Drustina continues on her journey towards the Celtic sea to access the Viking supremacy. On the way she stops in at Bohor on the Val to renew old alliances and acquire a pilot navigator with recent knowledge of the current Viking threat.

The Angry Mermaid 93

Y Morforwyn Dicllon 93

Beating down the channel towards Dumnoniia gave each commander some practice in dealing with the ever increasing size of the large swells that rolled in relentlessly from the west. All three of Drustina’s commanders knew enough to realise that for such swells to have accumulated their height and length, they must have been born and raised in huge expanses of water by immense winds. Once, when they overnighted in some quiet creek her commanders discussed these immense rolling waves.

"The sea to the west must be of unimaginable size,” Carl observed. “D’you think anybody has ever crossed it?”
Drustina shrugged.

“I’ve heard tales of Viking traders reaching a land the call ‘Vinland’; then some time before I was driven from my home, there was talk of a Hibernian Monk, I can't remember his name; it was Bredan or Brentan or something; anyway he set sail to the West though I never heard what happened. In both instances I have no idea if either of them, Viking or Celt ever succeeded or indeed, returned.”

“And what of these strange creatures we see very occasionally? Those weird round ones with the shells on their backs!” Heliox wondered.

Drustina nodded and shrugged easily. She had seen the turtles of which they spoke many times, though mostly around the Iberian lands. Indeed, until the others raised the issues, she had not even thought to comment upon them. She explained.

“Carl and I saw them plenty of times. I have seen them further to the south in these great western seas and in the Mediterranean. Carl also saw them in the Mediterranean. They make good eating as well.
As to the great rolling swells you see, these are nothing compared to the winter seas.”

“Aye, well I’ve never seen swells as high and as long as these before but as to the turtles, yes, the Moors considered them a great delicacy.” Carl added.

As she poked the fire and invited Gisela to join them, Drustina spoke to Althred.

“You’re quiet tonight Commander, a penny for your thoughts.”

Althred continued staring into the campfire flames for some moments then he spoke softly.

“I’m just wondering if or when we’ll see Wessex again.”

“We all wonder that Commander.” Drustina replied. “Whether by sword or drowning, ‘tis better to die a free man than under the yoke of the Norsemen.”

“And what of the girl?” He nodded towards Gisela. “She is Norse; would she be enslaved if we were captured?”

Gisela bristled indignantly.

“I’ve seen what the Vikings do. I’m not proud of my father’s ways. Look what he did to me!”

“What did he do?” Althred replied. “I never got the full story.”

Gisela turned to Drustina.

“Should I tell him?”

“It’s your story girl. I’m not one to judge any for being themselves.”

Gisela turned to Althred and snapped angrily.

“He would most probably kill me. I don’t know if he even realises I’m still alive! I was supposed to cover myself in glory or die trying, not let myself become a captive of the Saxons.”

“Why?” Althred pressed.

Drustina interrupted before the girl betrayed too much of herself and her nature.

“She did not please her father Althred. She was expected to marry some great oaf of a Viking Jarl and she refused. Her father took offence and forced her to make a promise. As a punishment she was banned from Norvegia and despatched to win some sort of battle for her father or die trying, preferably in some distant battle with the Saxons. If she won her battle he would consider her being allowed home to choose her own husband. Though what I know of Cold-blood I think he would still expect her to make some sort of political marriage to forward his own plans. He treated all his own daughters like some sort of chattels. However, none of his plans have come to fruition.”

Drustina grinned as she contemplated how her meeting the young Viking princess had completely scotched Harald’s plans. She continued on Gisela’s behalf.

“Instead of fighting Saxons, she came up against a Celt ... me. So technically, she hasn’t broken any vow to her father. She never surrendered to a Saxon ... a Celt, yes but not a Saxon.”

Althred’s brow wrinkled curiously.

“That’s a pretty fine distinction. Is this because Cold-blood’s got no sons? Did she have to make the vow to escape her father’s
wrath?”

Drustina could see that Althred, despite his proven loyalty and intelligence was very much like other Saxon and Norse nobility. He still seemed to consider noble women like Gisela to be nothing more than political pawns, traded as bargaining chips to cement alliances. It rankled Drustina somewhat but she did not let it get under her skin. She decided to curtail Althred’s inquisitiveness before it opened up the can of worms about Gisela’s undisclosed sexuality. Only Drustina fully understood the girl’s nature. She cut the conversation short

“Yeah, she offended her father and he’s not the sort to take such an act lightly. He banned her from his kingdom or something like that. Let it drop now Althred. Is that stew cooked?”

