Iamerge followed Gospels along the shoulder of the roadway as Ui Birlinn’s column slowly passed.  As tired as Rhaury and his men were in front, clearly the men in the rear were more so.  These were likely the men who had come upon the monsters who were ravaging the other caravan and had driven them off.  Most bore worse than the haggard look of exhaustion, many wore bandages and other signs of wounding.

When the column was passed Iamerge caught up to Gospels and began to walk beside him.  Gospels was whispering to himself, he seemed unaware of Iamerge or at least preoccupied in his own thoughts.  With the column passed Iamerge began to look to their safety.  The slope was steep and there wasn’t much undergrowth to hide attackers.  Iamerge could see the ruins of the unfortunate caravan a little farther ahead.  He breathed a sigh of relief, It looks like we will be among friendlies long before any enemy could come on us, he thought.

“Do you know much of healing Iamerge?” Gospels surprised him, so used had he become to Gospels murmurings as they walked.

“I know a bit, enough to bind my own wounds and a broken bone now and then,” Iamerge glanced over at Gospels, “Do you think we will need the little skill I have?”

“That and God’s help will avail us much,” said Gospels. “I fear that there will be much need of both.”

“Ask your God for strength, I do believe you are right,” as they approached the wreckage they were hailed by Ui Birlinn’s men who had been left as guards and to see, as well as they could, to the wounded that yet lived.  Before they reached them, they saw many who were beyond help.  The men were badly torn and wretchedly laid out in their death throes.

“Be sure I have been.” said Gospels.

As night fell, Gospels had the guardsmen build up a large bon fire.  Others were detailed to move the wounded into the light and warmth of it.  Gospels sent men to forage for cloth to be used as bandages and anything else that might be of use. 

Iamerge employed his medical knowledge, meager as it was, at Gospel’s direction.  The monk seemed to have a good idea of who might be saved and who, among the wounded, were more in need of comfort, this Gospels gave unstinting.  They battled in this way as the Wanderer rushed across the sky and set at the head of the valley, but it had not returned when Hebrews and ten more brothers came into the camp bringing all things needful and many helping hands more adept at the healing arts than were Iamerge’s.

When Iamerge would have withdrawn, exhausted, Gospels called him again.  “Iamerge, Conal needs an ear, and company.  Will you sit with him?”

“Surely Gospels,” said Iamerge and found himself sitting with a body with no legs and many bandages.

“Thanks brother,” said what was left of the man, “that Gospels, he told me about his Lord, and about. . .” the man was weeping and as Iamerge knelt, coming near, a hand came from the mass of bandages and clung to him, “. . . he told me about forgiveness in his Jesus.  Can it be true?”

Iamerge gaped, fumbling for what he might say to comfort the man, “I’ve never heard Gospels tell anything but the truth.”

“That’s what I thought,” said the better part of a man. Iamerge patted the mans hand and sat silently.  The man sobbed, “I’ve made a mess of things, I prayed with him, that Gospels, but he can’t know what I done– so I was just askin’.”

“If Gospels said it, you can be sure. . .”

“All the wrong I done’s paid for, forgiven because of this Jesus . . . ” The man wept and Iamerge sat silently beside, “. . . that I’ll see him when I die.”

The man relaxed and let out a sigh. Iamerge thought he’d passed and began to draw away his hand.  “Thanks brother,” the man said weakly, “I’m okay, ain’t that somethin’?”

“I just thought you’d fallen asleep. . .” Iamerge said, embarassed.

“Nah, soon. What was yer name, friend?”

“Iamerge”

“That’s right! Gospels called you that.  Thanks Iamerge.  I’m Conal.” The man pulled his hand back against his body, “Go ‘head, there’s others that can use you.”

Conal closed his eyes.  Iamerge rose and fled into the night.

“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.

Jim Cooper led Iamerge out of the sunshine into the cool dark of the inn.  There were stairs leading up and a hall, but Old Jim, the mayor of Rat Town, led Iamerge down a stone stair into a chill common room lit by nothing but a few tapers here and there along the bar. 

