land is rich hiuraibh ho ro

  'Over there,' Bearnas' voice broke into Melcorka's train of thought. 'That's where you are heading, Melcorka.' She leaned closer. 'There you will find your destiny.'

  Chapter Two

  They rose sheer from the sea, a group of small islets surrounded by waves that leaped up the cliffs and splintered into a curtain of spray and spindrift before the constant westerly wind blasted them clear until the waves gathered strength for the next onslaught, and the next and the one after that.

  Wave Skimmer dipped her prow to a rogue wave so that scores of gallons of sea water surged on board, ran the full length of the vessel, soaked every one of the crew, and gushed out through the scuppers.

  'Mother,' Melcorka stretched her neck backward as far as she could to view the cliffs, 'why are we here?'

  Bearnas gripped the steering oar until her knuckles were white. 'We are here so you can find your destiny, Melcorka.'

  Melcorka heard Oengus' rough laugh stop abruptly. 'What do I have to do, mother?'

  'Find your destiny,' Bearnas repeated.

  'But how do I do that?' Melcorka asked.

  'It's your destiny to find,' Bearnas told her, 'not mine to give you. You must decide what to do.'

  A swell of the sea lifted the ship so she surged up, closer to the cliffs. The voice came from high, faint, feminine and familiar; only the words escaped Melcorka although she strained to listen.

  'What was that?' Melcorka asked.

  Bearnas held her gaze but said nothing.

  'Did you hear that?' Melcorka tried again.