The island rose to the right, the buildings dark against the deep sky. Dark specks dotted over the lump of land, moving about like fleas on a hound.

Beibhinn's throat tightened - An Beitheach was there. What would he do to the brothers? To Conn?

"Brother," she hissed ahead ino the gloom, her voice raspy, "Where are the others? Where is Conn?" 

The monk who had shown her to the safe, warm dwelling just a few hours previously had come again in the darkness without a light. Before he could speak she had guessed why he had come - to lead her away from danger once again, since that sanctuary of theirs had failed. And so she had followed out into the marshy land.

Brothe MaoÍosa kept walking, half bent, but sure on the treacherous ground. "Fear not for them," he answered, his voice low and tight. Beibhinn's steps slowed, the words rising heavily to her tongue. "I must go back." she said, sick terror rising through her chest, "It is I whom An Beitheach wants, he will leave you in peace." Her voice trailed off. Say what she would, her feet were never going to obey.

"You will not." said Brother MaolÍosa forcibly, "Beibinn, if you return, what that man will do is inhuman." Beibhinn didn't stir. Terror had a grip on her and was squeezing...squeezing... I cannot leave them and run away. I mustn't leave them...squeezing...

"Beibinn! For Heaven's sake! You must come!"

She gasped sharply, like a drowning one. "Abandoning you all." she managed to get out.

 "Return then." said Brother MaolÍosa, with a small flick of his hand, "But  An Beitheach will burn us out anyway. What good will it be when you are carried off by them?"

Beibhinn shuddered.

"If," said Brothe MaolÍosa more gently, "you are persecuted in one town, flee to the next. Go around all the towns in Israel if you must." he tried to smile, but his face was pinched too tight, "I ask you not to go all the way to Israel, but only to The O Chinnéide. If you reach him, he will aid us. And be of greater use than such a silly act by you could be."

Beibhinn swallowed and nodded, but the relief of his words did nothing to dispel the guilt.

They drew closer to the island where the ground was firmer, and the specks grew larger - men in hoods who milled about - searching.

They must see us..or hear...how could they not? Oh, A Dhia!

Orange glow began spreading over the sides of the island, radiating from the cluster of huts. The men grew clearer in the flickering light. Soon they themselves would be visible, picked out and illuminated by the fire.

"Must we pass so near them?" she whispered

"No other way," replied the monk, and his tone left Beibhinn with little hope of evading detection.

A few more cautious steps brought them to the very fringe of the island, where the green grass turned wirey brown and to their left a stagnant pool blocked any other way. Still Beibhinn could not see where they were making for - or why.

Then suddenly a great shout went up, and the figures of the men raced up to the huts.

"Déan deifir!" exclaimed Brother MaolÍosa. Over the fringes of the island they ran, dodging the pool, then back out into the bog, swallowed into the shadow, splashing and sliding, but leaving the dome of the monastery island behind.

****

The ground grew solid under Beibhinn's feet and in the gloom she realised they were on a rough roadway - a subsiding sort of cart track leading back towards the monastery. As they ran, a great roar of many voices went up behind them and firelight turned the grasses orange.

"Do not look back," gasped Brother MaolÍósa,

"Yes, Lot," replied Beibhinn, with a feeble attempt at humour.

Still they ran. Brother MaolÍosa began to fall behind. Beibhinn slowed too, forcing herself to keep looking ahead, though the slightest check chafed her.

They must come. They are coming. Surely they are...

Brother MaolÍosa stopped. "I must return now," he said, although the rattle ad crackle of burning sounded behind, and the yells of men came through the night.

"Return?" exclaimed Beibhinn, "That is madness! You told me it was so yourself!"

"For you, yes." said the Brother, and left it at that.

"I am sorry," stammered Beibhinn, seeing his round, good natured face pinched and fire-hued before her, and thinking, in images just as flame-lurid, of what must surely befall him, "You were so kind to us, and I caused - I -"

"You are not to blame for that man's evil." said Brother MaolÍosa, still out of breath, "Goodness often will draw violence from those who are wicked. But one does not abandon goodness to avoid that."

He turned, now a dark shadow, barely visibile in the inky shadows thrown by the bushes on either side."Run Beibhinn. Run to The O Chinnéide. And fear not - God will look to us. May Our Holy Mother and the angels be about you."

"But - "

Brother MaolÍosa stiffened, like a fox, "Go Beibinn!" he ordered, "In Heaven's name: Obey!" the sharpness of his voice frightened her.

"G'raibh ma-"

"Run Beibhinn!"

Beibhinn ran.

Thorugh the darkness she raced, arms flailing. Her breath came in rough gasps.

 She had doomed them. Her actions. If she had not hidden in the monastery - now the  monks were suffering for her. It ought to be her. Just her.

Behind the shouts grew less, swallowed up by the furious crackling of burning. Tears streamed down her face, she could barely snatch breath. Summon The O Chinnéide? How could she run so far?

She must. Her face set hard. She must. They would punish An Beitheach. They would save the brothers if she could not. But by then, would there be any left to save?

Her legs dragged, heavier, heavier, The ground shifting and suinking beneath her feet. The blood pounded in her ears.

Perhaps that was why she never heard Brother MaolÍosa's cry.

Author's note:

Wishing you a very joyful Easter!