Eadulf hesitated a moment, then left the shore and started to hunt through the trees and bushes until he found what he was looking for. A low branch of a yew tree had been snapped off. He took out his knife and began to strip the bough of its excess growth and twigs until he had a passable staff of six feet in length. Then he returned to the sandy crossing and stepped gingerly forward. The sand sank a little under his feet and water ran from where it was compacted but his foot only went in to a depth of the first joint of his little finger. The sand seemed firm enough. Ever cautious, however, Eadulf thrust the staff in front of him before each forward step.
It was some time before he had traversed the sand link to the island, and when he looked back he was somewhat reassured by the line of his footsteps stretching away behind him. It would be easier on the return trip, he told himself.
He made his way up some stone-flagged steps to the grassy knoll of the island and across to the forbidding grey stone wall surrounding the round tower. It was deceptively large, as big as many abbeys he had seen. There was no sign of life. Great wooden double doors rose to a height of ten feet but stood shut, the thick oak reinforced by iron. A series of windows was placed round the stone walls at a height just above that of the gates. They appeared to ring the structure.
Eadulf stood for a moment examining the building. There seemed to be no bell for visitors to ring such as usually hung outside an abbey. He walked across to the doors and was about to raise his makeshift staff to bang on them to announce his presence when they suddenly swung inwards. Just inside stood a man draped from poll to toe in grey robes, a cowl hiding his head and features.
‘Welcome, Brother. Welcome to the Tower of Uaman.’ He spoke in a high-pitched, almost sing-song voice.
Eadulf started at the unexpected apparition. The movement was not lost on the grey-robed figure. A thin chuckle issued from behind the robes.
‘Do not be surprised, Brother. I have watched your approach from the shore yonder. I have noticed that you have been cautious in your progress across the dunes.’
‘I was told that the crossing was treacherous.’
‘Yet you have chanced the perils of the sea and sands. There must be some great purpose in your coming here.’
‘I have come to see Uaman … Uaman who is chieftain of this place.’
The figure raised an unusually white hand, almost claw-like in its skeletal structure, and beckoned him to enter.
‘I am Uaman, lord of the passes of Sliabh Mis,’ came the voice. ‘Welcome to my fortress. Come freely in, and may your stay be as pleasing to you as it will doubtless be to me.’
Eadulf hesitated but a moment, trying to rid himself of the fears that rose again in his mind. Then he entered between the heavy oak gates. He was aware of the great wooden structures swinging shut behind him and he glanced round. They seemed to be closing of themselves and then he realised that the mechanism must be in the thick walls. Iron bolts had appeared from apertures in the stone and snaked directly across to secure the doors in place.
Uaman gave his thin mirthless chuckle as he saw Eadulf start nervously.
There are many beyond my walls who wish me harm, my friend.’ He paused. ‘You bear the tonsure of Rome, not of the brethren of the Church of the Five Kingdoms. What name is given to you?’
‘I am Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’
There was a silence. Eadulf knew the name meant something to the bent figure. A long, low hiss of breath came from the folds of the cowl and Eadulf had a feeling that cold eyes were staring at him.
‘Eadulf!’ The voice was suddenly soft and almost threatening in its sibilance. ‘Of course. Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. You are husband to an Eóghanacht of Cashel.’
‘I come here with peaceful intent,’ Eadulf explained hurriedly. ‘I am not interested in your quarrels with Colgú of Cashel.’
‘If you come with peaceful intent, Brother Eadulf, then you are received with peaceful intent. Yet you seem, by implication, to know that I am of the Uí Fidgente. What do you seek from me?’
‘I have come west on a quest in which I think you are unwittingly involved.’
The figure chuckled again. ‘Unwittingly involved?’ he said, as if this was some matter of amusement. ‘Now that is an interesting phrase. Then, Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, come to my chamber where we will talk of this quest and its purpose.’
Eadulf made to move forward towards the figure but the white skeleton hand suddenly drew a small bell out of the folds of the robe and shook it with a warning note.
‘Salach! Salach! Unclean!’ came the high-pitched voice. Eadulf halted abruptly. ‘A little distance, if you please, Brother Saxon.’ Uaman’s voice was more controlled now. ‘I suffer the affliction which decays and putrefies the flesh.’
‘A leper?’ gasped Eadulf. Until this moment he had not fully appreciated the enormity of the curse under which Uaman suffered.
The bent figure gave his spine-tingling laugh. Then the leper hobbled forward and Eadulf noticed that he was dragging one foot as if it were useless. Uaman entered a tiny doorway in the wall and climbed a stone-flagged stairway which rose to another level which, Eadulf judged, was at the height of the windows he had seen. The stairway gave on to a walkway that was, indeed, on a level with the windows. Eadulf suddenly realised that there were several dark-clad warriors lurking in the shadows by the windows, obviously keeping a watch. He glimpsed ugly and scarred faces, one man lacking an eye.
The leper began to lead him confidently round the walkway, following the great walls.
‘Do not bother to count the windows, Brother Saxon. There are twenty-seven, that I might look out on the star clusters from which knowledge and power are gained.’
Eadulf frowned. He recalled that this was some pagan doctrine and wasn’t sure what it implied.
‘Are you not of the Faith?’ he queried.
The leper chuckled. ‘Is there only one Faith then, my friend? Faith in the singular means that we must disbelieve all other faiths.’
‘Faith is Truth,’ countered Eadulf.
‘Ah, when reality and hope are dead, then Faith is born. Believe in all things, Brother Saxon, and you will not be disappointed.’
Uaman halted before a door and opened it, beckoning Eadulf to follow him through a corridor into an inner chamber. It was a well-appointed apartment, the walls lined with polished red yew and hung with tapestries of sumptuous colours. The leper pointed to a couch.
‘Be seated, Brother Saxon, and tell me the purpose of your coming hither. What is this quest of which you speak?’
Uaman seated himself across the room by the open hearth in which logs glowed hotly. He kept his cowl on and Eadulf could not discern his features. All he was aware of was the dead white flesh of the single claw-like hand that remained uncovered.
‘I have come in search of my child, Uaman. I am here in search of Alchú.’
‘Why do you think I can help in that matter?’
Eadulf leant forward. ‘The baby was left at Cashel in the charge of a nurse named Sárait. She was murdered. She, or some other, had left the baby by itself and a wandering herbalist and his wife found the child and thought it was abandoned. They took it and brought it with them to this country where you fell in with them. And you paid them money for it. I accept that you could not know the identity of the child and your desire was simply to help it. Where is Alchú? I will recompense you for what you paid the herbalist but I must take the infant back to Cashel.’