The Seventh Tide (6 page)

Some days it felt as if the world had become very small, crushingly small, no more than the square of table before him and the tormenting symbols that inhabited it. It may be that the summer felt that way for the Holy Father as well. Whatever the reason, one fine autumn morning, Columba burst into the scriptorium, where Brother Drostlin was, as usual, berating Adom for his laziness and inattention.

‘God forgive you –’ he was saying – ‘do you never pay attention?! A
beast
could write better than that!’

And Columba’s voice, sounding positively jovial for the first time in months, broke in with, ‘Gently, Brother. Maybe God meant him to be thick of head as well as thick of arm. He can row my boat for me even if he can’t get his wits round Holy Writ!’

Not fair! Not true
! Adom cried out silently. The injustice of it was so enormous he was numb to everything else – the escape from the hated books, the excited bustle of preparations, the last-minute inspection of the curraghs and oars, all passed in a blur.

And now he was on the water, on the way. Columba’s journeys to preach and heal were the stuff of legend, and here he was, a part of it all.

A part. Set apart. Who believed
that
any more? He knew he was nothing. He was just a pair of strong arms…

It was late in the day when the curragh finally turned towards shore. They pulled into an inlet, where a river flowed into the sea and there was a shingle beach to drag the boat out on. And, further back in the hills, the welcoming smoke of a settlement could be seen, hanging above the trees.

‘Where are we?’ Adom asked one of the brothers.

‘Don’t you know, boy?’ he said. ‘That’s the hall of the Bard up there, just beyond the village. Bard Devin. Surely you’ve heard of him?’

Adom shook his head.

‘Don’t know much, do you? He came out from Ireland at the same time as Columba. They were friends in the old country, you know. They still are, only they don’t meet so much these days, of course. Oh, we’ll get a warm welcome in Devin’s hall, don’t you worry – and likely a tale or two as well! There he is now!’

The figure approaching them from among the trees could not have been less like Adom’s idea of a bard. Devin was not an impressive sight. He was short and wiry and ordinary-looking, more like an underfed farmer than a poet and speaker of truths.

The brothers were nervous about him, though.

‘How did he know we were coming?’ they whispered among themselves.

‘They say he has second sight.’

‘
I
heard the animals speak to him,’ another shrilled. ‘Birds, especially – they tell him what they see.’

He’s a sorcerer
?! thought Adom.

It was hard to believe, especially when you saw him next to Columba, with his great height and his imposing beak of a nose and his charismatic, hooded eyes.

Adom blinked. Had he just seen the little man
slap the Holy Father on the back
?!

There was no time to wonder, though. Brother Drostlin found plenty of things for Adom to do, getting the curragh hauled up above the tide line and their gear to the Bard’s hall, and then helping to see that everyone was fed and cleaning up afterwards. It had been a long, hard day and Adom was dropping in his tracks by the end of it. All he wanted in the whole wide world was to lie down and go to sleep…

… until Devin stood up.

The moment the Bard opened his mouth all Adom’s tiredness was forgotten. Along with the others, he was immediately spellbound, frightened and inspired and soothed by turns, and laughing till he got side-ache at the ribald bits. The Bard could make his listeners feel anything he wished. Adom saw to his astonishment that even
Columba
went where the stories took him!

When the tale-telling was over, Adom’s head was whirling. And then, as the company lay down to sleep, one more astounding thing happened. Adom and the brothers clustered close to the fire but Columba set himself further off, away from the comforting warmth, with his head on his pillow of stone and only the thinnest of cloaks over him. When Devin saw this, he tutted audibly, marched over and, without a by-your-leave, tucked a warm woollen blanket around the saint.

And if that wasn’t amazing enough, Columba let him!

Next morning, Brother Drostlin woke up cross. He didn’t like Columba suddenly going off on ‘adventures’ again,
and he didn’t like being forced to rub his sanctified shoulders with peasants, and he didn’t like
change.
These were not feelings he was going to share with the Holy Father, of course, but that was no reason he shouldn’t pass on his discomfort to someone else…

Which was why Adom found himself trudging back down to the shore. He’d been in trouble from practically first light. By mid-morning he’d acquired a cuffed ear and a stinking bucket of ox tallow, with orders to reseal the seams of the curraghs ‘for the safety of the Holy Father’. Adom had no desire to be responsible for the drowning of a future saint, or of himself for that matter, but the picture of Brother Drostlin going down for the third time had a certain appeal.

