The Devil's seal

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

‘So you do know him?’ Fidelma observed quietly.

To her surprise, a happy smile spread over Aibell’s features. ‘Yes, I know him. Where may I see him? Is he at the palace?’

A feeling of disquiet came over Fidelma at the girl’s enthusiastic response.

‘What is he to you?’ she enquired.

‘He was someone who was very kind to me.’

‘Deogaire was kind to you?’ Brother Conchobhar looked even more surprised. ‘How so, child?’

‘Without Deogaire’s help I would not have been able to escape from the household of Fidaig, where I was confined as a bondservant against all law and morals,’ the girl said firmly.

‘You have never told us the story of your escape from the mountain fastness of the Luachra,’ Fidelma said now. ‘I know only that you escaped; that you reached the Ass’s Ford at the River Siúr and managed to get a ride on the wagon of the merchant Ordan of Rathordan. He brought you to Cashel where we found you in the woodsman’s hut across the paddock there.’

‘There was little enough to tell,’ the girl shrugged.

‘Tell us that little, so that we might understand,’ coaxed Fidelma.

‘For a long time I was forced to serve in the house of Fidaig of Sliabh Luachra. I was ill-treated and could confide my anguish to no one. Hope was beyond my thoughts until. . until one day, Deogaire came to the fortress of Fidaig. He was treated with respect because the Luachra are very superstitious; many believe in the old gods, even though some, like Artgal and Gláed, the sons of Fidaig, seem to follow the New Faith. You know how remote the territory is, surrounded by many mountains and set in impenetrable marshes. Don’t they call the twin peaks that rise there the Breasts of Danu? She was pagan Mother Goddess of our people.’

Aibell paused for a moment and then continued: ‘Whenever there were guests at Fidaig’s fortress, which was not often, I was forced to serve them and thus I served Deogaire. He was truly in tune with the spirits, for he saw at once how unhappy I was; how desperate I had become. For the first time since I was taken by Fidaig, I found I had someone to talk to. All my anguish poured forth with his encouragement. At last, he said that his heart went out to me. He taught me that even a barren wood can eventually renew its foliage. He gave me hope for the future. He helped me flee from the fastnesses of that terrible place.’

‘He helped you escape from Fidaig?’ Fidelma was surprised.

‘One night he took me on his horse. We avoided the guards and rode off into the mountains. Fidaig sent his warriors after us. Once or twice they nearly caught us. Then we were sheltering in the Glen of Ravens — a grim solitude in which, Deogaire told me, the old Goddess of Death and Battles dwelled. From our hiding place, we saw Fidaig’s men searching for us and realised that it would not be long before they discovered us.

‘Deogaire said we would have to part company. If we both fled on our single horse, we would soon be overtaken and captured. If he fled using my cloak, he might be able to convince them that I was clinging to his back. He could then lead them away from the Glen of Ravens. He told me that as soon as he drew them off, I should make my way out of the mountains and go eastward, where he would try to join me. It happened as he said. I saw him galloping down the valley and, in hue and cry after him, rode a score of Fidaig’s warriors. As soon as they were out of sight, I set off on the route he had instructed me to follow.’ She looked at Fidelma. ‘I never saw him again.’

‘And you eventually reached the Ford of the Ass where Ordan the merchant picked you up,’ Fidelma repeated. ‘And you have not heard of Deogaire since your escape?’

‘Alas, I have not heard of him again — that is, until now.’

Brother Conchobhar seemed cheered by her story. ‘Then there must be some good in him, after all.’

‘Good? How could you doubt it?’ demanded the girl, showing a touch of her old aggressiveness. Then before Brother Conchobhar could answer, she went on: ‘I suppose it is because he will not give up the old religion of our people that others condemn him? Why should he accept the New Faith from the east? Because someone does not agree with you, it does not make them bad. I would rather have Deogaire’s friendship and support than someone like my father, who claimed all his life to uphold the New Faith.’

Brother Conchobhar shifted uneasily. ‘I would hope that Deogaire is not beyond redemption,’ he muttered piously.

