Master of Souls

CHAPTER TWELVE

It was nearly noon on the next day when they came within sight of the place that Eadulf had thought he would never see again, nor wished to. It was a spot that he remembered too well. For some time, as they had journeyed along the coastal road heading eastwards, the low-lying island of Uaman had been resolving from a dim outline to become sharp and distinct. So clear was it now that Eadulf could see the blackened walls of what had been the circular fortress where a few months ago he had been imprisoned. It was low tide when they approached the deceptive-looking stretch of sand dunes that linked the island to the mainland. The solid-looking sand did not deceive Eadulf. He knew that not only did it contain dangerous quicksand, but when the tide came in it would often bring a destructive wave two metres high that would catch the unwary and wash them to destruction. He had seen Uaman the Leper die that way, sucked into the quicksand and struggling as the wave engulfed him. Even now Eadulf shivered at the memory.

It was the warrior, Socht, who suddenly called out.

‘Look, lord Conri, down at the shoreline!’

They all followed the line of his extended hand.

There seemed to be a large amount of flotsam and jetsam along the shoreline, and pieces of timber, the unmistakable wreckage of a broken ship.

‘It is as Mugron told us,’ exclaimed Eadulf.

‘This is the wreckage we saw when we came to collect the body of Abbess Faife,’ Conri confirmed.

‘But, lord,’ interrupted Socht, ‘there are still bodies there. No one has been here to give them proper burial.’

It was true. Several decomposing bodies seemed caught up in the wreckage that lined the sandbank near the shore.

‘Should we recover them, lord?’ demanded the warrior.

‘Do not!’ snapped Eadulf harshly as the man began to urge his horse towards the shoreline and the treacherous sands.

They turned to look at him in curiosity.

‘I know this place,’ Eadulf said simply. ‘It is unsafe. There are quicksands there. Apart from that, even in these cold winter months, the rotting corpses will carry disease. Let us keep a reasonable distance.’

They sat on their horses viewing the scene.

‘We agreed before that a ship was driven on to the rocky shore further out on the island,’ Conri observed. ‘Those poor men must be part of the unfortunate crew who were drowned.’

Fidelma was peering round.

‘And where was Abbess Faife’s body found in relationship to this place?’ Conri pointed immediately.

‘See there! A short distance along the road and slightly up the mountainside.’

She could see the dim outline of the stone coirceogach.

‘I wonder whether there was any connection between the two events — the shipwreck and the abduction?’ she mused almost to herself.

‘What connection could there be, lady?’

‘I am wondering why no one has cleared the wreckage and the bodies. Eadulf reported a village nearby and the wreck must have been noticed.’ She frowned. ‘Eadulf, do you think you can remember your way across the sands to this island? I think we should make an attempt to search it, especially those blackened ruins.’

Eadulf was reluctant.

‘That was Uaman’s Tower. He is dead. What are you hoping to find there?’ he demanded.

She smiled patiently.

‘It would be good if we found the missing companions of Abbess Faife for a start,’ she said with soft irony.

Eadulf coloured a little.

‘It’s best if we leave our horses among those trees there.’ He had spotted the very place where Basil Nestorios and Gorman had camped on the night of the escape from Uaman’s fortress. ‘It will keep them out of the wind.’

They tethered their mounts where Eadulf suggested so that the horses had movement and were within reach of fodder. Then Eadulf led the way down to the bank, searching his memory for the path across the shifting

The tide would not be at its flood until early evening. The sandbanks looked firm enough but he knew their treachery. Crabs scuttled about, following the waters, taking refuge in little pools, and here and there a sea bass or pollock had been caught unawares in these pools, splashing in search of its vanishing environment.

‘Follow me,’ he instructed the others, adding, ‘and when I say “follow” I mean follow closely in my footsteps.’

He climbed down from the bank on to the sand, which sank a little under his weight, water running over his feet. Then he began to move forward, traversing the sandy link to the rocky edge of the island proper and making his way up some stone-flagged steps to the grassy knoll on which the Tower of Uaman rose.

As they had seen, the great oak gates, reinforced by iron, hung open, one at an odd angle. There were some skeletons at the gate. They had been Uaman’s warriors, cut down by Gorman, their flesh picked clean by the scavenging birds that circled this shoreline. Eadulf had a curious feeling of satisfaction when he saw Conri and his two warriors loose and remove their swords from their sheaths and peer nervously around. At least he was not the only one who nursed a strange fear of this place.

They passed through the gates into the main courtyard.

‘Let us search quickly and depart,’ muttered Conri, glancing uneasily about him.

Fidelma smiled softly, understanding his feelings but not, apparently, sharing them.

