The Leper's bell

Chapter Fourteen

Eadulf had left his horse tethered loosely to a bush in a copse. He had spent the night at the abbey and at first light had taken the track in the direction of the Tower of Uaman. He had found the crossing point without trouble and decided to leave his horse hidden among the trees and approach on foot. He tethered his horse loosely as he had learnt from Fidelma. If he did not return before the beast started to fret, he was confident that the animal would be able to pull free, but he knew the horse was a patient steed and would only leave the spot when hunger or danger threatened.

Eadulf hid himself behind the trees that overhung the shoreline and gazed out across the bay towards the little island on which the tower rose. Cold restless waters separated it from him. It seemed incredible that there was any prospect of the grey sea’s receding and leaving a land passage for one to walk across to the island. On the island, a grey stone tower rose, its circular walls both dark and menacing. Around them was a high wall encompassing the central tower itself. Eadulf tried to estimate its circumference but gave up, although he guessed the diameter to be a hundred feet across. It was large. The entire atmosphere of the place was one of threatening evil.

Eadulf tried to tell himself that it was merely his imagination. Both the herbalist and his wife as well as the steward at the abbey of Coimán had conjured an image in his mind. Had he not talked to the steward, he asked himself what his attitude might be. In the first place, he thought that he might have ridden directly to the abode of Uaman and stated why he had come there. That the baby had been taken by mistake and was not the property of the travelling herbalist to sell. That was still his ultimate intention. The more he thought about it, the more firmly he believed that this was the only course of action he could adopt. He was being foolish in giving way to the sinister thoughts implanted by others. He had even imagined, after he had left the abbey, that someone was following him. He could not shake off the feeling and kept looking round for some unseen danger. He gave a sigh of exasperation.

He had ridden over the mountain road, keeping away from any habitation. The way seemed bleak and covered with threatening shadows. At the point where he had moved down to the wooded shore of the bay, he had seen a number of dwellings further up the mountain, and presumed it was a settlement. A settlement so near to this stronghold probably indicated that the inhabitants were supporters of the chieftain or that he could rely on them for service. He bypassed the settlement and led his horse deep within the forest to avoid it.

Now he would wait until the tide was on the ebb and then walk to the island as there seemed no other way to cross. He would simply tell this Uaman the reason for his visit. Logic would prevail. The chieftain was surely not as evil as people made out. No one was that evil. He felt satisfied at this reasoning and felt a sudden surge of excitement. He would bring Alchú home to Cashel. Perhaps, then, he would be able to reason with Fidelma about how to tackle the problems of their life together. He felt a peace spreading within himself at the thought. There would be an answer; a resolution to the problems that had beset them during this last year.

It was an hour or so later when he noticed that the tide had begun to turn. He presumed that it would not be at its flood again until early evening. He stood up and walked down to the shore to examine the sandy link that was being uncovered with a critical eye. The dunes that stood revealed by the receding sea looked firm enough. He saw crabs scuttling over them, following the waters, and here and there a sea bass or pollock caught unawares in a pool, splashing in search of its vanishing environment. He looked from the shore across to the dark island. The sandy way seemed quite wide, but if there were soft patches of quicksand, as the steward had warned him, then it would be best to keep to the highest point of the dunes.

Eadulf hesitated a moment, then left the shore and started to hunt through the trees and bushes until he found what he was looking for. A low branch of a yew tree had been snapped off. He took out his knife and began to strip the bough of its excess growth and twigs until he had a passable staff of six feet in length. Then he returned to the sandy crossing and stepped gingerly forward. The sand sank a little under his feet and water ran from where it was compacted but his foot only went in to a depth of the first joint of his little finger. The sand seemed firm enough. Ever cautious, however, Eadulf thrust the staff in front of him before each forward step.

It was some time before he had traversed the sand link to the island, and when he looked back he was somewhat reassured by the line of his footsteps stretching away behind him. It would be easier on the return trip, he told himself.

He made his way up some stone-flagged steps to the grassy knoll of the island and across to the forbidding grey stone wall surrounding the round tower. It was deceptively large, as big as many abbeys he had seen. There was no sign of life. Great wooden double doors rose to a height of ten feet but stood shut, the thick oak reinforced by iron. A series of windows was placed round the stone walls at a height just above that of the gates. They appeared to ring the structure.

