Saint Brigid's Bones (20 page)

He looked amused.

“I don't care if the queen of the fairy people sent you, I'm not taking you.”

“Alright then, loan me one of your boats. I'll row myself.”

He gave a snort. “Child, have you ever rowed a currach before? You'll end up going in circles or getting swept out to sea—which would be a better fate than what waits for you on that island.”

“Yes, I've rowed boats like yours many times.” Well, at least a few times. Maybe twice. “I can handle myself. Just give me the oars.”

At last he shrugged and got up. He retrieved two oars from behind a rock and brought them to me, then helped me launch the boat into the water. I climbed in and fixed the oars.

“Grandfather, I thank you for your kindness. I'll bring the boat back soon. Please don't worry about me.”

He shook his head one last time. “I wish I could change your mind, but I can see you're a stubborn one. My wife was stubborn too.”

With that he pushed me out to sea.

I had trouble steering the boat at first, but soon fell into the rhythm of rowing. A bigger problem was keeping my course in the fog that soon enveloped me. My only guide was the dim glow of the sun to the south, but I knew if I kept that to my left I would reach the island.

I must have been halfway there when a strange sight appeared off the bow of the boat. It was a small flock of puffins floating on the water, all watching me in silence. It was odd to see puffins that time of year. By then they were usually well out to sea where they wintered. I was always amazed they could fly with their dumpy black and white bodies, but they nested on high cliffs along the coast.

The fog grew even thicker after an hour of rowing. I knew I must be drawing near the island, but it wasn't until I felt the boat scrape bottom that I knew I had reached the beach. I had been expecting watchmen, but there were none. The boats of the pirates lay empty nearby. I pulled the currach up onto the shore and took out my satchel. The silence was unnerving and I began to wonder if the outlaws were lying in wait for me behind a rock. With a final prayer and my heart pounding like a drum, I walked up the path towards what I hoped was the hut of Lorcan.

I remembered the story of the Roman hero Aeneas sneaking into an enemy city surrounded by a divine mist.
Like him I passed unseen through the fog into the heart of the pirate camp.

Suddenly there was a wooden post in front of me and I could barely stifle a scream. There was the body of a man tied to it. His hands had been chopped off. He hadn't been dead long, but the crows had already picked out his eyes. I kept walking.

At last I came to a large circular hut made of the usual wattle and daub with a thick thatch roof. I could smell peat burning inside and hear the gruff voices of men. There were skulls attached to the outside of the doorpost and no bench for visitors, as was the custom in Irish homes. I took a deep breath and tried to stop my hands from shaking. I decided that if I was going to make a proper impression I had better do this right. I took out my harp and held it to my chest. Without knocking I threw open the door and marched inside.

I took in the room at a glance. There was a hearth fire in the middle with some kind of large animal roasting over it on a spit. Around the fire were about twenty of the most despicable-looking men I had ever seen. Most of them looked like they could casually rip the head off a horse. Some had scars on their faces and several were missing ears. They all wore gold torques and jeweled necklaces. If they weren't drunk already they were well on their way.

All of them fell silent and turned to stare at me as I entered. There were two or three slave women with disheveled hair carrying food and wine to the men. On the walls were what seemed to be trophies—decorated iron swords, golden torques, silver plates. At the front of the room in a chair covered with a lion's skin was an older man with a goblet in his hand. He was looking at me with great curiosity.

“My name is Deirdre,” I said loudly. “I am a one of the sisters of holy Brigid from the monastery at Kildare. I am also a bard and a member of the Order. I wish to speak to Lorcan.”

No one said anything for a moment. Then the man sitting on the lion-skin chair spoke.

“Welcome, Deirdre. I am Lorcan, leader of this group of gentlemen. Please come closer so I can see you better.”

I moved to the open space between his chair and the fire. This close to Lorcan I could see he was a man of average height, about fifty years old with long grey hair woven into braids. His beard was braided as well. He wore a simple brown tunic and woolen pants with short leather boots. He wore no jewelry. I noticed that one of his eyes was blue and the other green. He was smiling and seemed almost pleased to see me.

“Would you like some wine, Deirdre? Perhaps something to eat?” he asked.

“Thank you, my lord. A cup of wine would be most welcome after my journey.” I decided it was best to be polite. I was expecting a coarse ruffian. It was unnerving to have him act so courteously.

He snapped his fingers and one of the women brought wine for me in a golden goblet and a stool for me to sit on.

“You've traveled a long way from Kildare to see me. What can I do for you?”

My mouth had suddenly gone dry, so I drained the cup.

“My lord, perhaps you've heard that the bones of holy Brigid were stolen from the church at Kildare. These bones are worthless in themselves, but they draw many pilgrims to our monastery in search of hope and healing. We would very much like to get them back. You are a powerful man in Ireland. I was hoping that perhaps you could help me.”

He then gave me the most charming smile.

“My dear, I have indeed heard about the theft of the bones. I make it my business to know about such things throughout the four provinces.”

“Then, my lord, you should know that the sisters of holy Brigid would be willing to negotiate for their return. I'm certain we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

He signaled the slave woman to refill my wine glass.

“There are many thieves in Ireland, Sister Deirdre, but I do insist on being involved in such activities. I can be rather severe when someone tries to cut me out. Perhaps you saw the unfortunate man tied to the post as you came in? That was my favorite nephew, a misguided youth who stole a hoard of silver coins from a merchant. He tried to hide the theft and not give me my accustomed share. I had him brought back here for punishment. A pity, really. He was such a nice boy.”

