THIRTEEN
Night lay heavy on the house and on Murdo's soul. He stared into the darkness, unable to sleep for the ceaseless whirling of his mind. He thought about the journey to come and the trials he might endure, and how he would find his father. Niamh had written a detailed and passionate plea for Ranulf's return, but Murdo reckoned the campaign would probably be.finished by the time he reached Jerusalem, and anyway, he would have little difficulty convincing his father and brothers to hasten home and redress the outrage practiced against them in their absence.
He thought about the wickedness of Bishop Adalbert, and Abbot Gerardus; he cursed them breath and bones. He thought about how he would get himself a place aboard one of King Magnus' ships. Most of all he thought about Ragna. Tomorrow he was leaving Cnoc Carrach, and he did not know when he would return. After being near her every day for the last many weeks, the prospect of not seeing her as she went about her chores, not hearing her voice in the morning as they broke fast together, not being near her and knowing he might catch sight of her at any moment-to be so deprived seemed an almost insufferable hardship.
As if in answer to his thoughts, he heard the creak of a floorboard outside his room, and an instant later the latch of his door lifted. He sat up in bed. The candle had burned low, but he took it up and stood; unable to sleep, he had not bothered to undress. The door swung open and Ragna stepped into the room, pulling the door shut silently behind her.
She saw him standing with the candle, as if he knew she would come and was waiting for her; she smiled and moved quickly to his side, her limping step more prominent with bare feet.
'Ragna, what do you -' he began.
She lay a finger to his lips. 'Shh! Not so loud. Someone will hear us.'
'What are you doing here?'
'Do you want me to leave?'
'No-no.' He looked at her wide eyes and long unbraided hair, the gentle swell of her breasts under her nightdress, and desire welled up inside him. 'Stay,' he said. 'I could not sleep.'
'Neither could I,' she told him. 'This is your last night and after tomorrow I will not see you anymore.'
'I will come back,' he pointed out hopefully.
'I know.' She bent her head unhappily. 'But then everything will be different. You will go back to Hrafnbu and I will stay here, and…'
'No,' he said, and surprised himself with this reply. Ragna glanced up quickly, her eyes shining in the candlelight. 'We will be together,' he suggested.
'Do you think so? I would like that, Murdo. I would like that very much.' Suddenly embarrassed by her own audacity, she hesitated and looked away. 'You must think me wicked,' she said softly.
'Never,' Murdo protested gently. 'I think you… beautiful.'
She smiled again. 'I brought you something.' From a fold in her mantle she brought out a slender dagger and held it up in the candlelight. 'It belonged to my mother, but she gave it to me last Yuletide.'
He took the knife and hefted it in his hand. The blade was thin and the handle light; it was a woman's weapon, but exceedingly well made: the edge was straight and sharp and the tip pointed as a serpent's tooth. It was obviously very expensive. 'Are you sure you want me to take this?'
Ragna nodded. 'I thought if you kept it inside your siarc it would help keep you safe.'
'Thank you.' He looked at the knife for a moment, and then at Ragna. 'I have nothing for you,' he confessed.
She lay her hand over his. 'I have everything I want-at least, I will when you return. Promise me you will come back for me, Murdo.'
'That I will, Ragna.'
'Promise,' she insisted.
Murdo nodded solemnly at the young woman who held him with her burning eyes. 'With all my heart, I promise: I will come back to you. Murdo Ranulfson makes this vow.'
She put her hand to the back of his head, drew his face near, and kissed him. Her lips were warm and he wished he might linger there forever. Never had leaving seemed such a bleak and daunting prospect as it did then.
After a moment, Ragna pulled away and held her cheek against his. 'I will wait for you, my love,' she whispered in his ear. 'Pray God, let not that wait be long.'
Rising, she turned and stepped from the bed, casting a last glance over her shoulder. She hesitated, and Murdo, seeing the hesitation, reached out and caught her by the hand. 'Stay,' he said.
She looked at him, her eyes wide, then glanced towards the door hesitantly.
'Please,' he said, swallowing hard.
She came into his arms in a rush. They fell back onto the bed together, their bodies entwined, mouths searching, kissing hungrily. Murdo's hands stroked her body, feeling the warm and willing flesh through the thin stuff of her nightdress. He gave a groan and sat up all at once.
Ragna rolled away. 'What is wrong?'
'Nothing,' he said. 'Wait.'
He slid off the bed and went to the chest where he had placed his belt and pouch. Taking up the belt, he unfastened the pouch and withdrew the small silver pilgrim's coin the merchant Dumas had given him for the gattage at Jerusalem. Returning to the bed, he took up the knife Ragna had given him and pressed the sharp edge into the small disc of silver.
Ragna, on her knees now, watched him, her heart beating so fast and hard in her breast she could not speak.
Laying aside the knife, Murdo took the silver coin between the thumb and first finger of either hand, bent it and, bringing all his strength to bear, tore the coin in two. He offered one of the halves to Ragna, saying, 'As this is torn, so shall our souls be torn when we are parted.'
Ragna took the coin and, holding it out towards Murdo's half, reunited the two pieces. 'As this is joined, so shall our souls be joined.'
They then clasped hands over the coin and said together, 'From this night, and henceforth, forever.'
Murdo drew her to him once more and they kissed to seal the vow. Ragna threw aside the bedclothes, and pulled Murdo down with her into their marriage bed. Their first lovemaking fled past Murdo in a blind frenzy of heat and aching need. Afterwards, they lay panting in one another's embrace.
'They might -' Murdo began when he could speak again. 'They might try to challenge our vow -
'Hush,' Ragna whispered. 'We are hand-fasted, and joined in the eyes of God. No one can separate us now. When you return we will confirm our vows before the altar.'
'I will never set foot in that cathedral again.'
'In our chapel, then,' Ragna suggested.
'Very well,' he agreed, 'in your chapel.' He bent his head to kiss her once more. ‘I wish I did not have to go. But it will be morning soon and-'
She placed a fingertip to his lips. 'Speak no word of leaving. This is our wedding night.' So saying, she sat up and, taking the hem of her nightdress, lifted it over her head. Murdo saw the exquisite fullness of her breasts and the supple curve of her hip as she bent to extinguish the candle. And then she was beside him again, kissing him, caressing him, guiding his hands in their discovery of her body. Their second lovemaking was slower, and sweeter, and Murdo wished it would never end; but it did, leaving Murdo's heart cleft in two for the beauty of Ragna's giving of herself to him.
They slept then, their faces close, breathing one breath, their bodies sharing one space, one warmth. Ragna rose and slipped from his room just before dawn, and Murdo knew he would never be whole unto himself again. Part of him would remain with Ragna forever.
Later, after breaking fast, Niamh, Ragnhild, and Ragna walked down to the cove with Murdo. Peder and two of Lord Brusi's men were waiting at the boat. The early morning sun had burned away the low-hanging mist, and the day was coming clear. 'A good wind out of the north,' Peder called as they approached. 'We shall have a fair run