Eadulf stood for a moment examining the building. There seemed to be no bell for visitors to ring such as usually hung outside an abbey. He walked across to the doors and was about to raise his makeshift staff to bang on them to announce his presence when they suddenly swung inwards. Just inside stood a man draped from poll to toe in grey robes, a cowl hiding his head and features.

‘Welcome, Brother. Welcome to the Tower of Uaman.’ He spoke in a high-pitched, almost sing-song voice.

Eadulf started at the unexpected apparition. The movement was not lost on the grey-robed figure. A thin chuckle issued from behind the robes.

‘Do not be surprised, Brother. I have watched your approach from the shore yonder. I have noticed that you have been cautious in your progress across the dunes.’

‘I was told that the crossing was treacherous.’

‘Yet you have chanced the perils of the sea and sands. There must be some great purpose in your coming here.’

‘I have come to see Uaman … Uaman who is chieftain of this place.’

The figure raised an unusually white hand, almost claw-like in its skeletal structure, and beckoned him to enter.

‘I am Uaman, lord of the passes of Sliabh Mis,’ came the voice. ‘Welcome to my fortress. Come freely in, and may your stay be as pleasing to you as it will doubtless be to me.’

Eadulf hesitated but a moment, trying to rid himself of the fears that rose again in his mind. Then he entered between the heavy oak gates. He was aware of the great wooden structures swinging shut behind him and he glanced round. They seemed to be closing of themselves and then he realised that the mechanism must be in the thick walls. Iron bolts had appeared from apertures in the stone and snaked directly across to secure the doors in place.

Uaman gave his thin mirthless chuckle as he saw Eadulf start nervously.

There are many beyond my walls who wish me harm, my friend.’ He paused. ‘You bear the tonsure of Rome, not of the brethren of the Church of the Five Kingdoms. What name is given to you?’

‘I am Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

There was a silence. Eadulf knew the name meant something to the bent figure. A long, low hiss of breath came from the folds of the cowl and Eadulf had a feeling that cold eyes were staring at him.

‘Eadulf!’ The voice was suddenly soft and almost threatening in its sibilance. ‘Of course. Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. You are husband to an Eóghanacht of Cashel.’

‘I come here with peaceful intent,’ Eadulf explained hurriedly. ‘I am not interested in your quarrels with Colgú of Cashel.’

‘If you come with peaceful intent, Brother Eadulf, then you are received with peaceful intent. Yet you seem, by implication, to know that I am of the Uí Fidgente. What do you seek from me?’

‘I have come west on a quest in which I think you are unwittingly involved.’

The figure chuckled again. ‘Unwittingly involved?’ he said, as if this was some matter of amusement. ‘Now that is an interesting phrase. Then, Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, come to my chamber where we will talk of this quest and its purpose.’

Eadulf made to move forward towards the figure but the white skeleton hand suddenly drew a small bell out of the folds of the robe and shook it with a warning note.

‘Salach! Salach! Unclean!’ came the high-pitched voice. Eadulf halted abruptly. ‘A little distance, if you please, Brother Saxon.’ Uaman’s voice was more controlled now. ‘I suffer the affliction which decays and putrefies the flesh.’

‘A leper?’ gasped Eadulf. Until this moment he had not fully appreciated the enormity of the curse under which Uaman suffered.

The bent figure gave his spine-tingling laugh. Then the leper hobbled forward and Eadulf noticed that he was dragging one foot as if it were useless. Uaman entered a tiny doorway in the wall and climbed a stone-flagged stairway which rose to another level which, Eadulf judged, was at the height of the windows he had seen. The stairway gave on to a walkway that was, indeed, on a level with the windows. Eadulf suddenly realised that there were several dark-clad warriors lurking in the shadows by the windows, obviously keeping a watch. He glimpsed ugly and scarred faces, one man lacking an eye.

The leper began to lead him confidently round the walkway, following the great walls.

‘Do not bother to count the windows, Brother Saxon. There are twenty-seven, that I might look out on the star clusters from which knowledge and power are gained.’