‘Redemption? Does he need to be delivered from what you see as a corrupted state? When we hear of the quarrels among those professing the New Faith, arguments of whether this interpretation or that is right or wrong — arguments which have often led to bloodshed — who has the right to judge that someone like Deogaire stands in need of being saved from his beliefs? Is there something better to be offered by this New Faith?’

Della looked unhappy, glancing towards young Alchú who was sitting in wide-eyed solemnity at the passionate-sounding adult discussion. ‘Aibell, we are all of the New Faith here,’ she chided gently. ‘Surely you are not saying that you uphold the old ways?’

Aibell flushed and then seemed to calm herself. ‘I am sorry, Della. I do not mean to sound insulting. I am not sure what I believe after the way my father treated me. I simply cannot abide someone like Deogaire being criticised because his beliefs are different. They were the beliefs of our people a thousand years before the coming of those new ideas from the east. They were the beliefs of the time before time. Surely he is entitled to them?’

There was a silence and then Fidelma leaned forward and patted the girl’s arm. Secretly, she felt sympathy with the logic of her arguments. ‘No one will condemn a person for their beliefs,’ she said. ‘Everyone is entitled to their own views, so long as those views do no harm to anyone else.’

‘Deogaire is up at the palace?’ Aibell was still animated. ‘I must come up and see him.’

Fidelma said uncomfortably, ‘I have told you that it will not be possible immediately. He is being held under guard while an investigation into several deaths is being conducted.’

The girl’s expression was shocked. ‘Are you serious? He is being accused of involvement in these deaths?’

‘Among other things,’ confirmed Fidelma.

‘Then. . then you must defend him,’ Aibell burst out. ‘You are a dálaigh. You will clear him.’

Fidelma hesitated a moment or two. What was the old saying? Even truth may be bitter. ‘I am the one doing the investigating, Aibell,’ she said quietly. ‘It is I who have ordered his incarceration because of the evidence so far.’

The hope seemed to die from Aibell’s face. Then she said in a fierce but respectful tone: ‘I will not accept that Deogaire has harmed anyone. I refuse to believe it.’

‘Then let us hope that we can support your belief.’ Fidelma rose. ‘Come, Alchú. We must be getting back now.’ She turned to the girl. ‘I will keep you informed, and as soon as it is possible to see Deogaire, I will send for you, Aibell. You have my word.’

She then thanked Della for her hospitality. Her friend looked troubled as she handed the bags of herbs to Brother Conchobhar and bade them all farewell. Aibell sat silently at the table, staring unseeingly before her and forgot to even say goodbye to Alchú.

After they had ridden a little way, Brother Conchobhar ventured a look at Fidelma. ‘You are worried,’ he commented.

Fidelma glanced quickly at little Alchú on his pony. His mind seemed occupied with his mount at that moment so she replied in an undertone: ‘I am worried. This is a new development. Has Deogaire ever spoken to you of Aibell?’

‘He keeps many things secret,’ sighed the old apothecary. ‘I suppose there is no reason why he should have mentioned her. He probably did not even know that she was in the township.’

‘Aibell seems to have a very high regard for him,’ Fidelma said. ‘That is quite apparent.’

The old man nodded slowly. ‘You mean that she is enamoured of him? Well, there is no denying it. I too can see the signs. I think that you are now worried about young Gormán?’

‘I knew Gormán and liked him even before I found out that my old friend Della was actually his mother. Remember how that was hidden until they were accused of both murder and incest — and then the truth emerged?’

‘At least that truth emerged,’ Brother Conchobhar replied. ‘And you were the instrument of it coming to light.’

‘I saw that Gormán was stricken with Aibell from the first moment he saw her. I have heard tales of what they call the teinntide but did not really know it existed until I saw Gormán’s reaction to her.’

