Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) (35 page)

They stayed the night at Saddail, informing a less than enthusiastic Donald MacKay, when he returned, of the honour being done him and his little community. The abbey would much advantage him, it was pointed out, providing additional wealth, amenities and prestige, as well as occupation for his people. And, to be sure, worshipping facilities.

In the morning they sailed on southwards, to round the Mull of Kintyre.

Once again it was young Gillecolm who drew attention to the situation, pointing away northwards, from his roost in the bows. Smoke, he called, much smoke, far in front. There was a change in the weather, the sun gone, and they were sailing up towards the Sound of Jura in fine style before a freshening southerly wind, the rowers able to rest on their oars. It looked as though it might rain.

Sure enough, now that they looked, there was billowing grey-brown smoke rising, some miles ahead—which would have been more evident in sunlight and clear skies. It seemed to come from within the mouth of the Sound, which must mean that the fire was on the Isle of Gigha or its satellite, Cara.

As they drew closer it became obvious that the smoke emanated not from one but from several fires, the breeze soon rolling it into a single great cloud; and that it was on Gigha, that picturesque and pleasant green place which had attracted Ragnhilde on their way south. Fires of such size and number were, to say the least, unusual, especially at this time of the year. Somerled grew concerned.

Gigha was a comparatively small member of the Inner Hebridean archipelago, only some seven miles long by a mile or so in breadth; but fertile and quite populous, situated a couple of miles off the Kintyre west coast and sheltered somewhat from the ocean winds by the bulk of Islay some fifteen miles to the west. Its havens and landing-places, like most of its housing, were almost all on its east, and up that side the birlinn led. When they drew near enough the first fire to recognise that it was a burning cot-house, their fears were confirmed.

“Raiders!” Somerled exclaimed. “Accursed raiders again! Dear God—are we back to that! Who dares? In
my
isles!”

“The same Norsemen who raided Carradail?” Ragnhilde wondered.

“It could be, yes. MacKay said four ships—although they could have been only part of a larger force.”

About one-third of the way up the east coast was the main bay of Gigha, and the harbour and township, called Ardminish. It was apparent that the greatest volume of smoke was rising from thereabouts.

Somerled was in a quandary. What to do? He was in no state for engaging any large number of raiders, not equipped for fighting and accompanied by his wife and baby. He had the two escorting longships behind, but they were not manned for war, with only their rowers and crewmen, some one-hundred-and-twenty in all. In the birlinn he had some forty more. And he had none of his veteran leaders with him on this holiday cruise. The Norse longships, manned for raiding, would carry up to one-hundred-and-fifty on each vessel. So the probability was that they would be outnumbered four to one. And surprise could be ruled out, their approach almost certain to have been observed.

As they rounded the islet which formed the south horn of the Ardminish bay, sure enough, there lay four Norse longships at the head of the bay, with most of the township behind in smoking ruin.

“I should have built a castle here,” Somerled exclaimed. “But I cannot have one on every island. There are scores, hundreds. Those ships are guarded. And we can see men moving around the township, watching us for a certainty. We cannot move in and try to capture or destroy those ships. Yet I cannot just sail away . . .”

“Can you not get help?” Ragnhilde asked.

“How can I? The west coast of Kintyre is little populated, open to the ocean. The nearest haven of Islay is fifteen miles away. To go there, raise a sufficient force from parts of the island, and win back here would take all day. By which time these would be gone, belike. Yet there is nowhere nearer. Castle Sween is even further. And I doubt if I could find sufficient men and craft there.”

“Can you parley with them? Tell them who you are and that you will follow and destroy them unless they stop savaging this poor place . . .?”

“What heed would they pay? And seeing me little protected, they would probably rejoice to slay me—whatever they might do to you! No—that is not the way . . .” He was only part attending to her, the rest of his mind active, considering, recollecting the conformation of this island, assessing. It was some advantage that they had been here only a few days before and, with Ragnhilde so taken with Gigha, they had spent most of a day on the island exploring it. So he could visualise the features of the place.

