Saga, page 22
I stumbled to my feet and held the central mast to steady myself.
‘Stand back,’ I shouted over the sea spray whipping my face. ‘I am a daughter of the Goddess. I have the protection of the old gods and goddesses and as long as you have me aboard, your voyage will go smoothly. If you touch one hair on my head or that of my sister, the great and mighty Freyja will sink your ship like a stone and your souls will lie on the bottom of the sea for eternity.’
All the oarsmen sat staring at me, their oars up over their legs as the sails dragged the ship over the waves.
‘I also write sagas. If you allow us safe passage I will write of you as heroes, the greatest Vikings, and I will pray for your long lives and many wins in battle.’
I stared at them as ferociously as I could without throwing up. My belly heaved and I felt my last meal in my throat. Deep within me my child stirred and fretted.
I could see that they were becoming less interested in throwing us overboard.
Unn tugged on my drenched hem to pull me back down towards her but I stood my ground, swaying and swallowing bile as I tried to intimidate the men.
‘Fine.’ The captain spat on the deck. ‘Get back down there and be quiet and do your praying and saga casting. The second we begin to take water or hit bad weather I’ll know you are full of nonsense and I’ll throw you to the fish. ’
The other men laughed.
After that moment many of the men shared their food and water with us and made small talk, offering us extra blankets and making sure we were comfortable. I thanked Nerthus that the weather remained kind to us and the trip was uneventful and smooth. A tail wind sallied us effortlessly across the waves to the shores of misty Orkneyjar. My heart had never felt more relieved to see her green hills through the fog.
I was home.
‘I don’t understand,’ Ann cried as she sat on the end of my bed. ‘I thought you would be so happy and proud of yourself and grateful for the position as a teacher in Bath. The Lee sisters have one of the finest schools in all of England.’
I stared at her incredulously.
‘You really don’t understand, do you, Ann?’
‘No, I don’t,’ she snapped, and stood up and walked to my window.
‘Ann, you humiliated me in front of your friends.’ I sobbed again and put my hands over my face. ‘In front of my friends Mary and Percy and even the princess!’
‘I was trying to show them that you are just as deserving of respect as they are,’ she argued.
‘But you disrespected me, Ann,’ I said and sniffed back my tears, replacing my misery with anger. ‘You know how that horrid Mr Lester and his son were selling paupers to the college doctor for dissection? Well, I feel like you just did the same to me, Mrs Radcliffe! You cut me open and spilled out my private life at your dinner party to prove a point. I was an experiment and nothing more.’
‘That’s not true, Mercy,’ she whispered and looked at me in horror. ‘I can’t believe you could liken something so generous to being eviscerated on a surgical table. I think you do me a grave disservice.’
I stood up from my bed and put my hands on my hips and glared at her.
‘No, I do believe it was you who did me a grave disservice.’
We stared at one another, at an impasse.
‘Well, the offer stands.’ She sighed, deflated. ‘My carriage will take you to Bath and you will have my references and I shall give you some money so you may settle yourself into the new life as a teacher.’
‘I don’t want your charity, Mrs Radcliffe.’
‘Then what do you want?’ Ann screamed. ‘I opened my house. Clothed you and cleaned you up. Taught you to read and write and showed you the world of art, music and literature. I saved you, Mercy. From a life on the street and the gallows. What more could you possibly have wanted?’
‘I wanted love,’ I said, a single tear running down my cheek. ‘Because I would sooner have one person truly love me than all of this. I thought you cared for me. I thought …’
‘Of course I do care for you,’ Ann said softly. ‘But, Mercy, if you were seeking a mother in me this could not be. You created that fantasy in your head. I’m sorry. Perhaps I could give you enough to fund a trip back to Glasgow to find that box of your mother’s belongings. I would be happy to do that.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘You have done enough for me. I will use my education to get a position as a governess or nanny and save up my own fare back to Glasgow. I do not wish to teach in Bath, Ann, although I am grateful for the offer. I would rather work in a poorhouse teaching children who most need book learning, not in a fine school in the countryside for the gentry.’