‘Teinntide — the lightning bolt.’ Brother Conchobhar gave a deep chuckle. ‘It is the thing that all the bards rhapsodise over. When young lovers are smitten at first sight and-’

‘Gormán suffered that malady,’ interrupted Fidelma stiffly. ‘I had believed that there was some reciprocation from Aibell, but seeing and hearing her speak about Deogaire just now, well. . I think there is another vying for her affections.’

‘That is hard,’ agreed the old physician. ‘I think a lot of people “suffer the malady” as you call it. Didn’t you, when you first met Eadulf?’

Fidelma fell silent. She was not thinking of Eadulf but of earlier days, when she was a young student at the law school of Brehon Morann and had experienced the teinntide. A young warrior named Cian stole her heart and then went off with another, leaving her desolate. She had not been able to overcome the effects of the affair until, many years later, she re-encountered Cian on the pilgrim voyage. She had recognised Cian for the vain and self-centred personality that he was and always had been. Her feelings for him had been no more than an infatuation and not an emotion that would have grown and strengthened through the years. She had to say that she had never felt that way with Eadulf. It was merely a friendship that had grown until such time when it was impossible to turn back. They had become inseparable, even though she had tried several times to break the bond between them. Now she acknowledged that it was real love and not the teinntide, although Eadulf had always claimed that he had known his feelings from the moment they had first bumped into each other, hurrying from opposite directions around the corner of a corridor in Hilda’s Abbey in Streonshalh.

‘You are silent, my dear,’ interrupted the voice of Brother Conchobhar.

She started from her reverie. ‘I am sorry. What were you saying?’

‘I was asking if you felt this lightning bolt when you first met our friend Eadulf?’

‘This love at first sight is not to be trusted,’ she said impatiently. ‘Love is knowing someone. You cannot know someone with the first look. Loving is knowing the faults as well as the good qualities.’

Brother Conchobhar disguised his surprise. He had always understood from Eadulf that his had been a matter of the teinntide and thought it had been reciprocated by Fidelma.

‘I am afraid for young Gormán,’ Fidelma was continuing sadly. ‘The fact that Aibell is living with Della, Gormán’s mother, and already becoming part of the family. . that will lead to difficulties. I was expecting to hear an announcement of the intentions of Aibell and Gormán soon.’

‘It will become even more difficult if Deogaire is indeed the person who attempted to kill you and Eadulf,’ the old man dryly observed.

They were crossing over the town square by now. Fidelma glanced towards Rumann’s tavern. The Laighin warriors were still there and seemed to be paying court to a couple of local girls from the township who were obviously enjoying their attentions.

‘Somehow I do not believe that Deogaire will be found guilty for everything,’ she replied absently.

‘I hope not, if only for the fact that I, as his only kinsman here, would be responsible for paying his fines, compensation and honour price.’

Fidelma whipped round — and then saw that the old physician’s eyes were twinkling. She chuckled. Brother Conchobhar was known for his oblique sense of humour. ‘I think your money will be perfectly safe, Brother Conchobhar,’ she said. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure of that.’

Gormán had led the way at a brisk pace, with Eadulf, clinging precariously to his speeding mount, alongside Brother Berrihert, while Aidan brought up the rear, keeping a watchful eye on the unskilled riders. They paused only once to allow the horses to water, and thereby made good time across the low-lying country towards the mountains that marked the beginning of the wide pass into the great glen through which the broad River Eatharlach flowed.

As Eadulf had estimated, the sun had already lowered behind the mountains as they turned into the mouth of the valley which ran east to west. They forded the river across to the south side of the valley, which brought them into the foothills of the range called the Forest Mountains. Some dozen peaks emerged from the great spread of trees which covered their slopes. A little way from the river, but near one of the myriad streams that fed it, Brother Berrihert and his two brothers had built a little wooden hut and had started work on erecting a chapel in which they could tend to the spiritual needs of the local Uí Cuileann clan. Dusk had not entirely encompassed the mountains but they could see a flickering fire through the trees from some distance before they came into the clearing where the buildings were. The reason the fire had been built outside was so as not to present any danger to the wooden buildings while they were under construction.

