The Leper's bell

Chapter Sixteen

Eadulf awoke from a fitful doze. It was still night. He became aware that Gormán was putting wood on the campfire that they had made earlier. He raised his hand to massage his forehead and looked round. He dimly recalled how in the darkness they had organised a makeshift camp in the forest clearing near the water’s edge. His own horse as well as Gormán’s mount had been tethered nearby. He turned. On the other side of the campfire, lying on his back with his eyes still closed in slumber, was Basil Nestorios.

Eadulf realised that he had sunk into such despair that he had not been able to concentrate on anything. Much of the organising of the fire had been done without his assistance.

Gormán, spotting that he was awake, turned and handed him a drinking horn.

‘Corma,’ the warrior explained. ‘How do you feel, Brother Eadulf?’

Eadulf grimaced before he took a swallow of the fiery liquid and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he shook his head.

‘I have lost the only chance I had of finding my baby,’ he said simply. ‘How should I feel?’

The tall warrior was reassuring.

‘You are a clever man, Brother Eadulf. You have traced the baby thus far, and you will trace it further.’

‘How did you get here, anyway?’ Eadulf demanded. ‘Were you following me?’

Gormán shrugged. ‘I was a full day behind you. As soon as I learnt from the lady Fidelma that you had ridden west to the abbey of Coimán, I knew that your path would take you through the land of the Uí Fidgente and, that being so, you might need a strong sword-arm. So I saddled my horse and tracked you. When I came through the mountain pass near the Hill of the Stone Forts, I encountered a herbalist named Corb and his wife. They confessed that they had taken the child-’

‘You did not harm them?’ Eadulf asked quickly. ‘I believe that the part they played was an unwitting one.’

‘They were returning to Cashel at your behest. I did not harm them. I followed you first to the abbey of Coimán and thence to the Tower of Uaman. I arrived there at dusk and made my way across the sand link to the gates. I was about to demand entrance when the gates opened and, lo and behold, you and your taciturn friend there came running out. The rest you know.’

Eadulf leant forward and laid a hand on the warrior’s arm.

Thank the fates for that,’ he said reverently. ‘Had you not been there, we would not have made it this far. Uaman had marked me down for an early grave while our Persian friend was only allowed to live so long as he treated Uaman for his ailment. However,’ he examined Gormán with a side glance, ‘I find it hard to believe that you thought me so important that you chased me across Muman simply in order to protect me.’

Gormán hesitated, then spread his hands expressively.

‘You are a perceptive man, Brother Eadulf. It is no wonder that you and the lady Fidelma have garnered the reputation that you have. When I heard that you had gone to the abbey of Coimán, I knew that it must be for a specific purpose. You had gained some knowledge that sent you hurrying there. I wanted to be on hand in case you needed help in achieving that purpose.’

‘Are you so devoted to the service of Cashel?’ Eadulf could not help sounding a little cynical.

The big warrior smiled softly.

‘I am devoted to the service of Cashel, that is true, Brother. But you may recall the personal reason that brought me hither.’

‘Ah.’ Eadulf’s eyes lightened as he remembered Gormán’s confession of his feelings for Sárait.

‘I will make no attempt to disguise it.’ Gormán saw that Eadulf had remembered. ‘I want to be present when the person who murdered Sárait is caught. I have a score to settle with them. Did Uaman kill her?’

‘No. But he bought my baby from the herbalist and his wife who had picked up the child thinking it was abandoned. Therein is a mystery. Someone, soon after the child went missing, had worked out that the herbalist and his wife had taken it without knowing its identity. That person sent a message to Uaman to tell him. That much I learnt in the Tower of Uaman.’

Surprisingly, Gormán did not look astonished at this information.

‘I do not think one will have to look far for the culprit. There have been rumours about Fiachrae of Cnoc Loinge for some time. He believes that he should be of the rightful line of the Eóghanacht kings. He also dwells too close to the border of the Uí Fidgente country.’

‘Fiachrae?’

Eadulf suddenly sat bolt upright and let out a curse in Saxon. While Gormán did not understand the meaning of the words he recognised the tone and looked at Eadulf in mild surprise.

The clues were facing me the whole time,’ groaned Eadulf. ‘Capa told us during the council meeting that riders had ridden as far west as Cnoc Loinge with the news the morning after Sárait was found. Then, when we were at Cnoc Loinge, Fiachrae pretended he knew nothing of our missing baby until I told him. Yet his manner did not suggest undue surprise. Also, he told me that no itinerants had passed through the place. I had not even raised the matter. He knew. He knew, and is the man who betrayed Alchú to Uaman! And didn’t the steward of the abbey of Coimán tell me that a messenger from Cnoc Loinge had brought the news about the missing baby? It must have been Fiachrae … but no. That can’t be. How would he know that Corb and Corbnait had picked up Alchú? Not even they knew the identity of the child.’

