Chapter 1

Ravens and Wolves

Atholl, Perthshire 994 AD

T he bards will not tell tales of girls that can be dangerous. They tell tales of those who are innocent and reject all sin. This is my tale; my name was Olith Meic Cinaeda, but now I go by a different name.

I am Gunhild, Mother of Kings. Jarl Gunhild. It is a name that is feared and respected among my people. Written in the Sagas. Cast in the bones. I am a sorceress. Witch. Seeress. I command these wild northern Isles and their seas, but it was not always so.

It begins when I was eighteen summers old, the first day I met the Northmen. I was out beyond the tree line, always where I should not have been, but no one ever cared to look. The sky resembled a deep bruise by the time I made my way up the embankment. I wore an old jerkin, that had belonged to one of the dead. I’d pulled it from him before they’d lit the pyre. I accompanied it with dark breeches and supple leather boots, with my hunting knife nestled snuggly at the ankle. I slipped through the trees like water, keeping my hood pulled up, hiding my thick raven braid.

I tiptoed across stones that formed a causeway across the narrow burn before weaving my way through sprouting ferns growing like slippers at the foot of huge trunks. Patches of sunlight dripped between the thatches of forest canopy, I kept to the shadows on the outskirts of the clearing opening out onto the loch. If I got myself caught, everything we had worked for would have been for nothing.

My father was King then, Malcolm II, High King of Alba and our borders stretched from Strathmore to the east and Bannock Moor to the west. Our woods teamed with hunting quarry, boar, deer, and rabbit if you only knew where to look. The wolves and bears kept themselves further north, on the periphery and away from our bows which was a pity. Their pelts brought ample coin, or at the very least something to trade with. It allowed me a certain degree of freedom from my father’s purse strings.

I was my father’s second daughter, the middle child. I say my father’s because my mother had been no more than a ghost since my brother died. I could remember little more than her screaming. That night, Donada and I crept along the hallway to her bedchamber. Scared to look inside, but I had to. I peered into the darkness. There was blood. So much blood. All I could hear was the screaming, like the slaughtering of the spring lambs. I did not know then what I looked upon. I took Donada’s hand, and I ran. As fast as I could, away from the sight and out into the darkness. I tried to carry her, but she was too heavy. Much too heavy. We did not make it to the tree line before one of my father’s men found us and took us back, cried out husks slick with rain. It was that night that we lost our mother and became one, I was scarcely more than six summers.

I still wake up screaming.

High above, two ravens swooped and turned against the daylight's gate. Black beads stared down at me with interest. They circled each other, almost colliding, before veering into the crest of an updraft.

I waited.

There had been another warning of wolves, that the Northmen used to hunt. They had been spotted patrolling out near the border. A shudder rattled down my spine.

I sat myself on a boulder, legs dangling against the long grass. I could barely peel my eyes away as the ravens came into land just before me, in a ruffle of inky quills. The bigger of the two hopped forward, head tilted. Close enough that I might touch the softness of it. I held my breath as it sidled further, pecking at the seam of my boot while its mate watched on in vague curiosity.

Huginn and Munin, the ravens of the All-Father, Odin. Released each morning to be his eyes and ears of the world, returning each night to their master’s shoulder to relay their knowledge. I should have known then; it was a bad omen.

Out here, I was as free as the ravens I watched. Out here the gods called and I listened.

‘Olith.’

The noise sent the ravens scattering into the wind.

Elpin. My heart sang at the sight of the falconer. I think of Elpin now, moving through the woods like a wraith. A soundless creeping death, dressed in his favourite yellow tunic. His face was framed in rich brown curls and freckles that danced beneath his eyes. God, those hazel eyes and sharp jawline were enough to make my insides molten.

He seemed to appear out of a mist. One moment I was alone and the next I wasn’t. Slung over his shoulder were the glassy-eyed carcasses of three rabbits, young kits with barely enough meat on them to feed a scrawny cat, and on his arm, my falcon Drest, his hooded head cocked, listening.

I had been a scrawny, wiry nine-year-old when we’d met. All eyes and teeth. Suddenly, there had been nothing more exciting than falconry. On those days, I would be up at dawn. Washed and dressed in my finest gown. Hair combed and plaited, checking my reflection as a magpie checks a silver coin. I would wait patiently for my sisters to leave for their lute lessons, before sloping off in the direction of the fields surrounding my father’s fortress to try and catch sight of Elpin flying the falcons.

I was forbidden from hunting or venturing amongst the trees surrounding our fortress. It was the men’s domain, but it did not deter me. On the fifth day of being ignored, I stole one of my father’s old jerkins. It was much too big, even when I belted it around the middle with string. I plaited my hair and hid it beneath a hood. If it was a boy he wanted, a boy he would train. I cannot imagine the sight I must have looked, waiting eagerly at the tree line in men’s clothes three sizes too big. When he saw me, his face cleaved into a smile, and he laughed. A laugh that rattled around the trees. From that day on he schooled me in hunting and before long I held a falcon on my wrist.