Brother Berrihert gave a cry of reassurance as they were challenged.

One of his brothers emerged to greet them from the wooden hut as they came into the clearing. Eadulf was already dismounting from his horse and recognised Brother Pecanum.

‘He has grown worse,’ Brother Pecanum said without preamble. His features were set in a mask of concern. ‘I thought we had managed to control the wound but I fear corruption has taken hold of his arm. I have seen the like before. I fear that the arm may have to be removed.’

Eadulf was horrified. ‘Is Dego’s wound that bad?’

‘We are at fault. We thought it was a clean wound, but since Berrihert left for Cashel, the cuts have worsened. He was stabbed in the arm — his sword arm,’ Brother Pecanum replied contritely. ‘We cleaned it as best we could, but now there is much putrescent, foul-smelling odour from the wound.’

There was a sharp intake of breath from Gormán. As commander of the King’s bodyguard he knew what it meant to a warrior to have his right arm amputated, even if he survived the surgery.

A cry of pain came from within the hut and Eadulf asked: ‘Have you given him anything to ease the suffering?’

‘He has insisted nothing be done until he has seen you, Brother Eadulf,’ was the reply. ‘He is a determined man.’

Eadulf turned to Gormán and Aidan. ‘Wait outside while I go and examine him.’ He paused, swallowed as if preparing himself, then he entered the hut. The interior was lit by a couple of lamps. Naovan, the third brother, was squatting by the side of a palliasse, dabbing with a damp cloth at the brow of the figure that lay writhing on it. Brother Naovan glanced up, giving no more than a quick look of recognition, before leaning close to the figure and saying, ‘Brother Eadulf is here.’

The warrior’s face was bathed in sweat in spite of being almost sickly pale in complexion. The eyes were barely open and seemed unable to focus. There was little of the handsome young man that Eadulf had last seen at Cashel, only a few days before.

‘Friend. . friend Eadulf?’ the voice croaked. ‘Are you there?’

Eadulf crouched beside the palliasse. He could already smell the odour of decay from the arm. ‘I am here, Dego.’

‘I am. . am truly sorry.’

Eadulf ran a tongue around his dry lips. ‘Sorry for what?’

‘We were fishing, Egric and I. . fishing. Leaning over water. . stream. Something hit me. . hit me from behind. Sharp blow. They. . someone. . Egric disappeared. Whoever attacked me must have dealt with him. Heard horses. Sorry I. . I didn’t. . didn’t protect your brother.’

He was agitated and Eadulf told him to relax, but even as he did so, Dego fell back into semi-consciousness and started to mutter incoherently.

Brother Naovan reached forward, feeling his forehead. Then he said: ‘Berrihert saw no sign of any companion with the warrior. Someone had attacked him from behind. There is a small flesh wound in his shoulder but a jagged dagger wound in the arm. I think the attacker was aiming for his back, but then Dego moved and the knife struck into the arm. Before he could turn to defend himself, he was also hit across the back of his head. The head wound was not so bad and could be treated. So could the smaller wound. But the one in the arm. .’ He ended with a shrug.

‘Let me see this arm,’ Eadulf muttered, trying not to think about his brother for the moment. He peered down at the tortured face of the warrior with whom he and Fidelma had shared so many adventures. His first duty was to do what he could for the young man.

Brother Naovan moved aside the coverings and exposed the right arm. Eadulf’s mouth tightened as he saw the condition of the swollen tissue and smelled the curious foetid odour like a rotting cheese. Whatever knife had been used, it had not been clean nor was it sharp. The infection had spread rapidly. Brother Pecanum was right, the area was blackening. Eadulf had not wasted his time in the period that he had studied the apothecary’s art at Tuam Brecain. He knew the signs.

‘We must amputate the arm immediately if he is to have any chance at all of surviving,’ he announced.

‘So we thought,’ agreed Brother Naovan. ‘But we lack any skill. Simple things we can do — administer potions, make salves. . but to take a knife to the flesh, muscle and bone — that requires knowledge.’