Eadulf frowned. He recalled that this was some pagan doctrine and wasn’t sure what it implied.

‘Are you not of the Faith?’ he queried.

The leper chuckled. ‘Is there only one Faith then, my friend? Faith in the singular means that we must disbelieve all other faiths.’

‘Faith is Truth,’ countered Eadulf.

‘Ah, when reality and hope are dead, then Faith is born. Believe in all things, Brother Saxon, and you will not be disappointed.’

Uaman halted before a door and opened it, beckoning Eadulf to follow him through a corridor into an inner chamber. It was a well-appointed apartment, the walls lined with polished red yew and hung with tapestries of sumptuous colours. The leper pointed to a couch.

‘Be seated, Brother Saxon, and tell me the purpose of your coming hither. What is this quest of which you speak?’

Uaman seated himself across the room by the open hearth in which logs glowed hotly. He kept his cowl on and Eadulf could not discern his features. All he was aware of was the dead white flesh of the single claw-like hand that remained uncovered.

‘I have come in search of my child, Uaman. I am here in search of Alchú.’

‘Why do you think I can help in that matter?’

Eadulf leant forward. ‘The baby was left at Cashel in the charge of a nurse named Sárait. She was murdered. She, or some other, had left the baby by itself and a wandering herbalist and his wife found the child and thought it was abandoned. They took it and brought it with them to this country where you fell in with them. And you paid them money for it. I accept that you could not know the identity of the child and your desire was simply to help it. Where is Alchú? I will recompense you for what you paid the herbalist but I must take the infant back to Cashel.’

The leper’s shoulders moved. At first Eadulf thought the man was having a fit, but then a high-pitched sound came from beneath the cowl. He realised that Uaman was laughing again.

‘So far as you are concerned, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, the baby is dead,’ Uaman finally said in a flat tone. ‘Dead to you and your Eóghanacht whore.’

Eadulf made to rise from his seat but became aware of sharp, cold steel at his neck. One of Uaman’s guards must have entered unseen behind him and now stood with knife or sword at his throat.

‘What does this mean?’ he asked through clenched teeth. He realised that the question was a silly one for now his suspicions were tumbling into certainties. Deep within him he knew that he had been taking a naive approach to Uaman the Leper.

‘It means that the fates have been kind to me, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. In the last two years you and your Eóghanacht whore have gained quite a reputation in the five kingdoms. It was a bad day when you were taken from that Gaulish ship and made to work in the mines of Beara as our prisoner, before our intended rising against Colgú.’

Eadulf cursed himself for a fool. So Uaman had known about even that.

‘Have we met before?’ he asked.

‘You knew Torean of the Uí Fidgente.’

‘He tried to kill me but he was slain by Adnár, the local chieftain, who was loyal to Cashel.’

‘Torean was my brother,’ Uaman replied icily.

Eadulf blinked rapidly. He should have worked that out before. Torean was also a son of Eoganán.

‘Exactly,’ Uaman said as he watched the realisation dawn in the other’s eyes. ‘A son of Eoganán who was slaughtered at Cnoc Áine by Colgú.’

Eadulf grimaced. ‘If truth is to be served, it was Eoganán, your father, who raised his clan in rebellion against Colgú and met the fate of one who unlawfully rebels. He who draws his sword against a prince might as well throw away the scabbard.’

‘A Saxon axiom?’ sneered Uaman.

‘How could you have known the baby with the herbalist and his wife was the child of Fidelma and me? Even I was not entirely sure they had taken him until I followed them to the abbey of Coimán.’

‘News travels swiftly in this land. The Uí Fidgente still have loyal followers. Minds that are obviously quicker than that of the great dálaigh, your wife. Someone close to Cashel told one of my messengers that the child was missing and likely to be in the possession of the itinerant herbalist and his wife.’

Eadulf look amazed. ‘A traitor? In Cashel?’

‘No, my Saxon friend, not a traitor but an Uí Fidgente patriot,’ Uaman said in satisfaction.

‘Where is my son?’ Eadulf demanded harshly.

