Cave of Secrets by Morgan Llywelyn Read Free Book Online Page A

coils of rope and upside-down currachs. And other articles whose use he could not guess.
    For a moment he thought he heard his father’s warning: A fate worse than death!
    Donal gave him a shove from behind. ‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘They’re waiting for you.’
    In front of the largest cabin a woman sat at a spinning wheel. She was humming as she worked. Maura was leaning against her shoulder. The two looked up as the boys approached. ‘Tomflynn!’ the little girl shouted. She ran to meet him with arms outstretched. ‘Tomflynn, Tomflynn!’
    A man appeared in the doorway behind the woman. She looked back at him. He briefly rested one hand on her hair.
    People began to emerge from the other cabins. Four men – one of them quite old – a woman well past her youth, and another in her middle years. Seeing them together, Tom understood the meaning of ‘tribe’. Men and women alike were tall and strongly built. All but the oldest had thick black hair. Everyone, even little Maura, possessed the same bright blue eyes and sharply cut features.
    They were nothing like the people William Flynn entertained at Roaringwater House. Tom recalled his father’s guests with a newly critical eye. Their faces resembled suet puddings. Their clothes were too tight and their bellies were too big.
    On Roaringwater Bay lived a tribe with the faces of sea eagles.
    The man standing in the doorway wore a saffron-dyed linen tunic and woollen trews. His feet were clad in untanned leather that softly fitted their shape. Slung across his broad shoulders was a mantle trimmed in wolf fur.
    Tom had no doubt who he was. Donal’s father looked more like a king than Charles Stuart in his ermines.
    How does one greet a king?
    Donal’s father solved the problem for Tom by stepping forward and putting one hand on the boy’s shoulder. The man’s eyes sparkled with some hidden amusement. ‘I am chieftain here,’ Muiris said. ‘And you are the son of Liam Ó Floinn.’ Not a question, but a statement. ‘Does your father know where you are?’
    ‘My father doesn’t care what I do, as long as I stay out of his sight.’
    ‘Donal says you would like to work with us. Is that true, Tomás?’
    It was strange to hear his name pronounced in the Irish way. The servants at home would never dare. ‘It is true,’ said Tom. ‘Learning about the sea would be a great adventure.’
    ‘It might be,’ Muiris conceded. ‘Is adventure your only reason?’ He cocked one black eyebrow. His blue eyes seemed to see right through Tom.
    The boy hesitated. How could he admit that he wantedto get back at his father? ‘If do have another reason,’ he said, ‘must I tell you what it is?’
    Muiris shook his head. ‘I have no need for your secrets. It is enough that you know them.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

In the Narrow Valley
    T he chieftain’s hand on Tom’s shoulder guaranteed the boy’s acceptance. Muiris introduced the others. His wife was called Bríd. Two of the men, Seán and Séamus, were his brothers. The younger woman was married to Séamus and the older to his cousin.
    ‘Tomás. Tomás. You are very welcome, Tomás,’ said voices on every side.
    There was a rush to offer the visitor hospitality. He was led into a thick-walled cabin and seated on a three-legged stool close to the hearth. He gazed at his surroundings with interest.
    Rectangular in shape, the cabin was more spacious than it appeared from the outside. The wide, deep hearth was the heart of the home. Its stone chimney soared to the full height of the roofline. Recesses in the chimney breast provided storage. Cooking pots were slung on an iron crane over theslumbering hearthfire. Against one wall stood a large timber dresser. Its shelves were filled with pewter cups and plates and the imported Dutch pottery called ‘delft’, after the city where it was made. Underneath this was a nesting box for the hens.
    At one end of the main room a wooden ladder led to the children’s sleeping loft under the