for…' His eyes narrowed as he calculated the figure. 'Five gold marks each for the horses, and one for each mule- forty gold marks in all!' he proclaimed triumphantly.
'A moment,' said Cait, and summoned Abu, who seemed to know the trade value of everything. 'He says forty gold marks-what do you think?'
'Not a bad price,' granted Abu, 'but not a good one.'
'The horses are in good condition,' Rognvald said, stepping near, 'but one is blind in one eye, and two of them will need shoeing soon. I cannot say about the mules.'
'They are fair,' said Abu, 'for mules. Offer him thirty.'
'Do you have that much left?' asked Rognvald.
She nodded and turned back to the ostler. 'Master Miguel,' said Cait reasonably, 'you have us at your mercy. We need the animals in order to continue, and there is no one else who can sell to us.' She removed the coin bag from beneath her girdle and untied it. 'Therefore, I will give you thirty gold coins.'
'My lady,' replied Miguel with his toothless grin and shaking his head, 'if it was my decision alone, I would do it. But I have a wife and children to feed, and without my animals I cannot earn my crust. Forty gold marks, please.'
'Since you put it that way, I will give you what you ask,' she said, but before he could reply, she raised an admonitory finger. 'But I make one condition.'
'Yes?' The eagerness faded from the ostler's face.
'As you know, we will be returning to Bilbao where the ship is waiting. Therefore, once our business is completed and we have no further use for the horses, we will sell them back to you for, say…' she glanced at Abu who showed three fingers, 'thirty gold marks. Agreed?'
'Twenty-five gold marks,' countered Miguel.
'Done.' Cait counted the gold coins into the ostler's hands, and bade him farewell. By way of thanks, Master Miguel accompanied them a fair distance from the town to see them well on their way to Palencia before turning back to make his way home.
The ride through the long, lush Nervion valley proved peaceful and wholly agreeable. Never did they see any sign of the fearful bandits; the countryside appeared quiet and serene as the last of the fierce summer's heat dissipated, leaving behind a beautiful, mellow autumn which settled over the countryside like a warm, comfortable cloak. Apart from a few sudden showers which sent the party galloping for the shelter of overhanging chestnut boughs, the days remained bright and clear. Occasionally, they awoke to a crisp nip to the morning air which Cait found both refreshing and exhilarating, but for the most part the days remained warm from early morning to well after dark.
Every now and then, Cait would look up from her solitary meditations to discover a silent partner beside her: sometimes Abu, or one of the knights, but more often Lord Rognvald. He seemed content merely to ride with her, never speaking until she invited his conversation, which she usually did, and in this way Cait began to discover the depths of the man she had redeemed from a slow death in a Muhammedan prison.
'What is it like where you were born?' she asked him one day. The morning air was cool, and the sun warm on her face; the leaves on the birch and ash trees were just beginning to turn and she felt like talking.
Rognvald cocked his head to one side and looked at her with a quizzical expression. 'My home?' he said after a moment. 'Or the place where I was born?'
'Most people are born at home,' she said. 'Were you not?'
'My home is in Haukeland, near Bj0rgvin in the south, but I was born at Kaupangr, where Olav the Holy is buried. It is a most sacred place and a great many people make pilgrimages there. My mother was a very devout lady.'
'Your mother was on pilgrimage at the time of your birth,' Cait assumed, curiously delighted by the notion.
'In truth…' replied Rognvald, shaking his head, 'no.' He smiled, and Cait caught the cheerful gleam of his eyes, blue as the cloud-scoured Spanish skies above, as he said, 'You see, the king also had hunting lodges there, and he would invite noblemen to come hunting with him. It came about that my father was summoned to attend one of the king's great winter hunts.
'Well, one of the old vassals-a wise woman with uncanny powers-had foretold bad luck for a winter birth, and that doubled for a child without a father. My mother took this to heart, so naturally my father was loath to leave her alone.'
'Naturally,' echoed Cait, staunch in her conviction that childbirth ought to take precedence over trivialities like hunting.
'Yet even so, the hunt was to take place during the Yuletide celebrations, and fortunate indeed were those allowed to observe the Christ Mass with the king-a rare and singular honour, and one not to be spurned, for otherwise it would certainly never come again. So, my father did what anyone in his position would do.'
'Heaven forbid it!' said Cait.
'He took their bed from the house and lashed it to the deck of his ship and covered it with a tent. Then he wrapped my mother warm in his huge bearskin cloak, tucked her safely in bed, and sailed off to Kaupangr to visit the king.'
Cait laughed out loud, her voice falling rich and warm on the leaf-covered trail. Rognvald thrilled to hear it, and several of the others riding along behind raised their heads and smiled. 'So, you were born at the king's hunting lodge,' she guessed.
Again, the knight shook his head. 'My mother would not endure the noise-all the shouting and singing, you know. When men hunt they get thirsty, and King Magnus was never one to stint on anything. His 61 was sweet and dark and good, and served in foaming vats that never were allowed to run dry. The noblemen and warriors feasted and revelled every night with the same zeal as they pursued the harts and hinds by day. This made the lodge a very clamorous place.'
'King Magnus, you say.'
'King Magnus was a cousin of my father,' he said. 'In the same way, King Eystein is now my cousin.'
'Is now?' wondered Cait. 'Was he not always your cousin?'
'No,' explained Rognvald, 'he was not always the king.'
Cait laughed again, and they rode on, happy in one another's company. The knight related how his mother, having refused the king's boisterous hospitality, was lodged instead at the nearby convent. 'And that was where I was born,' he told her, 'two days after the Christ Mass. I am told the queen herself attended my birth and presented me to my mother. So, perhaps my birth was not so unlucky after all'
'Indeed, not,' murmured Cait. She grew silent, thinking about the strangeness of life and its many unexpected turns.
After a time, Rognvald turned in the saddle and asked, 'Something I have said has made you thoughtful, I see.'
'I was just thinking that if not for King Magnus, you and I would not be riding together at this very moment.'
'Then he is a far greater king than I imagined. I must remember to lay a gift at his shrine and thank him for his fortuitous assistance.' He looked sideways at her and asked, 'But how do you reckon we owe our meeting to Magnus?'
'It was Magnus who befriended my grandfather,' she told him, and went on to recount how it was that Murdo had come to follow his father and brothers on the Great Pilgrimage, travelling on a ship in the hire of the king. 'We lost our lands in Orkney,' she told him, 'but the king was just. He gave us Caithness instead.'
'That was very good of him,' replied Rognvald approvingly. 'He must have liked your grandfather very much.'
'Well,' Cait allowed, 'it was mostly the king's fault we lost the land in the first place. It was the least he could do.'
'No,' laughed Rognvald suddenly, 'it was never that. You must not know many kings.' He regarded her, trim and comely in the saddle; her cloak falling low on her shoulders-for all it was a warm day-and her dark hair neat beneath her silver combs. 'Do you like Caithness? Or would you rather have Orkney?'
'My grandfather might feel differently, I cannot say. But Caithness is home to me; I have never known any other.'
