Free Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) by Nigel Tranter Page B

small, slender
sgian dubh
or dagger, in its leather sheath, so narrow of blade as to be almost a stiletto, which gleamed evilly in the light of the torches, now lit.
    “Ah, yes. I see. A women of spirit, as I thought! I admire spirit. I see that I need not have rescued you from those Irishry!”
    “I was glad that you did.”
    “Good. Then make me glad, tonight.”
    “Would my body make you glad? So easy a thing as that?”
    “The body—but the spirit also. I have not been with a woman for long.”
    “I grieve for you! And for your wife, at home!”
    “I have no wife. Not now. I had, but she died. Giving birth to our son. Three years back.”
    She nodded. “The price some pay. I had a husband once. The Vikings slew him. And raped me. Now I carry a
sgian dubh
. I will pass this night with you, Sorley MacFergus.”
    “I thank you. I have a chamber of a sort in the ruin here. Which I have made fit to sleep in. It is the chamber in which I was born, twenty-eight years ago . . .”
    The response to Somerled’s demand for men from the Morvern chieftains and communities was less than overwhelming. Those nearest at hand, at Acharn and Arienas, at Uladail and Kinloch and Savary, produced a quota, with the Irishry too close for comfort—but even these were in minimal numbers, along with a variety of explanations. But those further off delayed, including some of those most able to contribute, such as MacInnes of Killundine himself, Fiunary, Drimnin and Glencripesdail. Somerled perceived that some persuasion was going to be necessary.
    He had decided on a showing-the-flag gesture, by sea—since nearly all the townships and communities were on the coast—when a messenger arrived from the last-named, the north-coast area of Glencripesdail, with the news that there had been a Norse raid thereon, from Moidart, with the usual slaughter and rapine. The Vikings had come in strength, in eight ships, and were still there. Who could tell who would be next?
    Somerled had no doubts that this almost certainly was a retaliation for Sallachan, and required to be dealt with promptly, from every point of view. These would be the Norse from Loch Shiel, in Moidart, where the Sallachan men had fled. Although Moidart was not in Argyll, this mattered nothing to the Vikings. Sunart was the next sea-loch below Shiel, around the mighty headland of Ardnamurchan, which divided the Nordreys from the Sudreys, the Northern Hebrides from the Southern—and Glencripesdail was on the north shore of Loch Sunart. If this move was not countered speedily, it would be but the start of a Norse bid to reoccupy Morvem; and it would effectively prevent any further recruitment of clansmen here, nothing surer.
    He had seven ships now—the two originals, brought round from Sunart, the four former decoys, and one of the burned vessels from the first attack at Achranich, patched up and made approximately seaworthy. As well as these, MacInnes of Kinloch and MacIan of Uladail had birlinns, chieftains’ small galleys. And he could muster some four hundred men—which, although twice his earlier force, was nothing like what he required. The longships, fully manned, as the Norse ones would be, with two men to an oar, called for ninety-six rowers each, apart from other hands; and sixty of his new men were to be used up in the two birlinns, which their owners insisted on retaining in their own hands. So undermanning was again the rule, with only some fifty men per longship, therefore with half the oars unused—which meant that sea-battles and stern-chases would have to be foregone, except under very special circumstances. Somerled’s disappointment with the Morvern chieftains therefore was pronounced—but this was scarcely the time to display it.
    One aspect of the manning situation did surprise him. Cathula MacIan, who had been spending the nights with him at Ardtornish, when commands went out for men to drop everything and board ship, came to Somerled with the urgent