The iron lance

'Get him aboard the ship,' Murdo told the Norseman, who hurried onto the wharf, bearing the near hysterical bishop.

'You cannot hope to gain anything by this,' the abbot sneered. 'You are only making things more difficult for yourself. Let us go and we might yet consider granting a pardon for your sins.'

'My sins are not so heavy that I cannot bear a few more for a worthy cause.' Murdo jabbed the abbot once again. 'Move along; there is a good wind, and it would be a shame to waste it.'

So saying, Murdo bundled the abbot aboard, and then turned to wait for Emlyn. In a few moments, the monk arrived, puffing and sweating from the exertion. 'I think it best that we cast off as soon as possible.'

'What did you tell them?' asked Murdo, helping Emlyn over the rail.

The truth,' wheezed the monk. 'I said that we have come from King Magnus on urgent business with the bishop. That satisfied them for the moment, but if we linger here, I fear they may become curious and come down to see what is happening.'

They clambered over the rail and joined the others on deck. Abbot and bishop stood together, glaring balefully at their captors. At first sight of Emlyn, the abbot spat. 'I might have guessed there would be Cele De behind this.' He said the word as if it was the worst slander he knew. 'Heretics and blasphemers to a man.'

The butt of the spear clipped the abbot on the side of the jaw and sent him sprawling to the bottom of the boat where he lay writhing in agony. 'Forgive me, abbot,' said Murdo, brandishing the spear, 'it seems I have developed the regrettable habit of striking churchmen.'

Gerardus glowered at him. 'You dare raise your hand to me?' he rasped, shaking with rage.

'Perhaps I am at last outgrowing the natural tolerance of youth,' Murdo replied evenly, 'but I will raise my hand to anyone who demeans this good man. The Cele De have shown me nothing but kindness and respect, and I will not hear their benevolence impugned by the likes of you.'

The abbot sat glaring and rubbing his jaw, but made no further complaint. Turning to Jon Wing, Murdo said, 'Our passengers are settled; let us be on our way.'

At Murdo's word, Jon Wing called the order to cast off; Gorm and the three-man crew leaped to the ropes and oars. A moment later, Skidbladnir began gliding away from the wharf and into the quiet water of the bay.

'Where are you taking us?' demanded the bishop.

'That is for you to say,' Murdo told him. 'Where is the convent?'

Adalbert grew belligerent. Folding his arms defiantly across his chest, he growled, 'King Magnus will hear of this!'

'Hey-hey,' agreed Jon Wing cheerfully. 'Hear of it he will indeed, for I am telling him myself. I will tell him, too, about all the farms and lands you have stolen from the families of the crusaders while the menfolk were away.'

'I have done nothing wrong,' declared the bishop indignantly. 'Those estates were placed in my care freely and forthrightly.'

'Lord Brusi's lands were under the care of his lady wife and daughter,' Murdo told him. 'My mother was with them.'

'I know nothing of your mother,' the churchman insisted.

'Oh, you would well remember Lord Ranulf's wife, I reckon,' Murdo told him.

The bishop stared at him for a moment, and his expression slowly wilted. 'Young Ranulfson,' he sighed, as if remembering an old and painful irritation. 'I heard you followed your father on crusade.'

'That I did,' Murdo confirmed, 'and I tell you the truth: it sickens me to see what you have done. While others died for Christ at your behest, you could not wait until they were cold in their graves before swooping in to plunder their lands.'

The young man drew himself up and looked the larcenous bishop in the eye. 'Your days of thieving and treachery are finished, priest. Murdo Ranulfson has returned, and now you will take us to this convent of yours.'

'I will not,' declared Adalbert defiantly.

'You will,' said Murdo. 'And bishop,' he warned, his voice falling to a whisper, 'I suggest you pray we find the women well and happy.'

'I will agree to take you to the convent,' the scheming cleric retorted, 'but I cannot be held responsible for any injury to befall the unwary. That is the Almighty's concern, not mine.'

'Those estates were in your care,' Murdo retorted. 'That makes it your concern. I intend to hold you accountable.'

'You overreach yourself; God is my judge, not you.'

'Then we will send you to your judge,' Murdo said softly, putting his face near the grasping cleric's, 'and we will let him decide whether I killed an innocent man.'

FIFTY

Murdo and Emlyn paused before the gate. The monk put his hand on the young man's arm. 'Allow me to serve you in this,' he said gently. 'I will go and speak to the abbess and bring you word.'

Murdo gazed at the large timber door. 'I have not come this far to turn aside now. I will see it through.'

'As you will.' Emlyn stepped to the door, lifted the iron ring and swung it down with a hollow thump. In a moment, a small slit door opened in one of the beams and a plump, good-natured face appeared. 'Good day, sister. I am Brother Emlyn of St Aidan's Abbey, and this is Lord Murdo Ranulfson.'

'Good day to you, brother, and God's blessing be upon you both,' the old woman replied. 'What is your business here?'

'We want to see -' blurted Murdo.

Emlyn swiftly interrupted. 'We have come to enquire of the abbess. I pray she is well.'

'She is well indeed,' answered the nun. 'A moment, if you please.' The door closed, and they heard a long scraping sound as the bar was withdrawn.

'Why did you do that?' demanded Murdo. 'Are we here to find my mother and Ragna, or not?'

'Patience,' chided the monk. 'All in good time. It is best to proceed with a little propriety and discretion if we expect to receive their help. Also, I believe we should confine ourselves to finding your mother. It would be best not to mention Lady Ragna just yet.'

'Why?' It made no sense to Murdo and he said so.

'We do not know what the bishop told the abbess when the women were brought here – not the truth, I think. Therefore, I urge caution until we see how the thing stands.'

Murdo nodded curtly and kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot. After a few moments the door in the gate jerked and swung open.

'I am surprised to find the abbey gates closed. Are the doors barred the entire day?' asked Emlyn.

'Alas, they are, brother,' replied the nun. 'We are little more than prisoners in our own abbey, for there has been raiding already this year. We were set upon three times last summer. It is that the lords and knights are gone away on pilgrimage, you see. The Sea Wolves know they can plunder the weak who are left without protection.' She smiled, her wrinkles framing a kindly face. 'Thank you for asking. Enter please, and I will take you to the abbess.'

The monk offered a small bow and stepped over the threshold. Murdo turned and looked back to the ship waiting in the bay below. In the near distance he could see the broad, curving inlet of the firth the Norse sailors called Dalfjord; away to the south was a smudge of smoke which he took to be Inbhir Ness. Turning back to the door, he took a breath, squared his shoulders and stepped through.

The abbey was a small settlement enclosed behind stone walls, with dwellings of various kinds: a church, gardens, an orchard, livestock pens, storehouses and work shops. There were almost as many buildings inside the walls as outside, and the place seemed especially busy. Murdo was surprised to see plenty of men around-some were monks, but there were craftsmen and labourers as well; he had expected a convent to contain only women.

'The convent is only a part of the work God has given us,' Abbess Angharad explained upon receiving them in the lodge beside the house. Following Emlyn's advice, Murdo was trying to engage in polite conversation while all he could think about was finding Ragna and his mother. 'Subduing a wild and savage land is a toilsome occupation; we turn away none who are willing to earn their crust by the sweat of their brow.'