He was searching for words he did not seem to have, and my patience was failing me.
‘Michael,’ I said, ‘what am I running from? They would not have gone to these lengths to track and bring to punishment a man who had masqueraded as his own cousin.’
‘No, they would not,’ he said quietly.
‘What then?’
He left off his window vigil. ‘Alexander, your cousin is dead.’
The warmth that had at last started to come into my hands and feet went in that moment as a sickening chill spread through me.
‘Sean?’
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
‘I am sorry. The Blackstones knew you could not have been Sean, because they knew he was dead. He was murdered on the night after your grandfather’s funeral. They rode hard for Coleraine as soon as the news became known. Deirdre refused to go with them.’
‘Is she safe?’
Michael looked at Andrew. ‘All I know is that she would not leave with her husband. Father Stephen will know more.’
I was shivering now, more than I had done on the cliffs, more than when I had first plunged into the moat at Coleraine. I wrapped my arms hard about myself but the shivering would not stop. I clamped my lips shut, tight, and bit down on my own cheeks to stop the scream that was rising from my stomach. Andrew lifted a hand but he could not reach me and it dropped again to the floor. It could not be so. God would not allow it to be so.
‘You have been deceived,’ I said to Michael at last. ‘Sean cannot be dead.’
‘Alexander, I am sorry …’
‘He cannot be dead. He was so …’ I could not finish it. Because he was so much alive. What cruel game of Providence was it that sent me on a fool’s errand after poets and grasping men, when my cousin, who had been forced to remain in our grandmother’s house, with his most trusted servant at his side, was murdered? How could Sean, who had Eachan, be dead?
Father Fintan was already lighting a candle at an altar, was already on his knees and praying, urgent words in Latin for the repose of my cousin’s soul, and words in Gaelic that I could not catch. He begged favour and mercy on some ‘cause’. I pulled my robe close and leant my head against the wall next to the brazier. Rest would not come, comfort would not come, only pain. I lay there, in a stupor of exhaustion and grief, hoping only for sleep or some other oblivion. As I passed into the world of dreams, my cousin’s laughing face was in my mind’s eye, and I drifted into sleep with the warmth of his voice wishing me a last ‘goodnight’.
I was awoken from turbulent dreams by a cacophony of shouting and barking, and a loud banging on the door of the church. It was still night. Father Fintan, who had evidently not slept, was up and drawing back the bolt on the door, Michael behind him with his pistol ready. The door opened and in blasted Father Stephen, who hastily slammed it behind him, holding it fast with his powerful frame until Fintan got it bolted. ‘Mother of God! The beasts would have had my throat.’ He knelt then and crossed himself before the altar.
Michael had returned to his place at the window. ‘They have been circling two hours, almost since we got here.’
I had come to myself fully now, and struggled to stand up. The old friar seemed to notice me for the first time. A light came into his eyes and was quickly extinguished; his face fell and he walked towards me, uttering some Gaelic prayer. He put his arms out and brought me into his huge embrace and wept, and I knew that for a moment he had thought I was Sean.
The dogs were still barking outside, and there came another loud banging on the door. I had been ordered down beside Andrew, and a blanket hastily thrown over the two of us, but I could still see something of what passed in the doorway. Outside was a man with a torch, more behind him, and baying hounds at the back. ‘In the name of the city of Coleraine, I demand entrance here.’
Fintan raised himself up to his full dignity, and I would not have believed such a roar could come from the old man’s throat. ‘And in the name of God and of the Earl of Antrim, I tell you to remove yourselves and your pack of dogs from this hallowed ground. You trample on the graves of MacDonnell!’
The man took a step back, clearly shaken, then made another attempt to hold his ground. ‘We have reason to believe that you harbour two fugitives from …’
‘Off!’ roared Fintan, and even the dogs jumped back with a yelp. ‘The city of Coleraine has no jurisdiction here. If you doubt it, take it up with MacDonnell himself!’
I heard the horsemen outside, cursing, mount their beasts and call their dogs. I looked at the old priest in a wonder of admiration, then saw that he was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking. Stephen passed him a flask he carried at his hip, and the old man drank gratefully. When he had passed it back he spoke to Michael.
‘Go through my house and take the passage to the castle. Tell them that we need a guard, one man on horseback, with MacDonnell’s standard, at dawn, to take Stephen Mac Cuarta and others to Bonamargy.’
Stephen knelt down by me. He put his hand gently to Andrew’s forehead, which was now cold and clammy. ‘There is one of our order at Bonamargy who has the skills he needs. All will be well with your friend.’
I opened my mouth to speak but he shook his head briefly. ‘And you and I will talk when we leave here. There is much I realise you want to know, but first there are matters I must discuss with Fintan that cannot wait. Take some rest now: you will need it for the days to come.’
It was good counsel, and I tried to take it. I lay down behind Andrew, for warmth for both of us. The beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead were cold to the touch, and his face and hands were like wax. The gashes on his face and temples had been cleaned, but gaped angrily, and I knew they would need to be stitched soon if the wounds were not to become infected. He was murmuring in his sleep, words I could not understand.
The two older priests were close to the altar, at the far end of the church. Stephen had also lighted a candle, and he too prayed for the repose of Sean’s soul – as if the words of man, however earnest, could change the foreordained judgement of God. Through the pre-dawn gloom, in the light of the candles which were steadily burning down, I watched the two men draw their heads together and talk. The words I caught were words I had heard before: Murchadh, Louvain, MacDonnell, Deirdre, Rathlin, Macha, Dun-a-Mallaght. I could make sense of none of it, and was glad when Michael reappeared and told us to make ready, for our escort waited without in the burying ground, and it would soon be dawn.
An extra blanket was brought for Andrew, and Father Fintan laid a crucifix at his neck and tried to press on me another. I held it back out to him; the man had treated us with Christian charity, and we might have perished on the black, wet rock of Dunluce otherwise, but there was a limit beyond which I could not allow myself to go, and I knew in my belief that I spoke for Andrew also. ‘I need none of your superstitious charms, and nor does he. The will of God cannot be changed by the wearing of a trinket.’
Father Stephen looked up from his examination of Andrew’s ankle. ‘It is not the will of God you need to concern yourself with. There are eighteen miles to Ballycastle. We will pass many people on our way. If they are to believe you to be friars of my order you must look like friars of my order. And if you think the crucifix but a trinket, it will cost you nothing to wear it.’
Michael had asked at the castle for a pony and cart also. ‘Your friend is strong built. It is not a burden I would like to carry far.’ Tall and slim, with shiny locks that were almost black covering a high brow, he looked to be of a studious disposition, better suited to the life of the Jesuit than the eternal roamings of the Franciscans, and although he could run like a deer, I doubted in truth whether he could have helped me carry Andrew five miles, still less the eighteen that we had to go. Father Stephen was a different proposition entirely: he might have been nearly forty years older than Michael, but he had the strength and the miles behind him of an old soldier, and I had the impression he could have carried Andrew to Carrickfergus and back if need be.