'I waited a little, and the voice called out again, and yet once more. Did these good brothers hear a sound? No, they never did. Here,' the bishop said, 'ask them-they'll tell you.'
'What did you hear?' demanded one of the vassals.
'We did not hear anything at all,' replied the monks.
'And while I was considering what this might mean, a man came out of the wood. He was dressed all in white, and he called me by name. When I hailed our visitor, and pointed him out to the brothers here, they could not see him.'
'We never did see him,' confessed the clerics. 'We neither saw nor heard anything at all.'
The vassals, agog at this wonder, turned in wide-eyed amazement to one another, and I began to smell a rat.
Strange to say, however, I noticed that Murdo had grown very quiet, and now wore a most thoughtful expression on his face.
'This stranger asked me to walk with him, and truth to tell, I did not want to go,' Eirik said. 'But, he said, "Fear nothing, brother. No harm will come to you." So I said, "Who are you, lord?" For I thought it might be an angel speaking to me.'
'Oh, aye,' murmured the vassals, knowingly- as if they were well used to conversing with angels.
Eirik raised his hands for quiet, and continued. 'The stranger looked at me, and said, "I am a friend, and well known to your family." And I did not know what to say to this. "How can this be?" I ask. "I have never seen you before." This brings a smile to my strange visitor's lips. "Brother Eirik," he says to me, for he knows my name, as I say. "Come, I must be about my business."
'He turned and walked a little away from the camp, and bade me to follow. I did, and he said, "The day is coming when the church your father builds will be my home. Tell Murdo to look for me."
'I agree to deliver the message, and ask, "What name shall I give him?" And this is the strangest part of all, for the stranger merely raised his hand in farewell, and replied, "Tell him the Lord of the Promise is well pleased with his servant."
'And then,' Eirik concluded, 'he disappeared into the wood the way he had come.'
The vassals gabbled in astonishment and, when it was certain the bishop had no more to tell them, they went away shaking their heads in awe of this miraculous occurrence.
'I have delivered the message, father,' Eirik said. 'What does it mean?'
'It was yourvision,' Murdo replied sharply. 'You tell me.' With that, he turned on his heel and walked quickly away.
The bishop sent his monks along to the abbey, and I walked with Eirik to the hall. 'That was well done,' I told him when we were alone. 'How did you find out about the White Priest?'
He stopped in midstep and turned to me. 'How did you know he was a priest?' he demanded.
'You must have said it just now.'
'I said nothing about that,' he insisted adamantly, and I felt a sudden tingle raise the hairs on my arms.
'Was he a priest?' I asked.
'You know very well that he was,' Eirik said. 'But I kept that part of my tale back on purpose. You have had it from someone else.'
'And so have you,' I accused. 'I know what you're trying to do. The vassals may be gulled by your talk of visions in the night, but I am not. I doubt Murdo will be taken in by it, either.'
Eirik regarded me with a look of exasperated pity. 'Duncan, Duncan, what are you saying? Do you think I made up a tale? Is that what you think?'
'Of course you did,' I told him. 'It is nothing to me one way or the other, but -' He rolled his eyes and shook his head. 'What? Are you telling me now it was true?'
'In the name of all that is holy, it is the very truth,' he declared. 'It happened just as I told it. Why would I concoct such a tale?'
'To discover the secret -'
The light of understanding broke over my brother just then. 'Murdo and Emlyn's secret-is that what you mean? You believe I made up a story to try to draw them into confession?'
'Yes,' I admitted. 'That is what I thought. And I hope it works, too.'
'Brother,' replied Eirik with a smile, 'you are far more devious than I imagined. I do believe you have the guile of the young Lord Murdo himself about you, and no mistake. But surely as God is my witness,' he vowed earnestly, 'it happened just as I said.'
'Very well,' I allowed, accepting him at his word. 'But will it work, do you think?'
'It might,' replied Eirik, thoughtfully tapping his lower lip with a fingertip. 'We will have to be shrewd about it. Say nothing to either of them. Leave it with me. I think I know a way.'
We parted company then, and he hurried off to the abbey.