‘You should have spoken more closely with the herbalist Corb,’ said Gormán. ‘He told me that when they passed through Cnoc Loinge on their way here, they told one of the women of Fiachrae’s house about their discovery of the child in the hope of having the baby adopted there.’

‘Fiachrae will be tried and punished for his betrayal,’ Eadulf vowed. ‘But it doesn’t help us to find my child now, or the person who killed Sárait.’

‘I pray God I will be there when we do find the murderer,’ Gormán said with vehemence. ‘I will do what I have to do and I will have no regrets.’

‘Well, I regret that Uaman perished with his foul secret still within him.’

‘Uaman must have said something that might lead you further?’ pressed Gormán. He suddenly started forward. ‘Perhaps the baby is still in the Tower of Uaman?’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘He has given the baby to some shepherd and his wife to raise without knowledge of his origins. The child will be raised herding sheep on some mountainside … but where? I could spend a lifetime searching the mountains of this land. Those raising him know only that Uaman provided them with a child. There will be no way of identifying him. He will bear another name.’

‘How did you learn this?’

‘From what Uaman told me.’

‘I once heard the lady Fidelma say that if you study carefully the exact words that someone says, then clues may be found there.’

Eadulf stared at the warrior in surprise. The man was right. That was precisely what Fidelma would say.

‘Think, Brother,’ urged Gormán quietly. ‘Think of the words.’

Eadulf closed his eyes and tried to recall what Uaman had said.

‘He did not mention any names of places. There were no clues. Just that Alchú would be raised by a shepherd and his wife, herding sheep in the mountains. And…’ He paused.

‘Have you thought of something?’

‘He said something about the mountains being haunted.’

Gormán gave a cynical grimace. ‘What mountain in the five kingdoms is not haunted by some wraith or other? Mountains are old and have seen countless great kings rise to lead their people and then be blown away like chaff from the wheat. They have memories, the mountains. They are haunted, right enough.’

Eadulf was shaking his head. ‘He said the daughter of someone haunted them.’

Gormán leant forward eagerly. ‘That is more promising, Brother. Whose daughter?’

The name came in a flash.

‘Dáire Donn.’ Eadulf was triumphant. He looked expectantly at Gormán but the warrior only shook his head.

‘We will have to make inquiries,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile, we must sleep. In the morning, if I have understood your friend Basil Nestorios, he has a horse and some precious objects that he left in the tower yonder. We will wait until the low tide and then go to fetch these.’

Eadulf agreed. Then another thought occurred to him.

‘We imprisoned one of Uaman’s warriors in the stranger’s cell. He might be a means of leading us to Alchú.’

Gormán was cheerful. ‘In the morning, while we are awaiting the change of the tides, I can ride up to the little settlement that I saw up in the mountains behind us. They should be pleased to hear that Uaman is no longer chieftain over them. Moreover, they might be able to help identify this Dáire Donn.’

‘Agreed.’

Eadulf realised, however, that the rest of the night was going to be cold in spite of the wood that Gormán was throwing on to the fire.

The night passed in fitful sleep. It was too cold to rest for any long periods and, as each wakened, they helped to keep the fire well fuelled. As well as the cold there were the cries of nocturnal animals, the howl of wolves and the cry of a wild cat to disturb their slumber. Eadulf was almost thankful when the sky began to lighten and grim, grey streaks started to appear from the east.

‘Tonight we find an inn,’ he announced, as Gormán set about making breakfast. ‘I will perish if I have to pass another night in the open.’

Basil Nestorios was already up and stamping his feet to restore some circulation. He seemed to guess what Eadulf was talking about.

‘I swear that I never knew it could be so cold,’ he said, reverting to Latin as their common language. ‘In my country, the icy hands of night may clutch you but as soon as the sun rises you will be warm again.’

Eadulf gestured to the thick grey clouds above them.

‘Here we do not always have a sunrise, my friend. The clouds always seem to cheat us by hiding it from us.’

Gormán had taken some salted slices of pork from his saddle bag and was turning them above the fire on the end of his sword. Basil Nestorios sniffed suspiciously and frowned.

‘I have noticed that you eat a lot of pig meat in this land. Pig is regarded as an unclean animal in our country.’

‘A strange land, this Jundi-Shapur,’ muttered Eadulf, helping himself to the drinking horn of corma and taking a sip of the fiery liquid before passing it to the physician. At least the alcohol gave him warmth.

