The Well of Shades (64 page)

“I’m blowing out the candle now,” she said, and did so.

The pale light from outside began slowly to enter the chamber, rendering all dreamlike and strange. Faolan wondered if he would wake tomorrow in his bed
in the men’s quarters and find that this had been another cruel dream.

“Faolan?”

“Mm?”

“Tomorrow might be a bit difficult to get through. Don’t you think? Even suppertime today was awkward.”

“It was. Yes, I agree. It will seem a very long day.”

“I think it might be easiest if we keep busy and see each other as little as possible,” Eile said. “It’s not that I don’t want to see you, and Saraid
will, too, but… well, you know what I mean.”

“Just don’t spend the day with Dovran.” As a joke, it was not his best effort.

“If he’s on duty I can’t avoid seeing him, Faolan.”

“Will you be looking after Derelei again?”

“Probably. He’s not a happy boy these days, and his mother needs time for the baby. I plan to keep him as busy as I can. What about you?”

“I think I’m officially off duty until
this leg mends. I’ll find a job that keeps me out of your way until supper-time. But…”

“Mm,” said Eile. “I’ll miss you.”

“Will you tell me something?”

“What?”

“That story, the house on the hill; is that how it was when you were a little girl of Saraid’s age?”

“That’s how I remember it.”

“Poor Deord,” murmured Faolan.

“Why do you say that?”

“If that’s what he had, and after Breakstone he
came back and he couldn’t be part of it anymore… What a terrible decision, to walk away before he destroyed it.” Deord’s heart would surely have broken. No wonder he had never spoken of his wife and child later, in all the long years at Briar Wood.

“He destroyed it anyway.” Eile’s voice was cold. “Without him it could never be whole again. Who do you think was going to be strong enough to keep
it together? Not my mother. She loved him as if he were the sun and the moon and the stars, and he turned his back on her. Not me. I was only eight years old when he left. I bet Dalach had his eye on me even then.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken of this.”

After a little she said, “It’s all right. It’s part of what we share now, you and me. Good things and bad things. I liked what you said
before, Faolan. When you called me real. Maybe what that means is that I’ve got bad bits as well as good bits. Weaknesses and strengths. It might be why we seem to suit each other. You’re very real. I knew that when you told me my father was dead, even though you so much didn’t want to. I knew it when you didn’t even consider turning me in to the authorities; when you burned my clothes and told
lies for me. I know it tonight because you were jealous, and because you sang a song, and because…” Her voice drifted away.

Faolan had thought he would not sleep. His leg ached, there were little drafts coming in under the door, and his mind and body were stirred by restless anticipation, heightened by the presence of Eile lying there in her nightrobe, almost close enough to touch. But sleep
claimed him quickly and thoroughly, and he awoke to find dawn light streaming in the narrow window, and Saraid sitting up in bed regarding him owlishly. He realized that, as far as he could recall, he had slept the whole night without a single dream.

(from Brother Suibne’s Account)

Our leader being somewhat weary from the miraculous act of healing that God, in His
grace, worked through him, he agreed reluctantly to stay one night in a small settlement on the shore of this long, lonely waterway the Priteni call Serpent Lake. The place had a simple jetty and one or two huts; a little farther up the hill was a more substantial dwelling (in this account, all must be taken as relative) and there we were afforded space to sleep. Colm they lodged in the house; the
rest of us shared the straw with a sow and a clutch of piglets. The forest nearby, our host informed us, provided
generous fruits for porcine browsing. We took his word for it
.

Colm finds it difficult to admit to weakness. God’s flame burns so brightly in him, it drives him on despite his human limitations. At such times as these it seems to me that fire comes close to consuming the man who bears
it. Perhaps that is God’s will. Far be it from me to gainsay the Lord’s intention for His servant. Even after that night, Colm was worn and pale. We persuaded him, after much debate, that we should remain in that place a second night, then set sail for the upper margin of the lake and the king’s stronghold of White Hill
.

The second day, after our morning devotions, we enjoyed the quiet of the
place. The man had taken his pigs into the forest. The day was fair, with a westerly breeze, and three or four small boats were out on the lake fishing with nets. I sat on the jetty with two of my brethren, a peaceful sensation deep within me, a wonderment at the beauty of God’s creation. I thought of King Bridei, whom we would soon encounter. I had met him briefly at the time of his victory over
our people in Dalriada. Earlier, when he first became king of Fortriu, I had known him better and admired him greatly. I wondered how much kingship would have changed him. He had ever been strong in his faith, misguided as its tenets are. Perhaps he would close his gates to us, pack us off back to our home shore
.

A shout from across the water; I and my brethren stared in horror as a strange wave
arose, rocking one of the small boats violently while the others, farther away, remained still. The man on board the affected craft could be seen tugging at his net; his screams were full of terror. I felt my gut clench tight. We saw something swimming around his boat, something so huge we gaped and blinked and muttered prayers, our hands moving in the sign of the cross. “God in heaven,” muttered
Brother Éibhear. “Can it be…” whispered Brother Lomán, who had gone ashen white. “Fetch Colm,” I said, not knowing
what else might be done, for the thing
—
a monstrous snake, a dragon, a serpent
—
had coiled itself around the craft and looked fit to crush it to splinters. The fisherman clung to the mast, mouth stretched wide in terror, but not a sound issued forth now, such was the degree of his fear.
The lake was calm, save for that one spot where the water roiled around the scaly monster. It was an uncanny sight
.

