The Leper's Bell (36 page)

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.