Adom sighed pitiably (which is hard to do when you’re trying your best not to actually breathe), turned, tripped on a stone and almost glopped tallow all down his front.

Idiot
! he chided himself, since Brother Drostlin wasn’t there to do it for him.

He made the rest of the journey with due care and attention, not stopping till he reached the edge of the trees. Here he paused for a moment and looked out over the bay. The curraghs were still safely there, long upside-down humps on the pebbles. The tide was well out –probably on the turn – revealing an expanse of mud and seaweed-encrusted rocks, with the river snaking through in its own little gully. The sky was clear and there was a brisk wind from the water.

That’ll help with the stink
, thought Adom approvingly, and he was just about to start off again when he saw something else. Partway between the curraghs and the
river there was a wet, dark shape. It didn’t look right for a rock or a tree stump.
A seal
? wondered Adom.
A beached baby whale? Meat
?!

He was already running forward, the bucket forgotten and a hefty stone in one hand. The pebbles crunching under his sandals were too loud! And then he was slipping and splashing across the muddy stretch, the rock raised, ready. In his mind he’d already killed the beast, whatever it was, he was the hero of the day, there’d be another feast, and more stories, and…

Oh no, it’s heard me! It’s moving! It’ll get away
!

He slithered to a stop. There would be no feast tonight. His prize groaned and lifted its head – it was a waterlogged boy.

The stone dropped from Adom’s fingers and he ran forward.

‘Heaven save us – are you all right? I thought you were a seal – were you swept off a boat? Can you stand? Can you walk?’

The stranger seemed to be about his age, or maybe a little younger. He was alive and his big eyes were just opening, but at first he didn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings. Then, all at once, he dragged in a sudden desperate breath and grabbed hold of Adom’s habit with both hands. A spasm shook his body.

‘Where is this?’ he croaked. ‘Who are you?’

‘Easy, easy.’ Adom gently detached himself from the stranger’s grip. ‘You must have nearly drowned.’

The boy looked at him with his over-large blue-grey eyes.

‘I should have,’ he said wonderingly ‘I really should have. I guess it’s not in the Rules for me to drown in
the… what did she call it? The Traveller.’ He gave Adom a sudden blindingly cheerful grin and staggered to his feet. ‘My name’s Eo. What’s yours?’

‘Um, Adom,’ said Adom. ‘Here, you’ve got something tangled round your neck…’

It looked pretty much like a hank of seaweed, but when Adom reached out a hand to unwind it, it sneezed. Adom leapt back and yelped, before realizing it was just some sort of wet weasel.

It sneezed again, and then shook itself, splashing salt water into Adom’s face.

‘Hey
!’ he spluttered.

‘Professor!’ cried the boy. ‘You’re all right!’

The animal chittered rudely back and then tried to get inside the bag the boy had with him, until he opened it, and it flowed inside.

‘Sorry’ said the boy. ‘He’s, um… a bit shy.’ The bag bulged crossly. ‘Can you tell us, please, where are we?’

Adom nodded. ‘Let’s get you off the mud first, though,’ he said.

He helped the boy up, and they stumbled to the rocky beach and on into the trees, before sitting down on a fallen log.

‘Please,’ the boy asked again. ‘Where is this?
When
is this?’

Adom gave him an uncertain look. ‘It’s about mid-morning,’ he said, glancing at the sun. And we’re quite near the dwelling of Devin, Bard of the Shores. I’ll take you there when you’re able – I know he’ll shelter you.’

There was a blankness on the boy’s face that made Adom pause.

‘Devin the Bard – you’ll have heard of him?’

He shook his head.

Not from, round here, then
, thought Adom to himself, handily forgetting that he hadn’t known of Devin before yesterday himself.

‘Are you a bard too?’ the boy asked tentatively.

‘Me
?! No, of course not. I’m Adom. I’m a novice – or I will be, anyway. I’m from the monastery on lona.’
He’s bound to have heard of that
! he thought. ‘I’m here with Columba.’ He sounded a bit smug, even to himself.

