The Leper's Bell

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘You should have spoken more closely with the herbalist Corb,’ said Gormán. ‘He told me that when they passed through Cnoc Loinge on their way here, they told one of the women of Fiachrae’s house about their discovery of the child in the hope of having the baby adopted there.’

  ‘Fiachrae will be tried and punished for his betrayal,’ Eadulf vowed. ‘But it doesn’t help us to find my child now, or the person who killed Sárait.’

  ‘I pray God I will be there when we do find the murderer,’ Gormán said with vehemence. ‘I will do what I have to do and I will have no regrets.’

  ‘Well, I regret that Uaman perished with his foul secret still within him.’

  ‘Uaman must have said something that might lead you further?’ pressed Gormán. He suddenly started forward. ‘Perhaps the baby is still in the Tower of Uaman?’

  Eadulf shook his head. ‘He has given the baby to some shepherd and his wife to raise without knowledge of his origins. The child will be raised herding sheep on some mountainside … but where? I could spend a lifetime searching the mountains of this land. Those raising him know only that Uaman provided them with a child. There will be no way of identifying him. He will bear another name.’

  ‘How did you learn this?’

  ‘From what Uaman told me.’

  ‘I once heard the lady Fidelma say that if you study carefully the exact words that someone says, then clues may be found there.’

  Eadulf stared at the warrior in surprise. The man was right. That was precisely what Fidelma would say.

  ‘Think, Brother,’ urged Gormán quietly. ‘Think of the words.’

  Eadulf closed his eyes and tried to recall what Uaman had said.

  ‘He did not mention any names of places. There were no clues. Just that Alchú would be raised by a shepherd and his wife, herding sheep in the mountains. And…’ He paused.

  ‘Have you thought of something?’

  ‘He said something about the mountains being haunted.’

  Gormán gave a cynical grimace. ‘What mountain in the five kingdoms is not haunted by some wraith or other? Mountains are old and have seen countless great kings rise to lead their people and then be blown away like chaff from the wheat. They have memories, the mountains. They are haunted, right enough.’

  Eadulf was shaking his head. ‘He said the daughter of someone haunted them.’

  Gormán leant forward eagerly. ‘That is more promising, Brother. Whose daughter?’

  The name came in a flash.

  ‘Dáire Donn.’ Eadulf was triumphant. He looked expectantly at Gormán but the warrior only shook his head.

  ‘We will have to make inquiries,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile, we must sleep. In the morning, if I have understood your friend Basil Nestorios, he has a horse and some precious objects that he left in the tower yonder. We will wait until the low tide and then go to fetch these.’

  Eadulf agreed. Then another thought occurred to him.

  ‘We imprisoned one of Uaman’s warriors in the stranger’s cell. He might be a means of leading us to Alchú.’

  Gormán was cheerful. ‘In the morning, while we are awaiting the change of the tides, I can ride up to the little settlement that I saw up in the mountains behind us. They should be pleased to hear that Uaman is no longer chieftain over them. Moreover, they might be able to help identify this Dáire Donn.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Eadulf realised, however, that the rest of the night was going to be cold in spite of the wood that Gormán was throwing on to the fire.

  The night passed in fitful sleep. It was too cold to rest for any long periods and, as each wakened, they helped to keep the fire well fuelled. As well as the cold there were the cries of nocturnal animals, the howl of wolves and the cry of a wild cat to disturb their slumber. Eadulf was almost thankful when the sky began to lighten and grim, grey streaks started to appear from the east.

  ‘Tonight we find an inn,’ he announced, as Gormán set about making breakfast. ‘I will perish if I have to pass another night in the open.’

  Basil Nestorios was already up and stamping his feet to restore some circulation. He seemed to guess what Eadulf was talking about.

  ‘I swear that I never knew it could be so cold,’ he said, reverting to Latin as their common language. ‘In my country, the icy hands of night may clutch you but as soon as the sun rises you will be warm again.’

