Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) (36 page)

They reached the east coast thereafter and Somerled sent a couple of men climbing back to signal to his ships from the top of Creag Bhan, before turning inland south-westwards again.

They were less successful at their next place, owing to a sudden veering of the wind which blew the smoke off to one side, revealing the attack when still some distance off, so that this time the Argyll men had to do some fighting. Even so, vastly outnumbering the enemy, they fairly quickly beat down a distracted and unready opposition. But unfortunately two or three Vikings made good their escape, bolting off southwards, to be lost in the smoke.

Somerled now had to reconsider. These would warn their colleagues and surprise could no longer be assumed. Admittedly there still would be much confusion amongst the Norse as to the situation; the comprehensive smoke would ensure that, numbers would not be known, nor as to what had happened to the others—nor, even, who were the attackers. Also, at first at any rate, these escapers might well get no further than the nearest group of their compatriots.

He was not forgetting that gathering which he had seen from the hilltop. Whether this was still going on they had no means of knowing, for even without the smoke they would not see the place from this low-lying position, for it had been in hollow ground near Ardminish. If the fugitives ran there, as they might, then the results could be more serious, warning a larger concentration of the enemy than at any single farmstead. He had no idea what proportion of the total had been assembled there, but assuming that some four hundred had come ashore from the four ships and that this gathering represented the leadership, there could well be up to one-third involved—perhaps more than his own numbers. Warned, and coming to look for him, they could be dangerous.

He decided to change tactics and go seek a major confrontation whilst surprise was still on his side—however risky. He consulted O’Ryan, and together they came to the conclusion that the assembly had been just inland of the little peninsula which formed the northern horn of Ardminish Bay, north-east of the burning township by about half-a-mile—which would make sense, to be out of the worst of its smoke but still in the most populous part of the island. How best, then, to seek to approach that area unseen? They decided that back along the actual shoreline would be best, for although there was least smoke there, the natural drop of the land surface to the beach produced the usual bank, no cliffs or high dunes in this instance but enough of a rise to offer some cover from sight from inland.

So they turned back for the beach, however doubtful O’Ryan was as to the wisdom of it. They reached the rockbound shore at another small, low headland, and in the blue haze could just make out the larger peninsula which was their landmark, with its offshore islet, about half-a-mile to the south. There was no sign, as yet, of Norsemen.

Keeping as close under the bank as possible, and necessarily strung-out, they made their difficult way round the broken, curving, stony coastline, which was scarcely a bay. They attained the root of the peninsula without incident, and leaving the men there, hidden, Somerled and O’Ryan moved up to the higher ground. They found, nearby, the ramparts of another Pictish fort which offered both cover and a vantage-point. Creeping thither, they prospected the area from behind the grass-grown mounds.

They had no difficulty in perceiving the situation. They were approximately right in their direction. The hollow ground they had seen lay some three hundred yards ahead to their left, and still was thronged with men. But what had been a gathering now was scarcely that but a feasting. There were fires here too, but not from burning buildings and thatch, cooking-fires, many of them, with great sides and haunches of beef being roasted on spits, with cauldrons steaming. Men stood and lay about, many men, everywhere. Clearly no alarm had reached this company as yet.

Also clear was what the earlier gathering had been about. Fully a score of white bodies hung from an erection of poles normally used for drying fishing-nets—white splashed with red, that is, for all these bodies hung upside down, by the feet, and were headless. From another rail, just discernible nearby, hung the heads, by the hair.

“I feared something of the sort—God’s curse on them!” Somerled said. “How many Norse, would you say?”

“Over one hundred, to be sure.”

“I would think half that again. This will be the main body, the leaders. And they do not expect us—not yet!”

Carefully they surveyed the scene and the lie of the land, assessing, visualising their attack.

“Two parties,” Somerled decided. “You take forty. Round to the south yonder. When you can get no nearer without being seen, make a display, a flourish. Come on, shouting. Then, when they are distracted, I will fling in the seventy, from here. Confuse them. Two attacks will seem greater numbers. Unready, they will not have time to form any real defence. You have it?”