Then Brother Colm was by my side, tall, grave and calm. With his eyes fixed on the dreadful scene before us, he stretched out his arms so that his body was like a cross, and uttered these words: “God’s peace on these waters and on all who ply them. In His name I banish all evil
demons, all mischievous creatures, all devilish whirlpools, waves, and currents from this place. Lord, spare Thy servants from the wrath of monster and serpent. We are obedient to Thy will.”

As we held our breath, the heaving waters subsided and the creature submerged itself once more. One last flip of its tail, iridescent blue-green in the morning light, and it was gone. With that final, defiant
salute, the serpent capsized the boat and the occupant was thrown into the lake
.

He yelled for help. We could see him thrashing about in the water. The ability to swim is rare, even among fishermen, and he was already frightened out of his wits. The other sailors could be seen to begin maneuvering their craft closer; it was clear the man would be drowned before they could reach him
.

Brother
Éibhear stripped off his habit and dived in. I should record here that these waters are particularly cold, even in summer. The lake is chill, dark, and deep year around. I had wondered at the iron amulets I saw around the necks of returning fishermen the previous night; now I understood their purpose. Such superstitions abound among our own people at home. Iron offers protection against what they
see as Otherworldly forces. It had not kept the serpent from this hapless fellow
.

We prayed; the fisherman splashed and flailed and shouted; Brother Éibhear swam
.

“God will not let this poor soul go,” declared Colm. “His net will catch the man and gather him safely home.”

It was so. The net, in the form of our stalwart Éibhear, reached the drowning man just in time and, not without some difficulty,
for the fellow was beside himself with terror, towed him safely to shore. His boat was gone, reduced to a few scraps of timber floating in peaceful waters, but his life was saved by the grace of God and the intervention of His servant Colmcille
.

“That was brave,” I said to Éibhear, who stood shivering on the shore, dripping wet from tonsured head to sandaled feet. “What if the thing had come
back? You saved that man’s life.”

“Not me,” said Éibhear, glancing at Colm. “If I hadn’t known his prayers would keep me safe I’d never have dived in. No serpent has the strength to stand up to him. He’s like a mouthpiece of God Himself.”

As I helped him get dry and dressed while others tended to the half-drowned fisherman, I pondered this. If a great serpent could not prevail against our leader,
I wondered if a heathen king might do so. Tomorrow we head for White Hill, and there, I suppose, I will find out
.

S
UIBNE, MONK OF
D
ERRY

G
ARTH HAD BEEN
looking for him, early as it was. Faolan narrowly avoided being seen coming up a flight of steps close by Eile’s quarters. By the exercise of certain skills he managed to meet his fellow bodyguard in a neutral spot
near the upper courtyard.

“Faolan! Where have you been? The king wants to see you.”

“Now?”

“Now, yes. He’s in the stable yard. I won’t ask where
you spent the night. You’d best go and see him right away. I think there’s a job for you.”

“Thanks. And thanks for not asking.” They had worked together a long time and understood each other well.

“Any time,” said Garth.

In the stable yard Faolan
found the king with Talorgen’s two sons and a pair of saddled horses. Ban was sniffing about, anticipating an outing. Bridei came over to speak with Faolan outside the young men’s earshot. The mission was a surprise: ride out with Uric on some kind of search, take the dog, try to find an unspecified object which the boys seemed to think vitally important. Bedo could not go; he had his arm in a sling.
It was plain from the scowls on both young men’s faces that they resented Bridei’s decision to send his bodyguard with Uric.

“Will you do it?” Bridei asked after his sketchy outline of the job.

“If I can get up on a horse with this leg, then yes.” It was something to do; a useful distraction to get him away from White Hill and out of Eile’s way until tonight.

Bridei frowned. “I didn’t forget
your injury. I wouldn’t have asked this of you if I hadn’t needed your particular skills on the job. Talorgen needs this settled. You’ve heard about the ill-fated hunt by now, I assume, on which a young woman was killed?”

“Garth told me, yes.”

“This is related to that. It was in the same accident that young Bedo broke his arm. The boys have been conducting this search for many days. This is
their last chance; I’ve made that clear. Uric!” He raised his voice. “Faolan has agreed to ride out with you. He’s not a watchdog; I’m sending him to help you. There’s the added advantage that Ban knows him well and will obey his commands. You’re to be back before sunset.”

“Yes, my lord.” Uric’s voice was truculent, but he swung into the saddle with style.

“As for you, Bedo,” the king said,
“I imagine your stepmother will be worrying about you.”

“I’m not a child, my lord king.” The young mouth was set tight, the skin pale in the morning light.

Bridei sighed. “I know that all too well. I see your compulsion to solve this puzzle, believe me; I know your feelings are those of a man. But your father is my friend, and he’s concerned about you. Sometimes it can be best to let go. To
move on.”

Bedo gave a curt nod, turned his back and left. Whatever that signified, it was certainly not agreement.

Faolan managed to mount the spare horse without assistance, though not without cost. His leg was protesting at requirements that had, not long ago, been everyday. When he got back he’d have to get some advice on it. “Well, then,” he said brightly to the stony-faced Uric, “we’d best
be on our way. Where exactly is it we’re going?”