She saw the calculating look in his eyes. “You plan something, Sorley? What?”

“I do not know. I wonder . . .? It is but a notion. But it might just serve. At least to distract them, drive them away . . .” He paused, to point. “See, men hurrying down to the ships. We could have done nothing there. They may row out, to challenge us . . .”

“Will you wait for them?”

“No. Not with you and the child and Gillecolm aboard, by God! That is not the way.”

“What, then . . .?”

“We flee!” he answered grimly. “Or seem to.” Having slowed almost to a standstill, in the mouth of the bay, his escorts had come up with him. He raised his voice to shout to them, and to point, northwards.

“Follow me. All speed. Seem to flee. Close inshore. Keep near.” And to his own oarsmen and crew. “Quickly. Your fastest. Off with us, as though we take flight . . .”

So off the three Argyll craft raced, oars flashing and spray drifting on the breeze, up the broken and indented east coast of Gigha in seemingly craven haste. Soon Ardminish Bay was hidden behind. Although Somerled watched, no Norse ships issued therefrom to give chase.

They had some four miles to go to the northern tip of Gigha, and for most of the way they would be hidden by the cliffs and low hills of this more rocky and much higher end of the island. For the same reason, it was little occupied and given over to moorland and rough pasture, so that there was little at this northern sector to attract raiders and no fires smoked here—which was as Somerled had guessed. At the narrow northernmost headland, still close inshore, he swung the birlinn round in a tight curve, ordering the sail to be lowered—for now they were heading southwards into the wind. Close behind, the two longships did likewise, all oar-work now. Unless the Norse had sent someone up to the top of Creag Bhan, the highest hill of the island, it was highly unlikely that they could have seen them for the last miles, or observed this latest manoeuvre. They rowed on down the western coast.

After passing a hammer-shaped penisula, they came to a wide shallow bay, over a mile across and littered with reefs and skerries. They skirted it cautiously. Now they were rowing through acrid smoke-clouds blown northwards—but this would help to hide them. At the far end of this bay there was a kind of indented lagoon, reasonably clear of reefs, with Creag Bhan rearing lumpishly behind. Into this Somerled steered, Gillecolm watching for rocks. In here the ships would lie hidden, he hoped, certainly there seemed to be no house in sight when the billowing smoke cleared occasionally.

He summoned on to the birlinn the two other shipmasters—one of whom happened to be the Manus O’Ryan who had greeted him on the Isle of Rhum and who had remained with him since—and the steersmen likewise, the nearest to leaders he could raise. He told them his plan. He would land here, with as many men as he could take, leaving only the absolute minimum aboard to handle the ships, with only a few oars used. The Norsemen, who it was hoped would assume that they had fled the scene, would almost certainly disperse again in bands to continue their looting and burning sport; and it would be his endeavour to stalk them, unobserved, and to pick them off group by group, if possible. The ships would remain here meantime, in case the attempt was unsuccessful and they had to retire and be taken off quickly. If all seemed to be going reasonably well, then he would send a signal, and the ships should sail back round to the east side of the island, to lie off Ardminish Bay again, and so add to the concern and alarm of the Norsemen, who would not know that they were almost empty and would be apt to assume that there were at least two forces attacking them. They were not to seek to come ashore at Ardminish unless signalled by himself to do so. And, of course, Queen Ragnhilde’s and the child’s safety were to be ensured at all costs.

Ragnhilde protested at this, declaring that she was not to be treated as helpless and a mere impediment. She was, after all, the daughter of a long line of Vikings. She would take charge of the ships.

Gillecolm pleaded to be allowed to go with his father but Somerled would have none of it. This would be a desperate venture and no occasion for beginners to learn the trade of war. Besides, his part was to look after the Queen.

The parting was tense.

With some one-hundred-and-ten men, Somerled splashed ashore and started to climb inland, making for Creag Bhan. He reckoned that the hill was one sure place where the invaders would be unlikely to frequent; and it ought to provide the necessary viewpoint above the worst of the smoke, even though it was no mountain, no more than a few hundred feet in height. There were no houses nor farmeries to be seen on these north and west slopes.