‘Eadulf, where is the best place to start looking?’ she asked.

Eadulf cleared his throat nervously.

‘There is a door through there that leads to the cells where Basil Nestorios and I were held. It also gives access to Uaman’s chambers.’

‘Take me there. Conri, you and your men can search these outbuildings.’ She turned and made for the door that Eadulf had indicated without waiting for an acknowledgement.

The living chambers of the fortress were certainly deserted and had been ransacked of furniture. They must have been picked bare of goods when the local villagers, long dominated by Uaman, had attacked the place. It was not long before they all met up again in the courtyard, certain now there was no one else in the ruined fortress. However, Conri was standing with some excitement showing on his face.

‘Come and look at this, lady,’ he invited, waving his sword towards the doors of what appeared to be storerooms. ‘What do you make of this?’

The storerooms seemed full of cases and barrels.

Fidelma went to them and examined them quickly.

‘These cases have been immersed in the sea,’ she observed. ‘It looks as though someone has rescued them from the remains of the shipwreck.’ Fidelma noticed the watermarks on the boxes and barrels. ‘Mostly oil and wine from Gaul, but look at these.’

They came forward and peered over her shoulder. One of the boxes had been prised open.

‘Gold!’ exclaimed Eadulf.

‘Gold, indeed, and not our native gold because it is too pale,’ added Conri. ‘Our gold has a reddish tinge to it.’

Fidelma stood up and regarded the stored goods, head on one side. ‘Come,’ she finally said. ‘Let us go outside and see if there is anything else this island can reveal.’

They left the circular fortress, walking along the grassy knoll. The low tide revealed long stretches of sandy pebbled beaches but at the southern end there were rocks that stretched out under the water. They had no difficulty in spotting the rotting timbers of the main bulk of a wreck still protruding from the water. It was clearly a merchantman but it had been dashed so hard against the rocks that its masts were broken and timbers smashed. Only its stern seemed intact, and even that was fast decaying in the rough winter seas.

Then the smell caught at their nostrils. Among the prickly bushes that lined the beaches lay more decomposing bodies. They had been there for some time and the carrion had been feasting. Trying to control her look of distaste, Fidelma approached one of them. Her eyes took in the remnants of clothing.

‘Seamen, foreign seamen,’ she muttered. ‘I have seen that style of clothing somewhere.’

It was Eadulf who supplied the answer.

‘When I was returning from Rome, I took passage on a Gaulish merchant ship, and they wore a similar style of clothing.’

‘Gaulish? Mugron identified the boot that was found as that of a Gaulish seaman. That makes sense.’

‘Those poor wretches, drowning so near to land,’ muttered Conri.

‘Look at this.’ Fidelma pointed to one of the corpses.

Holding a hand over his mouth to avoid the stench, Conri, with Eadulf at his shoulder, did so.

‘This man did not drown. He has a broken sword blade snapped off between his ribs.’

Eadulf was aghast.

‘You mean these men made it ashore and were cut down?’

‘The man who killed this sailor thrust his sword in but it must have been ill tempered, for when he tried to withdraw the blade it broke,’ Fidelma explained. ‘Thus the tip of the blade remains in the rotting flesh as a mute testimony to the crime.’

Eadulf pointed to another corpse which lay on its back.

‘The skull of this one seems smashed. It might have been done in the wreck or against the rocks…’

‘Then how did the man manage to crawl up here so far above the waterline?’ queried Fidelma. She slowly shook her head. ‘We are seeing nothing but plain and gruesome murder. Either that ship was deliberately wrecked or people stood on this shore waiting for the survivors and killed them.’

The usually silent warrior, Socht, had been looking at the channel between the tip of the island and the southern shore.

‘It would take a bad seaman and bad luck to run ashore here even in darkness, lady,’ he muttered.

‘Could it be that the Abbess Faife and her companions were passing here when this deed occurred? They saw this crime and had to be silenced?’ Conri speculated.

‘If so, then there are matters that puzzle me,’ said Eadulf.

They turned to him with expressions of curiosity.

‘Well, if it was the intention to keep this matter a secret, why leave Abbess Faife so close to the scene, along the roadside where Mugron found her a short time later? Why have these bodies been left strewn on this island and floating in the waters around it? Why leave the booty in the fortress with gates and doors wide open so that anyone could — even as we died-enter and discover it?’

‘The questions are pertinent,’ agreed Fidelma.

‘But are there answers to them?’ demanded Conri.

‘It shows that whoever did this thing is supremely confident,’ Eadulf concluded. ‘That they fear no one in this area.’

No one commented and so Eadulf continued.

