Caomhnóir - 37

As he watched the countryside pass, Thom finally asked, “Where are we headed now?”

“Down to Cork,” Keegan told him. “We should be there by evening. We’ll find a place to stay and fly out in the morning.”

“I never thought I’d say it, but I’ll be glad to get home.”

“As will I. This has been a most interesting trip, but a bit of peace and quiet is in order now. That is of course—”

“If Darius decides to behave once we get back.”

“Which one can only hope, since he’ll be well within Alasdair’s reach by then.”

Thom nodded. “I wish Alasdair would send him packing to, oh I don’t know, ancient Rome perhaps. Back where he came from. He can do his thing, maybe keep Antony from meeting Cleopatra, and we can go back to living relatively normal lives.”

Keegan chuckled. “As normal as it gets with me around.”

“I’m not complaining—too much,” Thom told him with a smile. “And once we find the out-clause in your contract we really can have a normal life.”

Keegan glanced at him, his visage turning serious. “Even if there is one, which I doubt, I don’t think I’d want to give up what I’m doing.” Returning his eyes to the road, he continued what he was saying. “I actually like the idea that I make a difference in the world. I know you think I’m a slave but it was my choice. I’m—I don’t know—perhaps at this point a willing slave?”

Thom chewed his lip, staring out the window as he contemplated what Keegan had said. “What if there really is an out clause, but you can still be what you are and do what you do?”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t know; maybe that you still answer to Alasdair but as an equal, and you don’t have to move around from century to century. God only knows there are enough troubles here and now that need Caomhnóir working on them, especially if the Scriostóir are behind them.”

“Very true. But that is not going to happen.”

“You sound quite certain of that.”

“Thom, I’ve been a Caomhnóir for nine centuries, moving back and forth as I’m needed.”

“Jumping at their beck and call. When do you get a life of your own?” Thom retorted angrily.

“I had that, and blew it. I killed an innocent girl while trying to save my own worthless life. I earned the consequences fair and square. Mar a gcuireann tú, déanfar amhlaidh tú bhaint as.”

“Would I be too far off the think that meant, ‘as you sow, so shall you reap’?”

“Spot on,” Keegan replied with a smile. “And that is the truth behind the Caomhnóir. We are men reborn. We seek redemption and a second chance at life; to paraphrase something that I read—somewhere.”

“Probably some wall in a men’s room in Paris during the Revolution,” Thom muttered.

Keegan chuckled. “As I remember, there were no such things back then.”

Taking a deep breath, Thom grinned. “Well there are nowadays, and I wish you’d quit putting my phone number up in them.” He moved as far away from his lover as he could to avoid Keegan’s swipe at him, more than happy that the serious mood had abated—for now.

* * * * * *

Mar a gcuireann tú, déanfar amhlaidh tú bhaint as - As you sow, so shall you reap.