Jim patted a seat and then slipped behind the bar, “It looks like ol’ Mare ain’t here yet so I’ll have to tend my own self.  Will an ale do you?  That’s what I’m having.” 

Jim poured, Iamerge sat, “Sure, anything is fine with me.  You said that Ruaridh Ua Birlinn rode out of town?  What do you imagine he was doing?”

Jim slid a tall mug across the bar and then followed it around to Iamerge, his own ale in hand, “We’ve had some trouble with the overland trade.  A few have come in mauled, but mostly they come in fine or they don’t come at all.”  Cooper sat down next to Iamerge, took a swig, and planted his ale on the bar, “Ua Birlinn hasn’t had any such problems, at least not yet, because he always guards his traffic and put more men on since the trouble started.”

“So you think that changed?” asked Iamerge.

“I don’t know what to think.  Didn’t seem those fellers who come in was mussed much, but Ua Birlinn sure didn’t waste no time heading back out.  Seems if his trade ain’t in trouble then someone-else’s.”  Cooper smiled, made to drink again but paused to ask, “So, you said that Gospels is back.  Don’t know if you know it for good news, but it is.  The Brothers are the anchor that holds this place together, feeds most of us, good folk, but they weren’t the same when Gospels left.”

“I can imagine.  Gospels is, unique in my experience.”

“Sure, a brother looks pretty much like another to most folk, but Gospels ran that place well.  Its good when there is peace up on Bell Hill.”  Cooper chuckled to himself and took a drink, “mmm, even for us sinners.”

“Yes,” Iamerge allowed and then put his mouth to his ale to keep his own council.

“So, we heard that Gospels felt led by the Spirit to get in a skin boat and be washed out to sea to land wherever the good Lord made him land.  Mad as a, as a, mad as a hermit it seemed to me.  How’d you find him?”

“As my luck would have it, Gospels found me, pulled me out of the surf on the Skellig.  He’d washed up there and no matter how many times he put out again the coracle always came back.” Iamerge explained.

“Strange luck that.”

                                          *     *     *

Smoke struggled against the weight upon him as he had the weight of the heavy sea.  But this was not the sea, it held him against hard rock unlike the wash of the sea that he had been unable to press against, then too, he was warm.  He ached all over from the beating against the rocks, but even pain meant nothing now that he was warm.  No need to fight, Smoke slept.

Where?  That question came to him from his fevered dreams or memories.  He had been thrown against the rocks enough times for him to have given up on land as salvation and come to terms with his death.  That he remembered.

He  had a vague memory of a calling for salvation from God, but that didn’t fit with his remembered resignation.  He remembered white hands, no, before that he remembered calling on God and then being hauled from the sea by one foot.  He remembered seeing the angry sea above him, falling toward him, but that was his perspective.  Then he was lifted by the sea. . .   

. . . and then white hands.

There was no light where he lay.  His bed was hard.  His battered body ached beneath some covering, heavy, warm.  There was music, or at least a voice in the dark that chanted words he could not quite catch.  Here and there in the chant, words came clear on the wind, praises to God, thanksgivings, strange as the sea falling from the sky, he thought, he was hearing the Psalms of the Hebrews in the trader’s tongue.

The cadence changed, the words became indestinguishable to Smoke in the night with wind and the distant roar of the sea and then only that.  Whorls and patterning burst on his retina, but there was nothing real to see in the night, nothing but the night to hear.

Then, as suddenly as silence, there was a presence.  Smoke heard a whisper of feet on stone, a sigh.  “Hello?” His voice sounded like the croak of a scavenger bird, meaningless except that he knew what he had meant to say.

“Oh, you are awake.”  There was shuffling, a trickling of water, and he could feel the radiant warmth of the figure near him.  ”You must be parched.”

“Yes. . .” he attempted an answer, but it was just crow talk again.

He felt fingers lightly brush his face, a thin arm lifted his head, and then cool sweet water filled his mouth and he swallowed.  A few more sips and he was laid back. 

The warmth moved away and he waited for more conversation that never came.  “How odd,” he thought or said but weariness carried him back to slumber.