The boy's lips pressed tightly together and Declan felt the old hostility return. He went on quickly, "I have no wish to know your family or clan name, lest in a moment's lack of thought I let it slip in the wrong company. But curiosity eats at my belly like a nest of worms, and there is one thing I would like to know if you are at liberty to divulge it. You say that the old man did much else for you. Did he, perchance, instruct you in the use of his spells and magical arts?"
"No," Sean replied, a shadow that might have been of disappointment passing briefly across his face. His manner began to thaw once more as he went on, "He always makes sure that I am warm and sheltered by day and night, and at times he spoke counseling words that were valuable beyond price…" he gave a small, backward jerk of his head, "… but I have never been allowed to see inside his wagon. I doubt if any living soul other than himself will ever do so."
Declan smiled. "Then I, too, shall not ask to see his secret lair," he said, "so that I, too, will be spared the embarrassment of his refusal… Damn it to hell, this accursed wagon likes me not!"
Their horse was pulling them forward without complaint at a steady walking pace, its hooves thumping quietly into the patches of grass and soft earth that made up the uneven track they were following. But they had come on a stretch that was so deeply rutted that their thick, solid wheels sank almost to the axles before being pulled free. Several times Declan had to grip the edge of the driving bench with both hands while pressing one foot tightly against the handle of his axe, which he had laid on the timber floor within easy reach in case of a sudden attack, to avoid the weapon and himself being thrown sideways to the ground. Sean, who was half-standing and swaying easily from side to side as if on the deck of a sea-tossed ship, was not discomfited. When the track became even it was the boy who spoke first.
"Ma'el is a strange man," said Sean as if their conversation had not been interrupted, "very strange, subtle, and mysterious, but good. Declan, promise me that you won't lay plans against him."
"If he has you on his side," he replied, smiling, "1 wouldn't dare."
Sean frowned, looking anxious and disappointed. Declan stopped smiling.
"For what my word is worth to you," he said seriously, "I swear that I will harm neither of you so long as I am in Ma'el's service. But I am vastly curious about him. How does such a mild-mannered person live and gain sustenance in this uncaring country? What protection other than ourselves does he have? Who are his patrons? What advantage does he provide for them?"
"I don't know," Sean replied. "At least, I don't know enough to speak with full knowledge and I prefer, therefore, to remain silent rather than indulge in conjecture. But enough about our master and myself, what of yourself? Are you tied to Hibernia by family, friends, or loved ones? Is Declan your true name?"
"It is one of my true names," he replied, and suddenly he felt himself wanting to speak to the boy as he had done to no other person in his memory, but caution put a brake on his tongue as he went on, "But it is the only name you will ever know. I will not speak the names of my family or clan because to learn those, if your curiosity was to persist and you sought further information about them, you would also learn of my shameful and at times unruly past"
When Sean's eyes were not on the horse or the track ahead, they were on him. Obviously the boy was waiting for more.
"Unlike you." he went on, "my father is still alive. My mother died at my birthing, which may explain but not excuse my father's unalterable lack of affection for me, or for the hostility toward me of his second, and very comely wife and her children. In anger I disowned him with harsh words before he could disown me and
… But enough, I begin to whine like a whipped cur."
Sean looked for a moment at his tattered cloak and disheveled aspect but did not speak, knowing that the further questions that were on the tip of his tongue would not be answered.
Declan climbed to his feet and stood on top of the driving bench, which he had done at regular intervals since they had set off that morning, to see if possible enemies were following or flanking or lying in wait ahead of them, but they seemed to have the sunlit winter countryside all to themselves. He resumed his seat and resolved to change the subject.
"Before we reach Cashel," he said, "I will ask Ma'el for a few coins of silver or gold. There is something I would like to do there."
"I have no doubt of it" said Sean angrily. A dark, disapproving cloud settled on his features. In the face of a look like that, Declan thought, it would be a waste of time and breath for him to try to explain further. They rode in silence for the remainder of the afternoon.
The sun was touching the treetops behind them before he spoke again. This time the subject was a safe one, Declan knew from observation, and one that was close to the boy's heart.
'That is a fine horse," he said, "very strong but no longer young. No danger threatens for as far as I can see. Don't you think it deserves a rest after pulling this heavy wagon for most of the day?"
They rode for several minutes in silence before Sean replied.
"The wagon is only as heavy," he said, "as Ma'el allows it to be."
CHAPTER FIVE
Ma'el Report. Day 112,543…
This day I made tentative plans for the visit to Rome and amused my mind by deploying the sensors so that I could overhear and witness my two servants trying not to fight with each other…"
–
Cashel was a small, orderly, and usually busy town which, because it was winter and business was seasonably quiet, was hungry for any form of trade that happened to be passing by. Its buildings showed a few examples of pillared and decorated Roman stonework, but the majority of its places of business and dwellings were of native construction: rounded, wickerwork buildings reinforced with clay and with some of them additionally thatched against the elements. In spite of the earliness of the hour, from one of the larger houses came the sounds of drinking and loud conversations where the king's warriors were taking their off-duty ease. This, Declan knew, was another reason for the peacefulness of the town because it was a matter of honor that if any disorderliness was to occur, it would be they, rather than unruly passing strangers, who caused it.
It was midmorning when their wagon passed the great Rock of Cashel and the royal castle at its top and entered the town itself. The mud of the streets was still solid from the previous night's heavy frost as they stopped in the empty market square. They did not put out an awning and trading stall, so any chance passerby would know that the tinkers were not there to do business and continue to pass them by. Ma'el tossed Declan a purse that was small but not particularly light, then wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and sat on the driving bench while Sean, who had been fighting a senseless war of words with Declan since the second day of their journey, saw to the comfort of the horse.
"Have you visited Cashel before now?" he said when the boy had finished his task. "Would you like to walk with me?"
"No, and no," Sean replied. "Ma'el has promised to give me instruction in the furtherance of my art among other things." He inclined his head toward the oxinking house they had passed and in a sour voice added, "I will know where you are when the time comes to help you find your way back to us."
Declan looked up at Ma'el, who gently shook his head, then he turned and showed his anger by striding away.
The building, which he had already noticed while on their way to the market square, was set back a few paces from the road, solidly built with walls which had been washed in lime to make them almost white. A large wooden awning with thatch on top ran the full width of the building. It gave deep shelter to the entrance which was flanked on both sides with low benches and round-headed wall spikes displaying sheepskins, bolts of homespun cloth, and leather harnesses shaped for man-carried weapons as well as the shoulders of beasts of burden. In a thicket-enclosed yard behind the house there was another, less well-kept building which comprised a stable, a tannery from which drifted the pungent smell of curing leather, and a lean-to washing house from whose partly curtained door smoke and steam were leaking out to cloud the winter air. It was an establishment, he decided, which could supply all of his present needs.