The Devil's seal

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Fidelma came awake with someone shaking her shoulder. She was sitting up in a moment, ready to defend herself. However, it was only Muirgen, the nurse. The sky was light but grey, and it must be well after dawn. She had slept long and deeply. She was about to apologise when it became obvious that Muirgen was waking her for a purpose.

‘What is it?’ Her first thought was of her husband. ‘Is Eadulf back?’

Muirgen shook her head. ‘No, lady, it is Enda who asks you to go to the gates immediately.’

‘Immediately? I am not up yet, not washed or dressed.’

‘He said it is most urgent, lady. Another body has been found.’

It took a second for the news to register before Fidelma swung quickly out of bed and was frantically seeking her clothes. She began hurriedly dressing with the aid of Muirgen.

‘It is not Deogaire who has been found?’ It was the first thought that came to her.

‘He did not say, lady.’ Muirgen pushed Fidelma onto a stool and began to tidy her hair with the means of a comb. Fidelma fretted, moving impatiently while the old nurse attended to her toilette. Finally free, she raced out of the chamber, across the courtyard and towards the gates, where Enda and another warrior stood with a man who looked familiar: it was the stonemason she had spoken with earlier. Fidelma gave an inward groan. She had meant to ask her brother to place a guard on the scaffolding, but had forgotten all about it.

‘What is it?’ she asked breathlessly, glancing from Enda to the stonemason.

The warrior indicated that the stonemason should speak first.

‘Me and my lads were coming to start this morning’s work, lady,’ the man began nervously. ‘It was just getting light. We found a body at the base of the scaffolding. It was obvious from the way it lay that the man had fallen from the top to the bottom. He was quite dead.’

Fidelma’s mouth felt dry with fear. ‘You didn’t by any chance recognise him?’

‘Sadly, we did.’

‘Why sadly?’

‘Sadly, because he was the man who employed us to do the building work.’

‘I don’t understand. The work is done on behalf of my brother. .’

‘His steward, lady. Beccan. He was the man we dealt with.’

She stared at him, so intensely that he dropped his gaze and shuffled unhappily before her.

‘You mean that the body is that of Beccan?’ she repeated, as though she had not understood the first time.

‘That is so, lady. It was the body of Beccan the steward.’

Several thoughts were going round in her mind, most of them spurred by guilt. Having found out that Beccan had lied about the woman who was supposed to be ill in the hut in the woods, his story contradicted by Deogaire, she had been determined to confront him. But she had decided to let a night pass; lull Beccan into a false sense of security before tackling him head on. If she was right, and Beccan was involved, then this death could be blamed on her inaction. She had even hoped that Eadulf might have returned with further information by now, because the key to the whole series of deaths, she now saw clearly, lay with what had happened on the River Siúr. Eadulf’s brother Egric was an important link to that.

Enda asked respectfully: ‘Shall I order the body to be brought around to Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary, lady?’

But the stonemason was talking. ‘It is hard to see how anyone could fall accidentally,’ he told Fidelma. ‘As you well know, there are plenty of ladders and platforms. To miss the ladders or fall off a platform. . well, it doesn’t seem likely. Me and my men have been working on such scaffolding for years without a single mishap.’

‘So you think he was helped to fall?’ she asked. ‘Or jumped?’

The man shrugged. ‘It is not my place to say. I am responsible for the scaffolding, and if any accident happens, I would have to pay compensation. My opinion therefore must be biased, lady.’

Fidelma turned to Enda. ‘Is Deogaire still safe in the Laochtech?’

‘As you instructed, lady. He has been guarded night and day.’

‘Then let us look at this scaffolding first before we remove the body,’ Fidelma said. She led the way up the steps onto the wall which surrounded the palace complex. It was a short walk to the south-west corner of the ramparts. She was still silently cursing herself that she had not carried out her intention to have her brother post a sentinel by the scaffold. The stonemason and Enda watched her as she made a quick examination of the wall and the scaffolding. Her eye caught a large piece of dressed stone, not quite fitting correctly on the wall. As the wall was being rebuilt, that would not have been a matter of particular interest. What caused her to prise it loose and examine the underside of it was the sight of dark staining on the bottom. She placed the stone to one side on the top of the wall before leaning forward and peering downwards across the parapet.