‘I see,’ Ann said, nodding thoughtfully. ‘I admire your spirit. I am truly sorry for any hurt I have caused, Mercy. Allow me to give you my letter of recommendation.’
I would accept that. ‘Thank you.’
After dressing and packing my things in a portmanteau given to me by Ann, I went next door to bid my farewells to Mary and Percy.
‘I have enjoyed our friendship,’ I told them, fighting back my tears.
Mary held me tight and Percy, more reserved, shook my hand.
‘You are quite an inspiration, Mercy,’ he said. ‘You sound like you have so many stories locked up inside you. Don’t be ashamed of them, ever. You should come to Europe after our child is born and travel with us and entertain us with tales of your past.’
‘You worked for an undertaker?’ Mary marvelled and pulled a face. ‘That must have been ghastly.’
‘Not at all.’ I smiled. ‘We all must go that way and I felt honoured to be able to say farewell to some who had no one else to do so.’
‘You’re a very special girl,’ Percy said. ‘Please come with us. You can stay here until we leave.’
The offer was inviting. I looked at Percy and felt flooded with warmth. I could not. Mary would soon deliver his child and they hoped to one day marry if his legal wife would give him a divorce. I did not belong as an appendage to their relationship. My own feelings would be difficult to retrain and I cared too much for Mary to put myself in a position of temptation.
‘Alas, I cannot,’ I said softly. ‘I will find work in London and save until I can return to Glasgow and follow my dream of teaching poor children.’
‘My mother would be proud of you,’ Mary said and went to the other room, returning with a copy of her mother’s influential book. ‘Keep this to remind you of me always. And of her message.’
I was humbled and took the book and turned it over in my hands. It was the first book that I could call my own.
‘Thank you.’
‘And I think that wherever your mother is she would be proud of you, too,’ Mary said, touching my cheek gently. ‘And in case it is of assistance to you, Mercy, there is a noticeboard just near the St Pancras Church near Camden that advertises positions available for work in the area. It is always full. I used to pass it every day.’
Percy took my hand and held it tight. ‘Remember always, dear Mercy,’ he said, ‘in the words of the great bard, “This above all: to thine own self be true”.’
‘Hamlet.’
I said farewell to my friends and my life in Windsor. It had been a dream. A dream within a dream. I rattled away in Ann Radcliffe’s carriage from that place of privilege, watching Windsor Castle disappear along with my dream of having a family.
In Camden I took a jot of paper from the noticeboard. It was a windy day and I carried my port all the way to 10 Norfolk Street, Fitzrovia. I looked up at the narrow, gloomy house and back to the advertisement in my hand.
‘Wanted. A nanny for two small children. Must be able to read and write. Must be honest. Kind. Reference required.’
Twenty words.
The door opened and a pretty young woman answered. Her hair was a mess but her face was open and happy.
‘I’ve come about the nanny position,’ I said nervously.
‘Oh come in, come in out of that wind,’ the woman said and ushered me quickly inside.
The house was small and warm. A fire crackled from the hearth in the parlour and the smell of cinnamon filled the air. I could hear the laughter of children from further inside.
‘They are playing hide and seek with their father,’ the woman said, rolling her eyes as she tried to pick things up and put them out of the way. She led me down a narrow hallway past a leaning and treacherous looking staircase.
The place was an unholy mess with papers and books and laundry in piles all about.
‘I am sorry for all of this,’ the woman apologised. ‘I’m afraid we don’t have a maid. And we cannot pay more than a very basic wage but you would have your bed and board included.’
‘I have a reference and—’
‘Oh, I can tell a person from the look of them and I can see you are perfect.’ The woman smiled. ‘I have two children, Charles and Fanny. Without a maid and with a new baby on the way, my husband and I just need another pair of hands to help out. Our children are quite lively. Highly spirited.’
‘My favourite sort of children.’ I laughed.
‘Do you have any experience with chest troubles?’ she asked. ‘My son suffers from wheezes and asthma.’