Basil Nestorios sniffed in irritation.

‘I told you that Jundi-Shapur was simply a city in the land of Persia. It is also called Genta Shapirta, which means “of the beautiful garden”. It was the king of Persia, Shapur the second of his name, who first allowed the Nestorians to teach medicine in the city.’

‘Nestorians? Your own name is Nestorios,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘What is signified by this?’

Basil Nestorios raised his brows in surprise. ‘You have not heard of the Nestorians and yet you are a brother of the Faith?’

Eadulf admitted his ignorance.

‘Nestorios was a monk of the east. He taught the Faith in Antioch. He was a learned and wise man and was appointed patriarch of the great city of Constantinople.’

‘When was this?’ queried Eadulf, who never missed an opportunity to expand his knowledge of the Faith, even when his thoughts were only half engaged.

‘About two centuries ago. Nestorios was condemned by what the Church called a heresy. He denied the complete emergence of the divine and human natures in Christ.’

Eadulf smiled tiredly. ‘I thought that the great council at Chalcedon had agreed that Christ was born of a mortal woman but possessed two natures — that divine and human united in one person without losing any of their properties.’

Basil Nestorios sniffed as if dismissing the matter.

‘That is the dogma of both Rome and Constantinople. They even go further to talk of three divine natures apart from the human one — that God, Christ and the Holy Spirit are one.’

Eadulf shrugged. ‘Well, the people in this land have no problem with believing in triune gods and goddesses, so they can easily accept a Holy Trinity.’

Basil Nestorios shook his head sadly. ‘We believe that Christ was only one person who had two natures — one human and one divine.’

‘Old arguments,’ countered Eadulf. ‘Didn’t Arms claim that Christ was not fully divine but created by God to accomplish our salvation? And are there not Gnostics who claim that Christ was never human at all, and his human appearance was merely an illusion to enable him to live among men? Then there are those who say that Christ was born a human male and became God’s adopted son only when he was baptised in the Jordan. There are many such arguments.’

Basil Nestorios was unimpressed.

‘Mary could not be the mother of a god because she was of human flesh and thus could not give birth to divinity. However, men, being what they are — frail and human — objected to the logic of what Nestorios said.’

‘So what happened?’

‘There was a synod at the city of Ephesus when the Bishop Cyril excommunicated Nestorios and his followers. The eastern emperor Theodosius exiled Nestorios and so our church, all those who follow Nestorian teachings, went its own way and flourished. We have taken the word far into the east, beyond the great mountain ranges that guard the strange, exotic lands that shelter behind them. We have spread the teaching through the deserts and Jundi-Shapur is one of our great centres of learning.’

Eadulf was fascinated. ‘I have never heard of this church from which you take your name.’

Basil Nestorios made a wry grimace. ‘But, then, dear friend, I did not know that the church in this country was so different from that which follows the rules dictated by Rome. We cannot know everything in the world. But we must keep our minds open and be receptive to what we can know.’

‘In that I would agree with you.’

Gormán had finished preparing the breakfast.

‘I did not follow all you said,’ he confessed. ‘My Latin is confined to just a few words. I gather that you were discussing religion.’

Eadulf smiled. ‘You do not sound enthusiastic’

Gormán reached for the corma. ‘Religion has its place, Brother Eadulf.’

‘Which is?’

‘There is a time for religion. Usually when there is adversity. Is it not an old saying that when there is prosperity, no altar is seen to be smoking? I turn to religion like everyone else — when there is a need for it.’

Eadulf grimaced in disapproval. ‘A pragmatic approach, I suppose.’

Gormán looked across the waters to where the tower still stood dark and brooding on the island.

The torches are smouldering,’ he observed. ‘They have burnt out. The doors are still open. That seems to indicate that there is no one moving inside. When the waters go down, we can go across and retrieve the property of the stranger.’ He motioned to Basil Nestorios.

‘Very well. What of the settlement you mentioned last night? If they can supply some information about this Dáire Donn it might help resolve our next course of action.’

‘I’ll ride up now while you break camp,’ the young warrior agreed.

It was some time before he returned, urging his horse forward as if he was being pursued. He came to an abrupt halt before them and almost leapt from his mount.

‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf, peering along the track in concern.

‘I thought I should return quickly,’ Gormán replied, dismounting. The people are determined to sack and burn Uaman’s tower now that they know he cannot harm them. They are working themselves up with drink and celebration. We need to get across and retrieve whatever it is you need from there before they arrive.’

Eadulf glanced at Basil Nestorios and swiftly interpreted.