‘I presume that you found the body just to the side of the scaffolding?’ she asked the stonemason.

The man gave a nod. ‘Aye, lady.’

‘There was blood on the head?’

‘Of course, lady. After such a fall. .’

‘Blood on the back of the head?’

‘He must have hit the back of his head hard. I noticed a great wound on that part of the skull.’

Fidelma turned to the others with a grim face. ‘Beccan was murdered: he did not fall from the scaffolding by accident.’

The stonemason’s mouth gaped stupidly. Enda whistled softly. ‘How can you tell, lady?’ he asked.

Fidelma lifted the piece of masonry she had taken from the wall and showed them the blood. ‘Beccan had injuries to the back of the head. I take the stonemason’s word for it, although we shall shortly confirm it when I view the body. It seems that this rock was used to inflict those injuries by his killer. The blood is still fresh on the underside.’

‘How can we be sure that it was no accident?’ Enda pressed.

‘It seems unlikely that Beccan hit himself on the head, replaced the stone in this wall, then started to climb down the scaffolding, slipped and fell,’ she replied. Her sarcasm was a disguise for her own self-blame. She turned and pointed across the parapet. ‘Had he fallen from the scaffolding, he would not have fallen to the side where our stonemason friend here says that he was found. The position he was found in meant that he fell straight down from this spot. Someone knocked him on the head and pushed him over.’

There was a silence as they considered what she had said. The stonemason, with justification, was looking relieved at her conclusion that his equipment was not at fault.

‘Now, am I right that you believe your scaffolding is still safe?’

‘I say it is, since you agree that the steward did not fall from it,’ the stonemason said stoutly.

‘I only ask,’ she told him, ‘because we shall use it to climb down and view the body, rather than go all the way round through to the gate.’

Before the men could protest, she had climbed over the parapet and begun the descent. Having done it before, she found it quite easy. As she climbed down, she was thinking furiously.

She had been coming to the conclusion that Beccan was the culprit. Now he was dead. It was true that she had not entirely worked out his motive. He had been near the chapel when the body of Brother Cerdic was found; he could have easily had access to the barn where Rudgal was being held; he had lied about Deogaire and about going to see a woman called Maon at the woodman’s hut; he could have returned unseen to the guest chambers that night to push the statue off the roof in an attempt to kill them. He must have used the scaffolding for access and exit without being seen; in the same way, he could have met Sister Dianaimh in the darkness and killed her. And although it could be argued as prejudice, he was of the Déisi and of the same area where Rudgal and his robber band had come from. It had all seemed to fit although she had been unable to collect the strands into one final knot. It was the motive that eluded and frustrated her.

There was more to this matter than she had thought. She must be missing something — something that would tie it all together. But what?

When Eadulf awoke he was aware of a strong, flickering light. It was the sun shining through the rustling leaves of the trees above. Then he became aware of the cacophony of birdsong. It was well past dawn. He was lying near the fire outside the wooden hut. Someone must have covered him against the cold of the night for there was a heavy blanket over him. Just then, a dark shadow intervened between him and the sun. He looked up into the smiling face of Gormán.

‘Rest, friend Eadulf. All is well.’ He held out a beaker of water.

Eadulf rubbed his head and tried to collect his thoughts. ‘What happened?’ he asked, realising that his throat was very dry. He took the beaker and sipped at the water; it was fresh and cold from the stream.

‘You were exhausted,’ Gormán said simply. ‘You had a long ride here and then the task you had to perform at the end of it. . well, I could not have done it. So, when you had finished, you fell into a deep sleep, which is natural.’

‘Did Dego. . has he. .?’ Eadulf began uncertainly.

‘Dego lives. According to Brother Berrihert, he went into a natural sleep and slept for most of the night.’