'When?' I called after him.
'Soon,' he answered. 'Leave it with me.'
That night at supper, Eirik came to the table, dour-faced and grim of aspect. He said little and stared at his food as if he suspected poison. When anyone spoke to him, all they received was a cheerless nod, or a half-hearted grunt. His doleful humour so permeated the meal that conversation ceased half-way through and people began to speak in furtive whispers so as not to disturb the melancholy cleric.
Murdo, as host of the meal, at first tried to ignore his son's gloomy demeanour. When at last that became impossible, he finally gave in and asked, 'Is it ill you are? You seem to have the weight of the world around your neck.'
Eirik raised his eyes slowly, as if contemplating at the cause of all human misery. 'Take no thought for me, father,' he intoned solemnly. 'The weight I bear is mine alone.'
'Is there nothing we can do for you, my son?' asked Lady Ragna.
'I fear not,' he said with a heavy sigh. 'The vision was given to me, and it sickens inside me ere I discern its meaning. This I will do, though I fear the effort will drive me to madness.'
He rose from the bench and made to depart. 'I am sorry. I should not have come to table tonight. I have spoiled a good meal, and beg your forgiveness, my lord.' He made a bow towards mother. 'My lady. I wish you a good night.'
A glance passed between the lady and lord. Ragna urged her husband with her eyes. 'Wait,' said Murdo, calling Eirik back. 'There may be a remedy for your ills. Come back and sit down. Eat something. I will summon the abbot and we will talk when you are feeling better.'
'My lord,' said Eirik resuming his place once more, 'dare I hope that you know something to help put my mind at rest?'
'Perhaps,' allowed Murdo. 'Perhaps. But this is not the place to discuss it. Eat something, son, recover your appetite if you can, and the abbot will be here shortly.'
Murdo dispatched one of the serving-boys to fetch the abbot, and the meal continued in a more convivial spirit than before. Eirik, I noticed, recovered his appetite wonderfully well. By the time Abbot Emlyn arrived, my brother was well into his third barley loaf and second bowl of stew.
The ample abbot settled at the board, declining an offering of meat, but accepting a bowl of brown ale. The other guests, eager to learn the outcome of the curious affair, fell silent and all eyes turned towards the head of the table.
'Good abb,' began Murdo, somewhat uncomfortably, 'it seems our bishop has been suffering for the sake of his extraordinary vision.'
'Indeed?' replied Emlyn, turning sympathetic eyes on the young churchman. 'I would that you had come to me, my friend. What is the matter?'
Eirik explained briefly, whereupon Emlyn turned to Murdo. 'If this is not a sign from our Lord and Saviour, I do not know what it can be.'
'It was my thought, too,' replied Murdo. He stood and called to the serving-boy. 'Bring a jar of ale to my treasure room.' Turning to his other guests, 'I beg you forgive our absence, friends. This matter is best discussed in private. Please, linger as long as you like. My lady wife will see the jars remain filled.'
With that the three of them rose from the board and started from the hall. Those left at table were suddenly stricken with the knowledge that they were to be left out of the discussion and never discover the mystery's resolution. I include myself in that number, for I was not invited to share their private deliberations. I watched them walk away
, and felt a mighty disappointment pinch me hard.
The meal ended and the guests drifted away. I sat for a time with my mother, glumly watching the fire on the hearth, and feeling as forlorn as a hound banished from my master's side. Haldi, the serving-boy, appeared after awhile with the jars of ale. Ragna called to him as he moved towards the door at the far end of the hall.
'Bring the tray to me, Haldi,' she said. He came and lay the tray on the table. She dismissed him, saying, 'They will be some time at their talk, I think. Help cook in the kitchen and then you can go to bed. I will see to the lord's ale.'
Haldi thanked her and ran off, glad at the prospect of finishing his chores early. Rising then, my mother, yawned and said, 'I have grown tired myself, and believe I will go to bed. Perhaps you would not mind undertaking this duty, Duncan.'
'By all means, my lady,' I replied. 'I am only too happy to oblige.'
