Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) Read Free Page A

as ridiculous as he did now. And he was well aware of his companions’ change of attitude, all suffering from a warped sense of humour.
    Somerled kept it up for the best part of a mile, despite the rough going and poor light, before, breathing heavily and stumbling frequently, he set his burden down.
    “I swear your feet are better than mine, now!” he asserted. “Soon you will have to be carrying
me,
Cathal man! Conn—give him his brogans.”
    After that, and the cheers of the gallowglasses, he had no more trouble with reluctant marchers.
    There were two more lochs after Teacuis, one small, one larger, and then a short and winding little pass, not high, before the main central north-south glen of Morvern was reached, that of the Aline River, more than half-way down. Here they had to go more cautiously, for little-populated as this Morvern was, it was in this valley and along the southern hore that most of the folk lived. Indeed, within a mile or so of their entry was the main village of the great peninsula, the clachan of Aline—which they must avoid. The folk would probably be friendly enough, for they were Somerled’s father’s own people; but they would be terrified of the occupying and all-conquering Norsemen, and not without cause. The word was that the Vikings themselves did not use the village, save for the supply of women and food, preferring, as always, to remain close to their longships, at Kinlochaline, the head of the three-miles-long sea-loch. Norsemen were never happy far from their piratical ships.
    It was not difficult to skirt the clachan, for most of it was on the other side of the river. Dogs scenting them and barking were a risk, but in the prevailing circumstances, nobody was likely to come to investigate, in the middle of the night, what could well be a prowling Viking. Nevertheless, Somerled took a route which contoured amongst wooded slopes fairly high, the gut of the valley a well of shadow beneath.
    There was a narrow throat or wooded defile of over a mile between clachan and loch-head and it was possible that the Norsemen might have a watching-guard therein. So, awkward as it was, they still kept to the steep high ground, amongst fallen pines and outcropping rock—although keeping quiet the progress of two hundred men on such terrain was not easy. Whether there were sentries below they had no means of telling, but they gained no impression of alarm roused.
    At length they could sense rather than perceive the wide opening of Loch Aline. Somerled called a welcome halt whilst he considered the situation. It was all guesswork, to be sure—but informed guesswork. Part-Norse himself, he knew how Norsemen thought, acted and reacted. Kinlochaline, down there, all agreed was their headquarters for Morvern, central, and enabling them to dominate the important Sound of Mull, key to the Inner Isles, and much of the Firth of Lorn also. They might be away, of course, hosting—or some of them; but not all, for a presence here would remain. If he could destroy that presence, it would be a major step in his purpose.
    How to find them in this light, or lack of it? No fires or even embers glowed. Almost certainly they would be near the loch-head, where their longships could be beached most effectively with the tides. Which side of the river? The far side, probably, the same as the clachan for convenience, there being no bridges. He would require to ford the river, therefore.
    The main question was—to wait for daylight to discover the Norse position, or to risk going down now and trying to find it in the dark? There were probably more than two hours left before dawn. Was there any alternative to these courses? It was many years since he had been here, as a boy, years of exile, but he thought that he could recollect two or three huts, salmon-fishermen’s huts, where the river entered the loch and their nets could trap the fish at their runs up and down. If these were still there, the fishermen might tell