Eadulf breathed a sigh of relief and swallowed the rest of the water in large mouthfuls.

‘Sleep is the great healer,’ he said. ‘He should sleep as much as he can for the next few days to regain his strength.’ He rose and handed the beaker back to Gormán. ‘I’ll go and check the wound.’

Dego was lying still on the cot. Eadulf was amazed to see that his eyes were open, although he seemed very drowsy. He even forced a faint smile as Eadulf bent over him.

‘How are you feeling?’ Eadulf asked.

‘I’ve been better,’ replied the warrior with a touch of humour.

Eadulf nodded sympathetically and gently unwrapped the arm. There was no foul odour and the wound was clean. Unless there were any mishaps, the stump should heal nicely without further infection. He glanced up to Brother Pecanum, who was standing by.

‘The wound must be regularly washed and bathed. I shall leave some of the herbal infusion to pour onto it from time to time. It is important that it is freshly dressed to keep infection at bay. But in a few days. . he should be healing well.’

He turned back to Dego. ‘We’ll soon have you up and active again.’

A dark cloud crossed the young warrior’s face. His voice was bitter.

‘I’ve been a warrior all my life. I’ve known nothing else but service in the Nasc Niadh. With my right arm gone, what is left for me now?’

‘Come, my friend. Wasn’t I told by your bards that Elatha had one hand and one eye, yet he was able to seduce the Goddess Ériu?’

‘Ancient legends,’ grunted the young warrior. ‘He was King of the Fomorii — the undersea dwellers — who were all disfigured.’

‘Well, there’s many a truth in legend. Anyway, what’s your left hand for? I’ve seen warriors fighting with their sword in their left hand.’ While he was speaking, Eadulf was redressing the wound. ‘We are going to leave you in the care of Berrihert and his brothers while we go in search of Egric and whoever did this to you.’

‘I am sorry that I was unable to protect him. We were fishing and I heard nothing before I was knocked unconscious, although I seem to recall the movement of horses as I lay, so I must have had moments of consciousness.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Eadulf assured him. ‘Concentrate on getting well.’

Dego gave a slight movement of his head in acknowledgement but did not reply. It was clear that he was suddenly contemplating the enormity of this change in his circumstances and what it meant for his future. Outside, Eadulf had a quick exchange with Berrihert and Naovan.

‘Look after him, my friends. But as well as keeping watch on that wound, keep a watch on his spirits. He is young; a warrior. So now he is thinking of what his life will become with only one hand — and his left hand at that. He may become morose, and those feelings are not conducive to heal the body.’

Brother Berrihert reached forward and took Eadulf’s hand in his.

‘Don’t worry. We shall take especial care of him. You are truly a physician of renown, Brother Eadulf. I have never seen such work.’

‘Thanks be that God guided my fingers,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘Thanks be that everyone was here to help. But it is early days yet. So be vigilant.’

‘We understand,’ replied Brother Naovan. ‘He must rest as much as possible and we must keep a sharp eye on the wound lest infection occurs.’

‘I shall now take you to the spot where I found Dego,’ said Brother Berrihert. ‘It would be difficult to find it without guidance. My brothers will look after Dego until I return.’

‘Then we welcome your company, Berrihert.’ Eadulf went to his bag and took from it three baked clay lestar sealed with farcan or cork imported from Iberia, reinforced with cáir, a malleable wax-like substance. These he showed to Pecanum and Naovan, explaining the purposes of the mixtures. ‘I need you to remember the mark I have put on each container. This one is a distillation of the stalk, leaves and flowers of goldenrod, stat óir. It is an antiseptic and astringent that usually prevents infection, and arrests bleeding. Should you see any infection in the wound, bathe it in this.’

The two brothers nodded.

‘This other one is a strong sedative which can be given as a drink. It’s made from what they call goimín serraigh, a wild pansy. The third is a similar sedative, inducing sleep and easing headache; it’s a distillation of cinquefoil, what is called here tor cúigmhéarach. Is that clear?’

