“What is it Abbo… err, brother Gospels.” said the young brother.  Iamerge noticed it was Hebrews as he gave Iamerge a shy smile and nod.

“Iamerge believes there has been another trade caravan attacked.” said Gospels.  “It has been some time since the rescue party or perhaps relief has gone out.  There may be dead and likely injured from one party or the other.”

“Dire news.” Hebrews gasped, though it seemed to Iamerge that there was more of excitement than horror in it, “Shall I gather some brothers and. . .” Hebrews looked puzzled, “which way should we go?”

“Go first to the Abbott, I do not command any but myself.  Say only that Gospels recommends that the guest house be prepared to receive wounded.  Then if he thinks it wise and at his command come after we two who will go on down the South road to see what we may see of this disaster.”

“Could I not come with. . .”

“No Hebrews, the brothers must hear of this first, and the Abbott must make what provision he sees fit.  Just tell him that we go down the South Road after Ui Birlinn and several mounted men and that we know nothing more of what may have happened.  Your speed will be a greater blessing to bring the word and likely you will catch up to us even with carts and stretchers and all manner of healing herbs in tow.”

“Yes Abbo. . .  I mean brother.”

“Off with you,” said Gospels, but Hebrews was already running toward the monastery with his habit hiked up to free his legs for maximum speed. “The righteous will live by faith, and there are few more faithful than that boy.” Gospels glanced at Iamerge, “I hope that I didn’t speak out of turn when I said we would go ahead.”

“I will go with no complaints.  I should like to know what all the fuss is about.  Then too, getting it straight at the source will give me some news to bargain with the mayor of rat town.” quipped Iamerge as he readied himself for the walk.

“Indeed, Mr. Cooper will want to know all about it, I’ve no doubt.” And off Gospels walked at a goodly clip.  Iamerge followed.

Gospels lead straight down the hill and onto the road.  When they settled on a comfortable pace Iamerge asked, “This is not the first attack I gathered.  Do you know who is doing it or why?”

Gospels frowned, “Sadly no, if it were bandits there would be less of value left behind.  Sometimes bandits take hostages and make demands.  But this is just slaughter.”

“And they take nothing of value?”

“I didn’t say that, much is left, but not weapons nor things that can easily be made into weapons.  Sometimes they leave their own weapons behind, heavy stone axes, brutal spears, clubs, that sort of thing.  They take food and sometimes they kill horses, but they don’t seem to take them.”

“Who are they?” ask Iamerge.

“That no one knows.”

They walked on in silence for awhile.  Matching each other, they strode down the road.  After awhile, Iamerge noticed that Gospels was glancing over at him from time to time.  He wondered if perhaps the pace was growing too much so he eased off.  Gospels continued to glance over as they walked a little slower.

“Iamerge,” Gospels said finally.

“Yes?” he answered.

“I hope I didn’t press you into something you wouldn’t otherwise have done.”  Gospels laughed, “It is like me to charge off on this sort of venture, but I’m getting older if not wiser at the same pace.”

Iamerge smiled, “No no, I’m glad to go.  I should have thought to bring word to all of you.  Just, in town it seemed of no consequence to any but Ui Birlinn and his party so I guess I thought it must have been a thing very far away.”

“True, it might be.” Gospels began, “But Rhuary is cautious where his father was, well, impetuous like me,” he laughed again. “If he rode hard out of the town then I think it likely that it was no farther than horses might run safely.  Horses are not easy to come by here abouts.” Gospels looked sidelong at Iamerge.

“Did I mention that Ui Birlinn was the one with whom I had business?

“I’m not positive, but I inferred it.”

“So it seems my business lies this way also.”

“Indeed, I should confess that I believe you are a survivor.  I would charge ahead when wisdom, and survival, might bid me wait.  So, I hoped to bring you for some degree of protection, if not from villains then certainly from myself.”

It was Iamerge’s turn to chuckle, “Well then, if I get that feeling, I’ll bid us both stop and if need be reverse and run us back to Hebrews.”