  Eadulf gestured to the thick grey clouds above them.

  ‘Here we do not always have a sunrise, my friend. The clouds always seem to cheat us by hiding it from us.’

  Gormán had taken some salted slices of pork from his saddle bag and was turning them above the fire on the end of his sword. Basil Nestorios sniffed suspiciously and frowned.

  ‘I have noticed that you eat a lot of pig meat in this land. Pig is regarded as an unclean animal in our country.’

  ‘A strange land, this Jundi-Shapur,’ muttered Eadulf, helping himself to the drinking horn of corma and taking a sip of the fiery liquid before passing it to the physician. At least the alcohol gave him warmth.

  Basil Nestorios sniffed in irritation.

  ‘I told you that Jundi-Shapur was simply a city in the land of Persia. It is also called Genta Shapirta, which means “of the beautiful garden”. It was the king of Persia, Shapur the second of his name, who first allowed the Nestorians to teach medicine in the city.’

  ‘Nestorians? Your own name is Nestorios,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘What is signified by this?’

  Basil Nestorios raised his brows in surprise. ‘You have not heard of the Nestorians and yet you are a brother of the Faith?’

  Eadulf admitted his ignorance.

  ‘Nestorios was a monk of the east. He taught the Faith in Antioch. He was a learned and wise man and was appointed patriarch of the great city of Constantinople.’

  ‘When was this?’ queried Eadulf, who never missed an opportunity to expand his knowledge of the Faith, even when his thoughts were only half engaged.

  ‘About two centuries ago. Nestorios was condemned by what the Church called a heresy. He denied the complete emergence of the divine and human natures in Christ.’

  Eadulf smiled tiredly. ‘I thought that the great council at Chalcedon had agreed that Christ was born of a mortal woman but possessed two natures - that divine and human united in one person without losing any of their properties.’

  Basil Nestorios sniffed as if dismissing the matter.

  ‘That is the dogma of both Rome and Constantinople. They even go further to talk of three divine natures apart from the human one - that God, Christ and the Holy Spirit are one.’

  Eadulf shrugged. ‘Well, the people in this land have no problem with believing in triune gods and goddesses, so they can easily accept a Holy Trinity.’

  Basil Nestorios shook his head sadly. ‘We believe that Christ was only one person who had two natures - one human and one divine.’

  ‘Old arguments,’ countered Eadulf. ‘Didn’t Arms claim that Christ was not fully divine but created by God to accomplish our salvation? And are there not Gnostics who claim that Christ was never human at all, and his human appearance was merely an illusion to enable him to live among men? Then there are those who say that Christ was born a human male and became God’s adopted son only when he was baptised in the Jordan. There are many such arguments.’

  Basil Nestorios was unimpressed.

  ‘Mary could not be the mother of a god because she was of human flesh and thus could not give birth to divinity. However, men, being what they are - frail and human - objected to the logic of what Nestorios said.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘There was a synod at the city of Ephesus when the Bishop Cyril excommunicated Nestorios and his followers. The eastern emperor Theodosius exiled Nestorios and so our church, all those who follow Nestorian teachings, went its own way and flourished. We have taken the word far into the east, beyond the great mountain ranges that guard the strange, exotic lands that shelter b
ehind them. We have spread the teaching through the deserts and Jundi-Shapur is one of our great centres of learning.’

  Eadulf was fascinated. ‘I have never heard of this church from which you take your name.’

  Basil Nestorios made a wry grimace. ‘But, then, dear friend, I did not know that the church in this country was so different from that which follows the rules dictated by Rome. We cannot know everything in the world. But we must keep our minds open and be receptive to what we can know.’

  ‘In that I would agree with you.’

  Gormán had finished preparing the breakfast.

  ‘I did not follow all you said,’ he confessed. ‘My Latin is confined to just a few words. I gather that you were discussing religion.’

