Where I Stand Ch 1 Excerpt

“What are you doing here, old man?”
Lukas McCamden met the sailor’s gaze calmly. The pier rocked beneath them, the wind trying to push them into the choppy waters below. The steady rain danced on the ocean, sending dimples running across the crest of every wave. The noise was amplified as a gust of wind blew the raindrops diagonally.
“I’m here to meet the ship,” Lukas said.
“How’d you know we was coming?”
Lukas was steady. “I’ve my ways. I’d like to speak wi’ Sigmund.”
The sailor snorted. “Get off the pier, and he’ll meet you. We’ve got enough landlubbers about. You’re insufferable.”
Lukas returned the sailor’s sentiments. The pier creaked beneath his boots as he made his way back to dry land, cautious not to slip on the rain-dampened wood. The rain had soaked through his cowl, scapular, and tunic; even his undershift stuck to his wet shoulders. The wind set a sharp ache in every bone he’d ever fractured. He wished for his cloak.
The ship was finally secured against the pier, and Lukas watched a young man as he ran, blond head ducked to the rain, towards dry land. He stumbled on the slick wood but caught himself before he fell. He brushed hair out of his eyes with his left hand, a hand fashioned from wood.
“Sigmund!”
The young man’s head jerked up. “Lukas!” he exclaimed, running up to him and shaking his hand. “You’ll not believe all the Lord’s done in Hrafney!”
“The missionary trip went well, I take it?” Lukas asked.
“The chief himself was converted,” Sigmund said. “Seventy-eight salvations in total.”
“Seventy-eight?” Lukas repeated. Sigmund nodded, shivering as the wind blew through his slight frame, and Lukas wished again for his cloak. “God be praised, that’s good news! Now suppose we get out of the weather.”
Sigmund led him down the wood-paved street, every bit as slippery as the pier. He went not to his father’s house—after abandoning his pagan faith and marrying against his father’s wishes, he was no longer welcome there—but to the tailor’s small, well-kept home near the center of town. “Of course. Remind me, though, I’ve got to tell you about a Scottish captain I met. He said he was a friend of Alynn’s father.”
Lukas glanced at Sigmund. He obviously didn’t know the magnitude of what he’d just said. He was glad instead to be on dry ground, anxious to see his wife and son for the first time in five weeks. “A Scotsman?” Lukas repeated.
“Judging by his accent, which doesn’t mean much. But he mentioned Alynn by name. Seemed rather concerned about the matter.” Sigmund once again ducked his head to the wind and quickened his pace. “Hrafney is sending a young man to study for the pastorate. I assumed you wouldn’t mind training him.”
“Not at all. I’ll be glad to meet him. What’s his name?”
“They haven’t decided who they’re sending. It’s either going to be the chief’s cousin or future brother-in-law.” Sigmund nearly ran the last four steps to the tailor’s house and rushed inside. Lukas heard the glad cries that only arise when a traveler is welcomed home—the shouting of names and the clapping of hands, the tears of a young wife who had never been apart from her husband before. The excited squeals of eight-month-old Matthew as he greeted his father. It overpowered the din of the rain and the occasional clap of thunder.
And Lukas stayed outside, recalling the tales he’d been told of a Scottish sea captain, a friend of Alynn’s father.
***
“Alynn! Come inside, child! You’re crazy!”
A sixteen-year-old girl spun circles in the midsummer afternoon’s rain. “Mum, can’t you see the rainbow?” she asked, laughing as the raindrops tickled her neck. “’Tis out above the ocean! I wonder who’s to find the pot of gold!”
The girl’s mother, Caitriona, sighed helplessly from the doorway of St. Anne’s Monastery. “You’ll catch yer death of cold. Come inside.”
Alynn filled her chest with fresh, damp air. “’Tis rain worse than this I’ve been out in, and I don’t think I’ve died yet,” she said. Laughing, she flew through the yard and took her mother’s hand. “Come see the rainbow!”
“What—Lynder—”
“Come on!”
Clutching her skirts, Caitriona ran into the yard with her head ducked against the rain. Alynn smiled. She knew that her mother, somewhere deep within her, had a free spirit. It shone through her shamrock-green eyes and her smile as she looked up at the heavens.
Suddenly, Alynn slipped on a patch of mud. Her shoulder blade hit something wooden, and she landed hard. She looked up—she was sprawled in the vegetable garden, propped up against the pea trellis. Helpless with laughter, Alynn glanced up at Caitriona to find her laughing, too.
