Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [80]
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.
“The inspiration is the same, but we recognise the true source of it.” He smiled and pointed to his shaven head. “You see, as a Christian priest, I didn’t even have to change my druid’s tonsure.”
“I suppose so.” She frowned. “And who,” she asked, “converted you?”
“Ah. A good question. A man called Bishop Patrick. A great man. It was he who made the poem, actually.”
Deirdre received this information but made no further comment. The fact was that her mind was working rapidly. The visit of Larine, with his startling new identity and his still more surprising message, might take a little time to sink in, but certain things seemed clear. There could hardly be any doubt of his sincerity; and whatever her feelings about the past, she was touched by his obvious goodwill. As for his religious message, she was less certain. Perhaps she was tempted by it; certainly she had little love for the sacrifices of the druids and their cruel gods. But it was another thought now that was forming in her mind.
“You said you had come to see me and my son. You wish to convert us?”
“Certainly.” He smiled. “I have found the light, Deirdre, and it has brought me joy and peace of mind. Naturally I wish to share that joy with others.” He paused. “But there is more than that. After all that has passed, I owe it to Conall to bring the Gospel to you and to his son.”
She nodded slowly. Yes, she thought, yes, this might be the way. The persuasive bishop, his father’s old friend, might be the one who could offer her a way out of her dilemma about Morna. At least, she considered, it was worth a try. So now, gazing at him steadily, she informed him: “You should understand something, Larine. Morna has never been told about how his father died. I couldn’t bear to. We all thought it was for the best. So he knows nothing.”
“I see.” Larine certainly looked surprised. “Do you mean,” he asked, “that you don’t want me to say anything either?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, Larine, I think it is time that he should know. And I want you to tell him. Will you do that?”
“If that is what you wish.”
“Tell him what really happened, Larine. Tell him how the High King and his druids murdered his father. Tell him of the evil of it,” she continued passionately. “Tell him of your new and better God, if you like. Tell him, above all, to avoid the king and his druids. Will you do that for me?”
Did Larine look awkward for just a moment? She did not see why he should. Wasn’t this what he wanted? And wouldn’t it solve her greatest difficulty if Morna was sufficiently impressed with Larine’s Christian message to want to avoid the druids’ rites? If she told him about the High King’s invitation after that, he probably wouldn’t even want to go to the pagan feis at Tara. With luck, if they could keep him out of sight for a while, he should be able to avoid the attention of the High King in the future.
“I will do what I can,” said Larine, cautiously.
“That is good.” She smiled. And she was just wondering whether to tell Larine the whole story of the royal invitation and to ask for his advice, when their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by the sudden appearance in the doorway of Morna himself.
“Who are these visitors?” he asked cheerfully.
And Larine gasped.
How strange, Larine thought, as he walked beside the young man down the slope towards the water. He had come to Dubh Linn expecting, in a sense, to put a painful memory to rest; yet instead, the past was coming alive before his very eyes with a vividness that was almost frightening.
For it was Conall himself who was walking beside him. True, young Morna had his mother’s strange green eyes. But his dark hair and his aquiline good looks were Conall to the life. It was as if his friend had arisen from the dead. Dear God, he even had his father’s gentle voice. And when the young man smiled at him, Larine felt as though someone had struck a druid’s knife into his heart.
It was easy enough to introduce