‘There was only one person who had such power and overweening belief in himself…’ Eadulf paused and then shrugged. ‘But I saw him die. Now there is only one undisputed chief of this land.’

‘Slebene!’ muttered Conri.

‘Is there any other?’ Eadulf challenged.

‘Well,’ agreed Conri, ‘only the wronged dead are allowed to come back from the Otherworld on the night of the feast of Samhain to wreak vengeance on the living of this world. As Uaman was not wronged when he perished here, though he wronged many himself, he does not qualify to return on the feast of Samhain. So I agree with Eadulf, we must beware of Slebene.’

Fidelma peered around the deserted island and a cold wind caught at her, causing her to shiver slightly.

‘There seems much wrong in this land of the Corco Duibhne. Yet before we can accuse Slebene we must gather proof against him.’

Eadulf was unhappy that Fidelma did not support his view that it was more than apparent that Slebene was to blame.

‘There can be no other explanation,’ he said determinedly.

‘Perhaps not, but I am only interested in what can be argued before the Brehons.’ Conri was about to speak when Fidelma held up her hand. ‘We will speak of this no more until we can argue fact and not speculation.’

Another gust of cold air hit them and Eadulf glanced at the darkening, grey sea with its choppy waves. The hour was growing late.

‘The tide is on the turn,’ he said. ‘I think we should go back across the sands to the mainland before we are cut off for the night.’

‘What of the goods in the storeroom? What of the gold?’ demanded Conri.

‘We must leave it. Our first consideration is to find the missing women,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘We can deal with that matter later.’

The journey back was an easier one as they had their own footsteps in the sand to guide them safely over the sand dunes to the firm shore. The sky was darkening when they left the island and they could hear the sibilant whispering of the sea as the oncoming tide gathered for its onslaught across the sand.

‘We have a short time before darkness. Let me see where the body of the abbess was found.’

They collected their horses and Conri led them a short distance along the road and then up through some trees towards the dark shape of a conical stone hut.

‘Mugron found her outside the coirceogach and then dragged the body behind it, packing it with snow to preserve it until he reached Ard Fhearta to alert us.’

Fidelma dismounted and looked about. She realised there would be little to find. Too long had passed and too many people had been here. Also, there had been several falls of snow since the incident, obscuring everything. But the hope of discovering some significant clue was not the reason for her coming. She merely needed to see and feel the atmosphere of the place where the deed was done as it helped her to recreate it in her mind. She looked around. They were out of sight of the island, being round a bend in the road, and the road itself was a short distance away below them.

Fidelma bent down and entered the stone hut. There were traces of a travellers’ fire, some discarded pottery items and a few pieces of rag… no, not rags, but clothing. She looked carefully at one of them. It turned out to be a leather jerkin, a seaman’s jerkin, of the style she had seen on the decomposing corpses on the island. Nearby was the boot — a coisbert.

She emerged from the coirceogach and held out the items to Conri.

‘I presume that this is the boot and clothing that Mugron showed you?’

Conri gave an affirmative gesture.

‘They may mean nothing,’ she said, replacing them in the hut. ‘There are many ways that the clothing could have come here. There is also a chance someone took it from one of the corpses and brought it here. Perhaps one of the people who killed Faife could have been carrying it or even wearing it. There are lots of possibilities.’

Conri was looking at the sky with impatience.

‘I do not think that we should spend any more time here. We need to find a place to pass the night,’ he said. ‘It is going to be a cold one and I do not fancy the idea of sleeping out under the trees.’

‘I told you that there was a village up the mountainside just here. We should have no trouble in finding a sheltered place. It was people from it who destroyed Uaman’s fortress once they learnt they were free from his thrall.’

‘Let us hope that they are more hospitable these days,’ the warlord muttered.

‘People’s actions in normal circumstances cannot be judged by their actions in extreme conditions,’ replied Eadulf. ‘I am sure we will find hospitality there.’

‘Then lead on, Eadulf,’ Fidelma instructed. ‘It has been a tiring day.’

They remounted and Eadulf led the way up the track in the direction he knew the village lay. It was not far up the hillside, on the easy slopes just before the trees stopped and the great bald, rocky hills began to climb into the towering Sliabh Mis mountains. Eadulf swung round a bend on the track and came abruptly into what was the centre of the village. There was a blacksmith’s workshop in its usual position at the end of the settlement and a series of buildings, both stone and wooden structures, spread either side of the track. It was not quite dark yet and Eadulf was surprised by the utter stillness of the place. It seemed deserted.

‘Are you sure this is the place, Eadulf?’ Fidelma found herself whispering as they halted.

‘I am sure.’

He leant forward in his saddle and gave forth a loud shout.

