Valknut

CHAPTER|31 Preparations

Catriona stood at her window looking at the display of colors as the sun rose from its slumber, awakening the world with it. From the birds taking flight to the people slowly stumbling from their houses to the slight wind that nudged trees into showering the streets with leaves. It was a beautiful day. One of the brightest since the war. Without meaning to, she picked at the scabs forming on her wrists. A sharp pinching sensation broke her from her thoughts. 

The wound opened up to allow a fresh stream of blood to flow. Watching the blood gently drip onto the floor, she cried softly. So many had not been as fortunate as her. Physical scars were the easiest to deal with. The mental anguish she felt however, was not. Before her thoughts engulfed her, a slow movement entered her vision. She leaned out the window as far as she could and gasped when she saw the ships floating in to the harbor. It took a minute for the color of the flags to register before she calmed down. Olaf’s fleet was due to return and return it had. 

The harbor was complete chaos. Several ships had docked, offloading people and their belongings. When done, they floated back out to sea, to allow the next few ships to offload their cargo – human, and animal alike. Kieran, Olaf, Sverting and Agnar were all at the harbor welcoming their guests. The gentry was escorted to the longhall, while the working class was directed to the tents set up just outside. Animals were held in make-shift pens and belongings were lined up helter-skelter where space allowed for it.  

Kieran and Olaf looked exhausted, even though the day had just begun. They had spent the previous night pouring over maps of both islands and demarcating properties to be re-settled by the new folk. The Meginland castle would now belong to Olaf, although he chose to stay at Rognvaldsey with Kieran and of course, Catriona. The smaller island would serve as the center of all further operations. 

Sverting and Klaufi received generous proportions of farmland around the Loch on Rognvaldsey. Their families would settle into respective keeps and their accompanying working class would live alongside locals already tied to the property. Sir Brian, and Agnar would settle on the Meginland with their respective families. 

Such arrangements ensured that families’ social status continued and that heirs would inherit according to customs. Taxes had been previously discussed and each island’s resources were broadly assigned to the newcomers. Kieran was determined that new and old settlers would benefit equally and none would suffer in this transition. 

Warriors were divided between both islands – an equal mix of both clans. After a lengthy discussion Olaf and Kieran had decided that no clans would be solely Norse or Orcadian. Populations would mingle and as far as possible they would be encouraged to accept each other. Beliefs and practices would not be forced and people were free to choose between the old and new. Laws however, would be dictated as settled by both men ad ruling classes would be responsible for ensuring that these would be abided by. 

The rest of the day disappeared quickly enough. Orders were issued and people either traveled to their new homes or were escorted. As night fell, everyone remaining stumbled into the longhall ready to rest their aching feet and feed their grumbling stomachs. 

Much merriment awaited those that filed in. Various servings of salted fish, pickled herrings, and roasted venison were passed around accompanied by an assortment of vegetables and breads. Ale flowed freely and generally everyone’s mood was happy. Though numerous people stood up in drunken states offering thanks to Kieran and Olaf, some raised their mugs to their lost mates and families. Guilt and sadness, however was quickly drowned by the flowing ale. 

The seven - Sir Brian, Klaufi, Olaf, Kieran, Catriona, Agnar and Sverting – sat together on one table enjoying the evening’s celebrations. Chatter however, directed itself to pressing matters. The matter of the Dark Knight could no longer be avoided. Suggestions were thrown around in the midst of burps, farts, peals of laughter and shocked gasps. Olaf’s plans were certainly the kind that would give even a veteran a queasy stomach.