“Not the peas again, Lynder!” she exclaimed before tripping over a tussock and landing in a puddle. She looked at her ruined dress, then at Alynn, and laughed even harder.
Alynn beamed. She gazed at the heavens to see the rainbow, glowing like a smile from God. Truly, He was smiling—restoring in a moment of time the years that had been stolen from her childhood. Even Caitriona, her dripping golden hair hanging nearly to her knees, had returned as the mother Alynn remembered.
Caitriona helped Alynn to her feet and pulled her into a hug, whispering a “thank you” as she fingered Alynn’s strawberry-blonde tresses. Alynn smiled.
“I missed you, Mum.”
“Beautiful girl, I missed you, too.”
Even though it had been over two years since she and Caitriona had been reunited, there were times when Alynn still couldn’t believe it. The moments were rare when Caitriona was exactly as she had been before the Vikings took her, but when she was, Alynn was eight years old again.
Caitriona gave her a squeeze, then took her hand and led her back to the monastery. “Let’s get you dried off.”
She led her through an arched doorway, then the kitchen that was designed to feed a hundred monks. Alynn passed rows of unlit cooking fires on her way to the hearth. She spun before the fireplace, letting her blue dress drip-dry on the stone floor.
Caitriona snatched a rag and made Alynn stand on it. “Don’t slip,” she said. “Did you finish lengthening yer Sabbath dress?”
“Almost.”
Caitriona sighed, toweling her hair dry. “Child....”
“I’ve my plain dress.”
“It needs mended.”
“’Tis still a dress.”
Caitriona handed Alynn her towel. “Hurry and change, then put some bread in the oven. I’ve half a day’s worth of carding to do.”
The back door opened, and hurried footsteps sounded throughout the building. Alynn smiled as a brown-clad monk rounded the corner, praying under his breath and forgetting to shut the door. “Good evening, Lukas,” Caitriona said.
The monk pushed back the hood of his cowl to reveal a halo of cropped white hair. “Evening,” he murmured, hurrying past with hardly more than a glance. He and his Latin musings disappeared up the stairwell.
“You don’t have time for a hug?” Alynn called up after him. “Lukas?”
“Don’t pester him, Lynder, his mind’s on the things of God,” Caitriona said. “Knowing him, he’s probably half-starved, too. Change yer clothes, will you? You’ll catch cold.”
Alynn stared up at the stairwell. She couldn’t remember all the times she’d watched Lukas’s mind drift back to earth after a round of silent prayers. It was as if life sprang back into his clear blue eyes, a silent gleam hiding in their depths. When she couldn’t pry a smile out of them, something was wrong.
It was nearly an hour before footsteps once again sounded down the stairs, but this time, they were unrushed and placid. Lukas peered at the boiling salt cod, stole a leaf from the watercress salad, and left to draw some water from the well. “Everything smells delicious,” he said.
“Thank you.” Alynn tried to fish the cod out of the kettle, but she splashed boiling water on the plain oat-colored dress she’d ripped during sword fighting practice earlier that day. She prayed Lukas wouldn’t notice her leg peeping from the rip in the skirt.
“I’ll get that,” Caitriona said, taking the platter out of Alynn’s hands. “Sit down before he comes back.”
Alynn hid in a chair just as the back door opened and shut. She took the opportunity to heap her plate with skyr—a Norse cheese so soft it was eaten with a spoon. Lukas sat down and helped himself to the watercress.
“How was yer day, Lukas?” Alynn asked.
“Not bad,” he said, which was the highest he spoke of anything. “Sigmund’s returned from his missionary trip.”
“He has?” Caitriona snatched a serving spoon from the cupboard. “How did it go?”
Lukas gave a halfway twitch of a smile, but he meant it with his eyes and his heart. “He said it was very much a success.” He took Alynn’s hand, waited for Caitriona to sit, and took hers. “Lord, we thank Ye fer this day, and the chance to spend it wi’ friends and family. We thank Ye fer the miracles Ye wrought wi’ Sigmund on Hrafney, and I pray that many others would come to see Yer light.”
Alynn and Caitriona repeated the rest of the prayer with him— “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Yer gifts, we are about to receive, from Yer bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
For a while, no one spoke. Caitriona’s food was too delicious for that.