‘It is clear, Brother Eadulf. We will keep vigil over Dego and pray he grows stronger.’

Eadulf turned back to Gormán. ‘Now. . let us try to find my brother.’

Within a short time, Brother Berrihert was leading Eadulf and his companions up the mountainside. He remained on foot, while the others walked their horses. The elevation of the hill path made it difficult to ride up the slopes but Brother Berrihert had assured them that they would be needing a horse once they passed through the high valleys. It seemed that they would not be ascending any of the higher peaks of the mountains. They began to climb beyond the treelines and crossed the hill called the Pointed Peak before dropping southwards along a track that led through a valley, with one peak rising to the west and another to the east. Here they began to descend more rapidly as the path followed what was, at first, a gushing stream. It grew in strength and pace, rushing towards the plains below.

Gormán smiled. ‘I recognise it. That stream will become what is called the River of Ducks: it feeds the River Siúr further across the plain there.’

‘So you know this area?’ Eadulf asked in surprise. In truth, he had become disorientated.

Gormán raised his hand to point to an obscure track across the southern shoulder of the mountains. ‘That is called the track of Maranáin. He was an Uí Fidgente rebel who was trying to escape after the Great Uprising which ended at Cnoc Áine a few years ago. And that is where he is buried.’ The young warrior’s tone was that of grim approval.

‘And it was just by those tracks on the east side of the river that I discovered your companion, Dego,’ interrupted Brother Berrihert.

‘You said that when you found him, there was no sign of my brother not even his horse?’ queried Eadulf.

‘As I have said, there was no other living creature nearby except his horse. The signs were that Dego had been fishing there when he was attacked. All I could do was set him on his horse and take him back over the eastern path.’

‘You crossed the mountain with Dego and his horse from here?’ Eadulf asked in astonishment.

Brother Berrihert pointed to the east. ‘I brought you here by the quick route. I took him by a longer route but an easier one. It leads through that area of the forest called the Thicket of Gloiairn and there is a narrow pass between An Starraicín and Sliabh an Aird. It may be longer but far less taxing for a wounded man and his horse.’

‘Well, let us see what we can pick up from the place where you found Dego.’

They reached the site identified by Brother Berrihert. Some bags and what was probably Dego’s fishing tackle were still strewn about near a long-dead campfire. Aidan was already crouching on the ground and examining the area with keen, experienced eyes. He rose and trotted along the bank of the stream a little way before giving a grunt of satisfaction. Then he disappeared off towards a small copse. They waited in silence until he reappeared.

‘Horses,’ the warrior said laconically. ‘Two horses were tied there behind the camp. There are plenty of marks indicating that two people had dismounted here and were making camp. That was Dego and Egric. But then two other horses came from the east and halted in that wood. Two men dismounted. They must have moved quietly. They crept up on the encampment. See the dried blood on that rock? I think that is where Dego was attacked.’

‘And Egric?’ Eadulf asked.

‘There are signs of a struggle, but no blood. I think he was simply overpowered. There are marks on the ground as if he were dragged still struggling to his horse. . there. Then there are tracks of a horse being led back to the copse where the others had left their mounts. The tracks show that three horses moved off to the east.’

‘Are you saying that Egric was taken as a prisoner?’ Eadulf said, impressed by Aidan’s skill despite his worries. ‘He was not killed?’

‘It would seem that he was taken as a captive, friend Eadulf,’ agreed Aidan. ‘That is how I interpret the signs.’

Gormán pulled thoughtfully at his lower lip. ‘What now? Who could these people be?’

‘We must follow them,’ Eadulf decided. ‘I know the tracks are at least two days old, but we must see if they lead us anywhere. I need to find my brother and those responsible for what happened to Dego.’

It was decided that Brother Berrihert could contribute no more than he had already done. So he departed back on foot across the mountains, leaving the three grimly determined riders to follow the tracks to the east.

Colgú was pacing up and down. Now and then he cast a worried glance at his sister. They were alone in his private chamber and Fidelma was sitting relaxed in a chair before him. Finally, he halted and ran a hand distractedly through his fiery red hair.