‘Yet it must be done,’ Eadulf replied roughly. He rose and went outside to where the others were waiting and looked around grimly. He had been speaking in his own language to Brother Naovan: now he sought for the right words so that Gormán and Aidan could also understand what was to be done. He settled on trochugad, a cutting-off of the limb.

‘His arm needs amputation and it must be done now,’ he said. ‘Does anyone know the art? You must have seen it done in battle.’

They mumbled negatively. Eadulf gritted his teeth and stated: ‘Then I must attempt it.’

Fidelma had left Brother Conchobhar at the stables and made her way to the Laochtech where she founded Enda and Luan relaxing. They rose uncertainly as she entered.

‘I have come to see our prisoner,’ she announced.

‘I shan’t be sorry when we can release that one,’ Enda said, reaching for the keys.

‘Why? Is Deogaire giving you trouble?’

‘You might call it that,’ Enda sighed. ‘He’s been constantly calling out, asking if Beccan has returned. When I said he had, he kept demanding that Beccan be brought here so he could confront him with the truth.’

‘I presume that you did not comply with that request?’ Fidelma asked anxiously.

Enda looked offended. ‘Of course not, lady. Gormán left strict instructions and these could only be contradicted by you. I even ignored the demands of Brehon Aillín.’

‘Brehon Aillín? she exclaimed. ‘Has he tried to interfere?’

‘He came and asked to see the prisoner. When I told him my orders, he was quite upset. He pointed out that he was Chief Brehon but I said that the orders of my commander could only be countermanded by the King or someone delegated by him. If the King summoned me to do so, I would let him see Deogaire.’

‘That’s interesting,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully, almost to herself. ‘When was Brehon Aillín here?’

‘Some time after you and Brother Conchobhar left the palace.’

‘And he went away when you refused him?’

‘He did so, lady. But not in the best of moods.’

‘Very well. Unlock the door and then wait outside while I have a word with Deogaire.’

‘Is that wise, lady?’

‘I deem it so.’

Enda unlocked the door and opened it, allowing Fidelma to pass into the small room beyond before closing it. Deogaire leaped up from the cot on which he had been sitting when she entered.

‘Has Beccan returned?’ he demanded excitedly. ‘Has he told the truth?’

‘He has returned.’

‘Then I am free?’

‘Sit down, Deogaire.’ She pointed to the cot. Without waiting for him to obey, she sank onto the only stool in the room, then said: ‘Why do you think Brehon Aillín wanted to see you this afternoon?’

‘Did he? Was that what the fuss was about?’ Deogaire sat down. ‘I heard some shouting earlier. Look, lady, I am not privy to the old man’s thoughts,’ he went on. ‘If you didn’t send him, maybe he wanted to question me himself. You must ask him.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘If Beccan is back, then why am I not released?’ he then demanded.

Fidelma looked at him levelly. ‘Because your truth is different from his truth. His account and your account do not entirely tally.’

Deogaire blinked for a moment. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘There is no question that your relative, Brother Conchobhar, and you had a row and that you left his house. But you said that Beccan suggested to you that you could stay in the guest quarters. However, Beccan says that you sought him out and suggested it to him! He says that you offered to pay with herbal remedies taken from Brother Conchobhar’s store, after Beccan had mentioned his sick friend.’

Deogaire stared at her in incomprehension.

‘Don’t you see?’ went on Fidelma patiently. ‘If you told Beccan that you would give him these medicines in return for a room in the guest quarters, then it places a different complexion on matters. It would imply that you wanted to stay in the guest quarters for a specific purpose.’

‘I just needed a bed for the night! I could have gone to the stables, curled up in the chapel, or even gone down into the town where there is an inn. I did not want to start out for Sliabh Luachra in the dark.’

‘But you didn’t stay in any of those places. You stayed in the guest quarters that night. While you were there, there was an attempt on the lives of Eadulf and myself.’ She paused. ‘Now do you see the question of logic that arises as to how you came there? Am I to believe you or Beccan, my brother’s steward?’

