‘And if the baby is not there?’ queried Eadulf, ever the pessimist.
Then, my friend, all you have heard of my knowledge can be set at naught,’ replied the old man. ‘Now, tell me … tell me all in detail… how did Uaman the Leper come by his end? This is a story that will be told and retold through the mountains here long after the child you seek has had children and they have had children.’
The evening passed pleasantly enough in storytelling, and at dawn the little company rode onwards up the mountain valley.
Had the road been straight, then the distance to their destination would have been no more than four miles. But the track twisted even as the river twisted and then there was the climb over the shoulders of the mountains, twisting again, turning and dipping. It was just before midday when they came to the rising hill in the valley of streams, exactly as Ganicca had directed. On the slope before them, they could see a group of buildings. Two huts appeared to be the main dwellings, which were separated by several outhouses and a sheep pen. Eadulf led Gormán and Basil Nestorios along the track towards them. Dogs started barking at their approach.
A large man came out of one of the huts. A man from the other dwelling quickly joined him. As Eadulf and his companions drew nearer, they stood watching them. One of them, the large man, held a crook in his left hand which proclaimed his occupation as a shepherd, although he seemed to carry it as if it were a defensive weapon. The three riders halted and dismounted. The shepherd’s keen eyes examined first Eadulf, then Nestorios, and finally Gormán.
‘What do you seek here, strangers?’
‘Is this place called Gabhlán?’ asked Eadulf.
‘It is.’
‘Then we are looking for Nessán.’
The shepherd frowned and glanced quickly at his neighbour.
‘How do you know my name? What do you want with me?’
Eadulf smiled grimly. He decided to try the direct approach.
‘Uaman the Leper is dead. We have come for the child.’
There was a silence, and then there was a feminine gasp. A moment later a woman of middle years emerged from Nessán’s hut. It was obvious from the body language between them that she was his wife. She came to grasp his arm as if for support.
‘Do you tell us truly?’ she whispered. ‘Is the leper dead?’
The second man, at a further glance from Nessán, had reluctantly returned to his own business.
‘I speak the truth,’ Eadulf confirmed solemnly. ‘My companions here will testify to that.’
The shepherd’s wife gave a long sigh. Her shoulders seemed to drop in resignation.
‘I am Muirgen. All this week, I knew that this day would come, though I selfishly prayed it would come later rather than sooner. But I have known it would come from the moment my man came back from the hill to say that Uaman had given us this child.’
Nessán placed a protective arm round her. ‘Have a care, woman. These strangers could be anyone, even servants of Uaman, testing our loyalty. My neighbour is within call, so be warned, strangers. His dogs are fierce.’
Eadulf smiled sorrowfully. ‘You have a right to be suspicious, my friend. I assure you that we are not any servants of Uaman and he is truly dead.’
Muirgen examined him with a deep, penetrating gaze. ‘In your eyes,’ she said suddenly, ‘I see the eyes of the child reflected back at me.’ She turned to the others and nodded slowly. ‘They do not have the faces of those who would consort with the leper. Even the one who has the look of a stranger to this land has something kindly in his eyes.’
‘You are perceptive, Muirgen,’ Eadulf said. ‘I am Eadulf. I am he whose child has been stolen by Uaman.’
Muirgen moved close to him and peered again into his eyes.
‘I knew that Uaman must have stolen the child from somewhere. I have looked after him well; looked after him as if he were my own. He thrives, I promise you that, Brother.’
Eadulf nodded, feeling, in spite of himself, sympathy for the woman in her plight.
‘Then bring him to me.’
Muirgen nodded slowly. ‘Tell me, before you take him, what name does the child bear?’
Eadulf hesitated. ‘His name is Alchú and, as I have said, he is my son. My son and the son of Fidelma of Cashel, sister to Colgú, king of Muman.’
Nessán made a whistling sound through his teeth in reaction to the news. His wife was nodding thoughtfully.
‘That explains much. Uaman was of the Uí Fidgente and that was why he insisted on our calling the baby Díoltas.’
‘Vengeance?’ Eadulf said grimly. That certainly suited his twisted, cruel mind. Come, let me see the child.’
He made to move to the hut but Nessán laid a strong restraining hand on his arm.
‘What will happen to us, Brother Eadulf? What will happen to my wife and me? Will Colgú of Cashel punish us?’
Eadulf regarded them both with sympathy and shook his head.
‘I cannot see a crime here for which you should be punished. Uaman, who claimed chieftainship in these mountains, gave you the baby. He asked you to look after the child and you have done so. Where is the crime?’
Nessán sighed deeply, raising a hand almost in supplication.
‘It is just that we wanted a child so much and our prayers have never been answered.’
‘Are there no orphans that need fostering?’ Gormán asked rhetorically. ‘I would have thought that your chieftain would have been able to assist in that. There is always some dilechta or orphan that needs a home.’
‘No one wants to give a child to a shepherd. I am but a lowly sencleithe, a herdsman who does not even own his own herd. There is no one lower than I am except those who have lost their rights by transgressing the law, the cowards and the hostages. I cannot bear arms or have a say at the clan assembly.’
‘We have never been able to appeal to the chieftain of the Corco Duibhne, for Uaman has dominated the passes on this peninsula for many years. Is he truly dead?’ Muirgen added again.
‘Uaman is truly dead,’ Eadulf repeated solemnly, aware that the couple needed reassurance. Gormán, standing behind him, coughed impatiently.
‘We are wasting time, Brother Eadulf,’ he muttered.
The woman turned immediately and darted into the hut. When she reappeared, she had Alchú in her arms. There were tears in her eyes as she smiled down at the sleeping child before handing it to Eadulf.
Eadulf looked down at the baby, tears rimming his own eyes for a moment. He felt a constriction in his throat as he looked upon the son he had once thought never to see alive again. He sniffed, and grinned fiercely to fight back the tears.
‘You have looked after him well, Muirgen,’ he conceded.
The woman inclined her head. ‘I have done my best.’
‘When I return to Cashel, I will talk to the Chief Brehon about your situation. Perhaps your prayers may be answered. There must be something that can be done for you.’
It was clear from their expressions that they did not believe he meant a word of what he was saying, but they smiled politely. He told the woman that he would allow her a few moments to say her farewells to the sleeping baby. It was then that Basil Nestorios drew him aside.
‘I believe that this is your first child, Brother Saxon?’
Eadulf looked puzzled but answered in the affirmative. The physician smiled gently.
‘I thought so. How far is it to Cashel? A few days’ ride?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘You are meaning to carry the child on a horse? A baby of that age will not find such a means of transportation comfortable. It never does to shake a baby too much.’