‘And also release the guard we imprisoned in my former cell before they reach him,’ Basil Nestorios added. ‘I had almost forgotten him. He can do us no harm now. I would dislike to be the cause of further death. Of more value is my chest of medicines, which I would hate to see fall into the hands of people who do not appreciate its value.’

Gormán had tethered his horse alongside Eadulf’s.

‘Let us go. Uaman ruled this area with an iron fist,’ he said, turning. ‘When I told the people of the settlement that he was dead, they went wild with joy which soon began to turn to anger, so let us move quickly. The tide is low enough now to allow us to cross.’

‘Should we take the horses over?’

‘It is better to leave them here. We have to bring other animals from the tower. And the sand link may be difficult for them to negotiate. It will take the people from the settlement only a short while to muster and march down here.’

As they began to walk to the tower across the sand dunes, abandoned by the reluctant sea for a short while, Eadulf could not help thinking of Uaman’s end. He felt a chill as he thought of the leper’s body being dragged down into the soft sands nearby. He shivered involuntarily, and glanced at Gormán, who was leading the way.

‘Were you able to mention that business of the ghost to the people of the settlement before they went wild?’

The big warrior smiled broadly.

‘Have no fear, Brother. I made that my first duty. And have had some success.’

Eadulf’s heart lurched in expectation.

‘And?’ he almost snapped.

‘They knew of Dáire Donn. He was, according to an ancient story, the King of the World and he landed on this very peninsula with his great army. He was opposed by the High King’s general Fionn Mac Cumhail and they fought a bloody battle at a place called Fionntragha, the white strand, towards the end of the peninsula.’

‘How does this help us?’ Eadulf interrupted impatiently.

‘Well, Dáire Donn was defeated and he and his army were slain. But he had a daughter who, finding her slaughtered father on the battlefield, went insane and fled in her dementia into the mountains. It is said that it is her ghost that haunts them.’

‘Go on,’ urged Eadulf.

‘The name of the daughter was Mis.’ Gormán, with a smile, jerked his thumb behind them. ‘The peaks that rise there take their name from the highest of them, which is Sliabh Mis — the mountain of Mis. Your son is in those mountains.’

Eadulf halted and looked round, his eyes rising to the peaks behind, some, he guessed, as high as a thousand metres.

‘Somewhere there, somewhere among those peaks, is Alchú,’ he whispered. ‘But where? How can we find one shepherd in such a country?’

‘There seems to be a way,’ Gormán assured him. ‘There is a valley behind us to the north, whose entrance is marked by an old standing stone. We follow the river that courses this valley — it is called the river of the borderland, I think — until we find another menhir inscribed in the ancient ogham, standing by a ford. I am told we will find an old man dwelling nearby, called Ganicca. He is supposed to know the mountains well. We should make inquiries there.’

Eadulf gave a shout of exuberance. Then he explained to the physician.

‘What road will you take when we leave here?’ he asked.

Basil Nestorios thought for a moment.

‘Without poor Brother Tanaide, I have no guide. By your leave, friend, I will remain with you and this tall warrior, and perhaps be of help in your quest for your child. Eventually, I can return eastward with you to this great capital you call Cashel and perhaps see what the future brings.’

Eadulf clapped him on the shoulder.

‘It will be good to have your company.’

They had reached the doors of the tower now, still standing open, with the bodies of the slain warriors lying where they had fallen. Gormán glanced around.

‘I would leave them to the disposal of the villagers, Brother,’ he said, as he saw Eadulf about to make a move to shift them. ‘Let us do what we have come to do first.’

‘I will go to the Evil One’s apartment and gather my medicine chest,’ the physician said immediately.

‘I will take Gormán and release the warrior we left in your cell. We will meet by the stables — there.’ Eadulf thrust out his hand towards the wooden structure at the side of the courtyard that was obviously a stable. Basil Nestorios agreed and disappeared on his task, while Eadulf led Gormán along the narrow corridor until they came to the wooden door of the cell. He banged on the door.

‘Do you hear me in there?’ he cried.

A muffled voice answered in surprise. ‘I hear you. Let me out.’

‘We will do so. But do not try to resist. Your master is dead. Do you understand? Uaman is dead. Your comrades are all slain. Do you wish to escape with your life?’

There was a silence.

‘Do you hear?’

‘I hear,’ came the muffled voice.

‘The people from the settlement that stands on the mountainside are coming here soon. They mean to destroy this evil place. We will let you out, give you horse, and the rest is up to you. Do you understand?’

‘I understand.’

Eadulf glanced at Gormán, who had drawn his sword and stood ready. Then he threw the bolts back and pushed the door open.

A moment later, the warrior emerged. He looked drawn and tired, and his weapons were sheathed. Eadulf addressed him sternly.