‘Hoigh! Hoigh!’

There was a sudden fluttering of alarmed birds rising into the air but when their angry squawks died away no one had appeared or answered the call.

As an automatic reaction, Conri’s two warriors had their swords unsheathed and ready as they examined their surroundings.

‘Your villagers seem to have deserted this place,’ commented Conri unnecessarily.

Eadulf rode forward between the houses, peering in at half-open doorways. It was true. It seemed that the entire village had been deserted, and certainly fairly recently judging by the condition of the buildings and what he could see of their interiors.

Fidelma was resigned.

‘Well, if we cannot find hospitality we can, at least, have a roof over our heads this night,’ she said philosophically.

Eadulf pointed to a building.

‘That looks suitable for accommodation. There is even a well beside it.’

They dismounted and Socht and his companion took charge of the

‘From the dust, this place cannot have been deserted for more than a week or two,’ Fidelma commented. ‘I wonder why the people decided to leave?’

A moment later the second warrior returned. He wore a grin on his face. He said nothing but had his bow in one hand and held up two rabbits in the other.

Conri smiled appreciatively.

‘Well, we won’t starve tonight. And we have water at hand and there is still corma in my saddle bag to keep out the winter’s chill.’

At a nod from Conri, the warrior went outside to skin and gut the animals ready for cooking while the warlord constructed a spit that could be turned over the fire he had made.

It was while they were seated in the main room of the deserted building in front of the fire, watching the sizzling carcasses of the rabbits being turned over it, that they all heard a slight, muffled sound.

It was a soft thump. The noise seemed to come from under the very floor on which they sat. Yet the floor appeared to be a hardened earth surface.

Conri glanced at the others and placed a finger to his lips. His brows were drawn together. He began to examine the floor without moving from his seat. Then he silently pointed. There was a spot where dried rushes had been strewn and they saw a metal ring almost buried in the straw.

Quietly, quickly, Conri rose and moved to it. His two warrior companions had drawn their swords ready. The warlord bent down, gripped the metal ring quietly, paused only a moment and then pulled it abruptly upwards. A small trapdoor came away and Conri peered down.

‘Come out of that!’ he shouted in a thunderous bellow.

A moment later a small head and shoulders emerged.

A frightened fair-haired boy, freckle-faced, terror in the blue eyes that peered round at the company. His hair was matted and his face smudged with dirt.

‘It’s a boy!’ cried Conri in surprise, then he bent with one hand and hauled the child bodily up into the room. The lad could have been no uaimh talun, an underground chamber for storing food.’

It was clear that the boy was still very frightened.

Fidelma smiled encouragingly at him.

‘Come here, child,’ she instructed. ‘Come, tell me your name.’

The boy shuffled forward a step.

‘I am Iobcar, son of Starn the blacksmith,’ he said hesitantly yet with a curious dignity.

‘Well,’ Fidelma’s smile widened at the child’s tone, ‘well, Iobcar son of Starn the blacksmith, I am Fidelma of Cashel. Tell me what you were doing in that souterrain?’

‘Hiding,’ the boy said simply.

‘From whom?’

‘From you,’ the boy replied without guile, causing some merriment from the two warriors.

‘Tell us, Iobcar son of Starn the blacksmith,’ invited Fidelma, ‘why would you be hiding from us?’

‘I thought you were the bad people.’

‘The bad people?’

‘The people of Uaman the Leper.’

Eadulf frowned in irritation.

‘Uaman the Leper is long dead, boy,’ he snapped and received a look of rebuke from Fidelma for his manner.

‘My father said that he was so bad that the Otherworld would not have him and he had to return to this one.’

Fidelma tried to hide her chuckle of amusement.

‘So your father Starn is a philosopher?’ observed Eadulf sarcastically. The boy shook his head, taking the question seriously.

‘He is a blacksmith,’ he protested. ‘I have told you as much.’

‘Very well, Iobcar,’ intervened Fidelma. ‘But tell us where the people of this village have gone and why.’

The boy examined her thoughtfully.

‘I cannot tell you where they have gone, for that is a secret,’ he said after some hesitation. ‘But the reason why is because they were fearful that Uaman would punish them now that he has returned from the Otherworld.’

Eadulf was about to interrupt to correct the boy again but Fidelma gave him a warning glance. He held his peace.

‘So when was this? When did they leave?’

‘Last week.’

‘And why were you left here?’

‘I was not. I returned here to find something that I had left behind.’ He glanced nervously over his shoulder at the underground storage space. Seeing the movement, Conri bent down again and with a grunt of triumph he came up with a small bow, not large but fit enough for use by the boy. The boy’s face was immediately troubled but Fidelma again smiled encouragement.