‘You mean the son of the Eóghanacht whore who thwarted our plan to take power? Well, he will never grow up to become an Eóghanacht prince.’

Eadulf started forward but the sharp steel at his throat kept him in the chair.

‘You swine! You have killed him!’ he cried helplessly.

Again Uaman chuckled in his high-pitched tone.

‘Oh no, my poor friend. He is not killed. Far worse.’

Eadulf looked at him in bewilderment and the leper chuckled again.

‘He will live, be sure. But he will grow up never knowing his father and mother, or the bloodline to which he is heir. He will, if he lives so long, become a simple shepherd, herding his sheep on the mountains haunted by the daughter of Dáire Donn. And your son will bear a name that will symbolise my revenge against his people. That is his fate. Already he is being nursed by peasant folk who do not know his origin but think of him as my gift to fill the void in their pointless, childless lives.’

‘You decaying son of a…’ Eadulf snarled and this time the blade drew blood from his neck.

Uaman seemed even more amused.

‘Indeed, I am iobaid, one who decays and rots because of this evil sickness that has been laid on me. It was not always so. I was my father’s right hand, his adviser, while my brother Torean was his tanist, his heir apparent. Many blows were struck at Cnoc Aine. I fled the field after my father’s death and soon the sores began to show on my body. I realised then that the ancients had cursed me for my failure and that only cold vengeance would remove the curse.’

Eadulf gasped. ‘That’s nonsense!’

‘First, Cashel will suffer. I will make it suffer. The suffering has already begun.’

‘So you arranged the murder of Sárait?’

To Eadulf’s surprise Uaman shook his head.

‘That was purely fortuitous. I heard the news of her death and the disappearance of Fidelma’s child. But it was purely by chance that one who was sympathetic worked out that the herbalist and his wife had found the child. He sent me a message to that effect and I could not believe my luck. Nor could I believe their greed. They did not even question me when I offered money for the baby. Ah, human frailty. That is my faith, my Saxon friend. I believe in the frailty of human beings.’

Eadulf sat glowering at him.

‘You are telling me that you had no hand in Sárait’s murder? That you did not intend this…’ he made an encompassing gesture with his hand, ‘from the start?’

The leper’s shoulders were moving again in the indication of his mirth.

‘You may dwell on all these things in the time that is left to you, Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ he said. ‘And that, alas, is not very long. You have until high tide and then your earthly span is ended.’

The white claw-like hand gestured in dismissal and Eadulf found powerful fingers gripping his arms. He was dragged from his seat and realised that there were two men behind him. It was useless to struggle. He was dragged through a side door and along the dark grey corridors, his mind whirling as he tried to understand what he had been told. Once more he found himself being half pushed, half dragged round the circular walkway in the outer wall of the rounded fortress. Then he was propelled through another straight corridor that seemed to jut out at an angle from the rest into a square structure that stood apart from the tower. He was being pushed down a circular flight of stone steps to where a flagstone was raised. A wooden ladder led into the dark aperture. One of the warriors pushed him towards it.

‘Get down there, Saxon,’ he said, indicating the aperture with his sword.

A smell of sea and dankness rose up. It reminded Eadulf of the odour of sea caves.

‘You might as well kill me here,’ he told them defiantly. ‘I can see nothing below that ladder, so if you want me to go into some subterranean cave full of water I should tell you that I prefer the sword to drowning.’

The guard laughed uproariously.

‘Didn’t Uaman tell you that you had until the high tide? He wants you to dwell on your fate for a while. So we must not kill you yet, my friend.’

His companion grinned eagerly.

‘I’ll tell you what… we’ll give you this oil lamp. The light should last you until the high tide. Don’t worry. See how solicitous we are about your needs?’ He shoved a lighted oil lamp at Eadulf.

‘Now get down the ladder or we might reconsider,’ snapped the guard with the drawn sword.

Eadulf hesitated only a moment. At least he had light and he had freedom of movement. While he had those, he had hope. The alternative was dying from a sword wound at once.

He turned and began to climb down the ladder.

As he descended he found that he was moving into a chamber whose sandy floor was four metres from the stone aperture in the ceiling above. It was square in shape, some two metres by two. It was chill and had an overpowering smell of sea about it. Yet he saw that the walls were not those of a cave but made of great blocks of stone even though the floor consisted of wet sand.