Deogaire was shaking his head. ‘Question of logic or not, I tell you it was no doing of mine. Beccan suggested the solution to me and not I to him.’

‘And what logical purpose would it serve Beccan?’

Deogaire raised his hands in the air in a gesture of helpless mystification.

‘I have no understanding of it,’ he said. ‘All I know is that I have spoken the truth.’

Fidelma sighed. ‘Then you can only wait until I have investigated further. I need to have another word with Beccan. But here you are and here you must remain until things become clearer.’

‘And if they don’t?’ snapped Deogaire. ‘Am I to be a victim of Beccan’s lies?’

‘Every tide has its ebb, Deogaire,’ Fidelma assured him as she rose. ‘Isn’t that in your philosophy?’

The young man scowled but made no reply. Fidelma felt instinctively sorry for Deogaire. She leaned forward and touched his shoulder.

‘You once taught a young girl that even a barren wood will renew its foliage. In her case, it came true. Take note of your own advice.’

He glanced up, his brows drawn together, trying to read a meaning behind her words.

‘At least you have one friend in the vicinity,’ Fidelma amplified. ‘One who believes that you could never do what is now suspected of you. A young girl whom you helped set free from Fidaig’s bondage.’

‘Aibell?’ Deogaire rose from his seat. ‘Is she here? Did she escape from the Valley of Ravens? Where is she?’

Fidelma raised a hand to calm him. ‘All in good time. You see, sunshine follows dark clouds. At least, Aibell sees you for what you are and not the person people think you are. You will see her later when this matter is sorted out.’

‘When will that be?’ he asked hopefully.

‘All I can say is that I hope it is not long. You have been used for a purpose, but I am not sure what. This is why you must remain here, because I think it is the one place that you will be safe.’

Back outside, after Enda had locked the door, she said quietly, ‘I want your most trusted warriors to guard the prisoner; trusted men to keep awake in this corridor all night as well as day.’

‘It shall be done, lady,’ Enda replied, a note of excitement in his voice. ‘Do you think that he will try to break out then? Try to escape?’

She shook her head with a soft smile. ‘Oh no, my friend. I think someone might try to break in — and kill him.’

Eadulf was regarding his companions in the firelight with a grim countenance. ‘I will have to carry out the amputation. At least I have seen it performed by a physician.’

‘What about your brother, friend Eadulf?’ demanded Gormán hesitantly. ‘Should we not try to find him first?’

‘Dego might well be dead before this night is out. He is our first priority. Besides, there is nothing we can do about Egric before first light. We can’t go hunting for him in darkness.’

Eadulf looked around. Near the fire was a rough wooden table at which the three religious no doubt prepared their food and took their meals.

‘Have you several lanterns?’ he demanded of Brother Berrihert. Receiving the affirmative, he pointed to the table. ‘I need you to wash that table down with water and hang the lanterns around it so that it is well illuminated.’

Berrihert and Pecanum immediately bent to their task. Eadulf then turned to Gormán and Aidan.

‘Your task will be distasteful, my friends. You will have to hold Dego down while I work on him.’

‘Understood,’ grunted Gormán. ‘I have a lestar of laith; it is intoxicating liquor that might help him.’

‘I have another,’ Aidan said. ‘It is very strong.’

Eadulf approved. A lestar was a container for carrying liquids. ‘The stronger the alcohol, the better. It will help both as a means of easing the pain and for dressing the wound to prevent infection. Also, cut a couple of stout twigs and strip the bark — he will need something to bite on and I will need something to use to twist cloth to make a band to encircle his arm, which will control bleeding.’

While these tasks were being done, Eadulf went to his horse and untied the leather bag that he always carried. It was called a lés — a small medical bag; it had become his habit to carry it with him. Several times he had had recourse to it during his travels with Fidelma, and he always tried to keep its contents in good order. Inside were some surgical instruments and some small containers, soithech, for herbal infusions, among which were antiseptics and sedatives. He took the bag and returned to where Brother Pecanum was finishing dousing the table with water. Brother Berrihert had lit and hung the lanterns.

