The blask rood

Talk turned to Torf-Einar's return, and how he had fared in the Holy Land. Someone said he had heard that Torf left an enormous fortune in the East, and others began speculating on how much this unknown wealth could be, and whether it was in gold or silver. Their ignorance and frivolity vexed me, and I said, 'Perhaps I will go to the Holy Land myself and claim this fortune and become King of Edessa.'

My mother, directing the serving-boys, and listening to the table talk with but half an ear, turned to me as if I had said I meant to burn down the hall with everyone in it. The smile on my father's face vanished in an instant; his head turned slowly towards me. If I had uttered the most obscene blasphemy imaginable, I do not think his expression could have been more aghast. He swallowed the bit of bread he was chewing, forcing down his growing anger. 'That was ill-spoken,' he said, his voice strained and low. 'Idle fancies are the work of the devil.'

I started to object that it was no idle fancy, that I had been considering just such an undertaking, but I glimpsed Lady Ragna desperately trying to warn me off. Their reaction rankled me, truly. Yet, the swiftness and force with which my innocent comment roused my lord's wrath took me aback. I mumbled a vague apology, and begged his pardon.

The tension of the moment melted away, and talk resumed. But nothing more was said about the Holy Land. When the opportunity presented itself, I rose and left the hall. When I arrived at the church the next morning, my father took me aside. 'Your mother thinks I was too quick to judge you last night. She thinks I condemned you out of hand for a comment worth less than the breath to speak it.'

I looked him in the eye. 'What do you think, lord?'

He glanced away. 'I think my good wife is wise and, over the years, I have learned that her opinions in such matters are to be trusted.' He shrugged, and his eyes swung back to me. 'If you tell me she has

rightly divined the heart of the thing, and promise me you will never speak of such things again, I will forgive you fully and freely, and say no more about it.'

'Forgive!' I said, my voice harsh with outrage. 'Is it a sin now to speak of the Holy Land? As surely as I am your son, my lord, I will think and speak as I please.'

He glared at me. 'Only a fool jests about things he does not understand. I never knew you for a fool, boy.'

Lest I say something I would later regret, I turned and started away. 'There is another possibility,' I said, looking back over my shoulder.

'And what is that?' he growled after me.

'It was no jest!'

His unreasoning obstinance hardened my determination, I confess. I found myself dwelling on the things Torf-Einar had told me regarding the Holy Land, and imagining what it would be like to go there.

I did not work at the building that day; instead, I spent the day out in a boat beyond the headlands with three of the vassals, catching mackerel for the smokehouse. As the fishing was good, we did not return until it was almost dark, and then spent half the night gutting the fish so they would be ready for the drying racks in the morning. Indeed, I was busy tying the flayed and split mackerel to the birch poles when Abbot Emlyn approached me.

'So, my father has sent you to chastise me,' I said mockingly. 'No doubt he has grown tired of shouldering the burden all by himself.'

The kindly cleric looked at me and sighed. 'You are that much like another young man I once knew,' he said. 'Stubborn as stone.'

'If you are looking for the cause of the trouble,' I told him, 'you come looking in the wrong place. The fault lies not with me, but with my lord.'

'Come,' he said, motioning me to his side, 'walk with me.'

I had it in me to refuse. 'I'm busy,' I told him.

'Come with me, Duncan,' he insisted gently. 'The fish can wait.'

Who can resist the kindly abbot anything? Thus, I found myself falling into step beside him. We walked across the yard and out from the caer; our footsteps found the track down to the sea, and so we followed it, passing the field where some of the vassals were chopping thistles. The breeze was out of the north, and I could smell the clean, wind-washed air faintly tinged with salt-a sign of cool, bright weather to come.

We came onto the pebbled shingle and walked for a time, the sound of our feet crunching in the stones made a hollow sound. Tiny white crabs swarmed the rotting seaweed at the high tide mark, darting out of sight as we passed. At last, the abbot drew a long breath, and said, 'I am disturbed, Duncan.'

I thought I knew what he would say next. I waited for the rebuke and prepared to defend myself against his unjustified disapproval.

'Murdo is not himself.'

This so surprised me, I stopped walking and turned to him. 'What?'

'Your father and I have been friends for many years, but I have never known him to be this contrary and short-tempered.'

'Nor I.'

'For the life of me, I cannot think what has happened to make him so disagreeable.'

'And changeable.'

'Yes,' the abbot agreed. 'Lord Murdo is the steadiest and most resolute of men. It hurts me to see him more miserable by the day.' He looked at me, distress furrowing his forehead. 'What can he be afraid of, do you think?'

'Why afraid?' I said, dismissing the question. 'I have never known my father to be afraid of anything. I think he is just getting set in his ways and resents anyone else having a different opinion.'

Emlyn shook his head gently. 'You know that is not true.'

'I suppose not,' I allowed. 'But why do you say he is afraid?'

'Look deep enough, and you will find that fear is usually at the bottom of all our sins and failings.'

'He is afraid I will go to the Holy Land.'

I had not intended saying that. Indeed, the words were out before I had even considered them. Even so, I knew them to be true the moment I heard them.

Emlyn did not disagree. 'Why should he be afraid of that, do you think?'

'Because,' I began slowly, 'he thinks I will become like Torf-Einar and forsake my family and my birthright.'

'Perhaps it is something like that,' the cleric replied. We resumed walking. The breeze ruffled the waves as they lapped at the stones, making a sound like chuckling.

'Your father never speaks of the Great Pilgrimage,' Emlyn continued after a moment.

'No, he does not.'

'For your father, the Great Pilgrimage brought nothing but hardship and grief. Like many others, Murdo lost nearly everything he cherished in life. Ever since he returned he has worked at replacing all that he lost, and he has succeeded admirably well.'

Torf-Einar's return reminded him of this,' I mused.

'More than that,' the abbot assured me. 'If Torf had not returned the past would have remained only a memory-painful though it may be.'

I began to see what he was telling me. 'Murdo is afraid I will go to the Holy Land, and he will lose me, too.'

'All things considered, it is not an unreasonable fear.' He looked at me, but I kept my eyes straight ahead so I would not have to meet his gaze.

'I see. So you are united with him in this.'

'It is not like that, Duncan.'

'What if I were to tell you that God was calling me to undertake the pilgrimage myself? How would you counsel me then?'

He did not reply at once, and so I thought I had him at my mercy. I boldly pressed my advantage. 'Well, abbot?' I demanded. 'Obey my father, or obey God-which is it to be?'

When he did not answer, I glanced across at him and saw that he was squinting into the distance as his eyes searched the far-off sea haze on the horizon. 'There is a ship,' he told me. 'Someone is coming.'