I felt a chill run down my spine, but I pressed on, carefully.

“My lord, I had heard that perhaps the abbot of the monastery at Armagh and the two sons of King Dúnlaing might have approached you about acquiring the bones for them.”

“Sister Deirdre, I don't usually discuss business with parties not involved, but I'll make an exception in your case.”

He took a long draft of wine from his cup.

“The abbot and Dúnlaing's sons did indeed approach me about hiring my services to steal the bones from your monastery.”

I knew it! I knew I was right about the letter and about the bones. Now I could get them back. If Lorcan didn't have them there on the island, then he must have given them to the abbot. I could go to Armagh and demand their return. The synod of bishops would strip him of his office and send him into exile. Or maybe they would let him stay at Armagh tending pigs.

“The representative from the abbot and the king's sons came to me over two months ago,” he continued. “But I declined their request.”

No. Lorcan had to have taken the bones. Why was he telling me this? Was he trying to mislead me?

“It's not that I have any reservations about stealing from holy places, Christian or druid,” he said, “but I had an encounter with Brigid when I was a young man that gave me pause.

“I was working as a sheep thief near Kildare in those days, always on the lookout for an easy target. I had heard Brigid often tended her own flocks, so I crept up on her pasture one spring day. I counted fifty sheep on the hillside, most of them ewes but a good number of castrated males as well. I spirited away a fat wether before she even knew I was there. I led it to a pen I had built about half a mile away and then came back for another. I thought at first she must have been blind not to see me, but then a strange feeling came over me, as if perhaps she knew exactly what I was doing and was deliberately ignoring me. But I kept on all day and by evening I had seven animals in my pen. I snuck back to Brigid's flock that evening and followed her to her fold just to watch her surprise when the foolish woman found seven of her sheep missing. She counted them loudly as each one entered the gate. When the last one came through, she tapped it with her staff and turned to look at the bushes where I was hiding and shouted, “fifty.” I couldn't believe it. I counted them myself three times and found she was right. Not a single sheep was missing. I was so struck by this magic I left my hiding place and retrieved the sheep I had stolen from her. I returned them to her and begged her forgiveness. She smiled and told me to count the sheep again, including those I had brought back. I did and to my amazement there were still fifty in all.

“So you see, although I fear neither god nor man, I have the greatest respect for Brigid and would not dare to disturb her resting bones.”

My shoulders sank. I had been so hopeful that Lorcan would have the bones and all of our troubles would be over. He rose from the chair and came to stand before me, putting his hand on my arm like a father comforting a daughter.

“I am sorry I couldn't help you, Deirdre. I know how frustrating it must be for you to have come all this way for nothing.”

I stood up.

“You have been most gracious, my lord. I thank you for your hospitality. With your permission, I will leave you gentlemen to finish your dinner.”

Lorcan smiled and looked at me kindly.

“My dear, what makes you think you're going to leave this room alive?”

I froze.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm sorry, Deirdre, but I have something of a reputation to maintain. You know, vicious pirate and all that. If I allow you to live, my men might think I've grown soft.”

He motioned for a couple of his men to come and stand beside me. They looked about eight feet tall. I could feel the heat from their bodies.

“But my lord, I am a woman, a sister of holy Brigid, and a bard of the highest rank.”

“Yes, my dear, I know. I've had to kill many women over the years. Regrettable, but necessary. Regarding religion, doesn't your god honor those who die in his name? Perhaps I would be doing you a favor. And as for being a bard, I kidnapped one last year and unfortunately had to drown him. I have his harp in my treasury. Would you like to see it?”

“No, thank you, my lord.”

I was thinking as furiously as I ever had in my life. There must be a way I could get out of this. But standing face to face with this pirate, my mind was a blank.

And then it hit me. Face to face. Outlaws rejected all the traditions and constraints of Irish society except one. They valued their
enech
, their face, their reputation above all. Lorcan had said it himself, he had a reputation to maintain.

“My lord,” I said calmly, “you are a great leader of outlaws, known throughout Ireland and beyond. Men whisper your name in fear and kings dread the sight of your ships on their shores.”

“Indeed?” he smiled. “It's so gratifying to have my work appreciated.”

“When you capture someone, whether man, woman, or child, you prove your skill and daring to all. You take whomever you wish by stealth, guile, and courage, doing with them as you will. If they die at your hands, it is a fate to be expected. The stronger beast stalks his prey and devours it. That is the way of the world.”

“True enough. But what does that have to do with you?”

He motioned his men to hold my arms as he drew his dagger from his belt.

“My lord,” I spoke so the whole room could hear me clearly. “I am a woman, alone and unarmed. I have come to your island of my own accord. I have walked into your hall without a sword at my back. If I were taken in a raid and brought here to die, I would be just another victim. But I came here freely and stand before you unbound. Where is the honor for you in my death? What will your men say? Has the lion grown too weak for the hunt?”

Lorcan looked at me closely for a long time. He seemed as if he were about to strike. I could feel the grip of his men tighten on my arms.

Then he laughed.

“Deirdre, you are a most clever woman. You're right, of course. Where's the sport in killing someone I didn't trap myself?”

He spoke to his men.

“Let her go.”

The two giants released me. Lorcan slipped his knife back in its sheath.

“Now, my dear, I would advise you to leave my little island quickly and not return. If I catch you some day in one of my snares, you will meet a very different fate.”

I bowed to him and turned toward the door. The eyes of every man in the room followed me as I left. I went down the path again to the beach and climbed into the boat, then rowed away as fast as I could through the lifting fog.