‘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 s
uspicion 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.
Chapter Seventeen
Since returning to Cashel two days before, the time had passed for Fidelma with incredible slowness. There was no word of Eadulf and Brother Conchobar was still in Lios Mhór. Gormán had been missing for some days, while Capa had only just returned from his mission to the borders of the Uí Fidgente country. The two surviving Uí Fidgente chieftains had been returned to their prison and would be tried for the killing of old Duach, the king’s lodge keeper, and his son Tulcha. Conrí, the warlord of the Uí Fidgente, and his men had been given hospitality at Cashel and started talks with Colgú on the rebuilding of relationships between the two peoples. But apart from that, for Fidelma, it seemed that there had been no progress at all. If anything, things had regressed. Now there was no clue to the whereabouts of either Alchú or Eadulf.
Fidelma decided that the only thing to do was try to retrace the steps that had led Eadulf to leave Cashel. He had gone to see the woodsman Conchoille and, having done so, he had come back to the palace, taken a full saddle bag and made off to the abbey of Coimán. That is what she would have to do. But first she would see Conchoille and find out what passed between them.
Caol was on duty at the gates of the palace and he raised his hand in salute as she walked towards him leading her horse.
‘What news, lady?’
‘I was about to ask the same question of you, Caol.’
The warrior shrugged. ‘Rumours in plenty but little news.’
‘I am going to see Conchoille the woodsman. I want to ask what he said to Eadulf which made him go westward,’ she said.
‘In that case, lady, you will not have far to go. As I came up from the town a short time ago, I saw Conchoille entering Capa’s house.’
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