“That is wisdom,” said Gospels, “I expect that young man soon enough.”

“Ah, then I’m warned,” Iamerge laughed, “I’ll keep an eye on our tail lest young Hebrews runs us down in his haste to get to the adventure.”

“I would scold you for wronging my dear brother, but I suspect you may be right.”  Smiling they both walked toward the crest of the hill

Gospels grew serious, cleared his throat he said. “I pray God this isn’t what I fear, but I pray without much hope.  These attacks have become more frequent and this, well, this is too near for my peace of mind.”

They crested the hill and began to descend into another valley.  Almost immediately they saw below them a chaos of broken carts and broken men.  There was little enough movement, but there were clearly men moving through the wreckage.  Then off to their right, on a turning they saw a caravan making its way up toward them.

The screams of the sea birds were the only things that Smoke could point to as disquieting, a break to the peace of the day.  Smoke and Gospels sat high on the island above the place, Gospels had explained, where the boat from the abbey would put in. 

Smoke was excited to be off the little pinnacle of rock, a hungry prison in all but company.  He sat with his new friend Gospels and hid his excitement in deference to his friend’s discomfort at facing his brethren.  It would be awkward in a way that he knew something about, other people’s expectations.

And yet, as much as he would like to be appropriately somber for his friend, he was delighted with the day, freshening wind, wind whipped cloud torn to reveal bright sunshine, a day to sail, a day to delight a man like he had always been.  Smoke inhaled the salt freshness of it, “Oh Gospels, this is a day to be on the water.”

Gospels sighed, “God is good.”

Smoke chuckled at his friend’s inscrutability.  Was the sigh impatience, discouragement, awe, sarcasm, praise?  Smoke didn’t know, but he was happy and couldn’t keep it to himself. “You know the worst part of my youth was existing in a stinking port city knowing all the while that I was born for the sea.”

“hmm, I too was raised in a city by the sea.  I rather liked the scent of it though.”

“Oh yes, a Northern port city no doubt.  I did not mean to insult.  And too, it may have been the parts of the city I frequented that stank, not the city itself.”

Gospels laughed, “I’m sorry.  I was just. . .    . . .my mind was elsewhere.”

Smoke let things lay.  His new friend was used to solitude, not just as a hermit, but in his life before he took to his coracle.  Smoke was brimming with questions and conversation, yet he knew that he would get no pearls from the oyster.  Well, that might not be a good analogy. 

It was exciting to think that these monks were literate.  His pattern had often been to seek knowledge when he gave up on a life, cut ties to business and family, and lost himself.  Perhaps this time, more than others, he felt the need to know.  He had been so near to knowing nothing ever again.  Nothing like a good death to bring back the zest for life.  So he would build a new life, and for this one as for all his others, he would seek knowledge, he would plan, and then he would live.

He inhaled the salt freshness,  “I’ve been to your city, I didn’t know there was an abbey.  I might have visited your library if I’d known.”

“The abbey had been half a century before the Navigators even came.  Six monks in a coracle ran aground in the bay and that full two hundreds of years agone.”

“I thought you said you were a Navigator.”

“I was of that people.  But I’m not quite that old.” Gospels laughed again.  He seemed a bit more merry, as if his mind had come to some resolve or comfort as they sat there in the sun. “The abbey came before the Navigators, but I, a Navigator, came to the abbey in a boat.”

Two Son’s of the UiNiall, Eremon and Crimthan, were returning from battle training on an island near Alba. These two had always been rivals, brothers they were, and always seeking to best each other and liking it not at all if his brother was viewed as superior in any sense. They had been sent to sharpen their battle skill, but ruth to tell also to see if one might better the other and so be clearly more fit to lead the clan.

The sly one, Crimthan, brought up the subject that runs thick between them, “At some point we will be forced to fight each other if one or the other does not yield.” Then followed a long recitation of all the arguments and counter-arguments that both know well and have heard all their lives, but always they lead to this impasse. “If only there was a way…” The sly fellow mused.