He stepped off the bottom rung, holding his lamp high, and peered round.

Almost at once, the ladder was pulled swiftly up.

Laughter came from above him.

‘Until high tide, Saxon,’ called one of the men. ‘Pleasant dreams!’

The stone thudded into place above him and he was alone.

Fidelma later regarded it as the longest and worst day of her life. She lay on the bed in the upper room of the hunting lodge, securely bound. Now and again one of the Uí Fidgente would look in and check on her, ensuring that the bonds still held. During the day, Crond came in twice to give her food and drink, this time freeing her hands but standing over her in case she made any attempt to escape. The most embarrassing moment came when she was forced to answer nature’s demands. Crond rigged a blanket round a pail in a corner and actually stood in the room during the proceedings. For the most part, she was alone with her thoughts.

She had tried once again to seek refuge in the dercad, the act of meditation, but a strange thing happened. She began to question even that as a means of escape from the present. She realised that she must start facing reality — perhaps for the first time. She was confronting a question that she had always tried to avoid. She could admit that now, as she lay alone and unable to act. She began to think about her relationship with Eadulf and her child — their child. Suddenly, tears were streaming from her eyes, although she did not yet understand why she had begun to feel this uncontrollable emotion. She had always been in control before. She had, perhaps, been too controlled.

Once she had tried to take refugee in the idea that, after her youthful experience with the warrior Cian, it was a rational decision not to get too close to any man. It was a good excuse, an easy excuse. But it was merely an excuse. Had she been deceiving herself? What did she want? She had wanted independence, to rely on no one except herself. She wanted to be a good dálaigh. She had an exceptional ability for solving puzzles, and that was her motivation in life. If it was taken away from her she could not fulfil her ambition and live contentedly. She realised that she regretted that her cousin, Abbot Laisran of Durrow, had persuaded her to enter the religious. It was true that most people in the professions in the five kingdoms had done so, because it was the custom. But her time at Kildare had not been happy, for institutions implied restriction of freedom and what Fidelma desired most of all was personal freedom.

That was it! Freedom. That was the heart of the problem between her and Eadulf. She was unwilling to be restricted. She did not want to be bound. Suddenly, she could hear the sage tones of her mentor, the Brehon Morann, asking: ‘What is it that binds you, Fidelma?’ Indeed, what bonds was she afraid of? She had left Kildare, and her ability and qualification as a lawyer had caused her to be sought after. If she admitted it, she was also lucky. She had been born a daughter of Failbe Flann, king of Muman, and her brother was now king. She did not want for security. So, once again, she found herself asking what bound her.

Her mind returned to Eadulf and little Alchú.

Was she living just for herself? Her favourite philosopher was Publilius Syrus. He had been brought to Rome as a slave from Antioch and finally given his freedom. He had written many moral maxims that Fidelma had learned by heart, for in Brehon Morann’s law school he had often been referred to. His maxim iudex damnatur ubi nocens absolvitur — when the guilty man is let off, the judge stands condemned — was almost a slogan. Fidelma had objected to the interpretation and as a youthful student argued that it was better a guilty man be let off than an innocent man be condemned. She claimed that the pressure placed on judges by this maxim would encourage them to condemn a man simply out of fear lest they themselves should be condemned.

She was vehemently supportive of the Irish system in which the law wisely accepted each brithemoin a báegul — to every judge his error. But a judge had to give a pledge of five ounces of silver in support of his judgement, and pay a fine if they left a case undecided. All judgements could be appealed and judges had to pay compensation if they were found to be false.

She had let her mind wander. She caught herself with a frown. What had she been thinking about? Publilius Syrus? Was she living just for herself? That was it. That was what she had been asking herself. Publilius Syrus had said that they who live only for themselves are truly dead to others. She shivered slightly.

Why was she pushing Eadulf and little Alchú away? That was what she had been doing. She groaned inwardly. Eadulf was not creating the bonds which held her. She was. Her ideal of life was in her mind and the impediment to the ideal was there also. It was not external; it was within her.

