The Silver Stag of Bunratty (14 page)

CHAPTER 17

K
NOCKAINY

s the hermit had said, the ground was very rough along the river bank. The children often had to take their shoes off and wade, waist deep in water, in order to follow the course of the river. As they went upstream and the river became narrower, there were times when the branches of the trees met in a tangle over their heads. They had to struggle to get through the thickets. It was a scratched and grumpy group who finally decided to stop for rest after several hours. They had left the forest behind them and reached a relatively clear stretch of meadow and pastureland. They flung down their packs and threw themselves on the grass just as the moon set over the dark shapes of the trees.

‘I’m so tired!’ said Matthieu. ‘And I’m hungry and I want to sleep somewhere where stones and twigs don’t dig into my
back. Where I don’t have to look at black beetles crawling past my nose. In a real bed. With linen and blankets!’

‘Oh, don’t be such a baby,’ said Maude, then stopped in horror as she remembered that only the night before she had sworn never to be mean to Matthieu again.

She turned and gave her brother a quick hug. ‘I know. It’s all a bit miserable. Look, let’s eat some of the food the hermit gave us. There’s bread and honey and boiled eggs and cheese.’

Tuan cast an eye on the river. ‘If someone would make a fire, I think we might be able to have some fish as well, they were jumping all around us as we made our way through the river during that last bit.’

They feasted that morning, then slept until the sun was high in the sky.

The next part of the journey was hard for all of them. Cliar and Maude said nothing, but they knew that Tuan was not sure of the route, and as neither had been listening to Prior Outlaw when he gave the directions, they could not help. Matthieu was not too worried – he was used to trusting other people to lead him along. But he was more tired than he would admit after his bout of fever. And Tuan was very anxious, knowing that the others were depending on him to lead the way.

While they followed the course of the Maigue, they were at least certain of their route; but Tuan was not at all sure where they were supposed to turn off. He knew that the river they were to take was one that would flow into the Maigue from the east, but he could not remember its name, nor when they would come to it. The further they went, the more nervous he felt. Was he leading everyone too far? Were they going the wrong way? They passed Adare, with its new Augustinian abbey, and were waved at by two fishermen monks as they travelled along the riverbank. Tuan thought of asking them the way to Knockainy, but he was afraid they would be questioned about who they were and where they were going. At Croom, the new walls of the town shone in the sunlight and they were tempted to go to the market there, for Maude, who still had silver coins sewn into the hem of her cloak, wanted to buy food. But the sight of the FitzGerald castle and the thought of soldiers decided them against stopping and in the end they crept under the bridge and past the town in darkness.

Then, one misty afternoon, while they tramped through the river rushes, damp and tired, they came to the mouth of a small river that flowed into the Maigue. They stopped, and Tuan looked at his companions.

‘Do you think this is the river Outlaw talked about?’ he
asked.

Cliar shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I wasn’t really listening very hard that day.’ Maude and Matthieu could not remember either, and Tuan felt desperate. Outlaw had entrusted the directions to him. And he had forgotten them.

He looked upriver.

‘You really can’t remember, can you?’ said Cliar.

Tuan shook his head. No matter how hard he searched in his memory he couldn’t get back to the place where Outlaw had told him the way to the Hospital at Knockainy.

‘Do you think we should wait for the stag?’ said Tuan. ‘It was him, wasn’t it, that led us towards the hermit’s hut?’

Maude said in a slightly disgruntled tone, ‘Well, I didn’t see anything at all in the forest.’

But Cliar said: ‘I’m not sure he just turns up on demand, Tuan. But I have another idea. Dame Anna showed me something once: it was a way to remember things you have forgotten. You go back to the time in your mind, and it’s as if you were there again, so you know what was said. Do you want me to try it?’

‘Is it witchcraft?’ asked Tuan. Sometimes he wondered about Cliar. She really did have some very strange talents.

Cliar shook her head. ‘No, I promise you it is not. It’s just a different way of using your mind. Sit down, Tuan,
and we’ll try it. Maude and Matthieu, you must stay very quiet and still, and keep Gile from disturbing us.’

They settled themselves on a pile of rocks beside the little river, and Cliar sat opposite Tuan, looking into his eyes. She spoke quietly, in Irish, and within minutes Tuan felt himself relax, almost as if he were going to sleep, though not quite. It
is
magic, thought Matthieu, stroking Gile to keep him quiet. He exchanged glances with Maude. As they looked on, Tuan began to talk, in Irish too. Maude and Matthieu could recognise the words Outlaw and Knockainy, and then there was another word mentioned – Morningstar. Once again they looked at each other, for now they both remembered that that was the name of the river Outlaw had spoken about.

Finally, Cliar said something and Tuan opened his eyes, shaking his head to clear it.

‘Did it work? Did I tell you what Outlaw told me?’ he asked.

Cliar was grinning. ‘Yes. He said that the river to take was the Morningstar, not the Camog, which would be the first river we come to. This must be the Camog, for its name means “crooked river”, and that’s just what it looks like. We have to go on a bit farther before we turn off.’

So they passed the Camog, and finally came to where the
Morningstar branched off to the east.