Finally, Alynn glanced up at Lukas. She couldn’t tell if he was staring at her or past her, but she could see his mind working. “Alright, Lukas. What’s on yer mind?” she asked.
Lukas half-smiled and took another bite of cod. “Sigmund had some wonderful stories to tell from Hrafney. Seventy-eight souls were brought to the saving knowledge of Christ. He even translated the epistle to the Romans into Norse fer them, and he’s working on the Gospel of Matthew.” Excitement shone from Lukas like light from a candle. “The Lord’s doing a wonderful work there, just as He is here.”
Caitriona smiled. “That’s grand.”
“Who’s their pastor?” Alynn asked.
“They’re sending a young man to study fer the pastorate,” Lukas said. “He should be here afore the summer’s out. But afore I forget, Alynn, Sigmund met someone who might be of interest to ye.”
Alynn lowered her spoon. Lukas was staring at her with a solemn gaze that she couldn’t help but return. Gravity settled in the air around them.
“Who was it?” she asked.
“The Scottish captain of a cargo ship,” Lukas said, glancing at Caitriona to include her in their discussion. “He and Sigmund struck up a conversation, and the captain asked if he knew of a girl who was fifteen, perchance sixteen, and had fallen off a ship in the area two Septembers ago.”
Alynn blanched. She had fallen off a ship two Septembers ago. She could still hear her little brother crying her name as she tripped over the ship’s edge. She remembered the shock of the water, the pain of the cold that nearly killed her. Her father’s hand reaching vainly for hers as it disappeared under the waves, never to rise again. She blinked and forced her memories aside. “The Scotsman—who is he? What’s his name?”
“Tamlane McMahon, captain of the Darting Swallow.”
Alynn let her spoon clatter onto her plate. “Tamlane McMahon,” she repeated. “Captain Tamlane McMahon? Are you certain?”
“Aye, I’m certain.”
Alynn drew in a shaking breath. The world was spinning.
“And his ship—the—” Caitriona drew a breath, as if she was afraid to speak what was on everyone’s mind. “It survived the storm? And the passengers?”
“The ship’s fine. Where its passengers are, I’m not sure, but Sigmund saw the Darting Swallow wi’ his own eyes.”
Caitriona blinked. “So if Tamlane...and the ship survived, then...Tarin...och, praise God!” She flew from her chair and rushed headlong out the back door.
Lukas stood. “Caitriona—!”
“I’m going to find my son!”
The door slammed shut, and it barely moved Alynn from her stupor. Tarin. Sweet, quiet, curious Tarin—he’d be ten now. How long had they been apart? And him alive all this time? Where was he? Was he safe? Was he warm and fed and loved, taken in by a church or a kind family? Oh, she hoped so! She prayed so!
She could do better than pray. She could find him.
Lukas set his hand over hers. “Are ye alright, my dear?”
Excitement grew within her, and she grinned. “Tarin’s alive,” she breathed before running after Caitriona.
Alynn was met with cold rain, as well as her mother on a high-strung horse. The saddle’s girth was twisted and two holes too loose, and the seal-brown bay was making every effort to inform her oblivious rider.
Alynn grabbed the reins. “Mum, we ought to talk things out first!”
“What’s there to talk about?” Caitriona demanded. She grasped the saddle as the mare reared, nearly throwing Alynn off her feet. “Yer brother’s out there—”
“I know he is. Five minutes, Mum. We’ll make a plan, we’ll—”
“Leif will get us a ship,” Caitriona insisted. “Do you remember where Captain McMahon was headed?”
“I don’t!”
“Just get it as close as you can, Lynder. We’ll find him, I promise.”
Alynn closed her eyes. It sounded like skyr, she said to herself. Skare...Skey....“Skerray! Mum, ‘tis Skerray! He’s in Skerray!”
Caitriona spurred the mare on, ripping the reins out of Alynn’s hands as she set off at a gallop toward the village on the northern shore.
And she had taken Alynn’s horse.
Alynn stamped her foot before running into the stone-and-wood stable. Why, why did she have to be the adult in this situation? She ignored the cackling of chickens and bleating of sheep on her way to Lukas’s stallion, Honor. She threw a blanket on Honor’s snow-white back, then followed it with a saddle. As she tightened the girth, the stable door opened, and Lukas stepped in.