‘We do not want your bow, Iobcar,’ she said, motioning Conri to give it to the boy. ‘Nor do we want you to betray the secret of where your people have gone. We would like to know more details about why they felt forced to evacuate this place.’

The boy took his bow and stood for a moment staring at Fidelma as if trying to read her mind.

‘My father used to say that Uaman was the great curse of our people when he dwelt below on the island. His men would often raid our village for sheep and goats and… well, other things. Then perhaps two moons ago it was reported that he was dead and the villagers went down to the island and burnt his fortress and took back what was theirs.’

They waited patiently while the boy paused again, as if to gather his thoughts.

‘Not long ago Uaman’s men appeared in our village again. They demanded tribute on behalf of the master. The village elders gave them what they could. One day soon afterwards my father went to the island and came back and said these men had wrecked a ship there. The elders met and decided the village must move beyond the mountains. We all left about seven days ago to find a new village. Yesterday I found I had forgotten my bow and so today I came in search of it. I had just found it when I heard you calling and thinking you to be Uaman’s people I hid myself in the uaimh talun. But you found me.’

‘I see,’ Fidelma said. ‘Well, we mean you no harm, nor harm to your people. We are not Uaman’s men. Anyway, it is late now, so eat with us and stay so that you are refreshed to return to your people in the morning.’

The boy was hesitant.

‘They will be worried.’

‘But more worried if you set out to traverse these mountains in the blackness of the night, Iobcar son of Starn the blacksmith,’ she replied solemnly.

Iobcar considered the matter and then, sniffing at the odour of roasted rabbit, nodded slowly.

Conri began to slice the meat from the carcasses that he had been cooking on his skewer. Eadulf had not finished questioning the boy but he waited until the lad was settled and munching on the roasted meat.

‘Tell me, Iobcar,’ he asked, ‘do you know anything about those you call Uaman’s people?’

‘Only that my father says they are bad people,’ the boy said between mouthfuls of meat.

‘Have you heard of any religious being killed near here by them?’

Again the boy shook his head.

‘But when my father came back from the island, he said that he saw some warriors taking some women prisoners along the road.’

Eadulf exchanged a quick glance with Fidelma.

‘Women prisoners? And that was when he reported to the village that a ship had been wrecked there?’

‘The same time,’ agreed the boy.

Eadulf glanced triumphantly at Fidelma.

‘And in which direction were Uaman’s men taking these prisoners? Towards the east to the Abbey of Colman or west to Daingean, the fortress of the chieftain of the Corco Duibhne?’

The boy paused, frowning for a moment.

‘Neither. My father said they were going north.’

‘North into the mountains?’ Conri frowned in surprise. He and Eadulf had expected that the raiders would be returning to Slebene’s fortress.

‘Along the track that leads up the mountain valley, where the River Imligh flows,’ agreed the boy. ‘They were heading north.’

Eadulf turned to Fidelma.

‘I know part of that way, for that is the path we travelled in search of little Alchu.’ There was a tense quality in his voice as he spoke which only Fidelma picked up, realising he was remembering his frantic search for their abducted son.

‘Then that is the road we must take tomorrow,’ Fidelma decided with a firmness that admitted no dissension. She waited until she and Eadulf were alone and then she reached out and laid her hand on Eadulf’s arm.

Eadulf sighed sadly and patted her hand.

‘Yet the memories come, especially in this place. It is such a short time that has passed since last I was here. The memories of what happened here are sharp and I am still anxious.’

Fidelma grimaced and Eadulf realised that her eyes were unnaturally bright.

‘Forgive me,’ he suddenly said in a soft tone.

She passed a hand over her eyes quickly, as if to disguise the act of wiping them, and frowned questioningly.

‘I am being too selfish about my feelings,’ Eadulf raised a shoulder and let it fall expressively. ‘It is a great fault.’ He took her hands in his and squeezed them.

Fidelma forced a smile.

‘Brehon Morann used to say, they are truly good who are faultless. I am very aware of my own faults. But I share your anxieties. It is a heavy duty, being sister of the king as well as a dalaigh. It often leaves no room for the woman nor for the mother. Yet the woman and the mother are here in this same body. You, above all people, should know that.’

Eadulf bowed his head for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.

‘We’d best get some rest for we must start early in the morning,’ he said shortly.