‘I have no understanding of these happenings, Fidelma. Is there some personal danger to us? After all, you and Eadulf were attacked and almost killed.’

‘I do not think so,’ she replied with a shake of her head. ‘I believe the attack on us was done merely as a distraction; an attempt to lead us off on a wrong path. I think this affair is far more complicated than a threat to the kingship.’

‘Is this some curious conspiracy of the religious then?’ he demanded.

‘In a way,’ she conceded.

‘A threat from Deogaire and the supporters of the old ways trying to stem the tide of the New Faith?’

‘I am fairly sure that Deogaire was used simply as part of a diversion. I think his role is an innocent one. It is frustrating, however, that Beccan, who was my main suspect, met with his own death before I could confront him. That was a miscalculation on my part.’

‘But Beccan. . it seems impossible that he was involved! Do you have other suspects?’ asked her brother.

‘A lack of suspects is not the problem,’ she assured him.

‘Then is there any news from Eadulf yet?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Dego was one of my most trustworthy warriors. I pray that his wounds are not grievous. If only Gormán were here to advise me. Should I raise a catha of my warriors in case of trouble?’ Colgú seemed distracted. Gormán had recently been promoted to a cath-mhilidh, the commander of a battalion of the élite warriors.

A catha or battalion of warriors consisted of three thousand men; it was sub-divided into companies of one hundred, platoons of fifty men and squads of nine men. Of these trained warriors, the élite were the order known as the Nasc Niadh, warriors of the Golden Collar and chosen as bodyguards to the King. Usually, only a company was permanently quartered in the place, while the rest were encamped nearby where instruction in military sciences, practice with weapons and other modes of training occupied their time. But they were always close enough to come forward in time of need.

‘I don’t think the danger will come from armies but from something far more dangerous,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Ideologies are far more dangerous to deal with than men with weapons.’

Colgú sat down and reached for a drink. ‘What had Beccan to do with this religious business? I don’t understand.’

‘I have not pieced everything together yet. There is something I am overlooking, a single strand which leads to the centre of the knot.’

‘Does that piece reside with Eadulf’s brother, Egric?’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘I worked out his role some time ago. I have not mentioned this to Eadulf for I think it is going to be difficult for him to accept it. Didn’t Cicero refer to bellum domesticum — family strife? It is nothing new, but I do not think that Eadulf was expecting to be confronted by it.’

Colgú looked troubled. ‘For a stranger to this land, Eadulf has given unsparingly of himself to help our people. I hope he is not in any danger?’

‘There is always danger of some sort. That is why I suggested that he take Gormán and Aidan as his companions. They are two warriors in whom I place my greatest trust.’

‘I hope that you will not put yourself in danger,’ Colgú said anxiously. ‘Are you sure that I do not need to increase the guard?’

‘I have told Enda to be vigilant. It was my fault that Beccan was killed for I had fully intended to make sure of a guard at that scaffolding. I just did not think his own partner in this affair would turn on him.’

Colgú stared at her in surprise. ‘So you know that Beccan had a partner?’

‘Oh yes,’ she replied enigmatically. ‘But I am only just beginning to work out the identity of that person.’

It seemed to Eadulf that they had been following the tracks of the three horses for a long time. However, the position of the pale sun in the sky told him that it was not even midday. Aidan rode in front, leaning across the shoulder of his horse from time to time, eyes on the ground to watch the path unfolding.

‘The tracks are still clear — three horses. The tracks are evenly spaced so they are not hurrying themselves.’

‘Where do you think they are heading?’ Eadulf asked, not for the first time.

‘South-east,’ replied Gormán. ‘Towards the River Siúr at any rate.’

‘I don’t suppose there is any chance of overtaking them?’

Gormán could not lie to him. ‘Let’s face it, friend Eadulf,’ he said. ‘Dego was attacked and your brother taken two whole days ago. Even if they make leisurely camp during the nights, then they are still well ahead of us. Our only hope is that they are making for a specific place. If they stop, then we shall overtake them.’