‘Precede us to the stables and do not attempt anything, for there is nothing to be gained.’

‘You have my word,’ muttered the man.

They were first to arrive at the stable. There were eight horses in the stalls. Eadulf gestured towards them.

‘Take the one which belongs to you and begone before the people arrive.’

The warrior said no more. He went to an animal, saddled it, and led it into the courtyard. Then he turned hesitantly to Eadulf.

‘You have my thanks, Brother.’

‘You could give me better thanks if you knew aught of the baby that your master took and how he disposed of him,’ Eadulf said, not expecting to receive any useful information. The Uí Fidgente warrior grimaced.

‘I was not with Uaman when that happened. I heard that he had bought some baby from a travelling herbalist and his wife a week or so ago and then took it by himself up into the mountains. He returned a day later without the baby. I did not ask what he had done with it. No one would dare question Uaman. May I go now, Brother?’

Eadulf waved him away. ‘As you go, remember that your life is spared by the grace of the Eóghanacht, to whom you should owe your thanks and allegiance.’

The warrior swung up on his horse, raised a hand in acknowledgement and then rode out fast through the gates and across the sand.

A moment later, Basil Nestorios rejoined them. He carried large saddle bags of a strange design in one of which, Eadulf saw by the hastily fixed straps, was a small wooden chest. The physician grinned.

‘I have my belongings.’ He held out his hand to reveal several gold pieces. ‘And I have taken these as payment for my services. Exactly what I am owed. There is plenty more, if you want. But it is cursed gold. I would rather leave it for the people this Evil One has wronged.’

Eadulf glanced at Gormán. ‘I would agree with that sentiment,’ he said.

‘Let us saddle the stranger’s horse,’ Gormán said to Eadulf. ‘We can release the rest.’

Basil Nestorios pointed to two of the beasts.

‘That one is mine, the other belonged to poor Brother Tanaide. I should return it to Laigin.’

They were harnessed in a moment with Gormán’s expert help. They released the other animals and saw them galloping across the sands towards the distant shore.

They were halfway to the shore themselves, with Basil Nestorios leading both horses, when a crowd of people came bursting through the trees, carrying scythes, billhooks and staffs, and crying like hunters after their prey. Gormán moved forward to intercept them, his hand held up.

‘Peace, my friends. You remember that it was I who brought you the news of Uaman’s death? These are my companions, who have been his prisoners.’

A burly man, whose manner of dress proclaimed him to be a blacksmith, glanced quickly at them.

‘I recognise you, warrior. You and your companions have no need to fear us. Pass on your way and peace follow you on your road.’ Then, turning to his rowdy comrades, the burly smith waved them on towards the tower.

Having collected their own mounts from their makeshift camp, Gormán and Eadulf led their companion up through the forest and along the track towards the mouth of the high valley that led into the tall, dark mountains.

Once beyond the tree line, where the woods gave way to more open shrub land, and long stretches of heather, Gormán paused, resting easily on his horse. The others followed his gaze as he looked back. From the higher elevation they could look down on the quiet blue seas, so different from this distance from the turbulent tides that had borne their enemies away. Even the island, with its grey stone tower, looked peaceful from here … except already plumes of black smoke were rising from it. The people of the settlement were wreaking their vengeance on the stronghold of Uaman the Leper, the Evil One, as Basil Nestorios still insisted on calling him.

It was dusk by the time they reached the small hamlet round the ford on the river. It was too dark to see the standing stone by which they would know they were in the right place, but Gormán stopped before a small forge at which a solitary blacksmith was still working, bending horseshoes on his anvil with hammer and tongs.

‘We are looking for a man called Ganicca. Is this where he dwells?’

The blacksmith gave them an encompassing glance.

‘You are strangers in this country.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘We are.’

‘Ganicca is to be found in the last dwelling over there.’ The smith gestured with his hammer towards three buildings on the river bank.

Gormán thanked him and they moved towards the house that he had indicated. As they halted before it, Gormán called out. A thin, reed-like voice invited them in and so they dismounted.

It was light and warm within the dwelling. A fire blazed in the hearth and oil lamps provided the light. An elderly man sat in a chair by the fire, over which a small pot simmered with the aromatic smell of meat and vegetables arising from it. The man had a shock of white hair and parchment-like skin. His eyes were bright, and of an indeterminable colour.

‘Welcome, strangers,’ he said.

‘Blessings on this house and those who dwell within it,’ Eadulf answered formally.

The man chuckled appreciatively. ‘We do not often have strangers in these parts. You are a religieux, I see.’

‘I am. We are come in search of one called Ganicca.’

‘And who would be searching for Ganicca?’ queried the old man.