  Eadulf smiled. ‘You do not sound enthusiastic’

  Gormán reached for the corma. ‘Religion has its place, Brother Eadulf.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘There is a time for religion. Usually when there is adversity. Is it not an old saying that when there is prosperity, no altar is seen to be smoking? I turn to religion like everyone else - when there is a need for it.’

  Eadulf grimaced in disapproval. ‘A pragmatic approach, I suppose.’

  Gormán looked across the waters to where the tower still stood dark and brooding on the island.

  The torches are smouldering,’ he observed. ‘They have burnt out. The doors are still open. That seems to indicate that there is no one moving inside. When the waters go down, we can go across and retrieve the property of the stranger.’ He motioned to Basil Nestorios.

  ‘Very well. What of the settlement you mentioned last night? If they can supply some information about this Dáire Donn it might help resolve our next course of action.’

  ‘I’ll ride up now while you break camp,’ the young warrior agreed.

  It was some time before he returned, urging his horse forward as if he was being pursued. He came to an abrupt halt before them and almost leapt from his mount.

  ‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf, peering along the track in concern.

  ‘I thought I should return quickly,’ Gormán replied, dismounting. The people are determined to sack and burn Uaman’s tower now that they know he cannot harm them. They are working themselves up with drink and celebration. We need to get across and retrieve whatever it is you need from there before they arrive.’

  Eadulf glanced at Basil Nestorios and swiftly interpreted.

  ‘And also release the guard we imprisoned in my former cell before they reach him,’ Basil Nestorios added. ‘I had almost forgotten him. He can do us no harm now. I would dislike to be the cause of further death. Of more value is my chest of medicines, which I would hate to see fall into the hands of people who do not appreciate its value.’

  Gormán had tethered his horse alongside Eadulf’s.

  ‘Let us go. Uaman ruled this area with an iron fist,’ he said, turning. ‘When I told the people of the settlement that he was dead, they went wild with joy which soon began to turn to anger, so let us move quickly. The tide is low enough now to allow us to cross.’

  ‘Should we take the horses over?’

  ‘It is better to leave them here. We have to bring other animals from the tower. And the sand link may be difficult for them to negotiate. It will take the people from the settlement only a short while to muster and march down here.’

  As they began to walk to the tower across the sand dunes, abandoned by the reluctant sea for a short while, Eadulf could not help thinking of Uaman’s end. He felt a chill as he thought of the leper’s body being dragged down into the soft sands nearby. He shivered involuntarily, and glanced at Gormán, who was leading the way.

  ‘Were you able to mention that business of the ghost to the people of the settlement before they went wild?’

  The big warrior smiled broadly.

  ‘Have no fear, Brother. I made that my first duty. And have had some success.’

  Eadulf’s heart lurched in expectation.

  ‘And?’ he almost snapped.

  ‘They knew of Dáire Donn. He was, according to an ancient story, the King of the World and he landed on this very peninsula with his great army. He was opposed by the High King’s general Fionn Mac Cumhail and they fought a bloody battle at a place called Fionntragha, the white strand, towards the end of the peninsula.’

  ‘How does this help us?’ Eadulf interrupted impatiently.

  ‘Well, Dáire Donn was defeated and he and his army were slain. But he had a daughter who, finding her slaughtered father on the battlefield, went insane and fled in her dementia into the mountains. It is said that it is her ghost that haunts them.’

  ‘Go on,’ urged Eadulf.

  ‘The name of the daughter was Mis.’ Gormán, with a smile, jerked his thumb behind them. ‘The peaks that rise there take their name from the highest of them, which is Sliabh Mis - the mountain of Mis. Your son is in those mountains.’

  Eadulf halted and looked round, his eyes rising to the peaks behind, some, he guessed, as high as a thousand metres.

  ‘Somewhere there, somewhere among those peaks, is Alchú,’ he whispered. ‘But where? How can we find one shepherd in such a country?’