The boy looked as if he were still puzzled, but before he could speak the weasel thing exploded out of the bag, shouting, ‘Columba?! Did you say
Columba?! There’s
a bit of good news! So, let’s see, that means we’re sometime in the sixth century, not on lona itself, no, the beach isn’t right for there – too shingly – but we can’t be far from it.’

‘Saints and Angels – a talking beast!’ Adom staggered back, caught his heel on a root and sprawled on to his rear end in the leaf litter. Frantically he made a sign against the evil eye, then one against demonic possession, and then a sign of the cross, just to be on the safe side.

The animal turned his fierce little eyes on Adom and tutted. ‘Don’t be foolish, boy. There is nothing demonic about me. It’s a little-known but not impossible fact that Joseph the Holy Carpenter himself kept ferrets, and if so, Jesus almost certainly might have played with them when he was a boy. There is a story I could tell you of how James, one of the lesser disciples, blessed all ferrets with the possibility of speech, but I think this is neither the time nor the place.’

There was a stunned silence. Adom lay there, with his
mouth hanging open, barely breathing. The animal turned his attention to his left shoulder and began to give it a much-needed grooming. And the strange boy looked from one to the other, obviously wondering what the next step of
this
was going to be.

‘Who
are
you?’ whispered Adom at last.

‘Oh. Well, like I said, I’m Eo, and this is Professor Hurple. I’m a G – you know, one of the shape-shifting people – and he’s a, um, ferret. As you can see.’ The boy gave an uncertain grin. And we’re looking for some help against the Kelpies – demons who are trying to take us over. You mentioned somebody called Columba. Who’s he?’

‘Who’s
Columba
!?! The ferret and Adom both turned on him in amazement.

‘He’s only the greatest holy man in the whole world – he’s only practically a
saint
!’ spluttered Adom.

‘Yes,’ cried the Professor, ‘but more to the point, he’s also
the most famous Kelpie-killer of all time!
Probably. One of them, anyway. Imagine Gladrag managing to land us on
his
doorstep! If only we could convince him to come with us, to be our champion in the Dry Heart, why, we might even have a fighting
chance!
’

Eo gave Hurple a troubled look. It was so abnormal to have to be really serious about something, so hard to stay guilty and afraid now the Kelpie Queen wasn’t hanging over him. It was a G’s nature to
enjoy
adventure!

Adom was back on his feet by now, though he was keeping a careful distance. There was a
lot
he didn’t understand about all this, but one thing was more important than the rest.

‘Are you
sure
you’re not demons?’ he said.

Eo stared. ‘I
told
you – I’m a
G!
The only reason we’re here is
because
of demons!’

Adom shook his head. ‘You’ll have to tell me the whole story’ he said. ‘I don’t understand at all so far. Tell me
everything.
’

Eo hesitated.

Then, ‘
Well?
!’ the ferret snapped suddenly, making both boys jump. ‘Get
on
with it! You –’ he turned on Adom – ‘sit down properly, and pay attention. And
you –
’ he turned on Eo – ‘get telling! We haven’t got all day. The tide won’t wait, no matter
what
you think!’

Eo was insulted. ‘When did I
ever
say I thought that tides
waited
…?’

‘GET ON!’

And, for a wonder, Eo did as he was told.

Adom was a riveted audience, though there was a good deal of what he was being told that still made absolutely no sense to him. When the boy finished, the ferret named Hurple gave him a small nod of approval.

‘Succinctly done,’ he said, causing Eo to blush with embarrassed pleasure.

But Adom was still troubled.

‘It’s a wonderful story’ he said. ‘Truly – but… it isn’t really
proof
that you’re not demons.’

Eo stared. ‘Do I
look
like a demon to you?’ he asked, disgruntled.

‘Well, it wouldn’t be very smart of you to look like one if you were, would it? I mean, I wouldn’t be likely to take your word for it if you had horns and lots of jagged teeth and stank of brimstone.’

‘You’ll have to wait till he’s older if it’s teeth and stink you’re after,’ grunted Hurple sourly.

Eo sighed. ‘You’re not helping!’ He turned back to Adom. ‘Look, trust me –’

‘Never trust anyone who starts a sentence with “trust me”,’ muttered Hurple under his breath. ‘Sorry sorry… Listen to what the boy’s saying to you, Adom. He’s not nearly as dim as he looks.’