Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [234]
The next morning Ruairi seemed to be depressed. He sat in the yard looking gloomy and it wasn’t clear if he meant to go anywhere. When she could spare a little time from her duties, Una came and sat with him. For a while he didn’t say much, but when she gently asked him why he seemed sad, he confessed that he was trying to make a difficult decision. “I should go back.” He indicated southwards towards the Liffey valley and the Wicklow Mountains, so she assumed he meant back to the O’Byrnes. “But I have other plans.”
“Is it another voyage you’ll be making?” she asked, thinking to herself that he had only recently returned from one.
“Perhaps.” He hesitated, and then said quietly, “Or a greater journey.”
“Where would you go?”
“It’s a pilgrimage I’m thinking of,” he confessed. “To Compostela maybe, or the Holy Land.”
“By all the saints!” she exclaimed. “That’s a long and perilous way to go walking the world.” She looked at him carefully to see if he was serious. “Would you really go, like the Palmer, all the way to Jerusalem?”
“It would be better,” he muttered, “than going back there.” And once again he indicated the direction in which his family lived.
She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him and wondered why he should be so unwilling to be with his family.
“You should stay here a few days,” she counselled. “This is a quiet place in which to rest your mind as well as your body. Have you prayed about it?” she asked, and when he seemed uncertain, she begged him: “Pray and your prayers will surely be answered.” Secretly she already intended to pray for him herself.
So he stayed another day. When she told the Palmer about poor Ruairi’s troubles and his plans, he only gave her a wry glance, and remarked, “You can waste a lot of time with a young man like that.”
She was surprised that so good a man, and a pilgrim himself, would say such a thing, and she could only conclude that he didn’t understand. She bridled also, a little, at his tone which she thought was patronising. The Palmer, seeing her annoyance, quietly added, “He reminds me of a boy I used to know.”
“And perhaps,” she said testily, “you didn’t know that boy so well either.” She had never spoken to the Palmer in such a tone before and she wondered if she had gone too far. But to her surprise, he gave no sign of anger.
“Perhaps,” he said, with a sudden sadness for which she could find no explanation.
The next morning, Fionnuala was back. She greeted Ruairi politely, but she did not seem particularly interested in talking to him. When Una remarked on this Fionnuala gave her a look and said quietly, “It’s Brendan I’m interested in, Una.” So they discussed the matter no further.
But in the afternoon, while Fionnuala was speaking to one of the inmates, Una came upon Ruairi sitting gloomily in the yard. It had occurred to her since their conversation that it must be different being part of a princely family like the O’Byrnes, especially when you had to measure yourself against the reputation of a man like Brendan. A pilgrimage to the Holy Land would certainly have the effect of making Ruairi a notable figure. But was it, she wondered, what he truly wanted to do?
“They torment me! They despise me!” he suddenly broke out. Then he relapsed into gloom. “Ruairi’s a poor thing! That’s what they say. ‘Brendan’s the man.’ He is. It’s true. And what have I ever been doing all my life?”
“You must have patience, Ruairi,” she urged. “God has a plan for you as he does for us all. If you would pray and listen, Ruairi, you’ll discover what it is. I’m sure you have it in you to do great things. Is that what you desire?” she asked, and he confessed that it was.
She felt honoured as well as touched that he should have shared such intimate thoughts with her. At that moment,