Alynn looked up at him, grabbing a bridle from its hook on the wall. “Are you coming with?” she asked.
Lukas met her gaze. “To the village?”
Alynn nodded.
“Not at this hour.” Lukas shut the door and took off his hood. “I doubt ye’ll be coming back until morning.”
“Probably not. Do you want to come with us to Scotland? You’d love Tarin—you love everyone, but he’s special—and I know you don’t like being left alone—”
“Calm down, Alynn,” Lukas said. The sound of his voice, with his Highland brogue and his comforting tone, brought almost as much sanity into the situation as the words he spoke. “Don’t give a thought to me, I’ll take care of myself fer as long as it takes to find him. Just worry about helping yer mother. I was wondering if ye’d like to finish eating afore ye leave.”
Alynn smiled, putting the bridle over Honor’s head. “Thank you, Lukas, but I’m too excited. Faith, I wish Mum wouldn’t run off like that....”
“Does yer brother take after her?”
“Hardly.” Alynn turned, as if Lukas could see the lump in her throat. “He was—curious, sweet as honey, built like a freckled, redheaded fence rail. I always imagined that he’d grow up to be—quite a bit like you, actually. But—with hair.”
Lukas and Tarin didn’t look a thing alike, Alynn realized. Lukas had no freckles, his hair had probably never been red, and he tanned every summer from working in the fields. But he still half-smiled at the comparison. “I’ll take most of that as a compliment,” he said.
Alynn smiled, kissed him goodbye, and disappeared on Honor’s back into the darkening forest.
Just as the sun’s dying afterglow disappeared into the clouded dark of night, Alynn and Honor cantered into a small Norse village. Alynn realized how tired she was. Summer days were long, sometimes with eighteen chore-filled hours of daylight. She yawned as she followed the wood-paved main road to a large longhouse in the center of town. Alynn tethered Honor to a hitching-post and knocked.
No one answered. Alynn could hear her mother’s voice and the crisp Norse accent that belonged to her uncle Leif, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She knocked louder.
“...stay awake, son, we need your help,” Leif’s voice was saying as the hired girl opened the door. Alynn hugged her quickly, and Leif finally caught eye of the visitor. “Alynn!” he boomed, finding a tired smile within him. “Come inside, have a seat! Try to keep Drostan awake while you’re at it.”
Alynn hugged Leif and glanced at his seventeen-year-old son, Drostan. He was sitting on the edge of a sleeping bench, leaning against a column that supported the roof, idly moving the pieces to a board game. Tafl, he’d said she could call it, since its true name of hnefatafl was too large of a mouthful for her. His hair looked like a rat had tried to nest in it.
Alynn smiled. “Hard day?”
Moving his head half an inch in her direction, Drostan shoved the game board aside so she could sit next to him. “Felling trees and carting timber, all day,” he groaned, his eyes glassy with sleep. “What have you been doing since I last saw you this afternoon?”
“I found out my brother’s alive.” Alynn slipped her fingers under Drostan’s warm hand, realizing how cold her own was.
“Good Lord, your hands are like ice!” Drostan exclaimed.
“I know. The wind doesn’t realize ‘tis June.”
A bit of life came into Drostan’s eyes, and he took a sheepskin from the bed behind them. He draped it around Alynn. His arm rested on her thin shoulder, his leather vambrace cool as she leaned against it.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For goodness’ sake, ye’re sittin’ too close together,” Caitriona scolded. She pulled Alynn two feet away from Drostan and wrapped the sheepskin tighter around her. “Try to stay awake. Ye can poke each other if ye start to nod off.”
“Aye, Mum,” both Alynn and Drostan said.
“Now, for the last time, Drostan, do you have a ship we could use?”
“We’re working on one right now—lovely Karve, if you can wait a week to use her,” Drostan said, brushing his red hair from his eyes. “We just sold our last Longship. It would be fastest. You could make the trip in a lifeboat if the currents were right.”
“When are we leaving?” Alynn asked.
“We’re not sure at the moment,” Caitriona said. “The winds are contrary, or some such nonsense—”
“The winds are perfect if you’re traveling to Iceland,” Leif interrupted.
“What about rowing?” Alynn asked.
“If you feel like taking five days instead of two to get to Scotland, then I suppose it’s doable,” Drostan said. He stabbed Alynn with his index finger.
“What?”
“Your mother said I could poke you.”