“Yes, then. You will have to give me time, to get there. Unseen.”

“To be sure. Come, then . . .”

Back with the men, Somerled told them the situation and plan and divided them into the two unequal-sized groupings. O’Ryan’s party would have to continue along the beach for some distance before they could take advantage of more broken ground and whin-bushes, to get into a suitable position. They hurried off.

Somerled took the main body up to the dun, some of the way having to be crawled on hands and knees. They had plenty of time. The ramparts gave ample cover thereafter. They crouched, waiting.

Even the best-laid plans can go agley, however. They were still waiting when there was a development not anticipated, an alarm—but not O’Ryan’s. Two Norsemen came running down to the feasting-area from the west in obvious urgency. It was too far to hear what they shouted but their gesticulations and pointings were sufficiently eloquent. Somerled cursed. Clearly they were announcing the attacks inland, however belatedly.

So surprise was gone. What, then? To assail them at once, before they formed up and became a fighting body? But O’Ryan would know nothing of this and there would be confusion. His seventy might well be overwhelmed before the others could join in, and all lost.

Watching the stir of alarm amongst the enemy and biting his lip in momentary indecision, another thought occurred to Somerled. This new situation might hold advantage as well as the opposite. All the pointings westward would certainly give the Norse leaders the impression that there was a force, possibly a large one, in that direction, and none so far away. When two more forces erupted on either side of them here, would the effect not be the more shattering? Surrounded. Outnumbered. Dire danger. It might serve him none so ill . . .

He was so considering when O’Ryan’s party made their appearance. He and his men saw them first, about five hundred yards away, for the Norse tended to be looking in the other direction, north and westwards, or huddled in discussion. But the shouts and bellowings, sufficiently threatening, swiftly swung them round. Yelling, brandishing axes and swords, the forty came on at the run.

Somerled gave them time to get fairly close to the agitated enemy as they rushed for their arms, difficult as it was to restrain his own men. Then leaping up, and crying his Argyll slogan, he led his seventy down.

It was not much of a fight, in the end. Unprepared, relaxed and drink-taken, assailed on two sides, the Norse defence was on the whole scrappy, unco-ordinated. Some fought well but most were really beaten before they began. No doubt, fears of another force to the north, as reported, had its effect. And another unplanned aspect may well have had an influence. Somerled attacked from the north-east, O’Ryan from the south-east, the threat of further trouble was to the north and west; which left only the south and south-west open, and thither lay Ardminish and the ships. Longships were always both the Norse strength and their weakness, representing safety as well as power. They were never happy far from their vessels.

So, as the attack developed, the tendency was to give ground in the one free direction, towards the ships. And as the struggle went against them, the tendency became a drift, and the drift before long a frank retiral. And then, as glances tended to turn over shoulders towards Ardminish Bay and the four waiting craft, there round the north headland came the three Argyll ships.

It was the last straw. The raiders broke off piecemeal and fled.

Somerled made a pretence of pursuit, but it was only that. There would be men left aboard the enemy craft and these would be likely to come ashore to the aid of colleagues if they saw them hard-pressed—but would be apt to stay on their ships if they saw only the others hurrying back. Let them go, then. There was still much work to be done in dealing with the remaining invader parties. Somerled blew his horn for a recall.

It was a strange situation. At a guess, adding the numbers disposed of here to those already slain, his own party were still likely to be outnumbered two to one. But they held the initiative, and the remaining enemy would not know their numbers, nor even, in the main, of their existence probably. For himself, it was difficult for Somerled to know what to do next. Just to go back into the general smoke, looking for further groups to surprise was scarcely a prospect to attract his now tired and sated men—and they were at the wrong side of the conflagrations here. Moreover, he was beginning to become worried about his own ships. If these four Norse vessels were to sail out and attack them, practically unmanned as they were, there could be disaster. Ragnhilde—would she perceive the danger and draw off?

