“Indeed I am, Magister, ten years since. We are pleased to be of God’s Kingdom on Earth, and to partake of His Grace, which only it can bestow.”
I could argue about this with him or leave it for a better time. We would be fellow-travellers for some days and I didn’t want the journey to be awkward. I mentioned that the Irish Church did not entirely agree with the Romans but said that I was on my way to a great Synod, which had been called in order to sort it all out.
“I’m on my way to meet a great Roman Bishop and at least two Abbots in order that we discuss how we should all work together. I’m sure any areas of disagreement will be resolved. But I take it,” I continued before the theological dispute could be taken any further, “that you aren’t from Strathclyde?”
“Oh, I am, Fa - Magister, but not from these parts. Strathclyde is a great Kingdom, the greatest in Britain, and I’m from a long way south of here.” He was from further than that, if I was any kind of judge. By his height and blonde hair, the man was a Saxon.
“Oh? Whereabouts exactly?”
He described a small village, half a day’s march from the old Roman city of Deva, and a place that brought back some memories that were maybe not entirely suitable for a Christian monk. Of Morwenna and a Beltane night, nearly thirty years before. I made myself pay attention to what the merchant was saying.
“It was taken back under Strathclyde’s protection by good King Owain. Prince Owain he was then. I pray for his conversion. He’s never done us newcomers any harm and he’s saved us from the savagery of Gwynedd, so I am his man. We moved there five years ago.”
“Oh, I know your village, and a bustling place it is too. I’ve taken ship there in the past, and sailed across to Innis Vannin,” I said. “But you’re a long way from home?”
“Aye. I had heard that the Kingdom of Fife had a shortage, both of weavers and fine cloth and so I decided to try my luck with them. The competition is a bit fierce in the south, what with all them weavers and sheep in Gwynedd, just across the river from Deva. So I brought my family up with me and I’ll be blowed if we don’t find that Strathclyde has fallen out of sorts with Fife, and King Owain has been rude about their women, and there’s rumours that we’ll be going to war with them and maybe the Lothians too, so we changed our plans and are heading back home. But we must make something of the trip and while we sold some bolts in Dumbarton, we hear we might do well in Northumbria, at the Melrose fair in a few days. Our Southern sheep produce a finer wool than these up here, hardy as I’m sure they are, and I don’t think they’ll have seen the like of our cloth. Let me show you, and you tell me what you think.”
With that he pulled a small book out of his hip-bag which contained swatches of fine woollen cloth in a variety of colours. It was very good quality, I had to agree, and I said so.
“Thank you, Magister. I’m proud of my craft but the quality I produce is too fine for ordinary country folk. Costs too much. I can’t compromise on it, just can’t do it, I have pride in my work, spent a long time learning my trade, so we have to go where the money is - and that means the Kings’ courts, or the big fairs, wherever they are and whatever language they speak. And,” he continued. “this is by way of a pilgrimage too, as I’ve been told that the Abbey at Melrose is rather grand and a very holy place. Do you know it?”
He turned his inquiring face to me and there were maggots crawling out of his eyes. I stopped dead, as if struck by a stone. I had to lean on a boulder for support.
“What’s the matter?” I forced my eyes open and made myself look at the merchant. His face was perfectly normal and wore an expression of concern. I put my fingers to my temples. The pain was sharp but not overwhelming.
“A sudden headache,” I said. “I suffer from them. They take me unawares, sometimes.” I felt nauseous.
“Is there anything I can do? Would you like to rest awhile? Hold up, there! This man is unwell!” He called.
“No, it isn’t necessary. I have something.” I reached into my bag for my bottle and took a small draught. As usual, the effect was rapid. I breathed heavily for a moment, then smiled. The rest of the company, which had become strung out, was catching up with them - the Moaning Woman was getting closer but was still more concerned with her own troubles. “I’m fine now. Let’s move on. We still have a long way to go.”
The merchant asked if I was sure I was all right. I thanked him and said I was quite recovered. We all have to die sometime, I thought, and there was no indication of when this man was to meet his Maker. It might not be for many years yet - but I knew (and remembered Cunnian's complaint about the short notice my Visions gave) that my companion wasn't long for this world. I found it uncomfortable to be with him or his family and so I walked alone for a while. It wasn’t long before the message reached me that the Moaning Woman needed my company and comfort. I resigned myself to her prattle for another hour.
The going had been so sticky and hard that we had made barely eighteen miles before dusk started to close in. We’d climbed up from the river’s flood plain a little but were barely into the foothills of the Uplands. Our day’s journey had brought us to a small Inn, which had insufficient room within its walls for all of us so I at last had my wish and was able to sleep in the barn with the animals. After supper I performed my evening Office and sang another hymn. The animals seemed to enjoy it - at any rate, they listened quietly enough. Afterwards I went straight to sleep and was untroubled by any Visions. I did dream, however, a dream of Ieuan lost in a hostile forest, stumbling out into a clearing but still surrounded by the threatening trees. I could see a small path out but Ieuan couldn’t find it, and didn’t seem to be able to hear me calling the way.
Whether Sight or my own confusion had brought this to me I wasn’t sure. I remembered it only vaguely in the morning.
11
The Weaver’s Answer
The early afternoon of the following day would bring the parting of the ways for the company. The majority would continue up the valley of the Clyde while the merchant, his family and I would take the eastern path over the hills to the Tweed river, which we would then follow down to Melrose. We were warned to be on our guard because, although the three kingdoms of Strathclyde, Lothian and Northumbria were (for the moment) officially at peace, the frontiers were not clearly drawn and it was possible that a skirmish was taking place even now.