Alynn shoved his shoulder. “Save it for mornin’. I’m knackered.”
Caitriona studied the flames of the fireplace. “Are there men who would row for money?” she asked. “It isn’t gold, but—Rowan would want me to—” She tugged at a goldtone ring that was reluctant to come off her left hand. Voice trembling, she asked, “How much is this worth?”
“Mistress, don’t do anything daft—that you’ll regret, I mean,” the hired girl interjected. She blushed and bowed her head. “My apologies.”
“Not at all. You’re right, Valdis,” Leif said, fingering the simple ring on his own hand. “Not your wedding band, Caitriona. I wouldn’t give mine up, either, not for the world, and certainly not to save a few days’ waiting time. The winds will change soon enough. I promise. And I’ll pay the sailors.”
“You’re a good man, Leif.”
Leif chuckled. “It’s what brothers do—at least in a functional family. Valdis, you had a normal family once, didn’t you?”
The hired girl’s blonde head dipped again. “Depends on what you’d call normal, sir.”
Leif laughed. “You couldn’t find a man to row anyway, not with Althing coming up. We’re hosting this year.”
Caitriona muttered something under her breath—whether it was a prayer or a profanity Alynn couldn’t tell, but the latter was unlikely. She kicked at the rushes that covered the dirt floor, then took a breath and collected herself. “Can we plan on leavin’ the moment Althing ends?”
“As soon as possible. I promise.”
“Perfect. Now give me somethin’ to do before I go mad with worry.”
“I might have you stay here for the week, act as hostess if you’re willing,” Leif said. “And say a prayer. Neither Drostan nor I are officially going to be the chief of this island until one of us sacrifices to Odin—unless something changes. And blast it, we need something to change.”
“We’ll be prayin’,” Caitriona promised.
“Isn’t Althing rather powerful for a meetin’ of tribes?” Alynn asked.
“It’s a parliament, not just a meeting, so it demands power,” Leif said. “I’m surprised they haven’t killed us for converting to Christianity.”
“They wouldn’t have done anything after the Battle of Faith,” Drostan insisted. “Alynn would have disbanded Althing singlehandedly.”
Alynn blushed. She considered punching Drostan’s shoulder, but finally decided to lean against him and close her eyes. “You’d have helped me, just as you did on the battlefield,” she said.
“You don’t need help,” Drostan insisted. “You’re a berserker, for Thor’s sake. Or do Irish girls tend to fight fiercer than Norse madmen?”
“Drostan, don’t even think that she’s a berserker, and Alynn, sit up,” Caitriona ordered. Alynn sighed and straightened, but not without a caustic glance at her mother. Caitriona returned it.
“Master Leif, will you be needing anything else this evening?” Valdis asked. She was combing her hair that barely passed her shoulders—hardly longer than Leif’s or Drostan’s.
“No, thank you. Go on to bed,” Leif said. “Cait, we can think more in the morning. I’m exhausted.”
Caitriona laughed. “I can’t believe I’m still standin’ up. Where can I sleep?”
Leif gestured to the wide benches that lined either side of the longhouse. “Pick a bed, any bed. Or the closet, whichever you prefer.”
“I’ve always hated that closet.”
Drostan nodded towards the bedcloset—a section of bench with walls around it, making it darker and warmer and much cozier than the rest of the beds in the longhouse. “Do you want the closet, Alynn, or would you rather I take it?”
“I’ll take it. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Don’t forget to lock the latch,” Caitriona cautioned.
Drostan snatched a few sheepskins and a blanket and tossed them into the closet. “Have a good night, milady.”
After glancing up to see his smile, Alynn returned the gentle embrace he offered. She buried her face in his tunic. Drostan pressed her head against his chest, and she could hear his heartbeat. He smelled of wood and sea and hard work, stained with a medley of scents from the midsummer forest. She smiled.
Thank You, Lord, for Drostan.
He kissed her forehead before leaving for the bed he shared with his father. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, raking his hand through his hair and making it even wilder than before.
Alynn smiled. “Goodnight, love.”
Alynn crawled awkwardly into the bedcloset and rearranged the sheepskins before she shut and latched the door. In the complete absence of light, the only sounds those of her family readying for bed, Alynn found a call to pray.
“Be with Tarin, Lord, if he’s not with You and Father already,” she murmured before drifting to sleep. “And if he is...please tell him I said hello.”