James White - The First Protector

She bobbed her head, smiled, and without further hesitation began, "My name is Maeve, a spinster, the youngest and least comely of four sisters, two of whom are wedded, and their husbands and the children to come will share in my father's farm, which is not large enough for all of us…"

It was a common situation and a continuing tragedy throughout the land, Declan knew, that a family's unsupported young had to find their own livelihoods elsewhere than on the homelands they had known. But it became clear, as Ma'el drew out the words from her and gave his gentle reassurances in return, that this was an uncommon young woman who had a great warmth of feeling and a bright and lively mind that contained no sorrow for herself.

"… He is older by a few years than I," she was saying, having moved the subject of conversation to her perhaps not so young man. "He is a seafarer, tall and strong but…"

'That is a profession," Ma'el broke in gently, "fraught with many dangers. And temptations. Would not another young man who remains closer to home be a better choice for your future life?"

"No!" said the other with quiet but respectful vehemence. "He will remain true to me, as I will to him, for as long as we shall live."

Ma'el made no reply and she went on, "He is not well-favored in his face, and in manner he is uncouth and even harsh to those around him when his master bids it so. But to me he has always shown gentleness and consideration, even when we are…"

She stopped speaking as Ma'el raised his hand, then opened and closed it several times as if to relieve a stiffness of age in his fingers before returning it to rest on the bench top. He said, "Please continue."

Declan felt Sean's hand lightly gripping his upper arm. "That was Ma'el's signal for us to move away," said the boy, "and a sign that matters of a personal and intimate nature may be discussed. Perhaps the young woman's deepest and most private feelings will be revealed, and matters which he thinks are no concern of ours."

"I think he is right," said Declan, with feeling. They walked away slowly until their distance from the stall had more than doubled. Their movements were seemingly aimless but they were always able to keep the wagon in sight. They walked together slowly for what seemed to be a very long time before Ma'el gave another hand signal which, Sean informed him, meant that they should return.

The woman was about to leave by the time they were close enough to see the smile that was on her face and in her eyes, and to hear her words of profuse thanks. She drew a small purse from under her shawl and emptied the few coins it contained onto the bench in front of Ma'el. The old man gathered them up, returned all of them to the purse, then gave it back to her.

"Go," he said gently, "and may good fortune attend both of you."

When she had gone, Sean said, "Master, you spoke with her for a very long time and made no charge whatsoever for your services. With respect, this is not the way to gain a comfortable livelihood."

"Fear not, child," Ma'el replied, "I shall not make it a habit. In truth, I should have paid that young woman for the valuable knowledge she imparted on many subjects of interest to me, but doing that would have given rise to much talk and general speculation about the health of my mind, so all I gave her was the best advice that I could give.

"Besides," he went on, in a voice that made it difficult for Declan to decide whether or not the old man was being serious, "a few coins are of little matter to me. You are forgetting the hoard of gold and silver that I am reputed to keep hidden in my wagon."

Sean made an irritated but respectful sound and said, "It grows dark. Shall I light the cooking fire?"

Ma'el shook his head. "No, child," he said. 'Tonight we eat, and perhaps drink a little, with a roof over our heads before returning here to sleep. Both of you will dress in your new apparel so that all who meet us will think that your master is a person of substance."

With the approach of darkness, the vehicles, stalls, and goods belonging to the other merchants were covered and secured before their owners, too, left to spend the evening elsewhere. Ma'el's bench and stall were dismantled and stowed away and the old man, without going into details, let it be known that a spell was in place which would ensure the safety of their wagon from thieves or the merely curious. Such interference was an unlikely possibility because the two Gardai on duty would patrol throughout the night and any person who did not have business in the marketplace would, without exception, have his head cracked open. It was a point of honor with the Garda authorities in Cork, whose continuing livelihood depended on its merchants both resident and passing through, that they be able to conduct their business with as much peace of mind as was possible.

As one who knew precisely where he was bound, Ma'el led them to the waterfront and a wide, low building which had the warm, yellow light of innumerable lamps and the subdued roar of many voices pouring from its entrance and window openings, in company with the smells of cooking food and ale. The old man led the way into a wide room whose smoke-blackened ceiling beams were supported by pillars of carved and decorated wood. A log fire crackled in a raised, centrally placed stone hearth which had cooking spits and long-handled pans laid across it, and most of the smoke was finding its way out through a square hole in the roof that could be covered by a hinged flap in case of heavy rain. It being still early in the evening, the place was not yet crowded. Declan pointed to a table close to a nearby wall with the soft-spoken advice that, as first-time visitors, they should place themselves where they could not be surprised from the rear.

A young bar servant appeared and quickly brought three empty stools to the table and recited the list of food and drink that was available before asking what was their pleasure.

"Please bring two more seats," said Ma'el. "I am expecting others to join us presently, and our needs can await their arrival."

"But surely we are strangers in this city," said Sean. "Who can you be expecting?"

The old man answered the question by pointing toward the entrance. 'They are here," he said. "Sean, please approach them with politeness and speak respectfully to them thus…"

Declan watched as the boy went across to the two men quickly but not in a manner that might constitute a threat.

They were both experienced seafarers, judging by their dress and by way they stood on wide-braced feet as if expecting the sanded clay floor beneath them to pitch and roll at any moment. Perhaps, he thought, if they partook of enough ale throughout the evening to come, the floor might indeed do that.

One of them was tall, with white hair cut short and square features that were burned dark by wind and spray. His chin was shaven clean and he had gray eyes that, once fixed on an object, seemed never to look away. He had shoulders so broad and powerful that they made it seem as if he had no neck, and his arms and legs were fashioned in the same muscular mold. So far as Declan could see, he wore no weapons, but with a build like that it was doubtful if he needed any.

His companion, whose position half a pace behind the older man made it plain which of them had the rank, was equally tall but of slighter build and with black hair untouched with gray. Thick brows shaded his eyes and the ink-dark and probably self-barbered beard began high on his cheekbones and partially concealed the unusual width of his large mouth before coming to a point under his chin. But the mass of black facial hair served only to accentuate the long, crooked nose that split his face vertically like a yellowed and blue-veined mountain range. Declan thought that it came close to being the ugliest face he had ever laid eyes upon.