  ‘There seems to be a way,’ Gormán assured him. ‘There is a valley behind us to the north, whose entrance is marked by an old standing stone. We follow the river that courses this valley - it is called the river of the borderland, I think - until we find another menhir inscribed in the ancient ogham, standing by a ford. I am told we will find an old man dwelling nearby, called Ganicca. He is supposed to know the mountains well. We should make inquiries there.’

  Eadulf gave a shout of exuberance. Then he explained to the physician.

  ‘What road will you take when we leave here?’ he asked.

  Basil Nestorios thought for a moment.

  ‘Without poor Brother Tanaide, I have no guide. By your leave, friend, I will remain with you and this tall warrior, and perhaps be of help in your quest for your child. Eventually, I can return eastward with you to this great capital you call Cashel and perhaps see what the future brings.’

  Eadulf clapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘It will be good to have your company.’

  They had reached the doors of the tower now, still standing open, with the bodies of the slain warriors lying where they had fallen. Gormán glanced around.

  ‘I would leave them to the disposal of the villagers, Brother,’ he said, as he saw Eadulf about to make a move to shift them. ‘Let us do what we have come to do first.’

  ‘I will go to the Evil One’s apartment and gather my medicine chest,’ the physician said immediately.

  ‘I will take Gormán and release the warrior we left in your cell. We will meet by the stables - there.’ Eadulf thrust out his hand towards the wooden structure at the side of the courtyard that was obviously a stable. Basil Nestorios agreed and disappeared on his task, while Eadulf led Gormán along the narrow corridor until they came to the wooden door of the cell. He banged on the door.

  ‘Do you hear me in there?’ he cried.

  A muffled voice answered in surprise. ‘I hear you. Let me out.’

  ‘We will do so. But do not try to resist. Your master is dead. Do you understand? Uaman is dead. Your comrades are all slain. Do you wish to escape with your life?’

  There was a silence.

  ‘Do you hear?’

  ‘I hear,’ came the muffled voice.

  ‘The people from the settlement that stands on the mountainside are coming here soon. They mean to destroy this evil place. We will let you out, give you horse, and the rest is up to you. Do you understand?’

  ‘I understand.’

  Eadulf glanced at Gormán, who had drawn his sword and stood ready. Then he threw the bolts back and pushed the door open.

  A moment later, the warrior emerged. He looked drawn and tired, and his weapons were sheathed. Eadulf addressed him sternly.

  ‘Precede us to the stables and do not attemp
t anything, for there is nothing to be gained.’

  ‘You have my word,’ muttered the man.

  They were first to arrive at the stable. There were eight horses in the stalls. Eadulf gestured towards them.

  ‘Take the one which belongs to you and begone before the people arrive.’

  The warrior said no more. He went to an animal, saddled it, and led it into the courtyard. Then he turned hesitantly to Eadulf.

  ‘You have my thanks, Brother.’

  ‘You could give me better thanks if you knew aught of the baby that your master took and how he disposed of him,’ Eadulf said, not expecting to receive any useful information. The Uí Fidgente warrior grimaced.

  ‘I was not with Uaman when that happened. I heard that he had bought some baby from a travelling herbalist and his wife a week or so ago and then took it by himself up into the mountains. He returned a day later without the baby. I did not ask what he had done with it. No one would dare question Uaman. May I go now, Brother?’

  Eadulf waved him away. ‘As you go, remember that your life is spared by the grace of the Eóghanacht, to whom you should owe your thanks and allegiance.’

  The warrior swung up on his horse, raised a hand in acknowledgement and then rode out fast through the gates and across the sand.

  A moment later, Basil Nestorios rejoined them. He carried large saddle bags of a strange design in one of which, Eadulf saw by the hastily fixed straps, was a small wooden chest. The physician grinned.

  ‘I have my belongings.’ He held out his hand to reveal several gold pieces. ‘And I have taken these as payment for my services. Exactly what I am owed. There is plenty more, if you want. But it is cursed gold. I would rather leave it for the people this Evil One has wronged.’