‘Very well.’ Eadulf viewed the preparations with satisfaction. He took a stool and, putting his lés upon it, took the containers of alcohol offered by the warriors. ‘We will have to work fast. Very fast. You need to understand that I cannot guarantee that I will save him, but if nothing is done he will be dead by morning anyway.’

They stood silently before him. Eadulf was thankful for the distorting shadows of the lanterns, for he hoped they disguised his pallor and nervous expression. The other men looked to him for confidence and leadership now.

‘Gormán, take one of the containers of alcohol and get Dego to swallow as much he can take. After that, you and Aidan will lift him from inside and place him on this table. You, Aidan, will hold his legs still while Gormán restrains his left arm and shoulder. I will be attending to his right. I am hoping the alcohol will make it easy.’ Eadulf took a deep breath. ‘Berrihert, I want you at my side all the time, holding one of the lamps as I instruct you. Pecanum, you will have to be my assistant and pass me whatever tools I want. I shall show you the items beforehand that I shall need.’

He looked around. They did not have any questions.

‘When we start, I shall need to work quickly. So, let us begin. Gormán, off you go, and see how much you and Naovan can get Dego to take. With luck, he will pass out. Pecanum, come, and I will run through the items that I shall need from this bag.’

A few minutes later, Dego was carried out and laid on the table. He was muttering restlessly, in a semi-conscious state, the alcohol mixing with his fever. Eadulf, grim faced, glanced at his companions.

‘Ready in positions?’ he asked tersely. Then he placed a piece of cloth around the top of the warrior’s right arm, inserted a small twig and twisted it until he could turn it no more. Then he passed another twig to Gormán, who took it, prised open Dego’s mouth and placed it so that his teeth would clamp down on it.

‘Now!’ Eadulf grunted.

Gormán and Aidan pushed their weight down on Dego to hold him still. Brother Berrihert moved forward with a lamp.

Eadulf had already taken the razor-like altan — a surgical knife — in his hand. He worked as quickly as he dared. Only moments later, he called for Brother Pecanum to pass him the rodb — a sharp-edged surgical saw. That was when Dego began to scream, and Gormán and Aidan had to use their full weight to contain his threshing body. The arm came away, leaving a bloody stump above the elbow. Then, mercifully, Dego sank into unconsciousness. Quickly again, with Brother Pecanum’s help, Eadulf poured the laith generously over the bloodied stump. Then he took the clean tissue and flap of skin he had left and drew it over the end of the stump, taking the needle, already threaded with gut, and sewed it into place. Once more he poured the alcohol over it.

‘You can all relax now,’ he sighed, glancing round at his companions.

Dego was lying unconscious on the table. Eadulf leaned forward, placing his hand on the warrior’s forehead. It was clammy. He bent forward, placing an ear to the man’s chest, just above his heart. There was a heartbeat, rapid but regular. He stepped back to his lés and extracted a roll of fresh white linen and then one of the small containers. He poured the liquid contents over the linen and then proceeded to bandage the stump of Dego’s arm with it. Finally, he stood back again, breathing heavily after his exertions.

Brother Berrihert was standing next to him and proffering a cup of something. ‘You need it,’ he said.

Eadulf did not argue but took a swallow. He had not expected the strength of the fiery liquid and coughed several times.

Brother Berrihert grinned. ‘It’s brewed from bog berries — you know, the red flowers of some heather and who knows what else. Pretty powerful, eh?’

Eadulf simply nodded and wiped his stinging lips.

‘You can carry Dego back to the bed,’ he instructed Brother Berrihert and Aidan. As they lifted the unconscious man, something fell out of Dego’s clothing. Eadulf caught sight of a glint in the torchlight. He bent forward and felt for it, thinking it might be a coin. However, the item was too heavy and soft for a piece of bronze, silver or gold. He took it to the lamplight and held it up, turning it over and over between thumb and finger.