Fidelma was the first to wake the next morning. Iobcar son of Starn the blacksmith was gone, along with his bow. She went outside to the well, drew some water, and washed quickly. When she had done, Eadulf and the others were stirring. They decided not to waste time in hunting more game to break their fast, for there was no other food to hand, no fruits nor berries. The midwinter days limited their diet. They decided to press on immediately and pause at lunchtime for food. Eadulf assured them that by that time they would have reached a hamlet where he knew hospitality would be accorded them. So, slaking their thirst with fresh water from the well, they saddled their horses and set off along the track across the shoulder of the mountain which Eadulf indicated was to be their path.

The patient horses climbed for a while, bringing them to a spectacular view of the inlet below them when they emerged above the treeline.

‘Look!’ It was Conri who brought them to a halt. He was pointing down to the island below.

A large vessel had sailed up the narrow waters and was riding at anchor a short distance off the island. Some of the crew were taking down its sails while others launched a skiff from the side of the ship. The vessel looked vaguely familiar to Fidelma and Eadulf, but it was only when the breeze caught at the banner snaking from the mainmast that they realised why. Fidelma turned to Conri in surprise.

‘That is the warship that attacked us off the Machaire Islands.’

Conri had already realised that fact.

‘It must have put on new sail and then passed round the end of the peninsula and sailed up the inlet. Why would they be following us?’

‘They cannot be following us,’ replied Fidelma with a shake of her head. ‘They would not know that we were crossing the peninsula and passing this spot.’

‘Then what are they doing?’ demanded Conri.

‘Well, the best thing is to dismount lest they see that they are being observed,’ Eadulf advised. ‘Then we may be able to see what they are doing on the island.’

Socht took their horses further along the track to a spot behind a group of rocks where they were hidden from prying eyes.

They perched themselves in a clump of boulders from where they could look down into the inlet without being seen. It was not very long before they discovered what the crew of the strange ship was about.

‘Why,’ Conri observed in wonder, ‘they are loading up with the stores from the shipwreck.’

‘Do you think they had any part in wrecking the ship?’ Eadulf asked.

‘Perhaps they are the wreckers, and hoarded the goods so that they could return for them later,’ Fidelma hazarded.

‘Then they must be the same men who killed Faife and abducted her companions. They moved north and picked up their vessel on the north side of the peninsula,’ Conri said. ‘The prisoners must be on board the ship.’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘Why march north if they merely meant to sail back here again? And the wreck and capture of the women was nearly three weeks ago now.’

‘That island would be ideal as a spot to lure unsuspecting ships on to its rocks,’ mused Socht.

‘How so?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘The passage to the south of the island is narrow, but you can see from the colour of the waters that it is deep water,’ Socht observed. ‘Ships from as far as Gaul run up here to the safe anchorage at the abbey of Colman to the east. Once past this island, the ships are protected from the rough ocean waters and find safe harbour there. Can you imagine what would befall a ship running to the north of the island straight on to the sands or, indeed, running into the rocks around that southern extremity?’

‘It is more apparent from this vantage point,’ Eadulf agreed. ‘How do you know such things, Socht?’

Conri replied for him. ‘Socht is one of our best seafaring warriors and knows the coastline around our waters.’

‘Terrible crimes have been committed here,’ Fidelma commented. ‘I think we have seen enough. It is obvious that the ship knew that the stores were there and went straight to them. I think we can assume that the crew are the wreckers. They are responsible for killing the hapless sailors as they came ashore. And we know that this ship lurks around these waters and bears the war banner of Eoganan of the Ui Fidgente.’

‘If they are Ui Fidgente, then they are rebels and traitors. We are at peace,’ asserted Conri, feeling the need to defend his people once again.

‘I accept that,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Certainly a flag does not always guarantee the identity of the person who flies it. But our main task is to press on after the abductors. I’d like to reach this little hamlet that Eadulf told us about before we die of hunger.’

‘You don’t think we will find Abbess Faife’s missing companions on that vessel down there?’ Conri was disappointed.

‘We can’t be sure that the wreckers and abductors are one and the same,’ Fidelma replied firmly. She made no further comment as they remounted and rode on.

Although it was still fairly cold, it was pleasant riding through the mountains. The sky was pale blue and the sun, though weak, reflected on the snow and the crystal waters of mountain springs, giving an impression of intense brightness. Eadulf remembered the path and so they rode confidently through the rocky terraces that inclined steeply to a large rushing river as it tumbled down from the far peaks. They passed several old grey standing stones from a bygone age. As the path dipped below the treeline once more Eadulf realised that they must have started their

The arrow embedded itself in a tree about an arm’s distance from Conri’s right shoulder. His horse shied nervously, causing the mounts of his companions to move skittishly, heads tugging sharply at their reins, whites of their eyes showing in terror.

As Conri and his men reached automatically for their weapons a harsh voice called out: ‘Don’t move. That was a warning shot. If we had wanted to hit you, we would have done so. Get down off your horses.’