‘My name is Brother Eadulf…’

‘Ah, the husband to the lady Fidelma of Cashel, sister to Colgú, king of Muman. I have heard of Eadulf. A Saxon. And you say that you are this man?’

‘I am. This is Gormán, a warrior of the bodyguard of King Colgú. This other is Brother Basil Nestorios from faraway Persia. I presume that you are Ganicca who, it is reported, knows all that is worth knowing in these parts?’

The old man gave another wheezy chuckle.

‘To the illiterate, a man who can write his name is the king of literature,’ he responded. ‘Come, my friends, be seated before my fire, for it grows cold outside. Have you given thought to where you will stay this night? You will not be able to travel further among the mountains in the dark.’

‘We meant to find some inn or hostel. Is there one close by?’

Ganicca shook his head. ‘We are an isolated community and we have no call to keep a hostel for travellers, for no one comes through these mountains, at least not while our current lord is master of the passes.’

A grim smile played on Eadulf’s lips. ‘You mean Uaman?’

The old man blinked rapidly. ‘It is a name which is not to be mentioned lightly.’

‘Have no fear. Uaman the Leper perished last night. His stronghold was in flames when we left it this morning. Uaman will no longer haunt the passes of these mountains.’

The old man stared at him long and hard.

‘I believe you speak the truth, Eadulf, husband of Fidelma. It is a story that I did not think to hear before I passed on to the Otherworld. You must spend this evening in the telling of it. There is a small stable by the house where you may tether your horses and there is barley and hay to feed them. I have a stew simmering upon the fire and you may make yourselves comfortable in my home this night. It is poor, but it is warm, and better than sleeping in the chill air of the mountains.’

Gormán went off to attend to their animals while Eadulf discussed with the old man the real nature of his business.

‘I knew that you did not come seeking me out to tell me of Uaman the Leper’s death,’ chuckled Ganicca.

‘Uaman has done Fidelma and me a most grievous wrong and it might be that you are the means to resolve it.’

After Eadulf had explained, Ganicca rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

‘We are at the centre of a pass through the mountains,’ he said. ‘It is an isolated spot, but mountain folk come to it now and then, when the itinerant priest visits to conduct marriages and bless the progeny of those unions and conduct our lamentations over the dead. No regular priest would dare stay here while Uaman was lord of the passes. Therefore I know a lot of what goes on even in the places where not many dare tread, high up in the dark peaks above us.’

‘So is there a shepherd in this vicinity?’

Ganicca laughed, though with little humour in his tone.

‘My friend, there are a dozen shepherds in this area alone.’ He saw Eadulf ’s disappointment and reached forward, touching him lightly on the arm. ‘But do not be disheartened. Most of them are wedded with children. A few live on their own, isolated and solitary. However, there is one couple who have been wedded for a time and yet remain childless. The wife had a stillborn child less than one moon ago. She was distraught, and I heard that she and her husband would barter their souls to resurrect that child. It might be that you would do well to visit this couple. Uaman could well have chosen them, for in their desperation they might not ask too closely where the child had come from.’

Again Eadulf felt a surge of excitement

‘How may we find this shepherd and his wife?’ he asked.

‘In the morning, follow the river further up the valley to the end where it comes down from the mountains. To your north on the hill there are a number of ancient graves, so old that no one can recall who built them; to the south the mountains climb to a great height. Continue due east over the hills. There is a pass that will take you to another valley beyond. It is criss-crossed with rivulets and streams and a large river called An Fhionnglaise. Keeping due east, you will find two dwellings on a rise. The place is called Gabhlán. At Gabhlán you will ask for Nessán, the shepherd, and his wife Muirgen.’

‘And if the baby is not there?’ queried Eadulf, ever the pessimist.

Then, my friend, all you have heard of my knowledge can be set at naught,’ replied the old man. ‘Now, tell me … tell me all in detail… how did Uaman the Leper come by his end? This is a story that will be told and retold through the mountains here long after the child you seek has had children and they have had children.’

The evening passed pleasantly enough in storytelling, and at dawn the little company rode onwards up the mountain valley.

Had the road been straight, then the distance to their destination would have been no more than four miles. But the track twisted even as the river twisted and then there was the climb over the shoulders of the mountains, twisting again, turning and dipping. It was just before midday when they came to the rising hill in the valley of streams, exactly as Ganicca had directed. On the slope before them, they could see a group of buildings. Two huts appeared to be the main dwellings, which were separated by several outhouses and a sheep pen. Eadulf led Gormán and Basil Nestorios along the track towards them. Dogs started barking at their approach.