‘Our snares were fruitful,’ he said holding them up for my inspection.

‘You’ve been off collecting that tyrant’s tithes for three weeks and all you bring me is meat for the crows? You would have been better giving them to his starving people.’

‘That tyrant is your father.’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘I haven’t checked the snares higher upstream.’ He pulled a bannock from his pocket. ‘Have ye had break-fast?’ He tore a piece off and tossed it in my direction.

I placed it to my nose and inhaled deeply. Fresh Beltane bannocks. ‘It’s still warm,’ I said. ‘Ye must have been up before the crows.’ I took a bite, spilling crumbs onto my jerkin.

‘Aye, up afore you, that’s fer sure.’

‘Not today.’ I smiled at the thought. ‘Today is Donada’s fifteenth year and we have Bethóc’s wedding.’

‘And on the day of the Beltane celebrations, no less.’ He placed Drest’s leash in my hand and his talons obediently gripped my wrist through the leather of my sleeve. ‘These weeks, all I’ve heard are whispers from them. He has plans for you and Donada after Bethoc’s wedding.’

‘What sort of plans?’

‘You know how tight-lipped his men can be, and I am not privy to the council meetings. I don’t know what preparations they plan on making, but I know you are running out of time.’ He took another bite. ‘Ye ken we could leave this place?

‘Leave?’

What was he thinking? Leave.

‘Head north, Donada is fifteen now, old enough to fend for herself.’ He took another bite of bannock. ‘We could hunt and fish, make a living in our own way.’

Looking back now, I wonder how different my life would have been if I had taken him up on his offer. A simple life. With oxen to plough the field and children running about my skirts. Somewhere to grow old. At peace. Instead, I was headstrong and Elpin had two brothers and a sister to care for. Who would have filled their hungry bellies? What about Donada? Left alone with our cold, heartless mother.

‘I could never leave,’ I said. ‘No more than you could.’

‘You know he plans on pledging yer maidenhood to one of the warlords that threaten his borders, ye cannae stay unwed forever.’

My maidenhood? We both knew that was long gone, although he never spoke of it. He knew what the Kinsmen did. How could I have left Donada? With a mother who had slipped away until she was nothing but an empty shell. She could barely look after herself. What husband would have understood? I could never have left Donada. Not like that.

‘I dinna want children. I dinna want a husband,’ I snapped.

‘The longer we stay here, the less likely it is that the decision will still be yers ta make.’

I knew what they said about him behind his back. I heard them in the market, whispering like little sparrows. Penniless and tradeless. No man would wish their daughter to court him, let alone give him any kind of dowry, no matter how small. He came with a family that he already had to support. A responsibility I knew only too well.

We stood together in silence, staring out across my father’s land. We were guarded by the vastness of our hills and our firths. When the wind blew just right, I could smell the salt in the air. I could taste it. Something from far away.

Elpin stiffened.

In the distance, they navigated their ships along our shores. Wolves and serpents hardened against the darkening sky threatening to make land. I counted eight in total. Square sails furled.

Elpin shot me a warning glance.

‘What brings the Northmen?’ I said, fear nipping at my skin. ‘They are far from home.’

I foolishly believed they were the cause of all our troubles. That they were the reason my brother had died. They had burned their way across half of Alba, pulling the Scots out at the root, but it had been none of our concern until they had happened upon my mother’s sister. She had been raped and murdered for their pleasure. Just as they had at Iona all those years ago. It was grief that had torn my brother from the safety of my mother, much too early.

‘As welcome as a pustule on my arse.’ Elpin spat. ‘No doubt here for trade. I heard they were buying grain in Easter Ross only last week.’

‘The Laird King wouldn’t allow it this close to Bethóc’s wedding ceremony. Crinnin isn’t a man who makes dealings with the Danes. What if it’s a war party? Our men will be drunk and unarmed.’

We watched on as their dragon-headed ships sliced through the water.

‘I’ll go ahead and warn Johnne.’ Elpin made the sign of the cross. ‘Get yourself home before anyone notices you are missing.’ And before I could stop him, he disappeared through the thicket.

I rushed after him. Clambering down the embankment, brambles tearing at my skin. Back within the tree line, I could no longer see them, but I could feel them hunting our coastline. I cannot remember how I slipped through the Low Gate unnoticed by my father’s men. My legs burned. I could barely hear anything over the anxious clacks of Drest beneath his hood. We passed the smithy and his wooden outbuildings holding my father’s horses. I reached the back of the mews, where the rest of the falcons roosted. There was no sign of Elpin. I could only hope he had made it in time.

I held my breath and listened. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. From my hiding place, I could see a man stacking firewood between the mews blocking the entrance to my father’s hall. He was thin as a whip with greying hair, his face was obscured. I listened closely.

I could not risk being seen. I tried to skirt my way around, heart thumping against my chest. I pressed my back against the wood, trying to steady my nerves. I inched closer to the doorway, I had to return Drest to his perch before one of my sisters noticed I was missing.