Conri was hesitant.

They heard the hum of another arrow. This time it seemed to come from another direction and hit a tree behind them.

‘In case you think there is only one archer, let me tell you that you are surrounded. That is enough of warnings. You will get down off your horses and lay your arms on the path before you.’

Conri glanced at Fidelma and gestured helplessly.

‘There is no choice,’ she said in resignation as she made to obey.

‘Wait!’ called the voice. ‘You will dismount one at a time. Each walk forward five paces and lay down your arms, leaving your horse where it is.’

Even Eadulf had to admire the technique of the ambush. There would now be no chance of their dismounting and taking cover behind their horses.

‘The warriors will dismount first — one by one.’

Conri, his face red with mortification, went forward first and laid down his weapons. His two men followed individually.

Then Eadulf went forward, dismounting awkwardly, and striding forward to the pile of weapons. He stood feet apart and spread out his arms.

‘I carry no weapons,’ he called to the invisible bowmen. ‘I am a Brother in Christ.’

‘You are a man and men often have weapons no matter what clothes they wear,’ came back the uncompromising tone. ‘Stand aside but keep your arms out, hands well away from your body.’

Fidelma was called forward next.

‘I have no weapons either,’ she called.

There was no answer and then half a dozen men, all with drawn bows, each aimed at Fidelma and her companions, emerged from behind trees

‘Who are you?’ snapped Conri.

The burly man, who was obviously the leader, smiled beneath his beard showing blackened teeth.

‘You will know soon enough. Now, all of you will turn and march before us down this path. Try no tricks and no one will come to harm. And no talking… you’ll be given an opportunity to sing your hearts out soon enough.’

Eadulf had time to give their captors a quick scrutiny. He had an idea that he had seen the burly man before but could not place him. The others appeared an ill-assorted group; he would not really equate them with well-muscled warriors like Conri and his men. They seemed ill fed and more like field hands than military men.

They all moved on in silence, swinging along the path that ran along the hillside through the valley until it came round into an open area with the river flowing along it. Eadulf suddenly knew where he was. There was the standing stone with the ancient writing on it, the ford across the rushing river and the buildings making up the small hamlet. This was the little settlement where he, with Basil Nestorios and the warrior Gorman, had come after the destruction of the fortress of Uaman the Leper.

For a moment his heart leapt and then it plummeted as he realised the buildings were blackened, their stones knocked askew and some pulled down. Many of the wooden buildings no longer existed except for the remains of burnt timbers. It looked as if the place had been overwhelmed by some catastrophe. Were these men responsible? Were they responsible for the death of Abbess Faife?

They were being marched through the buildings from which people were emerging, quiet but angry, some staring at them with hatred. Yet no one made any sound but stared tight-mouthed as they went by.

They were halted before a half-burnt barn, which it was apparent someone had been trying to repair by putting a new roof on it.

Out of the building came an elderly man with parchment-coloured skin and a shock of white hair. His bright eyes were of indeterminate colour as he surveyed the group.

Eadulf recognised him immediately.

‘Ganicca!’ he called.

The old man frowned. ‘Who speaks my name?’

Eadulf moved a step forward. ‘It is I. Don’t you recognise me?’

The old man stared and then his thin features broke into a slow smile of recognition.

‘Why, it is the Saxon Brother. How come you here again?’

‘A story that is long in the telling, Ganicca. But this is Fidelma.’

Ganicca’s eyes widened and he asked quickly. ‘Fidelma of Cashel?’

Fidelma was looking puzzled.

‘Ganicca was the man who helped us when we fled from Uaman’s fortress,’ explained Eadulf. ‘It was he who pointed us to the home of Nessan and Muirgen and so was responsible for the eventual recovery of our child.’

Fidelma moved forward with both hands outstretched to the old man in greeting. ‘Then this is a blessed meeting, Ganicca. You have my unending gratitude

The old man waved his hand in deprecation.

‘You are welcome here, lady, but I wish I could greet you in happier circumstances.’

‘What has happened here?’ she demanded, encompassing the ruined village with a wave of her arm.

‘And who are these men who threaten us with their arrows?’ added Eadulf.

Ganicca held up a hand, palm outward, to stay further questions and then turned to the burly man.

‘No harm will come from these travellers. I know them. Release them.’ Their captors seemed a little reluctant but they put down their weapons and slowly dispersed. Ganicca pointed at the barn behind him.

‘It is a harsh winter, so come in. I fear the best we can offer is some corma and a rude shelter from the mountain winds. Enter and I will tell you what has befallen my people and why you have been treated with such scant hospitality.’

