Brigid of Ireland (Daughters of Ireland Book 1) (21 page)

The old man shrugged his shoulders. “Take them.”

She carried the basket to the horses tied up outside. “Shall we go, poet?”

As soon as they left Bishop Conleth, Brigid tried to engage the poet. His reserved personality was frustrating. “Why do we call ye ‘poet’, rather than use yer name?”

“Because what I do is much more important than my name. Poet – ’tis who I am.”

He trotted ahead. She caught up.

“Tell me, poet, ’bout this druid code. Do ye not betray Ardan?”

He studied some squirrels racing tree to tree. “I owe no alliance to dark druids.”

Bram had once said something similar.

They continued on until a wide expanse of blue water greeted them. They lodged their horses at a stable and paid the keeper with Roman coins the old bishop had supplied. They were given a boat for their journey.

Brigid spotted some children playing a game with rocks behind the stable. Their dirty faces matched the color of their ragged clothes. She interrupted the game to hand them the basket of robes. “Here is enough material to make ye all a fine set of clothes. And yer mothers and fathers also.”

“
Brigid
,” one of them whispered. “I heard the poet’s song. Said she was coming.”

Brigid shook her head and caught up to the poet just as he was about to launch their boat.

Chapter 20

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up.”

1 Thessalonians 5:11

Brocca’s chest tightened as the wagon neared Glasgleann. She had not been to Dubthach’s estate since that terrible day when her only child was ripped from her arms. She was almost grateful she would not be able to look upon Glasgleann’s wealth of cattle or observe the self-righteousness in her former master’s cold dark eyes. She had forgiven him long ago, but memories could not be so easily wiped away.

She reached for the blanket she knew was somewhere in the wagon bed. Only one driver came with her, so she had to care for herself. Brigid had wanted a whole army, but that wasn’t necessary. Brocca didn’t fear harm, only her own resentment that threatened to rise up from her soul. She didn’t want to hate Dubthach for what he had done, but she struggled with the temptation.

Heather and grass scented the open meadow as the wagon lurched upward. They climbed the rolling hills leading to Glasgleann. She thought about Cook, longed to wrap her arms around her.

“Almost there, Miz Brocca! I can see smoke from the chimney,” the driver called out.

Sounds of laughter drifted on the wind. There were children at Glasgleann, and they were happy. She used the blanket to wipe the travel dust from her face. “Stop at the kitchen, please.”

The driver led her to the door. She held out her hands until she touched the smooth oak portal, weathered by years of northern exposure. It disappeared from under her palms when the driver swung it open.

A voice from inside greeted her. “Oh, dear me. Tell me that cannot be Brocca.”

Cook’s voice was harp music to Brocca’s ears. She found herself smothered in Cook’s hugs. Small children grabbed her legs.

Cook’s voice rose among the others. “Blessed Lord, this is quite a surprise. I was just on my way out. Thought I’d see ye at the seashore and hoped ye’d know where Brigid… ” Cook led Brocca to a wooden chair. The door creaked shut and the breeze it caused rippled the hem of Brocca’s tunic.

Cook whispered in her ear,“’Tis true what Brian says? Yer master told him yer eyes no longer see.”

Brocca whispered back. “Aye. Do not grieve for me. My life is good. And aye, I do know where my daughter is.” Brocca reached for the woman’s arm. “Cook. I am so sorry I have not come before now. Brigid is safe but fears a druid named Ardan. She did not want him to follow her here.”

Pots and pans rattled nearby and chunks of turf thumped onto a fire, sending ripples of smoke to her nose.

Cook squeezed Brocca’s hands so tightly they throbbed. “Oh, how my old bones have ached ever since I heard that druid had joined with Troya. Brian and I went to see her. Crazy old woman. She told us to stop looking for Brigid or… ”

“What?” Brocca’s question snapped like an iron trap.

Cook smoothed Brocca’s hair from her forehead. “Oh, I was so frightened, though I pretended I was not. I put the fear of God into that one, I did. She seemed content leaving Brigid be so long as we never brought her back to Glasgleann.”

“I understand. Let’s sit and talk.” Brocca reached for her silver brooch and unlatched it. The driver pulled her cloak from her shoulders.

Cook had been baking cakes and stewing fruit. Brocca turned toward the old woman’s apple-scented breath. “What did ye know ’bout Troya?”

Cook’s voice choked. “I knew she and Ardan were out to harm our sweet Brigid.” Her voice choked. “Oh, dear Brocca, I failed to protect her! ’Twas all I ever aimed to do, but I could not, Lord forgive me. I had to return here, don’t ye see?” Tears dropped onto their hands, intertwined on Cook’s lap. “My daughter and my grandchildren, they greeted ye when ye came in. They live and work at Glasgleann. I couldn’t run off and leave them, Brocca. I didn’t know what to do. If my dear husband were still alive, he’d have gone after her.”

Brocca embraced her old friend. “God cared for her, Cook. I’ll explain later, but ye should not harbor any guilt. I know ye raised her fine. She has grown to be a God-fearing woman and has her own land where Christian brothers and sisters are building her a home.”

Cook pulled back. “Glory! Could such a thing be?”

“’Tis so. She sent me here to fetch ye. She has named her place the Cell of the Oak and it is not far, just at the north end of the plains.”