A large man came out of one of the huts. A man from the other dwelling quickly joined him. As Eadulf and his companions drew nearer, they stood watching them. One of them, the large man, held a crook in his left hand which proclaimed his occupation as a shepherd, although he seemed to carry it as if it were a defensive weapon. The three riders halted and dismounted. The shepherd’s keen eyes examined first Eadulf, then Nestorios, and finally Gormán.

‘What do you seek here, strangers?’

‘Is this place called Gabhlán?’ asked Eadulf.

‘It is.’

‘Then we are looking for Nessán.’

The shepherd frowned and glanced quickly at his neighbour.

‘How do you know my name? What do you want with me?’

Eadulf smiled grimly. He decided to try the direct approach.

‘Uaman the Leper is dead. We have come for the child.’

There was a silence, and then there was a feminine gasp. A moment later a woman of middle years emerged from Nessán’s hut. It was obvious from the body language between them that she was his wife. She came to grasp his arm as if for support.

‘Do you tell us truly?’ she whispered. ‘Is the leper dead?’

The second man, at a further glance from Nessán, had reluctantly returned to his own business.

‘I speak the truth,’ Eadulf confirmed solemnly. ‘My companions here will testify to that.’

The shepherd’s wife gave a long sigh. Her shoulders seemed to drop in resignation.

‘I am Muirgen. All this week, I knew that this day would come, though I selfishly prayed it would come later rather than sooner. But I have known it would come from the moment my man came back from the hill to say that Uaman had given us this child.’

Nessán placed a protective arm round her. ‘Have a care, woman. These strangers could be anyone, even servants of Uaman, testing our loyalty. My neighbour is within call, so be warned, strangers. His dogs are fierce.’

Eadulf smiled sorrowfully. ‘You have a right to be suspicious, my friend. I assure you that we are not any servants of Uaman and he is truly dead.’

Muirgen examined him with a deep, penetrating gaze. ‘In your eyes,’ she said suddenly, ‘I see the eyes of the child reflected back at me.’ She turned to the others and nodded slowly. ‘They do not have the faces of those who would consort with the leper. Even the one who has the look of a stranger to this land has something kindly in his eyes.’

‘You are perceptive, Muirgen,’ Eadulf said. ‘I am Eadulf. I am he whose child has been stolen by Uaman.’

Muirgen moved close to him and peered again into his eyes.

‘I knew that Uaman must have stolen the child from somewhere. I have looked after him well; looked after him as if he were my own. He thrives, I promise you that, Brother.’

Eadulf nodded, feeling, in spite of himself, sympathy for the woman in her plight.

‘Then bring him to me.’

Muirgen nodded slowly. ‘Tell me, before you take him, what name does the child bear?’

Eadulf hesitated. ‘His name is Alchú and, as I have said, he is my son. My son and the son of Fidelma of Cashel, sister to Colgú, king of Muman.’

Nessán made a whistling sound through his teeth in reaction to the news. His wife was nodding thoughtfully.

‘That explains much. Uaman was of the Uí Fidgente and that was why he insisted on our calling the baby Díoltas.’

‘Vengeance?’ Eadulf said grimly. That certainly suited his twisted, cruel mind. Come, let me see the child.’

He made to move to the hut but Nessán laid a strong restraining hand on his arm.

‘What will happen to us, Brother Eadulf? What will happen to my wife and me? Will Colgú of Cashel punish us?’

Eadulf regarded them both with sympathy and shook his head.

‘I cannot see a crime here for which you should be punished. Uaman, who claimed chieftainship in these mountains, gave you the baby. He asked you to look after the child and you have done so. Where is the crime?’

Nessán sighed deeply, raising a hand almost in supplication.

‘It is just that we wanted a child so much and our prayers have never been answered.’

‘Are there no orphans that need fostering?’ Gormán asked rhetorically. ‘I would have thought that your chieftain would have been able to assist in that. There is always some dilechta or orphan that needs a home.’

‘No one wants to give a child to a shepherd. I am but a lowly sencleithe, a herdsman who does not even own his own herd. There is no one lower than I am except those who have lost their rights by transgressing the law, the cowards and the hostages. I cannot bear arms or have a say at the clan assembly.’

‘We have never been able to appeal to the chieftain of the Corco Duibhne, for Uaman has dominated the passes on this peninsula for many years. Is he truly dead?’ Muirgen added again.

‘Uaman is truly dead,’ Eadulf repeated solemnly, aware that the couple needed reassurance. Gormán, standing behind him, coughed impatiently.

‘We are wasting time, Brother Eadulf,’ he muttered.

The woman turned immediately and darted into the hut. When she reappeared, she had Alchú in her arms. There were tears in her eyes as she smiled down at the sleeping child before handing it to Eadulf.

