A Prayer for the Damned sf-17 Read online

‘Eadulf? Brother Eadulf? By Woden’s teeth! Is it you, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham?’

  Memory came to Eadulf. He gave an answering smile.

  ‘Is it you, Berrihert? What are you doing here?’

  The religieux reached forward and seized Eadulf in an embrace. ‘Much has happened since we last raised a mug of ale together, my friend.’ He turned swiftly back to the other religious, who had risen uncertainly. ‘Do you recall my young brothers, Pecanum and Naovan? And yonder sits my father, Ordwulf, who has journeyed here with us. But you would not know him.’

  Eadulf regarded Brother Berrihert in slight bewilderment. ‘I thought you were all in Northumbria. When was it that I last saw you?’

  ‘At the great Council of Witebia.’ The religieux smiled, turning and waving his brothers to come forward. Eadulf greeted them by name, shaking their hands. Only the old man continued to sit stiffly by himself, as if ignoring them.

  ‘A fateful council,’ added the youngest of the three, whose Latin name, Eadulf recalled, indicated someone without fault. It was at the Council of Witebia that King Oswy of Northumbria had decided in favour of the usages and teachings of the Roman Church as opposed to the rites and practices of the Irish who had originally converted the pagan Angles and Saxons to the new faith.

  ‘A fateful council?’ Eadulf repeated. He had been one of those who had supported the ideas from Rome, although these last few years, living in the land of Éireann, he had had second thoughts about that decision. ‘So you disagreed with the ruling of Oswy?’

  Brother Berrihert nodded.

  ‘Is that what brought you here?’

  ‘It is a long story.’

  They had been speaking in Saxon and now Miach came forward.

  ‘Do I presume that you recognise these Saxon brothers, Brother Eadulf?’ he asked in his own language.

  ‘Indeed I do.’ Eadulf frowned. ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘You identify them as. .?’

  ‘Why, this is Brother Berrihert of Northumbria and his two brothers — brothers by blood as well as in the faith — Pecanum and Naovan. I knew them when I was attending the great council at the abbey of Hilda.’

  ‘And the elderly one?’

  ‘I know him not. But Brother Berrihert tells me that it is his father.’

  ‘My father’s name is Ordwulf,’ intervened Berrihert, obviously able to speak the language.

  ‘Is there something wrong?’ Eadulf repeated.

  Miach waved his hand in dismissal. ‘I wanted to be sure as to their identity. They claimed that they knew you so I took the liberty of seeking confirmation. They have come seeking comairce in my territory.’

  ‘Asylum?’

  Miach smiled briefly. ‘They wish to dwell here in the great glen among my people, under my protection. Indeed, even to build their own church here. These have been difficult times. It seems but a short time ago that not far from here we fought the great battle of Cnoc Áine. I think you know well that outsiders must be accountable. I would have you hear their story. Let us move to the fire and refresh ourselves while Brother Berrihert tells it.’

  The young guide took care of their horses, and as they moved forward to the fire Eadulf introduced Caol to the Saxon brothers. Eadulf was then introduced to Ordwulf, although the elderly man seemed unfriendly and uncommunicative, which Eadulf ascribed to his lack of knowledge of the language of Éireann. Berrihert explained that the old man had been a warrior in his youth, a thane of Deira. His sons had brought him with them, as there was no one else in the family to look after him. Once they had seated themselves round the fire and mugs of foaming mead were brought, Berrihert began his story.

  ‘It is true, Brother Eadulf. We do seek permission to settle in this valley.’ He smiled quickly and added, ‘I now speak the language of this land, as do my brothers. Our father’s knowledge is imperfect but I will tell the tale so that Miach, our host, and his men will know it is the same as I have already told them.’

  He paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts before continuing.

  ‘When King Oswy announced that he would follow the teachings of Rome, there was great consternation among the congregations in Northumbria. Abbot Colmán of Lindisfarne, who had been the leading spokesman for those opposing the reforms, could not, in conscience, accept the decision, or remain as chief abbot to the king. It was against all his beliefs and teachings, as it was against those of many of us who had been raised in the ways of those who first brought the word of Christ to our kingdoms. Arguments raged in many abbeys and churches, even to the shedding of blood in the heat of such quarrels.’

  Eadulf nodded slowly. ‘I had heard that Oswy’s decision was not popular among either the religious or the people. I did not realise that it had led to bloodshed.’

  Berrihert grimaced wryly. ‘To say that it was not a popular decision is an understatement, Eadulf. Abbot Colmán said he could no longer preside at Lindisfarne and serve Oswy’s churches. He announced that he would return to his native land so that he could practise his faith in the way in which he had been raised. Many decided to follow him. Colmán asked Oswy to choose a successor at Lindisfarne. The king chose Tuda, who was from the kingdom of Laigin. Although the Blessed Aidan at Lindisfarne had trained him, Tuda espoused the reforms of Rome. When Tuda agreed to succeed him, Colmán withdrew from the kingdom. Many went with him, including some thirty of the faithful community from Lindisfarne.’