And this time all of them saw it. The Silver Stag stood in the sunlight where the Morningstar met the Maigue, his head bent, his front hoof scratching the ground in approval. And they knew the path they were taking was the right one. In a moment he was gone, but the children had been given fresh heart and courage.

g g g

And they badly needed both. The river was small and shallow, so even if they had managed to keep the boat, they could not have used it here. It was hard to make their way along its winding and rocky course. But eventually they could see where the hills of Lough Gur rose to the north of the river. They left the river behind, finding a track that seemed to lead eastwards towards Knockainy. There were some houses along the way, but they saw nobody, except a guard dog who gave a desultory bark at Gile, and then went back to sleep, having obviously decided that the strange little group was no threat to him or his master.

By the end of the next day, which had been as warm and sunny as the one before, they had passed by the Hill of Knockainy. The hill was covered in yellow gorse, and cows and white horses grazed peacefully on its sides. As night fell, they could see the tower of the Hospitallers’ church in
the distance.

‘Should we keep going?’ said Tuan. ‘If we arrive at night we will disturb everybody.’

‘I think we need to talk to Outlaw as soon as we can,’ said Maude. ‘And surely he will feed us and give us a bed. And imagine not having to sleep on the ground … Let’s keep going.’

The moon, now in its final crescent, was high in the sky when they reached the priory. Tall grey walls and iron gates rose before them, locked tight against the threat of outsiders. Dogs began to bark as they rang the bell, a loud peal which cut through the silence of the night like a knife. Within a few moments, a cowled figure came to the gate and enquired in a grumpy voice who the devil they were and what they thought they were doing arriving at a holy house at this unholy hour of the night.

Maude spoke in her most polite voice, curtsying. ‘We do apologise for our late arrival, but we are here to see Prior Outlaw with a very important message. I am Lady Maude and this is–’

The gatekeeper did not let her finish. ‘I don’t care who ye are,’ he said rudely. ‘I can see ye’re four scruffy children and a mongrel dog. Bringing an important message? Is it from the King ye’re from?’ He snorted with laughter. ‘I’d
say not. I’d say all ye’re bringing are empty bellies and begging ways. Maybe even thieving ways. And fleas.’ He looked meaningfully at Gile, who had chosen this moment to scratch himself furiously.

‘I do know one thing,’ he continued, ‘and that is that I am not going to disturb the good Prior from his badly needed slumbers for some gang of rapscallions. Be off, and come back in the morning of ye must, but not before we have said our office in the church and eaten. Though ye won’t find Prior Roger here then. He’s to take the road to Dysert O’Dea at first light.’

Cliar drew a breath and spoke with a hint of tears in her voice. She could not believe they could have come so far just to be turned away. ‘Please, it’s really important.’

The gatekeeper turned his back on them. Tuan thought of something.

‘Dame Anna of Bunratty sent us,’ he said.

The gatekeeper turned, his face changed. ‘Why the divil didn’t you say that before now? Come in, come to the hall and I’ll call the Prior immediately.’

The little monk unlatched the gate and they followed him across a courtyard through a doorway which led into a large hall. Like the Great Hall in Bunratty it was filled with long trestles and had a table across the top, close to the fireplace,
which nearly filled one wall. They was a boy sleeping in front of the dying fire, and the monk who had let them in said testily, ‘James, throw some wood on the fire and light the rushlights, the Prior will be coming down in a minute.’

He cast a glance at the children and added: ‘And you had better bring some bread and milk from the kitchen for our visitors, and put down some pallets and blankets in the guest dormitory. They’ll need water to wash too, or no doubt they’ll be spreading wildlife amongst us, so they will. Hurry now,’ he added, as the boy stood before him, still half-asleep. ‘Sooner started, sooner finished.’ The lad scuttled away, the monk following him, muttering under his breath.

The children stood in front of the fire, warming themselves. What they wanted most of all, even more than food, was to lie down and sleep, safe in the knowledge that there were no dangers around them.

How strange, thought Tuan. For the first time in my life I really appreciate stone walls and enclosed rooms.

A moment later Outlaw appeared, looking as if he had not been asleep at all.

‘Welcome, my children,’ he said, ‘Sit down and take some wine to warm yourselves up – I have told James to get you some hot broth and meat. You look as if you are in
need of care. God knows how you got here through such wild countryside. You must tell me all your adventures. How Dame Anna could have sent you out like this into the wilderness on your own I do not know.’

Cliar shifted uneasily. She decided to tell the truth.

‘Sir, she did not exactly send us out; but she needed to get a message to you and we … we needed to leave Bunratty.’

‘We will talk of that later. What was the message?’

‘She and I saw something in the flames of her fire – a terrible defeat for the English at Dysert O’Dea. I saw Sir Richard wounded. She wanted to tell you not to join them there, that defeat was inevitable. That there would be terrible loss of life.’

Prior Roger gave a long sigh. ‘So, I am not to go to Dysert O’Dea? It looks bad for the English, then, if she has already seen Sir Richard’s death. I have heard rumours of treachery against Sir Richard, but hoped that they were false …’

He sighed again and looked deep into the fire for a few minutes, as if by looking into the flames he could find an answer – as if, like Dame Anna, he could see the future there. But it seemed he saw nothing, for after a few moments he shook his head impatiently. Then he began
talking quietly to himself.

‘So what should I do? Stay here or head to the north, where the Scots are creating havoc? Or go to Bunratty and try to keep the peace there and in the south? I must think. But first, children, you must eat and drink and then go to bed. You look dead on your feet. We will talk more in the morning.’