Eadulf fell silent. It had crossed his mind earlier to ask why they themselves were travelling at such an easy pace. Surely if they increased their speed, they would overtake their quarry all the sooner? The answer came to him almost immediately. He could even hear Fidelma explaining that to do so would tire the horses, and a tired horse when they might need its strength and mobility was no use to anyone.

They were heading towards a large wooded area and Eadulf knew the River Siúr must lie beyond it. They had been travelling along a track through this forest for some time. He barely registered the different trees that made the woodland almost impenetrable except for the small path that they were following. Every so often, Aidan paused to check the trail and then signalled them onwards.

It was while Eadulf was almost dozing, so tedious was the journey becoming, and the gentle jogging of his cob allowing him to rock back and forth. . that a sudden terrible scream shattered the air nearby. Then before the cry died away, it was followed by another.

At once, Gormán and Aidan had their swords in their hands, peering around them to identify the danger. Then, seeing nothing immediately threatening, Gormán made a motion for them to dismount, placing a finger on his lips. He gestured to Aidan who seemed to understand what he wanted, for the warrior took the reins of Gormán’s horse, while Gormán moved forward in a crouching position along the path ahead of them. It twisted and turned out of sight around a bend. He was not gone for long for he soon reappeared, but approached Eadulf and Aidan with his finger once more to his lips.

‘We are in luck,’ he whispered. ‘Those we pursue have made some permanent camp just around the bend in those trees. There seems to be an old disused cattle-pen there and a hut beside it. I presume that this is some hideout.’

The word he used was fochlach which Eadulf had not heard before, but supposed it meant a hiding place or den.

‘Was it Egric who cried out?’ he whispered back, fearing the worst.

‘He is a prisoner,’ confirmed the other. ‘Easy, friend,’ he warned as Eadulf began to move. ‘They are questioning him — and none too gently.’

Eadulf stiffened but made an effort to control his emotions. ‘What are we to do?’

‘Egric seems to be tied to an old cattle ring on the wall. There are two captors, no more. I don’t think we will have any trouble. They don’t look much like warriors. We’ll leave the horses here. Aidan,’ he hissed ‘you are good with a bow. Make your way to the far side of the cattle-pen. There is some high ground there, but plenty of cover from trees and bushes. You can see down into the pen. I will approach from this path. .’

‘I must come with you,’ Eadulf said.

Gormán was about to argue but saw the determined look on his face. ‘Very well, but keep behind me and in cover. I will call on the two men to surrender. Let us hope they do so. If they don’t, Aidan will take care of the one who offers an immediate danger. Understood?’

Aidan took his bow and quiver of arrows from his horse and slid with astonishing quiet and ease into the undergrowth in the direction Gormán indicated.

Gormán waited for a moment, estimating the time it would take for Aidan to get into position and then, unsheathing his sword, he motioned to Eadulf to follow, indicating that he should do so stealthily and quietly. As Gormán had said, it was not far before they rounded a bend which broadened into a clearing, in which there were the remains of a circular, drystone wall cattle-pen. The walls that came up to waist-level were crumbling and almost overgrown with moss and tufts of grasses. To one side was a hut, perhaps where the cattle-drover stayed when tending his herd.

Gormán reached out the flat of his hand, with a backward gesture to Eadulf to keep behind him.

There were two men standing upright in the enclosure. One of them had his sword in his hand and seemed to be staring down at something before him. Eadulf could not see what it was as it lay out of sight below the stone wall. Another man was taking a drink from an earthenware jug. There was no sign of Egric. Close by the hut, three horses were tethered. Smoke rose from a fire before the hut and other indications showed that the men had been encamped there some time.

Gormán glanced across the clearing to where the trees followed the rise of a small hillock. If was as if he were trying to see if Aidan was in place among the green foliage and bushes. His sharp eyes must have seen something that Eadulf could not, for he nodded to Eadulf, rose to his full height and cried: ‘Throw down your weapons! You are surrounded!’

