There was a collective intake of breath, though without seeing any faces, I didn’t know if the villagers were angry or fearful at having one of their own accused of blasphemy in a roundabout way.
“If’n you want no part it,” Calhoun continued, “I’ll surrender all me worldly goods, be they for the fire or the sea. Do your duty so, and let all Ireland know that the folks o’ Dunmore East spit on Saint Brigid’s gift.”
Tense silence followed. Seconds passed. Perhaps even a full minute as I stared at the panel, praying the crowd wouldn’t do anything more drastic than chase Calhoun out of town, caravan and all. Such a scenario could even prove beneficial, allowing me time to catch my breath and plan a proper escape while we traveled to another village. Ailish might pose a problem, but nothing I couldn’t get around given enough thought.
“Make way,” a woman yelled. “I’ll be having a word with Master Calhoun.”
A few folks grumbled protests. I waited for more, but when nothing else came, I imagined the parting of bodies to let the woman pass.
“Ah, Mrs. Murphy,” Calhoun said kindly. “I was hoping you’d be the first to receive Brigid’s blessing. Does your belly still be troubling you so? Or have you a new ailment that needs tending?”
“Don’t play coy with me,” she puffed, somewhat winded from the short walk. “You know it’s me belly.”
“Then step right up, and we’ll have those pains fixed in no time.” The caravan swayed and creaked. “Take this crate, me lad, and set it afore the window.”
“Not so fast,” the woman said. “How do I know you aren’t to poison me again?”
Calhoun chuckled. “Saint Brigid’s cure be based on faith, Mrs. Murphy, not the science o’ men. She bid me to discard all other remedies and rely solely on the relic and water from her sacred well. In Dublin, one swig cured a man o’ blindness when he found the courage to reach in through me window and touch the blessed finger. Another time, a child twisted by the palsy ran home to his mam on two strong legs. Think you after these miracles, she’d ignore the God-fearing folks of Dunmore?” He rapped three times against the wall just above Ailish’s head. As if on cue, she jumped up, moved the curtain back in place, and slowly slid open the wooden panel. Only then did I notice two slits in the dark velvet cloth.
The caravan tilted on its springs, and a thud hit the ground. Each sound passed clearly inside now, marking Calhoun’s movements. “The faith of a mustard seed, Mrs. Murphy, that’s all you need to please Saint Brigid.”
“Am I to put me hands through there again?” she asked skeptically.
“That you’ll do,” Calhoun said. “But there won’t be any fortunes given out this time. Only her finger bone be inside, waiting for you.”
“I don’t know—”
“Courage, milady. I’ll even drink first from the bottle so to show it’s safe...” Seconds passed, and Calhoun gave a contented sigh. “Pure as heaven, I could have a barrel and not get me fill... Your turn, Mrs. Murphy. Take a good long swig... Ah, yes, that should do. Here’s me hand to help you onto the crate.”
“You’re sure it’s safe?” she asked in a breathy whisper.
“Now, now, Mrs. Murphy. Do you suppose Saint Brigid would be hurting you? The same blessed woman who converted a pagan chieftain on his deathbed? Or healed two sisters with a few drops of her blood that had spilled into the mud? Have faith, and be an example to your friends and neighbors that the people of Dunmore stand by miracles.”
There was a determined sniff. “I’ll do it, Master Calhoun, so help me God, for I’ve no other choice but to die.”
“And help you He will, Mrs. Murphy. Now up you go. We’ve tested Saint Brigid’s patience enough for one day.” A shoe scuffed right outside the window, and then another. “There you be... See those two openings in the curtain? Stick your hands through and ask the saint to put a blessing upon you.”
Ailish waved frantically for me to stand. I did, moving silent as a mouse.
The curtain swayed. Hesitant fingers poked through the velvet. Ailish leaned close, her icy breath brushing my ear and sending a violent shiver through me. “Put your hands like this.”
I mirrored the action, extending my arms from the elbow, palms up. The remainder of Mrs. Murphy’s hands appeared to the wrists, palms down, and Ailish pushed her hands repeatedly upward, gesturing for me to close the distance.
Mrs. Murphy startled at the initial touch. With a small cry of alarm, her hands jerked up, breaking the contact.
“There, there,” Calhoun cooed. “No need to be frightened.”
Her palms came down again, tentative at first, then growing bolder until they rested entirely on mine. “I feel it!” she cried. “But not just a bone. It be two hands, fully formed.”
“‘Tis the miracle working,” Calhoun said. “Now lean a wee bit closer and whisper your troubles to Saint Brigid. She be ready to help.”