Sisters of The Bruce 1292-1314 (Abridged Version )

Sisters of The Bruce Chapter 10.1

                                                                                                     I

Norway

Bergen

April 1300

My dear Kirsty,

How I longed for spring's warm breath upon my skin! The dark months dragged on endless and dull but now the countryside awakes. On my walks, I see many creatures - martens and black foxes, and hear songbirds in the fir trees. Along the shoreline, otters play in rocky streams, safe under the leafy haven of birch, alder and aspen. I implore them to take care lest they end up on some tanner's slab.

The king and queen made plans to sail up the coast to Trondheim on affairs of state. When Effie asked me to accompany them, I agreed immediately, relishing a break away after the challenges of the past year.

At dawn, we arrived at the quay. Moss-green ripples foamed beneath the royal dragon-ship as it strained against the ropes. Unfurled, the sail soon caught the breeze. When granted the freedom of the sea, the vessel shot forth, much like a stallion released from its halter. I had to hang on for dear life.

With their experience of wave patterns and tides, the crew managed the vessel with skill and determination. Keeping well out of harm's way, I watched their activities with interest. Closer to shore, depth is measured by casting a lead-weighted line overboard. Keen eyes watch out for trees and boulders washed down rivers in spate from melting snow. In deeper waters, extreme care is necessary, sighting spouts of whales and manoeuvring the galley away from their path before the creatures breach the surface and slam down their tails. Skerries and bergs of ice add to the danger. Whilst there was much talk and laughter, we remained alert for cries from sharp-eyed lookouts.

Along the coast, villages dotted amongst the isles welcomed our contingent. Lavish banquets followed Tings where the king adjudged issues of conflict or concern. At one longhouse, Haakon was gifted a whale's skull; at another, a silver-rimmed drinking horn. Our journey took us to a community on a northern inlet. Rivalling Bergen as a royal capital in the past, Trondheim has a magnificent cathedral, Nidaros, so called after the town's much older name; Bishop Narve speaks of it in awed tones.

Accompanied by the most ill-tempered huskarl, we left the king and his entourage with a throng of councillors. Along the cobbled streets and busy market, many treasures were to be found. Effie was first to sight elegant leather boots for herself whilst I found bone skates for Inga. A smoothing board made of dense whalebone with carved handles – dragon heads turning to face each other – proved an ideal purchase for Eithne, whose task it is to care for my wardrobe. Other items were more decorative in nature: a necklace of bright beads for both Bethoc and Aiofe; in line with their status as ladies-in-waiting, embossed silver brooches will be most suitable gifts for Thora and Gundred. No doubt Aiofe will bicker at the injustice of it all for she adjudges herself to have the higher status. Whilst all these deliberations were taking place, Ottar grumbled with each purchase adding to his cumbersome load. Only when treated to a beaker of ale or two did he finally thaw and lose his fearsome frown.

On our journey home, the galley turned into a fjord with sheer cliffs drenched by roaring streams. Effie urged the crew to take us in as close as possible. The boat rocked, unsteady in the rough and one of the lads toppled in. We laughed, exhilarated by the noise and cool, moist air. Behind the walls of water, ferns clung to the rock and when the sun shone, silvery-pink and blue arches shimmered amidst the spray drift. In time, the king motioned for us to move deeper into the inlet. With fertile land in short supply, farmers and fishermen had built long houses on narrow strips, cleared from the surrounding dense forest. Below these plots, paths with steps incised into the rock face wound down to boat sheds which clung, tenacious as barnacles, to the shore's edge. Now, I understand the impetus felt by many a younger son, to go hosting for the land and riches denied them here.

One last piece of news! The queen is with child, due sometime in the new year. She asks I attend the birth. I feel some trepidation but am deeply honoured. Becoming more agitated by the second, Murchadh stands by my side. He insists the tide waits for no man – or woman in this case.

As ever

Isa