Lord of Hawkfell Island Read Free

grave risk. But his plan failed and now he will die.”
    â€œThere are his men on the beach. Do you believe they now realize that he has failed and will sail away without him? Surely they won’t try to storm the fortress, they would have no chance.”
    â€œWere I one of his men I would wait for him until the Christian’s devil came to take me.”
    â€œI would wait too,” she said, and smiled sadly into the embers of the fire pit. “You know, of course, that this means there is a spy here at Clontarf, a man who is loyal to this warrior.”
    â€œAye, I know. I will find him. I must find him soon or lord Einar will not be pleased.”
    And Einar might punish Gunleik, she thought. Mirana spooned some porridge into a wooden bowl and handed it to Gunleik. “You have not eaten. It is tasty. Here is some honey. Eat. We will find the spy, fret not.”
    She watched him fondly, this man who was as close to her as her father had been, dead now since her twelfth year, and she’d been sent here to Clontarf to be in her brother’s guardianship. Her half-brother’s guardianship. And Gunleik had been here and she’d turned to this man who treated her gently yet matter-of-factly, and had taught her how to use weapons because he knew nothing else to teach her. And Einar had approved because she realized it had pleased him to know that she could sew and cook and keep his household and fight like a man. Aye, Einar was like that.
    Old Halak stopped beside her and patted her arm. He wished her a good night. She nodded to him, thanking him, for nothing really, but just because he was a good man and had served her well. He had also fashioned a protective shielding around the hole in the roof so no rain poured into the longhouse. It was warm within, a bluish smoke haze hanging in the air, but not so thickthat it was uncomfortable to breathe.
    She watched Gunleik eat his porridge, slowly at first, then with more appetite when he realized how hungry he was. Just a few short hours ago the warrior had come with his two warships. It seemed much longer than that now. She’d known immediately he was their leader. He’d stood there on the beach, some fifty feet below the Clontarf fortress, his legs spread, his head thrown back, and taunted them from the beach, called them cowards, derided Einar for hiding behind the witch’s skirts. But it had been her responsibility to speak and she had. When she’d shouted down that Einar wasn’t here, he’d laughed, a deep scornful laugh that had rung out loud in the still air. Einar’s men, clustered below in the yard, were furious; she could feel their tension. To have all of them taunted was one thing, but Einar’s sister was another. She’d shouted again. “I am Mirana, sister of Einar. He is in Dublin at the king’s fortress there.” She would never forget his stance, the arrogance of him, when he’d yelled up to her, as she’d stood on the fortress ramparts, “Lady, get you below to your spinning! Prepare your evening meal and keep your tongue behind your teeth where a woman’s tongue belongs.” She’d known then that he wouldn’t believe her, believe anything she said. And his trickery, she had admired that as much as Gunleik did. “Will he live?” she asked him now.
    â€œHe is young and strong. If he doesn’t succumb to the fever, aye, I believe so. But you would know that better than I.”
    She left him then and walked to Einar’s sleeping chamber where the man lay. The man fascinated her. She couldn’t seem to stay long away from him.
    There was only one rush torch lit, giving off sluggish light. The room was dim and warm. There were severalthick woolen blankets covering the man. His shoulder was bound tightly with clean white wool. No blood was seeping through the bandage. He was either asleep or unconscious, she didn’t know which.
    She eased down