Carl dipped a ladle into the cauldron and extended a cautious lip.

“Just about, give it a couple more minutes.”

Drustina caught Gisela’s eye.

“Go and get some more wood for the fire and let everybody know that food is about to be served.”

It was a ploy to get Gisela out of sight briefly and therefore out of mind. Drustina’s cautionary glance warned Gisela that the Lioness did not want any more to be revealed about Gisela’s past or her sexual nature. There was no knowing how some of the bigoted, superstitious Christians of Wessex might take on about Gisela’s sexuality. If their expedition met with any setbacks like severe storms such men were bound to come looking for bad omens ar causes. Drustina knew that encountering such storms was a certainty but the superstitious ones were too ignorant to realise that.

Some of the Wessex men in Althred’s crew were known to be superstitious and pious bigots. Their new, ‘one god’ faith had also fomented a new superstition that women were unlucky on warships. Drustina had never before encountered any such superstition until she met with the Christian Wessex Saxons. She wondered how the Christian prejudices about women on board warships applied in her case. She smiled inwardly as she considered the irony. It seemed that not a man amongst Althred’s crew dared to question the ‘luck’ that the Lioness seemed to carry with her wherever she went. She looked up to see Carl proffering her a bowl of Stew and some bread so she smiled ‘thank-you’ and satiated the gnawing hunger in her belly.

As the lioness ate, Gisela returned with several of the men dragging either driftwood from the beach or rotten branches from the trees that grew down almost to the storm-beach. Drustina made space for the girl beside her on the log and Gisela took it gratefully. She had already sensed some animosity and accusative glares from the crew of Althred’s ship. After eating, she chose to break the wood up into manageable pieces using boulders off the beach. This kept her away from any potential conflict evoked by talking to the men.

Eventually the expedition turned to thoughts of sleep. Glad to be on ‘Terra firma’ they set their guards and slept without interruption. Gisela was glad to accept Drustina’s invitation to sleep close beside her while Carl slept on the outside. There could be no uninvited approaches by some dumb, hopeful crewman from Althred’s crew, who might have been stupid enough to ‘fancy his chances’.

Dawn arrived with the threat of rain but it held off while breakfast was prepared and eaten. The skies finally opened as they were setting sail but fortunately there were no squalls, just a steady, irritating fall of penetrating summer rain. Finally at around noon, the skies cleared and Drustina recognised the familiar entrance to the Val. She called across to Carl with evident satisfaction.

“We can put in here. The Dumnonii are old friends.”

“Carl, who knew much of the sagas surrounding his companion, called back.

“Isn’t this the place you killed Blueface?”

“The very same, Penderol the chief sent the Dumnonii ships from here to help fight Cold-blood’s fleet last summer.”

“So we should meet with Udris again.”

“If he isn’t in Brithony; yes.”

“I’d like to meet him; he can bring us up to date about Viking activity hereabouts.”

Drustina nodded then replied.

“That's exactly what I'm hoping. If he can’t then Penderol can. Udris told me there was regular trade between Dumnonii and Brithony even some trade between Dumnonii and Demetae. Though that was sporadic depending how active the Vikings are. Udris has had a few clashes with Viking probes into the Dumnonii realms. When he fought beside me in the Solanta he told me several useful pointers about their tactics and ambitions.”

“He’d be a useful ally to have again. He must know these waters even better than you, especially if he’s met with the enemy in Demetae waters.”

“Oh definitely, I’ve only ever passed through those waters twice; once when my father took me trading when I was quite small then the second time was when I was escaping from the Viking attack on my homeland. If Udris isn’t available, I’m thinking of asking Penderol for a navigator anyway.”

“One we can trust I hope.”

“Really Carl, sometimes you anger me. The man will be a Celt, just like me. We even speak the same tongue!”

Carl was not to be deterred by Drustina’s assumptions and he replied.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned during all our battles and tribulations together, it is not to judge any man or woman by his or her tribe. I hope we can find Udris. I do trust him!”

~~oo000oo~~

It transpired that Carl’s hopes were fulfilled. Even as Drustina’s little squadron approached the familiar quay of Bohor, a welcome mop of red hair pushed its way to the press of humanity and identified himself as Udris. Drustina skipped joyfully ashore and hugged him affectionately as Carl followed suit and embraced their erstwhile ally. Althred also smiled for his fears were eased at the sight of the one Celt beside the Lioness whom he knew he could trust. Happy at their reception, they joined Udris as he led them to the new Palace that had replaced the one burned by the Vikings in the attack where Drustan the thirteen-year-old lad (Now Drustina the twenty-something woman) had long ago felled the dreaded Blueface.