Eadulf looked down at the baby, tears rimming his own eyes for a moment. He felt a constriction in his throat as he looked upon the son he had once thought never to see alive again. He sniffed, and grinned fiercely to fight back the tears.

‘You have looked after him well, Muirgen,’ he conceded.

The woman inclined her head. ‘I have done my best.’

‘When I return to Cashel, I will talk to the Chief Brehon about your situation. Perhaps your prayers may be answered. There must be something that can be done for you.’

It was clear from their expressions that they did not believe he meant a word of what he was saying, but they smiled politely. He told the woman that he would allow her a few moments to say her farewells to the sleeping baby. It was then that Basil Nestorios drew him aside.

‘I believe that this is your first child, Brother Saxon?’

Eadulf looked puzzled but answered in the affirmative. The physician smiled gently.

‘I thought so. How far is it to Cashel? A few days’ ride?’

‘What are you saying?’

‘You are meaning to carry the child on a horse? A baby of that age will not find such a means of transportation comfortable. It never does to shake a baby too much.’

‘We will take it slowly. We can probably pick up a wagon at the abbey of Coimán. That will be easier on him.’

The physician continued to smile. ‘And how is the child to take nourishment?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you require a trophos?’

Eadulf had not heard the Greek word before. ‘Take nourishment…?’ Then it dawned on him. On the journey from Cashel to the abbey of Coimán, the herbalist’s wife had acted as wet nurse to the child. Of course, the baby needed a wet nurse for the journey back. He glanced to where Muirgen was saying her farewells to the child. The solution appeared simple. Then another thought struck him. He stood in contemplation a moment or two before turning to Gormán.

‘You said that you were at Cnoc Áine, didn’t you? Callada, Sárait’s husband, was killed there, wasn’t he?’

The tall warrior nodded impatiently. ‘I did, and Callada was slain during the battle. Now,’ he glanced at the sky, ‘if we want to get back to the village by the ford before dark, we should start soon, Brother Eadulf.’

‘When was that battle?’ insisted Eadulf. ‘Remind me.’

‘It took place in the month of Dubh-Luacran, the darkest time of the year,’ replied Gormán, puzzled by his excitement.

Eadulf waved an impatient hand. ‘But when? How long ago?’

‘We lack but two months before it will be exactly two years since the battle.’

Eadulf exhaled slowly.

‘We should be on our way, Brother,’ Gormán chided again.

Eadulf brought himself back to the present and smiled at Basil Nestorios. He suddenly felt in buoyant mood.

Thank you for your good advice, my friend. Trophos, eh?’ He turned to the shepherd’s wife. ‘Muirgen, I have been reminded of the child’s care. Will you be his wet nurse on the journey back to Cashel? You will be well paid for your trouble.’

The woman was startled by the abruptness of the offer. She glanced at her husband.

‘I have never left these mountains in my life,’ she began.

‘Your husband can accompany you, and I will ensure that you are both rewarded and escorted on your return to ensure your safe passage,’ Eadulf said to pre-empt any further debate.

‘And we will receive compensation?’ Nessán wore a thoughtful expression.

‘And I will argue your case before the Brehon Dathal,’ Eadulf conceded.

The shepherd and his wife exchanged another glance and then a silent agreement passed between them.

‘My sheep are in the lower pasture for the winter. I need only inform my neighbour that we shall be gone awhile and that he will be compensated for looking after them. I can be away for a few weeks before I need to return.’

Eadulf thrust his hand into the leather purse he wore at his belt and drew forth two screpalls.

‘Give him this on account.’

Nessán hurried off. The neighbour and his wife had already come out of their hut to watch what the strangers were doing, and the business was soon concluded. It was not long before the procession set off on the first leg of their journey back to Cashel. Muirgen, with the baby slung in a shawl in front of her, was seated on Basil Nestorios’s spare horse, which the physician led with a rein from his own mount. Nessán rode pillion behind Gormán, and Eadulf led the way.

Eadulf felt a real sense of elation. A sense of achievement. He had retrieved Alchú — his child — entirely through his own efforts and powers of deduction. It was his achievement and no other’s. He smiled as he recalled a saying of his father, who had been hereditary gerefa of the South Folk before him. ‘Remember, my son, that when you raise your sword, it is not enough merely to aim it. You must hit your target.’ He had ridden away from Cashel with only a suspicion of the target. Now he was returning thither having accomplished what all Cashel had been trying to achieve for well over a week. He could quote Fidelma’s favourite philosopher at her — what was it Publilius Syrus had written? Great rivers can be leapt at the source. He had found the source and leapt the great river and would return in triumph.