The ship master feared to land his boat lest it be dashed on the rocks and they all be lost, so they ride at anchor on a storm tossed sea. And such a ride, even the sailors, veterans all, looked a bit queasy. The two sons of clan Niall are impatient. Their training and their pride will not let them show anything but exasperation at the delay.

“What if we agree to a race?” Crimthan eyed his brother, gauging him, “First one ashore will rule the clan?”

Eremon sighed, “Truly? A race? Is that a fit way to decide so great a question, I wonder?”

“Isn’t it as good as any? Better than most, for I do not have to raise a hand against you my brother, and you do not have to raise a hand against me.”

“What if we both perish in this fool contest? “ asked the stronger.

“I’m surprised by you, Eremon, I’d have not thought you would give into fear. I’ve never known you to lack courage.” And this he said knowing that whether geas or just willfulness his brother would die rather than have his courage put in doubt.

Eremon growled deep in his throat, “Courage…”

Crimthan fought hard to hide his excitement as Eremon mulled but for a moment, “If we do this fool thing, and I win will you support me? There can be no turning from this course if we decide, this is far too important a thing. I know you think you are wiser than me, but I think you trust yourself too much. I will want your advise, but I do not think you would be the best to rule. Will you swear to support me if I reach shore before you?”

“You know that I will.” Crimthan promised.

“Let us have witnesses then, Ferdiad, Eochaid come witness.”

The witnesses gathered with the brothers, “Let the one who’s right hand touches shore first lead the clan with the full support of the other, setting aside concerns and trusting to fate and blood. Swear it Crimthan as I swear it now before these witnesses, the one who’s hand touches first will rule.”

“I swear it. The one who’s right hand touches first will rule.”

Prepare you then, I will speak to the captain and ask him to carry us closer into shore that we may not both parish for your impatience.  Eremon turned to the captain, but his brother was already in motion.

“You should prepare, but as for me I have prepared all my life. Wit should lead bravery. He ran to the rail dropping his cloak, revealing his body stripped for swimming and greased against the cold. With not a word more  Crimthan dove into the heaving sea.

The boat approached as Crimthan labored in the waves and for a moment he feared he had miscalculated. Had Eremon taken command and decided to dash the boat on the rocks? It sounded like the kind of direct action that he would favor, but Crimthan didn’t think he would risk so many lives.

The boat turned parallel and the waves crashed over him so all he could do was fight for his life. As he thrashed he felt the sand beneath him, then the wave slammed him into the bottom.

Crimthan struggled out of the surf. His body was numb he was shaking, and his teeth chattered, but that meant nothing. He was elated, he had done it.

“Save my hand!” The shout rang out over the roar of the waves, but the words meant nothing to Crimthan until he staggered out of the surf and  saw the ghastly lump, like a fat white spider, on a smear of red.

“That, is the right hand of the chief!” shouted Eremon.

Crimthan crawled to the hand. He’s mad he thought. Crimthan grabbed the cold dead thing and clamored to his feet. An urge to throw the thing into the surf came and just as soon left him, washed away in peals of laughter. Exhausted he collapsed, but couldn’t stop laughing. “I have it!” He laughed and couldn’t gather himself for a moment. “That was a long reach my brother, but I think you will need a new right hand!”

“You always were the wise one, good thing for me I favor the dexter. But a chief ought to have a strong right hand,” Eremon called from the boat.

“I have what you lack my brother,” He waved the grizzly trophy above his head.

“Instruct me. Do I lack wisdom?”

“No, not that. Now I see you are wiser than I am.”

“Surely not courage.”

“No brother, I risked my life to cheat you, but no one can doubt your courage this day.”

“Strength then?”

“You know as do I, you are the stronger.”

“You will have to tell me then, what do I lack?”

“I told you, but perhaps you need ears.” Crimthan could hear his brother Eremon laughing, “You will need a strong right hand, and that I have.”

“Better at my side than at my throat! eh brother?”

And ever after that clan wore the hand gules as a badge of courage.

This is an adaptation or reimagination of a legend that explains the Red Hand on our arms.

LSO