The man with the flagon in his hand threw it away, staring in the direction of Gormán, and shouted to his companion: ‘Finish the bastard!’

The man with the sword was raising it as if to plunge it into something at his feet — but as he did so, he suddenly gave a coughing sound and fell forward. Eadulf just had time to see the arrow in the man’s back.

Gormán was running towards the cattle-pen, sword in hand, as the other man was turning to see what had happened to his companion, while at the same time trying to withdraw his own sword. Gormán took the wall in a gigantic leap. Eadulf was running after him. Gormán had a moment to regain his balance but it was too late to stop the first man thrusting with his sword at a figure that lay on the ground half underneath the body of the man with the arrow in his back. Then the killer wheeled round to defend himself, but the tip of Gormán’s sword had entered under the breastbone. As Gormán removed his weapon, the man gave a choking cry and fell forward.

Eadulf, with a cry of anguish, had recognised the figure on the ground. Egric lay with his back propped against the stone wall. His wrists were tied by rope to an iron cow-ring set in the stone. There was blood staining his garments, covering his face and arms. It was clear that he had suffered torture. The fingers of one hand were broken and bent. Eadulf knelt towards him and one glance was enough to assess his brother’s condition. He pulled the corpse of his erstwhile captor off his brother, drew his knife and severed the cords that bound Egric’s wrists. The young man slumped forward with a groan.

Eadulf gently lifted him back into a semi-sitting position, legs splayed out on the ground before him. Eadulf then drew out a lastar, containing water, and allowed it to dribble against his young brother’s mouth. Egric groaned and opened his eyes, trying to focus.

‘Is it you, Eadulf?’ The voice was the merest whisper.

‘I am here, Egric.’

‘Sorry. . so sorry that it has turned out. . like this.’

‘Lie still and all will be well.’

‘Don’t try to lie to me. I know. . I am not long for this world. Trouble is, I don’t share the beliefs that you have adopted.’ Egric started coughing blood. ‘Must tell you. .’

‘I knew that you were no religious,’ Eadulf replied tenderly. ‘That doesn’t matter now.’

‘Never could fool you, even when we were young,’ the dying man joked. ‘But it was true I lived among the Cruthin. I was a warrior in Oswy’s army. After the retreat. . went to Canterbury. Nothing to do. Met old Victricius. . a fine thief. We made a good pair. .’

There was another bout of coughing and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

‘Going to leave you. .’ he whispered.

Eadulf forced a smile. ‘Can’t do that. You have only just found me. Anyway, who were these men? Who were they who tortured you?’

‘Wanted to know where it was hidden. . couldn’t tell them.’

‘Where what was hidden?’

Egric groaned and Eadulf allowed him a little more water. It didn’t really matter now if it was the wrong thing to do.

‘Leader. . called Maon. Maybe same gang as attacked us on the river. Maon. Don’t know.’

‘What did he want?’

There was another bout of coughing. Egric’s face was screwed up in pain.

‘Who. . who is Brother Docgan? Ask custodes. . ask. . Bosa! Bosa! No time now.’ His face contorted again.

‘We’ll find out. Don’t worry,’ Eadulf promised.

Egric tried to shake his head. ‘Not worried. I hear them coming — soon be off to Gladsheim.’ Then an anxious look appeared on his face. ‘It does exist, doesn’t it, big brother?’

Eadulf swallowed hard. Gladsheim — Woden’s Castle in Asgard. Thoughts of his youth, the time before he adopted the New Faith, flooded into his mind. Should he deny the Old Faith now? He realised that his younger brother’s eyes were becoming dull and foggy. It would not be long now.

‘If you truly believe in the House of Vali, you will speed yourself to Asgard, little brother,’ he mumbled. ‘Woden will be waiting for you in Gladsheim.’

A smile of contentment spread slowly across Egric’s features and he closed his eyes for a moment. Then they were suddenly wide with anxiety again, and his eyes flickered from side to side as if seeking something.

‘But I must go. . weapon in hand! Can’t enter without sword!’ Some incredible power caused his hands to flail about as if searching.