Gingerly, I slipped my hand around the archway until my fingers touched something cold and solid. The perch. Drest’s weight shifted. Slowly, I released the leather strips from my grip and edged back to my hiding place. From there, I could see the walkway leading to our chambers. It was not so far away.

I listened again, twisting, trying to catch sight of the man, but I could only see his shadow dance against the firewood. Without another thought, I took off sprinting, hood pulled tight. I did not look back, feet skittering against the earth and only stopping to slam the door to my bed chamber closed.

A chill had settled in the room. In my haste to hunt, I had forgotten to feed the dying fire. The last of its embers glowed red and Angus our wolfhound had positioned himself to absorb its heat.

Breathing heavily, I cast my jerkin and breeches to the floor, my body slick with sweat. I padded quickly to the dress that had been laid out for me, I got it as far as my thighs before it stuck firmly to my damp skin. I twisted and pulled trying to make it conform. To this day, I still do not understand why we make our women wear such uncomfortable clothing.

It was then that the thought hit me. We had not hunted, and I would have no gift for Donada for the Beltane celebrations. I wanted her to have something special, something to mark the fact that although Bethóc would be gone, I would not leave her.

A knock came, urgent and angry.

‘Olith!’ I heard Bethóc shout from somewhere beyond the door. ‘I know you’re in there. You can’t avoid it by spending all day in there. Father has asked for an audience with us before the wedding.’

With my foot, I slid my damp clothes beneath my pallet and kicked it with my bare toe.

‘Ouch!’ I grabbed my foot but was hampered by my ridiculous skirts.

Angus woke with a start.

‘Olith, I can hear you.’

I limped around until the pain subsided. ‘I’m coming,’ I said, pulling on my shoes. ‘I can think of nothing worse, Angus.’ he looked at me with sad brown eyes. ‘Better do as she asks, we can’t be late for the Laird King. Coming.’ I shouted again.

I took the worn steps one at a time, steadying myself against the wall as Angus’s soggy coat brushed past, trying to be first to the bottom.

‘I’m here,’ I said emerging into the courtyard. ‘You can call off the search.’

‘Must you always make a show of yourself?’ she hissed. ‘Look at that!’

She pointed to the muddied smear that weaved its way, Angus height, the width of my dress. I did not care then, and I do not now. We are not in this life long enough to worry about such things.

‘Father will be furious.’

‘Ack, he’s always furious about somethin’ and it’s usually me.’ I tried to smooth my riotous hair. ‘What is it the Laird wants with us?’

‘Why will you not call him father?’

‘I’ll call him father when he treats me like a daughter.’

Our father was a poison, and we all knew it, but Bethóc preferred to deny it. She had always been his favourite.

‘He will. He does.’ Bethóc sighed, linking her arm through mine.

‘He does not.’ Angus came to heel. ‘Makes no matter. I am fine on my own and do not need his respect. Anyway, you’ll be married to Crinnin soon enough and you’ll be gone from here.’

‘I know. I know. I can’t wait to marry him and give him and father a wee boy, an heir to the throne.’

She thought of nothing other than being a wife and mother. I was never sure if it was her way of escaping. Even when we were children, she would dress up and force, Uid, the son of one of my father’s kinsmen to pretend to be her husband. He hated it but was too afraid of our father to say no. She had been raised to only ever further the Laird’s cause. She would give him an heir to Dunkeld, and she would escape, meanwhile I would be left to pick up the pieces.

I would have rather been dead than bring a child into the world to be an heir to my father’s throne.

‘I can’t wait to return in the spring with a babe in my arms and have Father’s priest baptise him.’

‘How do you know you’ll have a boy?’ all the while I kept an eye on the direction of the Northmen’s approach. ‘What if you’re cursed, like mother? And you can only bear him girls?’

‘Olith! Don’t utter those words or it might come true!’

‘Hush, of course not. I said it only in jest and would it be such a bad thing if they were wee girls? At least then they’d no have to be part of the Laird’s quest to hold the crown.’

In my periphery the men from the north closed in, moving closer towards the walkways of the high gate.

Bethóc rolled her eyes. ‘Olith, it is our birthright, and it would be theirs, boy or girl.’

‘Fate isn’t dictated by birthright. It’s no beyond our command. I choose my freedom. I choose my own destiny. Not our father.’

Looking back, if our mother had been present, I may have felt differently. I had already lost so much of my childhood caring for my sister that I could not bring myself to lose even more by becoming a wife.

Bethóc flashed a look that stirred up a memory of our mother from before when there was still a light behind her eyes.

‘Marriage isn’t the end of the world, despite the lies you tell yourself.’

It was no lie. I could think of no worse fate.

‘Well, I’ll leave that to you sweet sister, I have my own plans.’

‘What is it you keep looking at?’ she asked angrily.

‘The Danes.’ I pointed in their direction. ‘Do ye ken why father has invited them here?’

‘Why would I ken that?’

As we rounded the corner, we almost fell upon one of my father’s kinsmen.

‘Hurry now, the Laird is waiting to speak with you both.’

It is a funny thing, how quickly fate has a habit of catching up with us.