The young boys handed Conri and his men back their weapons. Others led their horses to a paddock out of the wind. Their erstwhile captors reluctantly dispersed.

‘Seat yourselves.’ The old man pointed to sacking on the floor. ‘I regret that we have been left with no luxuries.’

One of the young boys had followed them inside and now poured corma for everyone as Ganicca was introduced to each member of the party.

‘Now first,’ began Ganicca, ‘I heard that Nessan and Muirgen had decided to stay in Cashel after you left here, Brother Saxon. Are they well? And what news of your child, Fidelma of Cashel, does he prosper?’

Fidelma smiled and nodded.

‘He does, thanks be to God. Muirgen continues as nurse to him. Nessan tends the flocks of sheep on the hills south of Cashel. They are both well and happy.’

‘And how is the stranger from the East called Basil Nestorios? Do the Fates deal well with him?’

‘When we last saw him he was well and continuing in his travels, collecting knowledge of this land, Ganicca,’ Eadulf replied solemnly.

‘And the young warrior, what was his name?’

‘Gorman.’

‘Gorman, indeed. How fares it with him?’

‘He is now deputy commander of my brother’s bodyguard,’ Fidelma replied.

‘And your brother, the noble Colgu, is all well with him?’

‘My brother is, as ever, concerned for the peoples of his kingdom and worries when ill befalls them.’ Fidelma paused and then added: ‘He will be concerned at the ill that has befallen you in this place.’

‘What has happened since I was here?’ Eadulf joined in. ‘Why were we ambushed and brought here in such a fashion?’

Ganicca sighed deeply.

‘It happened some weeks ago. Until then, we had long dwelt here in an open community without fear. Even in the bad days, so long as we paid tribute to the Lord of the Passes, Uaman, we were never harmed.’

He paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

‘It was one afternoon when a band of warriors came along the track just as you have done. They were on horseback. Between them, marching on foot and at swordpoint, was a band of religious… they were prisoners.’

Conri leant forward excitedly.

‘Six young females?’ he demanded.

‘And a foreign Brother of the Faith.’

Fidelma frowned. ‘I had no information about a foreign brother.’

‘He was a rough-looking young man,’ continued Ganicca. ‘He appeared more suited to a life spent outdoors than among the pale creatures that

‘But he was a prisoner and a religieux as well?’ queried Eadulf.

‘He was.’

‘What happened when these warriors and their prisoners came to your village?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘We offered hospitality, as is the custom. The warriors took corma and demanded food. They dismayed us by ill treating their prisoners, allowing them only water and some bread.’

‘Did anyone question the religious as to why they were prisoners or what manner of warriors their captors were?’ asked Fidelma.

Ganicca made a negative gesture.

‘The warriors discouraged contact with the prisoners and when our smith, the man who captured you, asked what was happening, he received a slap across the face. The lesson was reinforced by the tip of a sword to deter him from pressing further.’

‘And then?’

Ganicca raised his arms as if encompassing the whole settlement.

‘Then, my friends, two more warriors came riding up with a third person. That person ordered the warriors to burn the village… they burnt and looted it. We had no weapons to hand. They attacked our blacksmith’s forge and then started to fire our houses. Most of us managed to escape up the mountains to the shelter of the caves there. Seven of our people were slain, too young or too old to escape the onslaught. Many more were wounded. It is as you see… we are a destroyed community.’

Fidelma frowned. ‘Have you reported this matter to your chief, to Slebene?’

The old man shrugged. ‘We sent him word. But he has never protected us in the past so why would he protect us now?’

‘Slebene’s duty is to protect his people. He is also answerable to my brother, the king.’

‘Slebene is his own man and is answerable only to himself. We selected one of our number to go to Daingean and speak to him. He has not returned.’

Eadulf bent close to Fidelma and whispered, ‘See, we were right about Slebene!’

Fidelma was grim-faced. ‘Then I swear, Ganicca, that he shall answer for any transgression. A chief has responsibilities as well as rights.’

Ganicca regarded her calmly. ‘You are truly a descendant of Eoghan Mor, lady. However, I knew that Slebene would not come to our aid.’

‘Why so?’

‘Because I know that evil figure who ordered his warriors to turn on our village and destroy it.’

‘Slebene himself?’ asked Eadulf eagerly. He found the old man’s eyes looking sorrowfully at him. ‘Well, out with it,’ he demanded. ‘Who was it?’

‘Saxon brother, you told us two months ago that you saw Uaman the Leper die before your eyes. You were wrong. The person who gave the order for this destruction,’ he raised his hand to embrace the scene, ‘was Uaman. Uaman the Leper. The Lord of the Passes.’