‘It was the same Fidelma,’ replied Eadulf solemnly, but not without pride in his voice.
Brother Berrihert clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Then we must come along to this ceremony, if we are allowed, to bless this great occasion.’
Eadulf shrugged. ‘I see no reason why you should not attend. Are you truly going to settle in the glen and build a church?’
Brother Berrihert was serious. ‘That is truly our intention, Eadulf. What better place than this lovely oak-strewn valley, its tranquil passes and great salmon river? This is where our footsteps have been guided in our search for solitude. And now that we have the approval of Miach, we may look forward to a future without conflict. Without the constant meum et tuum of petty squabbles among the churchmen.’
‘The what?’ frowned Miach, who was no Latin speaker.
‘Mine and thine,’ interpreted Eadulf automatically. ‘I wish you well in this endeavour, Berrihert. But do not think that conflicts over the Faith do not intrude in this part of the world. There are as many arguments here as anywhere. Perhaps scripture has foretold it? Et ponam redemptionem inter populum meum, et inter populum tuum. .’
‘And I shall put a division between my people and your people,’ translated Brother Berrihert. He gestured to the woods around him. ‘This will be our fortress of peace. Anyone who does not respect the views of another will be told that their disruptive influence is unwelcome here.’
‘It is a good objective to aim for,’ Miach agreed. ‘You will be twice welcomed for maintaining that philosophy.’ He stood up and held out his hand to Eadulf. ‘I am sorry that you had such a long ride here, but I had to be sure that you knew these compatriots of yours. I thank you, Brother Eadulf. I give them these dwellings and this land to start their community. And now I must return to my rath.’
He bid them farewell, and then he and his warriors departed.
Caol was glancing up at the sky through the canopy of branches.
‘If we left now, Brother Eadulf,’ he said, ‘we could be back just after dusk.’
‘There is much I would like to discuss with you all,’ Eadulf said reluctantly, encompassing Berrihert and his brothers with his glance. ‘It is a long time since I was in my homeland, and even longer since you were. It would be good to talk and reflect on the changes that have come upon us.’
Brother Berrihert smiled his agreement. ‘You have much to do in these coming days, Eadulf. But, God willing, we shall come to Cashel to mark your momentous day. Thereafter, you will always find us in this place.’
Caol fetched the horses and Eadulf shook hands with them all, including Ordwulf. The old man still seemed distant, and had taken no part in the conversation. He seemed to be dwelling in his own inner world.
‘I am glad that I have been able to put Miach’s mind at rest,’ Eadulf assured Berrihert, at parting. ‘And good to see countrymen of mine dwelling here. I pray things will work out for you all.’
‘At least, from what I hear of this kingdom, you will not get an envoy from Ard Macha coming to demand your allegiance.’
‘You might be right.’ Eadulf laughed. ‘Who was this abbot from Ard Macha who put you so out of sorts, Berrihert?’
‘I remember his name well — he reminded me so much of Wilfrid and his arrogance. His name was Ultán. Abbot Ultán of Cill Ria.’
It was well after dark when Eadulf and Caol returned to Cashel, but night came early at this time of year. It had not been long after they had crossed the great swirling river Siúr, the ‘sister’ river, at the Ford of the Ass, that the dark clouds had begun to roll more menacingly and the rumble of distant thunder was heard. Then the deluge began. Both riders were soaked within moments.
‘Do you want to seek shelter, Brother Eadulf?’ yelled Caol, leaning across as he held his shying mount on a tight reign.
Eadulf shook his head. ‘What point in that when we are drenched already? Let us press on. It is not far to Cashel.’
At that moment a bright bolt of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the great plain before them, and in the distance they saw the spectacular mound of limestone on whose precipitous crown rose the fortress of the Eóghanacht kings of Muman. It was a natural stronghold, dominating the countryside in all directions.
Crouching low on their horses, they headed through the blustery, whipping rain, ignoring now the flashes of white lightning that every so often lit the countryside before the accompanying crash of thunder. It was not long, though it seemed an eternity to Eadulf, before they entered the township that had grown up at the foot of the limestone rock and passed through its almost deserted square, barely lit with a few dim swinging lanterns. The pleasant pungent odour of turf fires came to Eadulf’s nostrils and he sighed in anticipation of a warm fire, a goblet of wine and even a hot bath. The Irish had their main wash, a full body wash, before their evening meal. It was a habit that Eadulf could never get used to — this daily ritual of washing, called fothrucud, in a large tub or vat called a dabach. Every hostel and guest house had to be provided with a bath house for visitors by law. In his native land, Eadulf reflected, a quick plunge in a river — and that not very often — was considered to discharge one’s duty to cleanliness.
A sharp challenge brought his mind back from his reverie to the present. A watchful warrior emerged from a corner of the square and Caol responded. The man disappeared again.
They moved up the track from the town, winding their way up to the top of the rocky prominence where the great man-made stone walls merged with the limestone rock to form impregnable fortifications. The tall wooden gates were closed, but at a shout from Caol they swung open and the riders passed inside where the gilla scuir, stable lads, came running forward to help them down and take charge of their horses. Eadulf exchanged a brief word with Caol, and then he departed for the chambers that he shared with Fidelma.
Muirgen, their nurse, opened the door and surveyed his sodden form with disapproval.
‘You need to be out of those rags, Brother Eadulf, before you catch a chill. I will get my man to prepare a bath.’
She had barely finished speaking when Fidelma came forward and smiled ruefully at his bedraggled appearance.
‘Muirgen is right. Get out of those clothes immediately while she prepares a bath.’
Muirgen had hurried off to find her husband, Nessán, who for some months now had been devoted to the charge of taking care of them and their little boy, Alchú. Eadulf shuffled to the blazing fire while Fidelma went in search of a towel and a woollen cloak. Within a short time, Eadulf was seated by the fire wrapped in the cloak and sipping mulled wine, explaining to Fidelma the nature of the business that Miach of the Uí Cuileann had summoned him for.
Fidelma listened more or less in silence, only asking a question here and there for clarification’s sake. When he had finished, Eadulf noticed that her face wore a thoughtful expression.
‘You seem pensive,’ he ventured.
‘It just seems strange that these Saxons have arrived here at this particular time.’
‘Strange? In what way?’
‘They said that they had come south because of the problems in Abbot Colmán’s community on Inis Bó Finne. That this abbot from Ard Macha had created dissension among them, causing some of the community to break away and start a new community on Maigh Eo, the plain of the yew?’
‘That is so.’
‘Did they tell you what made them come here, to the glen of Eatharlaí of all places, and at this time?’
Eadulf shook his head. ‘To be truthful, I think Caol asked the question.’
‘And their reply?’
‘Only that God had guided their footsteps here.’