Cook sighed and moved toward the fire. “I am pleased. Ye’ll never know, child, how much. So, you and Brigid are not going to the seashore? Dubthach, as always, has allowed me to travel there.”

“I am not. But Brigid is there now. I would be pleased if ye’d come stay with me until she returns. Where is the old man? Will he not allow that after all the pain he has caused?” The murmur of children’s voices drifted out the door.

Cook had apparently ushered them out. She returned to Brocca’s side. “I will go, but I must return soon.”

Brocca patted Cook’s hand. “He is still a hateful master. I am so sorry, Cook. God will reward ye for what ye’ve done for my daughter.”

“Dubthach has been greedy, there’s no denying. But hateful? Nay, no longer. He’s not even residing at Glasgleann anymore.”

“Not here? Where, then?”

Cook blew her nose. “My daughter and I manage Glasgleann now. Her family and the other servants still run things like always. Dubthach is still the owner, but he lives alone, sick and in despair.”

“What a shame. Where?”

“Not certain. Somewhere in the woods. Shows up on the edge of the meadow from time to time. Brian meets him and carries out his bidding. The lad said the old man had grown thin, if ye can believe that. And his hair has nearly fallen out.”

Brocca shook her head. “I do not understand. What brought about this change?”

Cook clicked her tongue. “He believes he received yer master’s curse, and he hides from the gods so they will not take his cattle. He has believed so almost since he released Brigid.”

Brocca relaxed her shoulders. She would not have to face the man after all. She prayed God’s mercy on his soul. “Do ye think it best we tell him that Bram’s curse was a farce?”

Cook handed Brocca a bowl of hot porridge and pressed a wooden spoon into her fingers. “I have tried, darlin’. He will not believe it. He clings to the old ways.”

Cook’s porridge warmed Brocca as much as her hug had.

She mourned for those like Dubthach who didn’t know such comfort.

Brocca spent the rest of the day being introduced to Cook’s family. She met Brigid’s trusted friend Brian and his new wife and promised to bring back greetings to Brigid. In the morning, Cook joined Brocca for the ride back to the Cell of the Oak. The showery day did not bother Brocca. She had her beloved friend next to her and she was on her way to her daughter again. God rewards those who wait patiently. She had waited, and now she had everything she had ever hoped for. “Cook, why must ye worry ’bout getting back to Glasgleann if Dubthach’s not there?”

Cook leaned her face in close. “I am old, but not too old to understand my place.”

“What do ye mean?”

“As sure as I’ll be missing my grandchildren, I’ll miss that old coot.”

“Dubthach?” Brocca bolted back into the wagon’s side as though a slingshot had struck her.

Cook sighed. “Aye. He’s misguided, lonely, but not as cruel as Brigid thinks. At least not anymore. There was a time… ” Her voice trailed off and Brocca allowed her friend time to collect her memories.

Cook swallowed. “There was a time we’d all be lashed with hazel branches. I wanted to wrap my hands around that man’s throat, God forgive me. And for what he did to ye… ”

Brocca held her fingers to Cook’s lips. “Please, let’s not… ” Cook pushed her hand away. “God is his judge.”

They whispered quiet prayers. Without their faith to lean on, neither one of them would have endured what they had. Minutes passed like drops of water from a nearly dry spring.

Finally, Cook spoke. “Things changed when Brigid left. At first he drank himself into a useless state. Then one morning I saw him pour his ale into the bog. Barrel after barrel of it. Brian asked him why and he said he had not built his fortune by being a fool, and he’d not lose it because he’d become one.”

Brocca struggled against the wind to tuck strands of loose hair back under her scarf. “Dubthach said that?”

“Aye. Could hardly believe it myself. We thought that perhaps that was the time to teach him ’bout Christ, but he wasn’t all changed. Was still as greedy and protective over his wealth as ever. Never whipped anyone again, but was far grouchier after he gave up his drink than before, if ye could believe such a thing so.”

The wagon wobbled downhill. They would be at the Cell of the Oak shortly. Brocca didn’t know when Brigid would return, but she wanted to understand what Cook was telling her before her daughter heard the confusing story. “What drove him to believe in the curse?”

Cook took a deep breath, seeming to prepare a long story. “One night, not long after the man disposed of all his drink, raiders struck Glasgleann.”

“Oh, dear.” Brocca knew that was what a cattle owner feared most. Dubthach did not employ enough men to rally a revenge raid. “Did he lose many?”

“Half a dozen, if I remember correctly. Then that very next night wolves ravished the barn, killing two more and a calf.”

“I see why he thought the curse had come, but why would he move away?”

“Ah, that’s the thing of it. He believed he’d wronged his daughter and the gods were angry with him. He thought he’d save his herd if he stayed away. When the gods came for him, they’d not find his cattle. In his small mind, Dubthach believed spirits would flee from him if they found him to be a poor man.”

The lumpy ground under the wagon wheels caused Brocca’s head to bob up and down against the latticework sides. They would be home soon. “And have ye suffered any more raids, Cook?”

“Not a one.”

“So, why do ye care if Dubthach finds ye’ve been away?” “Because ’tis likely he thinks my God protects the cattle. Long as he thinks that, there may be a chance the entire house of Dubthach will someday follow our Lord.”

Brocca clapped her hands. “Oh, how wondrous our God is! I wonder what he has in mind for us next?”