Andrew Offutt - The Sign of the Moonbow

Wulfhere had come to Doom-heim on Amber Rowan -bound to the mast, a captive of Britons who’d learned of the spoils there from the Dane when he was deep in his cups. The Britons had little, save what the Romans had left behind eighty years agone when great Rome fell and they withdrew. Even now those Britonish shores were raided by Danes and Norsemen, Saxons and Angles, Frisians and Jutes, along with a few more from nearer to hand: Picts from other side Hadrian’s Wall, along with men of both Alba and Eirrin.

Wulfhere made reply: “Nay.”

“Remember that, sons of Danu. Now ye’ve had a taste of the sea, and it seemed marvelous to ye. But-the Daneirans are best where they are, living in peace and with hope that none find ye. Come, give us a bit of help now. We’ll see what the Norsemen are after bringing ye… aside from the metal melted in Daneira!”

The Daneirans stared at the painted heads on prow and stern, each with fangs meticulously carved in wide-open jaws; none of Daneira had seen a wolf, or even a dog.

Cormac and Wulfhere swung quickly aboard and raised the deckboards to bare the shallow space in which were stored those supplies that seafarers might need ashore, and they were forced to land and tarry, but had no need of while they voyaged. There was little; the ship stood not Cormac’s height from gunwale to keel and was only about twice as broad, amidships. The Gael and the Dane drew forth utensils that might or might not be of use to the Daneirans; the metal would be welcome.

Astern, the small chamber of the steering platform was empty; there had weapons been stored. Keel up on deck, a single afterboat was bound and secured with ropes of walrus hide. For it the Daneirans had no use; Cormac would leave it where it was, on his new ship.

“She seems a better craft than any we’ve sailed, Cormac.”

Cormac nodded. “So she seems. Come; we’ll be stripping. That Britonish craft will be easy to pull and push in.”

It was. The matter of coaxing and manhandling Odin’s Eye into the water was far more difficult. Samaire and Bas came to lend their strength. Without the prodigious strength of the Dane, they’d never have accomplished it and would have had to wait for the vessel to be floated by the tide. Then Odin’s Eye was partially afloat, and they tethered her behind Quester , as Amber Rowan had been. Cormac checked over every inch of the towline.

“I tell ye again, Wolf: If we encounter weather, real weather, ye’ll have to cut loose that leashed dog of a ship. She’ll be the death of us else.”

“The weather will hold,” Bas said.

It was a statement of absolute fact that made the Dane feel gooseflesh on his bare sweaty arms. Nevertheless he asked, “For a ship named for a god not of Eirrin?”

“The weather will hold.”

Cormac said nothing, but turned to the two of Daneira. “Mayhap this craft and these few things of Norge can be of use to ye,” he said. “It’s sure I am none will sneer at the metal ye bring home! Ye know the way to Daneira from here?

They but smiled at that. The people of Danu’s Isle knew its every inch, sure!

“Then it’s leave we’ll be taking of ye. May your goddess send happiness on ye both and all your people-and many children.” Cormac turned seaward. He was more ready to be off and away, and no love was on him for these weaponless people who had never known travail. It put a fog and a darkness on his mind, just the thought of their easy lives, for when ever had he known ease or lack of strife or the necessity of having his sword by him-aye, and shield?

“Danu be thy light, Cormac mac Art. Danu be thy light, friends of the Danans.”

“Danu be thy light, Cormac mac Art, and thou Wulfhere, and Brian. And thou Samaire-and yourself, holy druid.”

From the ship to which he’d returned to be by Thulsa Doom, Bas nodded.

Cormac boosted Samaire onto Quester and swung up. He gave her a swift crude fondle while there was none to see, and turned to aid Brian aboard. Then the Gael looked down at Wulfhere, who had turned to look back toward Daneira. Heavy laden, the two sons of Danu were lugging Norse utensils into the woods.

“Fare ye well, Wulfhere Hausakluifr,” Cormac said. “Many children. Oh-and may your goddess Danu shed her light-”

Wulfhere swung to glower up at his friend. “May plague fall on ye and the restless worms infest your anus, son of an Eirrish pig-farmer!” And the Dane swung aboard with such vehemence of motion that Quester’s planking creaked and water sloshed.

And this time they held out again to the open sea and, with sail opened to the wind, stood forth northwesterly for Eirrin. The water gurgled past the hull as if delighted to be bearing them homeward. It was a journey that might take a few days-or months, for none could ever be certain. Reckoning was worse than imprecise, and only gods might know or control the weather-which controlled both the sea and all those aboard its undulant plain.

A wind huffed without undue enthusiasm across the sea south of Britain, so that Quester’s green-latticed sail stood out nicely like a merchant’s belly. The Isle of Danu was left well behind and the voyagers were alone, as in a gigantic empty chamber that surrounded them on four sides with water and sheltered them only with a roof of sky that was nigh the same colour as the demesne of Manannan mac Lir.

The world was blue, green-blue, and white.

In the heavens Behl added the warm yellow of his smile. Cormac and his companions wore no armour, now. Mail and leathern coats were stored in the little compartment under the steering platform astern. They had buckled their weapon-belts on again; the sea was ever unpredictable and none wanted his most valuable possession swept overboard amid some emergency of wind, and wave… and three aboard had survived a volcanic eruption that brought new land onto this same ocean.

Nor could they bring themselves to store away sharp-edged steel, even though their dread enemy was now a helpless captive.

Scarlet tunics made in Daneira wore Brian and Wulfhere and Cormac, and on the chest of the latter’s new garment flashed the Moonbow on its silver chain. Rather higher up on the night-dark robe of Thulsa Doom rode his identical Chain of Danu, though with the Moonbow upside down; on him the goddess frowned and from him she turned away her face. The deadliest creature in the world sat at the mast. He was not bound. Nor could he change form or launch attack on mind or body; he wore the necklace. He sat still at the mast as he’d been bade by his master. The undying wizard was the creature of Cormac’s will, now, as before his will had commanded theirs and brought so much horror and agony on them all.

The ship slipped rapidly across the sea under swollen sail, straining toward Eirrin. Those it bore talked of what it might mean, this being in a “different dimension.” It was like unto the world they’d always known-with differences.

“What differences? ”

They could not be sure. Perhaps in the world or dimension they had quit, the Isle of Danu was as uninhabited as they’d supposed.

“Mayhap,” Bas said. “Mayhap in our own dimension all that we now know of the People of Danu after our ancestors supplanted them-did not take place. Mayhap there they are not ruled by a woman at all. Or do not exist.”

“Let us hope they do,” Brian said, with a glance at their captive.

“ And that a queen rules them,” Samaire added.

Wulfhere chuckled. “A niceness, if Thulsa Doom himself made it possible for us to be his weird for all and all, by bringing us here, where rules the crowned woman to end his foul existence!”

“If such does rule here,” Samaire said, for she was aware of the improbability even more than the others.