  ‘I thought that Eata, the abbot of Melrose, became abbot of Lindisfarne?’ said Eadulf.

  ‘Tuda was dead within the year from the dreadful Yellow Plague and then Eata succeeded him. My brothers and I — indeed, my father and mother also — had joined Colmán. We first travelled north through Rheged and then west to Iona. From Colmcille’s little island community, to which we owe so much, we sailed across the sea to this land. Colmán was from the kingdom of Connacht and he sought the permission of the local prince of the Uí Briúin to settle on Inis Bó Finne, the island of the white cow, to the west. Permission was given and we established our community there.’

  ‘I have heard stories of that community. I was told that it prospered.’

  Brother Berrihert shook his head sadly. ‘For the first year we prospered, and then we received an emissary from Ard Macha.’

  ‘Ard Macha?’ Eadulf was surprised. He knew the abbey was in the northern kingdom of Ulaidh. ‘What did Ard Macha seek in Connacht?’

  ‘The emissary was an abbot who came to demand that Colmán, and our community, recognise Ard Macha as the centre of the Faith among all the kingdoms of this land. He had an arrogance of manner that reminded me of Wilfrid.’

  ‘Wilfrid who was the main advocate of Rome at Witebia?’

  ‘The same. I had known Wilfrid since he was a callow youth sent by Queen Eanflaed to Lindisfarne to be taught religion. Wilfrid was, and is, an ambitious man. He went to Rome and then to Canterbury and, I believe, he expected to become leader of all the churches of the Angles and the Saxons. He was angry when it was not so. Alas, his demeanour was dictatorial and he never allowed that there could be many paths in religion other than the one he advocated.’

  ‘And you observed the same qualities in this abbot from Ard Macha?’

  ‘He and Wilfrid might have been born from the same womb. The abbot, as I said, was an emissary from the abbot and bishop of Ard Macha. Colmán, having rejected the ideas of Rome once, was not averse to rejecting similar demands again. But this man was very cunning and, indeed, had persuasive arts. Once more there arose arguments and dissension among the brethren. Some decided to accept what this envoy from Ard Macha argued. They were led by a brother from the East Saxons named Gerald. There was no dwelling in harmony with him and those who had been persuaded to follow him. Finally, they left our island and went to found a new abbey on the mainland — a place called Maigh Éo. .’

  ‘The plain of yews? I know of it.’

  ‘We, my brothers and I, became increasingly saddened by what was happening. We saw
how this man had destroyed our united community and knew that he would continue to work against those who wanted to follow the original teachings. When he came again to our island, great unrest followed.’ He paused and swallowed, pulling a grim face. ‘In that unrest our mother, elderly like our father, was killed. That was when we decided to leave Colmán and our island community and come south, to somewhere away from the dissension. Somewhere where we can dwell in peace and follow our religion without interference.’

  Caol intervened for the first time. ‘What made you choose this place?’

  Berrihert smiled broadly and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘God led our footsteps here.’

  Miach, who had been patiently following the conversation even though he had heard the story before, was nodding slowly. ‘And you, Eadulf, say that you know these Saxons?’

  ‘That is so, Miach.’

  ‘Then I am willing to allow them sanctuary in this valley, among my people.’

  Brother Berrihert came to his feet and offered his hand to the chief. ‘God will bless you for your generosity, Miach.’

  The chieftain smiled grimly as he took the man’s hand. ‘It is my people who need the blessing, my Saxon friend. As Eadulf here will tell you, we have been at the forefront of raids by the Uí Fidgente, until a few years ago our king Colgú managed to defeat the army that they sent against us on the slopes of Cnoc Aine not far from here. My people have suffered much. But, thanks be to wise counsels, we seem to have emerged from that conflict and we now look forward to a time of peace. So blessings come at an appropriate time. Is it not so, Caol?’

  Caol nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘These Saxon friends of Eadulf have joined us at a most appropriate time,’ he added. ‘In two days, Eadulf and our lady Fidelma, sister to our king Colgú, renew and strengthen their marriage bonds in a great celebration at Cashel.’

  Brother Berrihert turned to Eadulf. ‘We have already heard tales of Fidelma and Eadulf and of their deeds. Was it the same Fidelma whom you helped in uncovering those responsible for the terrible murders at Witebia and averting a great war between the Saxon kingdoms?’

  ‘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.’

  ‘Which is no reply at all. Are you sure Abbot Ultán was the name of this influential abbot from Ard Macha?’

  Eadulf was puzzled by her questions.

  ‘I may be guilty of many faults but my hearing is still good,’ he replied testily. ‘Ultán is such a simple name that I could not mistake it. Why do you ask?’