Although his crewmen were scarcely enthusiastic climbers they made it to the ridge near the summit in fairly good time, with only a mile to cover. Leaving the company below the skyline, Somerled took Manus O’Ryan up to the ridge with him, to peer over. There was a thin film of smoke even here, but not sufficient to blanket-out all prospects.

The scene which met their gaze was grim, however anticipated. At least a dozen isolated homesteads were burning, down there, apart from the larger conflagration which was Ardminish township, between the hill and the east coast, two comparatively near, on the lower hill-slopes. A little to the south a herd of cattle was being rounded up. And further over, nearer Ardminish, there appeared to be some sort of gathering, although what was going on was unclear, owing to distance and smoke.

The two men strained their stinging eyes, trying to make out which burnings were new, or at least which were still occupying the attentions of the raiders, and which were now left to burn out. It was hard to tell, in all the obscurity. But when a sudden burst of flame and new, blacker smoke arose from a point a little further to the north, not half-a-mile away, there could be no doubts.

“We start there!” Somerled decided, and hurried back to his people.

Instructions were minimal, consisting mainly of the command to follow him and to keep quiet. He led the way, partly downhill at first and curving round to the north, to
cross
the ridge much lower down, in thicker smoke now. This grew worse as they proceeded, setting men cursing beneath their breaths. But however unpleasant, it was of course greatly to their advantage, giving them all the cover they required, difficult although it made direction-finding. When Somerled judged that they had gone far enough, he turned due southwards again. Eyes streaming, men sought to cover their faces as best they could.

Tripping and stumbling, they advanced. The orange-red murky glow of flame through smoke guided them. They soon could hear men’s shouting and women’s screams ahead. At least they were not too late, here. When they were within one hundred yards or so of the conflagration Somerled halted his men, formed them into something like a crescent and, himself at the centre, waved them forward. Swords, axes and dirks in hand, they surged silently on.

It was, of course, utter and complete surprise. Out of the rolling brown smoke-clouds they burst upon the scene of terror, providing a new dimension thereof. The timber-and-thatch buildings of what had been a fair-sized farmery were all alight; and a little south of the centre, out of the smoke, about a score of Norsemen were busy. Some were in process of hanging three men on an improvised gallows; others were raping four women, one old, one only a girl, but all naked; still others abusing cowering children; some merely gulping down liquor. They were all too much engaged to perceive the Argyll men before it was too late to put up any effective resistance. In yelling, bloody astonishment, they died, one and all, none being allowed to escape to warn their compatriots.

It was all over in a minute or two, almost too easy.

Although Somerled had every sympathy with the victims, he did not permit the delay which would have resulted from helping them further. Anyway, they were all probably too shocked to respond. Leaving them with their slain attackers and burning premises, he rounded up his men for the next assault. Clear of this conflagration it was not difficult to perceive how they should proceed. The colour and density of the various smokes was a simple guide. When it was black and thick but shot with flame the fires were newly lit and so apt still to be occupying the attention of the invaders. Brown represented somewhat earlier burning and might now be abandoned. Blue, thinning smoke could be left alone.

Somerled’s further strategy was self-evident. It was to try to keep always within the cover of the denser smoke, however much back-tracking and circling this called for, so as always to approach the scattered, burning homesteads from the north; and to try to ensure that while they were attacking one group, another would not be likely to spot them at it and so be warned—this last being more difficult. They were aided, of course, by the crofts and farmeries being, by their nature, seldom close together, each sitting in its own small territory, and so could be approached individually and carefully.

The second one produced a mere dozen or so Vikings; but was too late to save the lives of the occupants, a man, two women and a child. The third was better, a larger place which had attracted a larger group of raiders, who were still at their grievous sport with the owners. There were over thirty Norsemen here when the bodies came to be counted, but assailed without warning by one-hundred-and-ten they had no least chance.