He had seen something similar enough times to recognise it. He whistled in surprise.

‘What is it, friend Eadulf?’ asked Gormán.

‘Just a piece of lead. It dropped from Dego’s clothing.’

‘Oh, that.’

Eadulf glanced questioningly at Gormán. ‘Have you seen it before?’

‘It was something Dego was going to use as a weight for his fishing line.’

‘But where did he get it?’

Gormán paused to think and then remembered. ‘Oh, it was among the debris left when the Déisi thugs attacked your brother and his companion at the river.’

Eadulf felt his heart pounding more rapidly. ‘Tell me, Gormán — was anything attached to it?’

‘Attached?’ Gormán was puzzled. ‘It’s just a lump of metal with a pile of burned documents.’

‘Documents? It wasn’t attached to any parchment with a piece of ribbon?’

‘The documents had been burned. I can’t remember if they were vellum, parchment or papyrus. They were all too damaged to make anything of them. That slug of lead was lying among them, as I recall. Dego picked it up and, realising it was worth nothing, said he would use it as a weight for his fishing line.’

‘Worth nothing,’ muttered Eadulf, regarding it thoughtfully.

‘Well, it can’t be a coin. It’s lead. Maybe it’s a good luck amulet because it has the Latin word for “life” on one side. See there — V. I. T. A. — life.’

Eadulf smiled gently and shook his head. ‘Not “life”, Gormán, but a name — Vitalian.’

‘Why would someone inscribe their name on a piece of lead?’ wondered the puzzled warrior.

‘I’ll keep this by me for the time being,’ Eadulf replied, without answering. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll compensate Dego for it.’ He suddenly glanced at the makeshift operating table and the limb that had been left on it.

‘Someone had better bury that,’ he instructed quietly. ‘And also thoroughly scrub down that table with hot water.’

Gormán immediately set to work with Brother Pecanum.

Brother Berrihert re-emerged from the hut. ‘Naovan is sitting with him,’ he reported. ‘Is there nothing else we can do?’

‘Nothing now except say a prayer. We will know more by daylight.’

‘Well, whatever happens now,’ called Gormán, looking up from his task, ‘I hope the bards sing your praises, friend Eadulf. I have never seen such skill before. Come the day when I am bested in battle and in danger of losing an arm or leg, I trust you will be there for me. You are even greater than Fingín Faithliaig.’

Eadulf gazed incomprehendingly at the warrior, knowing he was paying him a compliment. ‘Who?’

‘He was the greatest physician in all Muman,’ declared Gormán. ‘Have you not heard of the Battle of Crinna that took place up in Midhe, the Middle Kingdom?’

Eadulf shook his head. Exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him. His thoughts were becoming jumbled. A horse blanket lay near the fire and he went across and sat down on it. He could hear Gormán’s voice without really understanding the words.

‘Crinna was fought over four centuries ago, even before the Eóghanacht established Cashel as the centre of their kingdom. Tadg son of Cian was King in those far-off days. Fingín was his chief physician. The story is that a king from Ulaidh, one Fergus son of Imchadh, marched his army into Midhe in an attempt to overthrow the High King, Cormac son of Art. Cormac called upon those provincial kings who were loyal to him to come to his aid. Only Tadg and his warriors marched from Muman to help him. There was a great battle at Crinna in which Fergus was defeated and killed. But in the battle, Tadg was badly wounded; some say his skull was split open. His physician Fingín went to his aid and healed him. He was hailed as the greatest of all physicians.’

Eadulf tried to smile but could not summon the energy.

‘The time to comment on my competence, Gormán,’ he tried to say, wondering why a fog seemed to be welling out of the surrounding forests, ‘will be in the morning and. .’ He was falling. .

He felt the strong arms of Gormán catching him. Someone cried out in alarm and he heard Gormán say: ‘It’s exhaustion, that’s all. He. .’

The voice receded into the distance and Eadulf seemed to be swimming in a dark pool with no sense of space or time.