Eadulf turned quickly to Gormán. ‘Lend me your sword for a moment.’

Gormán did not question him but handed him his sword, hilt first. Eadulf took it and seized the uninjured hand of his brother, placing it around the hilt.

‘Feel it, little brother? Feel it?’ he whispered urgently. ‘The sword — your sword — it is in your hand.’

Egric’s eyes closed again, the smile once more on his face. His hand was clutching spasmodically at the hilt of the sword.

‘Thank you, big brother.’ His voice was no more than a sigh. ‘I will see you again, one day, in the great city of Aesir. Live long and be well, before that day surely comes.’

A coughing fit came on him, and when it passed, a curious strength and purpose moulded his features. Slowly he raised the sword in his one good hand until the tip was pointing skyward. Then he gave a mighty shout. ‘Woden!’ His voice was still echoing through the surrounding woods when he fell backwards, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky.

Eadulf felt the tears begin to stream from his eyes.

‘God’s speed, little brother,’ he wept. ‘May Woden be ready to greet you in Gladsheim. And may my God forgive me for helping you journey to him rather than to the Heaven of the Christians.’

After a few moments he realised that Gormán was standing nervously at his side. He took the sword from his brother’s lifeless hand and, without wiping away the tears, handed it back to him hilt first.

‘You have just seen the death of a warrior of my people,’ he said. ‘The death of a warrior, according to the rituals of the old gods of my race.’

Gormán said nothing but allowed Eadulf to continue to kneel in silence by the side of his brother and take his own time in saying his farewells.

Eventually, Eadulf drew himself together. He rose and looked around. Gormán and Aidan had searched the camp and placed the bodies of the two men side by side.

‘I don’t recognise them,’ he said. Gormán and Aidan shook their heads at his unasked question. ‘My brother mentioned the name of one of them. What was it? Maon.’ He frowned suddenly: where had he heard that name before? Wasn’t it the name of the girl that Beccan said he had taken medicines to? No, that was surely wrong. He turned to Gormán. ‘What sort of name is Maon? I thought it was a girl’s name, but my brother said it was the leader of these two men.’

‘It can be either a male or female, friend Eadulf,’ answered the warrior. ‘It means the Silent One and was a by-name for one of the old pagan gods. The lady Fidelma would know it also, for Maon was the name of the daughter of her teacher, the Brehon Morann.’

Eadulf glanced around and then up at the sky. ‘Can we get back to Cashel from here by nightfall? It is important.’

‘Nightfall comes early at this time of year. But we could cross at Finnian’s Height now that the brothers in the abbey there have built a new bridge across the Siúr, and there is, as you know, a good road from there. The last part of the journey could be made in safety even after nightfall.’

‘Is Finnian’s Abbey nearby?’ Eadulf asked in surprise. ‘I know that road well.’

‘It is. What do you wish to do, Eadulf?’

‘Put these bodies in that hut. We’ll take their horses to the abbey and tell the brothers there that they can have them if they come and retrieve the bodies for burial or dispose of them as they will. We do not have the time. However, I shall take my brother’s body back to Cashel.’

Gormán and Aidan exchanged a glance but said nothing. Gormán took a blanket and wrapped Egric’s body carefully in it. As easily as if he were lifting a child, he picked it up and slung it over one of the horse’s backs and secured it. While he was doing this, Aidan gathered some dead wood and branches and covered the two bodies.

‘There was absolutely no means of identification on them?’ Eadulf asked.

‘None,’ affirmed Gormán. ‘They were certainly not warriors. Perhaps they were members of Rudgal’s thugs. Didn’t Cummasach say that two of them had escaped?’

Eadulf had forgotten. ‘Let’s get back to Cashel,’ he said wearily.

With that, they mounted, with Gormán leading the horse bearing Egric’s body. Eadulf followed while Aidan brought up the rear, leading the other two horses. Apart from their brief stop at the abbey in Finnian’s Height, the journey back to Cashel was made in sombre silence.