The Gospel of Mary by Philip Freeman

Author:Philip Freeman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books

Chapter Eleven

Clare Island is only a short distance off the western coast of Ireland, but it seems far away when you stand on the rocky shore of Clew Bay gazing out into the Atlantic. The island itself is fairly small, with a low black mountain looming over its western end. Far to the south of the bay are the distant hills of Connemara, while to the east is an ancient peak sacred to the goddess of the sun, though in recent years Christians had built a shrine to Patrick on its summit and begun making pilgrimages there. Some must have prayed to God and Patrick alike for protection against the forces of darkness as they stood on the mountain and stared across the waters at the forbidden island.

Dari and I had arrived at the shore after a four-night march west across Ireland from Nola’s hut which included a harrowing midnight crossing at a ford on the flooded Shannon River. We had spent the last day sleeping fitfully in a dense grove of trees near the coast. Even then I wouldn’t let Dari light a small fire. It was probably my imagination, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was close behind us.

“So how are we going to get there?” asked Dari. “If you plan to swim, I’m staying here.”

“No, we’re not going to swim. The water is freezing and it’s too far anyway. Besides, I’ve got to protect the scroll. We need to find someone to take us.”

“Who would dare to row us across? I’ve heard scary stories about this place my whole life.”

“People do sometimes visit, Dari. The sisters there aren’t total recluses. It’s just that they strongly discourage anyone they haven’t invited. And of course, no men are ever allowed to set foot there.”

“What about nuns?” she asked.

“That remains to be seen.”

We began walking along the shore. Soon we came across a skinny girl sitting on a curragh mending her fishing nets. She was no more than thirteen, with curly red hair.

“Greetings, daughter,” I said.

“Hello,” she answered warily.

“My name is Sister Deirdre and this is Sister Dari. We are holy women of the monastery of Brigid in Kildare come to visit the sisters on Clare Island. We’re looking for someone who will take us across.”

“Well, good luck with that,” she said, turning her head away. “The ladies there don’t welcome outsiders and I’m sure not going to risk my life. I heard they sacrifice trespassers to the gods.”

“Young lady,” I said, drawing myself up tall and taking my harp from its case. “I am a bard and a member of the Order of the druids. The sisters of Clare Island will welcome me. I promise you will return home safely with a handsome reward if you row us across.”

She was still hesitant. “I don’t know. I don’t think my ma would let me if she were here.”

“I think your mother would be most pleased that you helped a high-ranking bard. I doubt she would like the satire I could compose against your family if you refuse me.

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