celebration in Cashel when he and Fidelma would finally be officially united. He knew that there were many against the union of a princess of Muman with a Saxon. At first, he had wondered whether this was some plot to lure him away. Yet Fidelma had vouched for the integrity of Miach, chief of the Uí Cuileann. His people were an important sept of the Eóghanacht Áine, closely related to her own house of the Eóghanacht of Cashel. The Uí Cuileann dwelt in the great glen through which the Eatharlaí flowed. The name meant the river between the two highlands, indicating mountains to the north and to the south. Fidelma knew the area well but it was not Fidelma that Miach had sent for.
Caol, Cashel’s foremost warrior, had agreed to accompany Eadulf after Fidelma, unbeknown to Eadulf, had suggested it. The glen of Eatharlaí was not a long ride from Cashel, but at walking pace progress was necessarily slow and should a problem arise the summons might mean an overnight stay.
The young guide eventually led them off the track into a shady grove by a large pond-like spring, deep within the great oak forest that spread through the glen. The trees were ancient, with broad trunks pushing their massive crooked branches up to their spreading crowns. If the open track had been dark and oppressive because of the low clouds, the grove was even more so. It was almost like night. Eadulf could not suppress a shiver as the musty, cold air caught at his body. He was aware that the path was gently ascending now. So this was the Little Height.
A hoarse challenge suddenly rang out and their guide drew rein and answered immediately. A moment passed before a short, stocky man came striding through the trees accompanied by two others. All three wore the accoutrements of warriors. The leader was dark and wore his hair long with a full beard. He had stern but not displeasing features. From the way his guide and Caol dismounted and greeted him, Eadulf knew that this must be the chief of the Uí Cuileann.
Eadulf slid from his horse without grace or dignity but recovered to turn and face the now smiling chieftain as he approached with his hand held out.
‘You are well come to this place, Brother Eadulf.’
‘I presume that you are Miach?’ Eadulf did not mean to sound surly, and the man took no offence.
‘I know these are busy times for you, Eadulf, but I stand in need of good counsel.’ He paused and added: ‘I am, indeed, Miach, chieftain of the Uí Cuileann. It is I who sent to ask for your help.’
Eadulf tried to make up for his ungracious greeting. ‘How can I advise you?’
The chief turned and gestured up the path. ‘Come with me and I will show you.’
Leading their horses, the three travellers followed Miach and his men up the woodland track and into another, larger clearing where several wooden buildings stood. There were more warriors standing or seated in the clearing. Among them, Eadulf noticed three men in religious robes and an elderly man whose dress proclaimed him to be a foreigner. The group sat near a fire in the centre of the clearing at which one of the warriors was cooking something in a steaming cauldron.
Miach halted and Eadulf paused by his side, frowning and wondering what mystery was afoot.
‘Do you recognise anyone?’ Miach asked.
‘Am I expected to?’ Eadulf replied, frowning.
‘Come forward, brother,’ the chief called to one of the seated religious.
The man glanced up and rose. He was tall; a handsome man of middle years. As he approached, Eadulf felt he seemed curiously familiar. He glanced at Miach but the man’s face was without expression. Eadulf turned back and saw that the religieux was smiling. His greeting was in Saxon.
‘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
‘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
