Raging Sea Read Free Page A

children?
    â€œNo man can live forever,” she said, as she faced him. Tears tracked down her cheeks and Soren drew her into his arms. After a few moments, she leaned back and wiped the tears away. “And he lived a good and faithful life, Soren.”
    â€œHe seemed stronger on the ride back here last night,” he said. “I found him at the broch, near the water, swaying and mumbling. But, he spoke clearly on our way here.”
    Clearly, but certainly not sanely. Now, in the bright sun of morning, believing he could influence the winds seemed like a farce. Had he simply given in to soothe his grandfather’s agitation and mad claims? When Old Einar grew anxious and wandered, Soren would do or say whatever he must to ease the man home and back to calm. As had other kith and kin. When the man ranted and raved without making sense, but was concerned over some matter or another, they tried to smooth his way through it.
    â€œThe dizzy spells and confusion lasted longer and longer these past few months,” Ingeborg answered. Patting him on his shoulder, she smiled. “You were a good grandson to help me see to him. You treated him with respect and kindness. Your father would’ve been proud.”
    â€œAnd now?” Soren asked. “What will you do?”
    â€œMy sister’s kin said there is a place for me there, with one of her nieces. After we see to Einar’s burial, I will make preparations to go there.”
    â€œDo you need help?”
    â€œNay. The women from the village will help me prepare him. He wished to be buried next to his wife, so that is where he will lie.”
    â€œA Mass?” he asked, somehow knowing the answer would be no.
    â€œI did not agree with his beliefs,” his aunt said quietly. “But I think there is no call to summon a priest.”
    Those who lived closer to the main city on Orkney worshipped more often and lived and worked under the scrutiny of the Church. But those who lived on the edges of the isle or on the smaller ones did not suffer such a close watch unless attention was brought to their heretical beliefs. Soren shuddered then and turned back to his aunt.
    â€œCall on me if you have need of anything. I will help with the burial,” Soren said. His aunt nodded.
    He leaned over and took Einar’s hand, rubbing the weather – and age-roughened skin and trying to accept the man’s death. More father than grandfather to him, this was the man who’d taught him so much. How to run a farm. How to fish and sail. How to be loyal to kith and kin, though clearly Soren had not learned that lesson well enough.
    His last link to his father now severed, Soren’s heart filled with grief as the reality struck him. No more stories. No more songs. No more tales of the history of the islands. And the worst was that Soren would never again hear his grandfather teach his lessons of life.
    His death was not unexpected—Einar had lived many more years than most did. Soren should have been ready for this, but losing kin was never easy, no matter their age or infirmity.
    â€œHe knew.” Soren had forgotten his aunt remained with them until she spoke. “He knew his end was near. He left something for you for when”—she paused, her voice thick with emotion—“for when he passed.”
    Soren followed her into the other chamber in the cottage and waited as she searched through a trunk for whatever his grandfather had left him. She lifted a small packet of parchment from within and held it out to him. A spark surprised him as he took it from his aunt. Her expression told him nothing. Did she know what was inside? Did she know what Einar left for him? As though he’d asked aloud, she smiled and shook her head.
    â€œThat is between you and Einar. He made me promise.” Even with tears filling her eyes, her mouth still carried the hint of a smile. “Men’s work, I suspect.”
    â€œI will