He decided, after all, to hurry on after their fleeing foes, to Ardminish. At least it would keep up the pressure, perhaps prevent them from essaying any attack on the Argyll ships. It would enable himself to see what went on; indeed, there would almost certainly be fishing-boats on the Ardminish boat-strand, one of which he might be able to send out with instructions for Ragnhilde. He would have to leave the other Norse parties inland meantime.

Belatedly leading his men on southwards, anxious again, breasting an intervening small ridge, he obtained a good view over the bay, less than half-a-mile off. What he saw gave him pause. There was much activity about the four longships, the fled Norsemen already there. But something about the activity was odd, not what he would have looked for. Then he realised—they were transferring all the men to only two of the ships, leaving the others empty. It made sense, of course. With the crewmen who had been left aboard and the survivors from the attack, they could fairly fully man two; and the other two would be left for the remaining pirates if they could reach them. He might well have done the same.

So—with only two longships and the odour of defeat on them, would they be apt to attack the three Argyll ships out there? Probably not—unless they themselves were assailed. And, unmanned as they were, Ragnhilde would never order that. Somerled felt distinctly better.

Hurrying on towards the smoking township, they watched the two Norse vessels head out to sea—and thankfully Somerled saw that they made directly for the southern horn of the bay, at speed. The Argyll ships were still lying off the north horn. Quickly the enemy rounded the point and disappeared from sight.

“We are richer by two longships!” Somerled told his people. “Come, let us take them.”

The ruined, reeking township was abandoned save for some poultry which had eluded the raiders. Bodies lay scattered, however. First things first, Somerled waded out to the longships. They found all more or less in order aboard, everything just hastily left. Surprised, they found something else left behind—a man, so completely drunk as to be incapable of movement. O’Ryan had his dirk out to despatch him when restrained by Somerled.

“Wait,” he said. “He can tell us who these devils are, where they come from. Pour water over him. Get him to talk . . .”

Ragnhilde, not knowing what the position was, still kept her position at the mouth of the bay. Leaving O’Ryan to deal with the inebriate, Somerled had the other longship rowed out to his own vessels, standing in the prow to wave and demonstrate who came, afraid that his wife might sheer off. She did not, however, and there was a relieved and distinctly emotional reunion.

Explaining the situation, Somerled was at the same time considering what to do now. The remaining invaders had to be dealt with and this sad, ravaged island to be given what attention they could. He ordered the four ships into the anchorage beside the other, where he found that O’Ryan had managed to get some information out of the drunk man, before hanging him. It seemed that these Norsemen were from Skye, under one Ketil Left Hand, a lieutenant of the same Thorkell Svensson who had been sent about his business from Ardtomish those years ago. Grimly Somerled nodded. Further education for Thorkell was, it seemed, in order.

It was difficult to instil keenness and enthusiasm into his men for the work which still remained to be done here—even in himself. But they could not just sail away. Leaving the shipping at anchor, strongly guarded, he set some men to gathering up the bodies of the dead islanders, making a heap of the Norse slain, and dousing what fires persisted. Then he and O’Ryan each took a party of about forty and set off to try to locate the remainder of the raiders.

Somerled’s own company, taking the higher ground, were examining a savaged croft not far from the township when, warned by the wailing cries of women, they hid, to perceive presently a group of Norsemen materialising out of the smoke-haze dragging by the hair some dishevelled female captives. Pounced out upon and dealt with in bloody and merciless expedition, the women were delivered in a state of terror greater than ever. Somerled sent them on to Ardminish, where Ragnhilde would look after them. They counted fifteen Norsemen dead here, at least all were dead when they moved on.

They surveyed two more harried homesteads but discovered only corpses and saw no more invaders. By this time they were fairly high on the slopes of Creag Bhan again, and Somerled decided to climb to the summit ridge to gain a prospect of the overall position, if he could, from that lofty viewpoint. And up there, as he scanned the scene and saw no new fires, one of his men drew his attention to the other, west, side of the island. There, very near where their own three ships had waited earlier, the two longships which had fled from Ardminish were to be seen lying close. Clearly they were taking aboard some of their people from this north end. As they watched, they could see another small party working its way down to the beach to be evacuated.