turret of steps spiralled up to the floor above. Upon climbing the stairs, they discovered a chamber faced with three wooden doors. 'Your room, Lady Niamh,' she said, indicating the door directly before them. 'This will be your room,' she continued, indicating the left-hand door for Murdo. 'And my room is there,' she said, lifting her hand to the right-hand door. 'Now then, if there is nothing you require, I will leave you to rest before supper.'
When Ragna had gone, Murdo's mother turned to him and said, 'I am glad we have come. You will not mind being the only man, will you?' Tilting her head in Ragna's direction, she said, 'No doubt Ragna will help you find a way to enjoy your stay.'
Murdo, embarrassed to have his most intimate sentiments announced so blatantly, turned swiftly to his door and pushed it open. 'I think I shall be content here,' he agreed distantly, peering into the room.
'Oh, aye, I am certain of it.' His mother bade him take a moment's rest, and went into her room, leaving Murdo to himself. He stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. The room was mostly in shadow now; there was a fireplace and many candles, but none of them were lit. The high-sided bed was built into the wall directly across from him; the linen appeared clean, and the curtain was drawn back. A small round table stood in the centre of the room, and there was a three-legged stool beside the bed. The walls were limed to make the most of the scant light through the small, square window. There were iron sconces on the wall, and a sheepskin before the bare hearth.
All in all, the room was not so different from his own at home. Yes, he thought, I shall be content here- especially knowing that Ragna is sleeping only a few paces away. As he was not particularly tired, he decided to have a look around, and so crept from his room and back down the stairs. He found his way to the vestibule and walked outside.
The sun was down, but the sky was still light, the few clouds violet-tinted in the twilight. Two or three stars were already glowing low on the horizon; the breeze was rising out of the west and it smelled of rain. There was no one about as Murdo proceeded through the yard, looking at the various buildings; he stopped before the barn, but it was dark inside so he did not go in, continuing around the house instead. There were two fields hard by the house, and in one of these ploughing had begun for the spring planting. Other fields and grazing lands lay further off, and more, no doubt, were scattered among the surrounding hills. He saw pens for sheep and cattle-though none for pigs-and, glimmering darkly at the foot of the nearest hill, a pond for ducks and geese.
Lord Brusi's farm, though larger, was much like his father's, Murdo concluded, and wondered how much land Brusi owned, and how many vassals Cnoc Carrach maintained. As his circular path brought him once more into the yard, the scent of wood smoke told him the hearth fires had been lit, and it would soon be time to eat. There was a low stone trough a few paces from the door, so he took a drink and, remembering that he was an honoured guest, washed his hands before going inside.
Candles had been lit in the vestibule and, curious about what lay behind the right-hand door, he lifted the wooden latch, pushed the door open a crack and looked inside. It was the great hall, and the size of it gratified Murdo, for it seemed at least twice as large as his father's hall at Hrafnbu. The ceiling was high and open, and there were iron sconces hanging from the beams and rooftrees. The hearth alone took up the whole of the further wall and it was laid with a single immense slab of stone; three more huge slabs formed the opening, looking like the uprights and lintel of the doorway to a cavern. The lintel was handsome grey-green slate which had been chiselled smooth, and carved with the intertwined knotwork of the old Celts.
Two long black boards on trestles ran side-by-side the length of the hall to end at a third, shorter board before the hearth. Both long tables had benches either side, but the short table had benches only on the side nearest the hearth. Iron sconces lined either wall, and iron candletrees and candleholders of various kinds were scattered around the room in profusion. New straw had been laid on the floor, filling the room with the fresh scent of the field.
'The hall is being readied for the feast,' said a soft voice behind him.
Murdo turned quickly. 'Ragna, I -
It was not Ragna who stood before him, however, but one of the servingmaids: slight and dark, her hair pulled back and bound in a length of white cloth. She was holding a trencher on which lay a small loaf of bread and bowl of salt. 'You are to sup in my lady's chamber tonight,' the maid explained cheerfully.
'I see,' he replied.
The two stood for a moment looking at one another, and Murdo, unused to such bold scrutiny from female servants, shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
'You are Murdo,' the maid informed him.
'Yes.'
'I am called Tailtiu,' she said. 'I serve Mistress Ragna, and my mother served Lady Ragnhild-until she has died two years ago.
One day, Mistress Ragna will be a lady, and I will serve her just like my mother before me, you see.'
'Yes,' Murdo answered; then, fearing he was repeating himself, added, 'I see.'
'You are from Dyrness,' the maid blithely continued, 'and your father is one of Jarl Erlend's noblemen-just like Lord Brusi.'
'He is that.'
'Lord Brusi and his sons has gone on the pilgrimage to the Holy Land with your father and brothers,' she said, warming to the discussion. 'You were not allowed to go, for you has not taken arms yet, for all you are too young.'
'I am sixteen summers now,' Murdo announced haughtily. He stared hard at the impertinent creature, and wondered how she had come by her information and whether he should send her away. But she was not his to command, so he stood firm and hoped his scowl would drive her off.
'Mistress Ragna is good to me,' Tailtiu continued. 'She is very beautiful, too, and she has given me many gifts, for I am her maid.'
'So you have said,' replied Murdo.
'You do not look like a Dane,' the maid observed.
'My father's line is descended from Sigurd the Stout,' Murdo declared. 'My mother's people are blood kin of King Malcolm of Scotland.'
'My father was a Dane, too,' the girl countered, as if the illustrious Sigurd were no more to her than an itinerant farmhand. 'My mother was of the Irish. She was brought here as a wee girl no bigger than a cricket – is what she used to say. One day I will go to Ireland, too. They say it is a fine land-an island, it is, and much bigger than all of Orkneyjar.'
'That is what they say,' agreed Murdo wearily.
Footsteps in the vestibule alerted them just then, and they turned to see Ragna approaching. 'There you are, Tailtiu,' she chided. 'I am certain Master Murdo has better things to do than listen to your chatter all night.'
'Yes, Mistress Ragna,' Tailtiu said, not chastened in the least.
'I will take this,' Ragna said, reaching for the tray, 'and you can return to the kitchen.'
Ragna took the tray and the maid departed, casting a lingering mischievous glance at Murdo as she went. 'The chamber is ready,'
Ragna told him, moving towards the door. 'You can come in if you like.'
'Thank you,' he said, following her.
Ragna turned and met him at the threshold with the trencher of bread and salt. 'You must take a bit of bread and dip it in the salt,' Ragna explained. 'It is the custom of the king's court.'
Murdo pinched a chunk of bread from the loaf and pressed it into the salt. He held it for a moment, uncertain what to do next. 'And then?' he asked.
'You must eat it,' Ragna answered. The laughter in her voice charmed rather than shamed him, and he laughed, too.
'Why must I eat it?' he asked, to prolong the pleasantry.
'It is a sign of hospitality by which honoured guests are received in this house,' she told him. 'My father learned of it in King Olaf's court.'
Murdo put the bread into his mouth, and Ragna indicated that he should go into the room. He stepped across the threshold, and caught the warm scent of her as he passed-slightly sweet, like heather, or a spice of some kind. She followed him into the chamber, which had been transformed into a dining room. A table had been set up before the hearth, where a fire now crackled, making the room warm and welcoming.