She kissed me on the cheek and I bade her good night. Then, so as not to waste another moment, I snatched up the tray and hastened off to the treasure room where the mystery of Eirik's vision was being revealed.
SIX
The treasure room is a small chamber in the centre of the house, with no windows and but a single low door. Its walls are good solid stone and very thick. It was, I believe, the first part of the house to be constructed, and all the rest-the sleeping rooms, stores, workrooms, kitchen and hall – was built around it. Many an Eastern potentate has such a room, I have learned, but few noblemen in the north. The reason is that such wealth as men possess in the wild northlands resides in the land itself-the fields, cattle, grazing land, and the like.
Murdo owns wealth like this in abundance, to be sure. But he also possesses a treasure that would make many a king grow heartsick with envy if the full extent of it were ever known. Murdo has ever been circumspect about his treasure; he never speaks of it, and seldom even visits the room wherein it is housed. Once, as a boy of six or seven summers, I sneaked the great iron key from its hiding place and waited until everyone was about some other chore, and then let myself in to see what I might find.
The room itself was, even to my childish eye, small and low. There was a table in the centre of the room with one chair, and a candletree with half-burnt candles. There were four large oaken chests-one on each wall-and each chest was bound in broad iron bands which were likewise locked. I had no keys for any of the locks, but the discovery of those chests proved almost as exciting as an entire silver hoard. I put my eye to the centre lock of the largest chest and beheld the dusky glimmer of gold within.
Footsteps outside the door prevented me from carrying out similar examinations of the three remaining chests. But that solitary glimpse was enough to fuel my fevered imaginings for many days afterwards.
Ah, but the truth, Gait, is more marvellous by far. One day, you will see for yourself.
That night, however, the treasure was far from my thoughts. I entered the low, candlelit room with the jars of ale, and before anyone remarked on my presence began filling the bowls-as if this were my usual chore. I filled Emlyn's first, then moved on to Eirik's and lastly to Murdo's cup. He thanked me, and then recollected himself and asked what had become of Haldi?
I replied that the lady had sent him to help the cook, and asked me to serve in his stead. 'Since you are here,' Eirik said, 'y°u might as well stay and hear this.'
The suggestion sat ill with my lord, I could tell. He was on the point of refusing when Abbot Emlyn spoke up. 'Yes, let Duncan stay.'
'Do you think it wise?' asked Murdo doubtfully.
'He must know the truth,' the abbot declared, 'if he is to serve it. Yes, let him stay.'
His words sent a thrill of excitement through me. Was there more to this than I guessed?
Murdo held his frown for a moment longer, and we all waited for him to make up his mind. 'Very well,' he relented at last. 'So be it.' He directed me to close the door and sit down.
I did as he asked and settled atop the great oak chest I had tried to peek into years before. 'We have been speaking of your brother's vision,' my father told me. 'What I am about to say is known only to three other people in all the world. Emlyn, my old friend, is one of them. Your mother is the other.'
He paused then, as if uncertain how to continue. 'Speak it out,' Emlyn exhorted gently. 'It is for the best, I do believe.'
Murdo nodded. Turning to Eirik, he said, 'A long time ago, when I was a young man-little more than a boy-I, too, saw the White Priest…'
This surprised me.
'Twice,' he added. 'Once in Antioch, and once in Jerusalem. He appeared to me and asked me to build him a kingdom.' Murdo paused, remembering, and added with a wave of his hand to signify not only the house and caer, but the lands and fields of the settlement beyond. 'This I have tried my best to do.'
'The promise,' said Eirik. 'He said the Lord of the Promise was pleased. He has found favour with your efforts, my lord.'
Murdo nodded thoughtfully. 'Many things happened in the Holy Land, and most of them are best forgotten. Though I have remained true to the vow I made, I had lately begun to think I would not live to see it fulfilled. Indeed, I had not thought to hear from him again.'
'Until today,' said Eirik.
'Until today,' confirmed Murdo.
'Forgive me, lord,' I said. 'But who is this White Priest? Is he a phantom?'