When the lioness entered the palace great hall, Penderol let out a cry of delight then tugged eagerly at her arm.

“Come warrior there is something of yours I have for you.”

Drustina knew what it was. The memory of that fearful fight had never left her and the scar that wrapped its way up and around the cheek of her arse from her womanhood to her waist even to that day occasionally reminded her with a twinge as the flesh sometimes reacted to an over extension of her thigh. As Penderol led her to a room that obviously served as some sort of shrine or relic depository he turned her with moistened eyes.

“My God Lioness, I find it scarcely believable that you were once a cheeky scrawny lad who could not even lift the sword of the brute you killed. Looking at you now mi-lady, I would never dream of being so crass as to sight your scar to prove your identity. I can still see the lad in that smile and those eyes. Here you are Lioness, the sword you won honestly that day. As bright and shiny as the day the giant lost it. It is yours by right and yours for the taking. Here! We have only ever held it in trust!”

He reached out to take the sword from its bracket on the wall then held it out to her. Drustina took the sword and her arm sagged slightly with the effort of holding it out. She grunted with amusement as she lowered it to the floor to ease the load on her wrist.

“Damn. I’d forgotten how bloody heavy it was. It was too big for me then and it’s too ungainly for me now. My maid’s wrist will never swing this monster in anger. T’would be more a hindrance than a help. You might as well stick it back on the wall for all the good it does me.”

Penderol took the proffered weapon and frowned.

“So what shall we do with it?”

“I don’t know. It will always be too bloody cumbersome for me.”

“But it is held in great esteem by our warriors. We have waited all these years for you to redeem your trophy.”

Drustina gave a wan smile.

“Well that’s all it ever will be to me; a trophy. Can’t you add it to your tribal regalia or even present it to King Dryslwyn as some sort of ceremonial sword?”

Penderol sucked his lip.

“Nobody but you is entitled to do that. It’s still your sword by right of conquest.”

“Very well, I suppose we could have some sort of ceremony tonight when we dine. We could elevate the sword to a ceremonial instrument for electing each new chieftain when the clans meet. In all honesty Penderol, it’s absolutely no use to me even though I have to say it’s an excellent sword. I’m only sorry I’ll never have the arm to swing it usefully. I’m a maid now Penderol... well, my arms are maidenly.”

“Well that’s the truth Lioness and if you’ll pardon my saying so, a very comely maid. Carl is a lucky man!”

She hefted the sword with both arms and fixed it back onto the bracket where it had hung since she had left the Dumnonii so many years ago. Then she turned to Penderol and shrugged apologetically.

“It might as well remain there until we live in more certain times. For now I am seeking only to see what we can see of the Celtic sea and it’s new masters.”

Penderol nodded and moved the conversation on.

“Come let’s meet with my chieftains, many of them remember only a scrawny boy when last we met. Whatever magic has beset you, they’ll still want to set eyes on ‘The Lioness of Carthage’ if only to say they once met the only Celt who has truly defeated a Viking fleet.”

“You flatter me Penderol, there was a host of Gauls, Saxons and Dumnonii Celts who had a hand in that battle.”

“If you say so, come then, my son and daughters are itching to meet you!”

For the rest of the afternoon, Drustina fulfilled her social duties while her men spent time refurbishing their ships and re-vittling. That night a hasty feast was prepared and the following day Drustina’s flotilla resumed its journey with an extra ancient Viking longship for company. Udris had agreed to join them and they decided collectively that one of the old captured Viking longships could serve their interests in many different ways, not least being used as a decoy or disguise.

For two days a ‘Gwynt-Cymraeg’ (Welshman’s wind*) took them north to Demetae and deeper into Viking held waters. Once they sighted another sail but it swiftly put about and set off to the east, up into the Severn Sea. They did not bother pursuing it or investigating it for Drustina needed to determine the situation in Demetae and the inlet of Aberdaucleddau.

~~oo000oo~~

Author’s note*

A Welshman’s wind is a steady west-south-westerly breeze that takes Welshmen home in comfort to Welsh ports. It’s also known as a ‘Soldier’s wind because little skill is needed to handle a steady WSW wind if the sailor is sailing North east from the south-western approaches to almost anywhere in north, south and west Wales. It’s a nice steady following breeze that’s always abaft the beam no matter where one is travelling to on the Welsh coast be it the North coast, West Coast or South Coast. (Wales has no east coast, that’s the border with England.)

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