‘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.
It was light and warm within the dwelling. A fire blazed in the hearth and oil lamps provided the light. An elderly man sat in a chair by the fire, over which a small pot simmered with the aromatic smell of meat and vegetables arising from it. The man had a shock of white hair and parchment-like skin. His eyes were bright, and of an indeterminable colour.
‘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.’