'Perhaps,' replied my father. 'He might be an angel. I cannot say. He told me his name was Andrew, and he appeared in the form of a monk – at least, he looked like one to me.' He paused, remembering, then added, 'Indeed, although I did not know it, I believe he guided me through all that followed-every step of the way from that day to this.'
Murdo went on to explain how he had been deep in the catacombs of the monastery of the Church of Saint Mary outside the walls of Jerusalem when he had his second encounter with the White Priest. 'I was alone for just a moment, waiting for the others to return, and he appeared to me,' Murdo explained, his voice taking on a softer edge as his mind took him back through the years to that portentous meeting.
'We talked, and he asked me to serve him. I asked what he wanted me to do, and he said he wanted me to build him a kingdom where his sheep could safely graze. He said: "Make it far, far away from the ambitions of small-souled men and their ceaseless striving. Make it a kingdom where the True Path can be followed in peace and the Holy Light can shine as a beacon flame in the night." You see,' said Murdo with a slightly embarrassed smile, 'I have remembered every word of it all these years.'
'Was that the first time you heard of the True Path?' I asked.
'Not at all,' replied Murdo, surprised at the question. 'It was Emlyn here who told me. Ronan and Fionn-you remember them; you and Eirik met them once or twice when you were boys-also instructed me. Although, at the time I took little of what they said to heart. I hated priests-and with good reason-as many will tell you.'
'Then this is even more remarkable than I knew,' said Eirik.
'How so?' asked Emlyn. The Cele De have always been the Guardians of the True Path and Keepers of the Holy Light.'
'And so I truly believe,' replied my brother adamantly. 'But today a man appeared to me in a vision, and told me that he was coming here to live. Why does everyone seem to know about the White Priest but me?'
'I have never spoken of it before now,' said Murdo. 'Nor has Emlyn. Who else could possibly know?'
Eirik put out his hand towards me. 'Duncan knows,' he said, and told them about our conversation earlier that day.
'Is this true, Duncan?' Murdo asked, and I confessed that it was. 'How did you come by this knowledge?'
Torf-Einar told me before he died,' I answered, and related what he had said about the sacred relics and their mysterious guardian. Torf said the White Priest appeared to the pilgrims in Antioch and told them to dig in the church to find the lance of the crucifixion.' Spreading my hands in a profession of innocence, I added, 'I had no way of knowing it was part of any secret.'
Abbot E
mlyn had grown very quiet and thoughtful. He regarded Murdo with a look of kindly reproach. My father, becoming increasingly agitated, finally burst out, 'Very well!' Thrusting a hand at the abbot, he said, 'If it will put an end to your pestering, I will tell them everything.'
So saying, he moved to one of the chests, and I thought he meant to unlock it. Instead, he slid one of the iron bands to one side, and withdrew a long rod, with a flattened hook at one end. My curiosity increased as he walked to the centre of the chamber and selected a flagstone on the floor. Slipping the hooked end of the rod into the crack between the stones, he quickly prised it up and lifted it away.
Kneeling down, he reached into a stone-lined cavity and pulled out a long, thin bundle bound in leather which he brought to the table, and began unwrapping. Eirik and I gathered close to see what it could be, and Emlyn stepped to the table, standing with his hands clasped, a look of rapture on his round face.
Beneath the leather was a layer of fine linen, and beneath that, another. My heart beat fast as the last wrap was pulled away to reveal… a length of old, pitted iron, crooked with age and ruddy-tinted with rust. From the way both Murdo and Emlyn reverenced the object, I could see that it was a very valuable -nay, sacred-thing; but for the life of me I could not imagine what made it so. I beheld the slender rod and my heart sank. This? This is the great secret they had protected these many years?
Eirik, on the other hand, appeared dumbstruck. He gave out a gasp and went down on his knees, raising his hands and closing his eyes. He then lowered his face to the floor and lay there in an attitude of prayer. For his part, Murdo merely gazed on the object in silent wonder.
'What is it?' I asked at last.
My father glanced at Emlyn. The abbot stretched out his hand and held it flat above the thing, and said, 'Behold! The Iron Lance.'
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