The Mer- Lion by Lee Arthur Page B

"Mother of God, what have we done?" He crossed himself and would have prostrated himself before both altar and hand if Seamus hadn't stopped him.
    "Nay, father. Maybe it's a miracle, maybe no', but it must be a sign that what we did was no' evil work of the devil. Be that as it may, father, what do we do with it now?"
    The priest looked panic-stricken. "I know not, I know not. Cover it up and let me think. No, thinking's no good. I must pray for guidance!"
    While Seamus carefully re wrapped the arm in its red swaddling, the priest abjectly prostrated himself before the altar in prayer and invocation. He had scarcely begun the Litany of Loreto when Seamus, remembering his original purpose in coming to the chapel that night, took to his heels and fled for the stable. Entering the door, he listened hard. It was quiet. Carefully, he made his way up the stair, trying to make no sound lest he disturb those within. A knock at his door brought no results. Nor did a second. Finally, he pulled the latch string and let himself in . By the light of a candle, he could make out Nanny Goodall asleep in4 makeshift pallet on the floor. Stealthily he approached his bed.
    "Shush, you lummox, you'll wake the dead," came a tired but happy voice from its depths. "And where were you when your son was born?"
    Seamus sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, his eyes only for the woman in it. "I was in church, if you must know. Are you all right?"
    "I'm fine, but are you not the least bit curious about your son? He has a fine head of blond hair, you know," she gloated, moving the covers to one side so that Seamus might have a look. She opened the swaddling clothes a bit more. "And on his ribs, the self-same brown birthmark his da' has."
    "He's so small," was Seamus's awed comment.
    "What did you think? He would spring from my belly big as you? He's a fine-sized child. Lusty. Healthy. With a good strong set of lungs. They must have heard his first cry on High Street."
    Nelly exaggerated. However, word of his birth had preceded Seamus into the earl's bedroom. For when Seamus was summoned hours later at Terce, he was greeted with hearty congratulations: "And what did you name him?"
    "Fionn. Nelly would have nothing else."
    "Fionn?"
    "An Irish name. It means fair of hair and of skin. She wants to make sure my other loves get the message and ne'er forget, her son was born straw-colored like me."
    The earl laughed. "Women! Come, join me in a drink, we'll toast your new son."
    The strong usquebaugh on an empty stomach, combined with a sleepless night, set Seamus back on his heels a bit. The earl, catching sight of his expression, was all sympathy and concern. Then, man to man, he-confessed that he himself had had a sleepless night, too. Seamus, catching sight of the headdress lying casually alongside the bed, knew what he meant. Another time, he would have been filled with bitter envy, but somehow the events of the night before had been a catharsis, purging him of his lusting after the Lady Islean.
    Whether the feeling would last, Seamus didn't know, but he was glad he could return Seaforth's confidence with an honestly felt "Then, my lord, perhaps congratulations are in order for you, too."
    Seaforth laughed and admitted the possibility. In this mood of camaraderie, the two men descended the stairs to the great hall below. There they parted, but only temporarily, for Seaforth expressed a desire for the first time in weeks to look over his domain. Seamus, in turn, went searching for the chaplain. But he was not to be found. He had left early before Lauds, on retreat to the monastery of St. Raymond of Penafort, taking only one bundle, presumably of his vestments. Seamus had no choice but to return to the great hall and await Seaforth's pleasure.
    Seaforth's inspection, later mat morning, didn't take long, the two men scarcely able to stifle their yawns. As a matter of fact, once Seaforth had seen the job Seamus had done policing the guardroom, the earl would