‘I do, as it so happens,’ I answered, pleased to be able to answer in the affirmative. ‘My mistress at my last appointment suffered terrible asthma and I helped her with patting and steaming and assisting her physician when she needed opium. I am quite knowledgeable about chest problems.’
‘And have you instructed or cared for children before?’ she asked, turning to look at me.
‘Yes,’ I said boldly, owning my own story. ‘I was an orphan in a poorhouse in Glasgow and I looked after the littler ones and told them stories and very much enjoyed their company.’
She gave me a nod and held out her hand.
‘You sound absolutely perfect. What is your name?’
‘I am Mercy November,’ I told her. ‘It is the name the cook at the poorhouse gave me. I do not know my birth name.’
‘Well, Mercy is a lovely name,’ she said. ‘And I am Elizabeth Dickens.’
She stepped into the warm kitchen where a dishevelled man had a little girl squealing with delight thrown over his shoulder.
‘John,’ she called, clapping her hands for silence. ‘This is Mercy, who will be our new nanny. This is my husband, John, and these are your new little wards, Fanny and Charles.’
The children froze and regarded me warily. Then little Charles, who could only have been three or four years of age, came over and took my hand in his tiny little one.
‘Hello, Mercy,’ he said in a small voice. ‘Come and play.’
The Orkney Islands might have only been a short distance from the mainland of Scotland but it felt like we were a million miles from anywhere. It wasn’t just the sense of distance. It felt like Cait and I had stepped back to a place in history. I stood at the front window and looked out. The islands had a savage beauty. The hills were treeless, a pale and gentle green. The early morning revealed lots of rabbits hopping all over the grass outside the cottage and the light was unearthly, a deep purple. Wind tore over the hills and howled like a raging ghost.
‘It’s wild out there,’ Cait said as we shared coffee and opened a packet of chocolate biscuits. Like a good butler, Samuel had stocked the pantry at some stage. He was very stealthy!
‘Breakfast of champions.’ I laughed. ‘And I think it’s atmospheric. Let’s go with the word “windswept” or maybe “blustery”.’
‘Blustery? Nah. Try hurricane,’ Cait replied, dipping a biscuit into her milky mug of coffee. ‘No wonder there are no trees on these islands. The winds clearly blew them all away. So are you going to tell me where this dang holy island is, then, and put me out of my misery?’
‘I couldn’t sleep, thinking about those men,’ I said, stalling and dragging out the suspense. ‘From the pub in Kirkwall. Are you sure they were the same guys we saw at the uni? Or are we paranoid?’
‘No, it’s them.’ Cait nodded. ‘Certain of it. Perhaps you should suss Theo out. Ask him if he talked to those guys or knows who they are.’
‘No!’ I reeled back, horrified. ‘We don’t know who the hell we can trust at this point, Cait. I’m not going to just ask Theo outright. He might be in league with them. I can’t risk that. I’m not even sure I can trust Aunt Sylvia!’
‘It’s usually me jumping to crazy conclusions.’ Cait laughed. ‘I really don’t think Theo is a murderer or a thief. I think he’s a mild mannered, vaguely attractive history academic, who is only involved in this because he’s professionally connected to Mallory and because we turned up on his doorstep and told him about the book. If we hadn’t gone to him he wouldn’t be any the wiser because Mallory or someone had deleted all your emails.’
‘Yeah, that was weird,’ I agreed.
‘But, Mia, he seemed pretty disinterested in us until you showed him the book and the copies of Mallory’s emails. I don’t think he really knew about all that so if he was involved in something with Mallory it had nothing to do with us.’
I thought about it. I had sent other emails with the Ogham markings to other places. The British Museum. Another couple of university departments, one in Dublin and another in Edinburgh, and two other private antiquities dealers who specialised in ancient Celtic artefacts. Any one of those could be on our tails, having translated the inscription themselves and making the leap from ‘holy island’ to Orkney.
