Peter Tremayne - The Leper's bell

The old man gave another wheezy chuckle.

‘To the illiterate, a man who can write his name is the king of literature,’ he responded. ‘Come, my friends, be seated before my fire, for it grows cold outside. Have you given thought to where you will stay this night? You will not be able to travel further among the mountains in the dark.’

‘We meant to find some inn or hostel. Is there one close by?’

Ganicca shook his head. ‘We are an isolated community and we have no call to keep a hostel for travellers, for no one comes through these mountains, at least not while our current lord is master of the passes.’

A grim smile played on Eadulf’s lips. ‘You mean Uaman?’

The old man blinked rapidly. ‘It is a name which is not to be mentioned lightly.’

‘Have no fear. Uaman the Leper perished last night. His stronghold was in flames when we left it this morning. Uaman will no longer haunt the passes of these mountains.’

The old man stared at him long and hard.

‘I believe you speak the truth, Eadulf, husband of Fidelma. It is a story that I did not think to hear before I passed on to the Otherworld. You must spend this evening in the telling of it. There is a small stable by the house where you may tether your horses and there is barley and hay to feed them. I have a stew simmering upon the fire and you may make yourselves comfortable in my home this night. It is poor, but it is warm, and better than sleeping in the chill air of the mountains.’

Gormán went off to attend to their animals while Eadulf discussed with the old man the real nature of his business.

‘I knew that you did not come seeking me out to tell me of Uaman the Leper’s death,’ chuckled Ganicca.

‘Uaman has done Fidelma and me a most grievous wrong and it might be that you are the means to resolve it.’

After Eadulf had explained, Ganicca rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

‘We are at the centre of a pass through the mountains,’ he said. ‘It is an isolated spot, but mountain folk come to it now and then, when the itinerant priest visits to conduct marriages and bless the progeny of those unions and conduct our lamentations over the dead. No regular priest would dare stay here while Uaman was lord of the passes. Therefore I know a lot of what goes on even in the places where not many dare tread, high up in the dark peaks above us.’

‘So is there a shepherd in this vicinity?’

Ganicca laughed, though with little humour in his tone.

‘My friend, there are a dozen shepherds in this area alone.’ He saw Eadulf ’s disappointment and reached forward, touching him lightly on the arm. ‘But do not be disheartened. Most of them are wedded with children. A few live on their own, isolated and solitary. However, there is one couple who have been wedded for a time and yet remain childless. The wife had a stillborn child less than one moon ago. She was distraught, and I heard that she and her husband would barter their souls to resurrect that child. It might be that you would do well to visit this couple. Uaman could well have chosen them, for in their desperation they might not ask too closely where the child had come from.’

Again Eadulf felt a surge of excitement

‘How may we find this shepherd and his wife?’ he asked.

‘In the morning, follow the river further up the valley to the end where it comes down from the mountains. To your north on the hill there are a number of ancient graves, so old that no one can recall who built them; to the south the mountains climb to a great height. Continue due east over the hills. There is a pass that will take you to another valley beyond. It is criss-crossed with rivulets and streams and a large river called An Fhionnglaise. Keeping due east, you will find two dwellings on a rise. The place is called Gabhlán. At Gabhlán you will ask for Nessán, the shepherd, and his wife Muirgen.’

‘And if the baby is not there?’ queried Eadulf, ever the pessimist.

Then, my friend, all you have heard of my knowledge can be set at naught,’ replied the old man. ‘Now, tell me … tell me all in detail… how did Uaman the Leper come by his end? This is a story that will be told and retold through the mountains here long after the child you seek has had children and they have had children.’

The evening passed pleasantly enough in storytelling, and at dawn the little company rode onwards up the mountain valley.

Had the road been straight, then the distance to their destination would have been no more than four miles. But the track twisted even as the river twisted and then there was the climb over the shoulders of the mountains, twisting again, turning and dipping. It was just before midday when they came to the rising hill in the valley of streams, exactly as Ganicca had directed. On the slope before them, they could see a group of buildings. Two huts appeared to be the main dwellings, which were separated by several outhouses and a sheep pen. Eadulf led Gormán and Basil Nestorios along the track towards them. Dogs started barking at their approach.

A large man came out of one of the huts. A man from the other dwelling quickly joined him. As Eadulf and his companions drew nearer, they stood watching them. One of them, the large man, held a crook in his left hand which proclaimed his occupation as a shepherd, although he seemed to carry it as if it were a defensive weapon. The three riders halted and dismounted. The shepherd’s keen eyes examined first Eadulf, then Nestorios, and finally Gormán.

‘What do you seek here, strangers?’

‘Is this place called Gabhlán?’ asked Eadulf.

‘It is.’

‘Then we are looking for Nessán.’

The shepherd frowned and glanced quickly at his neighbour.

‘How do you know my name? What do you want with me?’

Eadulf smiled grimly. He decided to try the direct approach.

‘Uaman the Leper is dead. We have come for the child.’

There was a silence, and then there was a feminine gasp. A moment later a woman of middle years emerged from Nessán’s hut. It was obvious from the body language between them that she was his wife. She came to grasp his arm as if for support.

‘Do you tell us truly?’ she whispered. ‘Is the leper dead?’

The second man, at a further glance from Nessán, had reluctantly returned to his own business.

‘I speak the truth,’ Eadulf confirmed solemnly. ‘My companions here will testify to that.’

The shepherd’s wife gave a long sigh. Her shoulders seemed to drop in resignation.

‘I am Muirgen. All this week, I knew that this day would come, though I selfishly prayed it would come later rather than sooner. But I have known it would come from the moment my man came back from the hill to say that Uaman had given us this child.’

Nessán placed a protective arm round her. ‘Have a care, woman. These strangers could be anyone, even servants of Uaman, testing our loyalty. My neighbour is within call, so be warned, strangers. His dogs are fierce.’

Eadulf smiled sorrowfully. ‘You have a right to be suspicious, my friend. I assure you that we are not any servants of Uaman and he is truly dead.’

Muirgen examined him with a deep, penetrating gaze. ‘In your eyes,’ she said suddenly, ‘I see the eyes of the child reflected back at me.’ She turned to the others and nodded slowly. ‘They do not have the faces of those who would consort with the leper. Even the one who has the look of a stranger to this land has something kindly in his eyes.’

‘You are perceptive, Muirgen,’ Eadulf said. ‘I am Eadulf. I am he whose child has been stolen by Uaman.’

Muirgen moved close to him and peered again into his eyes.

‘I knew that Uaman must have stolen the child from somewhere. I have looked after him well; looked after him as if he were my own. He thrives, I promise you that, Brother.’