‘Theo was fishing,’ I told her, finishing my coffee and going to the sink. ‘On the phone yesterday he said he thinks we might be in Iona, a different island on the other side of Scotland. It does come up in my research as a pretty holy island.’
‘Maybe Sylvia is wrong and it’s not in the Orkneys at all,’ Cait said suddenly, looking worried.
‘No.’ I shook my head and smiled cryptically. ‘Because I am almost certain I know which island it is on and Sylvia’s notes suggested it as our prime suspect. Our mission today is to get to it. It’s not far from here. We’ll need to talk to Samuel about getting us there. We need a boat and someone who can steer a boat because the tides are rough.’
‘How would we find out whether there is a chamber underground when we got there?’ Cait asked. ‘We could walk over the top of it and never know. It’s not like we can dig up an entire island with our bare hands. A thousand years is a long time for the earth to build up over a hiding place. It’s going to be buried in some safe place, you know. Not like under a pile of rocks.’
‘Sylvia said that Samuel can arrange anything we need. We’ll ask him.’
‘He’s a butler,’ Cait groaned. ‘A boring butler. What’s he going to do? Bring us cucumber sandwiches on the terrace or starch up our clothes or drive the limo?’
‘Well, Sylvia indicated that he has other less-domestic uses so I say that as we are guests in her little house and on a mission for her, we forget Theo and we forget those other men who may or may not also be searching for our book and concentrate on the mission she has given us. Samuel is our butler, for now, so let’s start giving the orders.’
Cait saluted me sarcastically. ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ she said. ‘Maybe Sylvia will let you inherit the title, Lady Mia.’
‘We are going on a bit of a treasure hunt, Samuel,’ I told him.
He was dressed for the weather in a pair of khaki pants and a warm-looking jacket that was masquerading as a navy blue bed quilt. He looked more human out of the stiff penguin suit.
‘We are set up for that sort of thing here,’ he said, taking us outside to a stone shed next to the studio. ‘The Thorns are leading excavation and archaeology experts. And they do a lot of research here in Orkney.’
He unlocked the double shed. The little blue hatchback was parked inside. The other side of the garage was lined with wide cupboards, each one locked with padlocks. Samuel took out his jangle of keys and began unlocking them systematically along the wall towards the outer door. He opened them all wide and turned to us with what looked like a very faint smile.
‘Everything is at your disposal,’ he said. ‘Lady Thorn said you have the run of the place.’
I stared. There in front of us was an impressive collection of shovels, spades, brushes, electrical equipment, torches, helmets with lights mounted on them, metal detectors, pick axes, saws, trowels and surveying equipment. Even a drone was mounted on a shelf.
‘Oh wow.’ I laughed. ‘Now we really are talking Indiana Jones.’
‘Is there anything that might help us find a cave or tomb or hollow space beneath the ground, Samuel?’ Cait asked.
He went straight to a drawer and pulled out what looked like a GPS screen, sort of like a small iPad. It had a vest and some wires and other bits with it.
‘Like this 3D ground scanner?’
‘Ummm, maybe?’ I looked at Cait and then back at Samuel. ‘Do you know what it does and how it works?’
‘It shows whether there is metal or water or empty cavities up to a depth of fifteen metres,’ he told us. ‘You wear the vest and put the eight separate sensors into these pockets. It’s a deep scanning gradiometer. State of the art. German.’
‘That sounds good.’ I grinned at Cait. ‘Now, Samuel, I wonder if you might be able to charter us a boat for this afternoon. Something easy. A motor boat.’
‘I have a day licence for small motored boats but the sea around the islands is quite treacherous, particularly at this time of year,’ he told us. ‘Depends where you want to go. Ferries are safer. But I can check the tidal conditions and weather and see if there’s a boat we could hire from up at the Kirkwall Marina.’
‘Thanks and could we borrow the car for about an hour just to do a little sightseeing and reconnaissance?’
‘I guess so.’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t be too long. I promised Lady Thorn that I would not let you out of my sight but I don’t see any problem. It’s a straightforward little car. Just stick to the main roads.’