Eadulf! She suddenly realised that he had been so patient, accepting her faults and acknowledging her abilities. What had made her long for his company after she had left him in Rome? What had brought her in haste from the Shrine of St James, sailing back to the five kingdoms when she heard that he had been charged with murder? She was not in love with him but something infinitely more real — she loved him and needed his companionship, wisdom and support. She had been looking for an anam chara, a soul friend, and she suddenly realised that there had been no need to look. What a fool she had been.

Where was Eadulf now? And little Alchú?

She groaned again. Tears were still welling in her eyes when merciful sleep overcame her again.

Holding the oil lamp high, Eadulf peered around his prison.

The sand beneath his feet was wet and a few strands of seaweed lay discarded on it, along with some broken shells. A movement in a corner caught his eye. It was a crab cowering in the shadows. A cold chill caught Eadulf as he continued his examination. The stone walls were dark with water stains and a tiny green moss clung to the blocks. The waterline stretched almost up to the ceiling. He turned to examine the base of the walls. There were three apertures in one of them, but they were tiny — a man’s head might be placed in them but there was no way anyone could crawl through. As he peered into these holes, he became aware of a strange sighing sound. He bent to listen. It did not take him long to realise that he was listening to the sighing of the sea some way beyond the apertures. Peering along the tiny tunnels, he thought he could see some reflected light.

He swallowed hard.

Beyond the small tunnels was the restless, brooding sea. That’s what Uaman meant! High tide! At high tide the sea would come rushing in through these holes and into this prison chamber. There was no escape. He would be drowned, for there was no way out.

Eadulf became aware of a new noise: a muffled sound. It seemed to come from high above him. It sounded like a knocking. Masonry began to fall into the confined space from a point high in one corner. Concerned, Eadulf moved to the opposite corner. Was there some new torture in store for him? A heavy block of stone suddenly plummeted down on to the sandy floor with a thud.

A faint light showed above him, not the light of a lamp but a dull white glow. Something moved in the aperture. It was someone’s head and shoulders.

‘Kairongnothi!’ came a cry of triumph.

Eadulf stood still, peering upwards. There was a scrabbling as the head and shoulders emerged a little further through the aperture.

‘Dos moi pou sto kai ten gen kineso!’ grunted a male voice in satisfaction.

Eadulf recognised the phrase from Archimedes. Give me a place to stand and I will move the earth! The voice was speaking in Greek.

‘Stay there!’ he cried out. ‘Don’t come any further or you’ll fall!’

He realised he was calling out in his own tongue. Then, trying to summon up his knowledge but realising it was confined to the Greek of the sacred texts, he tried again, but by this time the person above him had seen the danger as the oil lamp Eadulf held illuminated the four-metre drop into the cell below. There came a stream of Greek that Eadulf could only presume was the owner of the voice expressing his disappointment in voluble terms. Then there was a pause.

‘Do you speak this language?’ came the voice at length.

‘I have only few words. Do you speak the language of the Éireannach?’

‘No.’

There was another pause. The man above must have been examining Eadulf in the gloomy light of the oil lamp.

‘I see that you wear a Roman tonsure. What of the Latin language?’ asked the voice in that language.

‘I speak it well enough,’ Eadulf replied, feeling relief.

‘Are you a prisoner too?’

Eadulf caught the emphasis of the word ‘too’.

‘So you are a prisoner? Indeed, I am a prisoner of Uaman, and if I am not mistaken, I am a prisoner not long destined for this world. I have been put in this place to die.’

‘How so?’ demanded the voice.

‘I was told that I had until high tide. From the look of this cell, I believe that when high tide comes, it floods up to roof level. The walls are damp and thick with moss and seaweed.’

The voice muttered something in Greek that he took to be an expression of surprise. Then the man spoke again.

‘I thought that by removing a few stone blocks in my cell, I would be tunnelling out to a place from where I might escape.’

‘You were escaping from your cell, then?’

‘I was.’

‘And where is your cell?’

‘Just behind me. The floor of my cell is just above what appears to be the level of this roof.’

‘Where is the light behind you coming from?’

‘Ah, I have a small barred window that looks out on the sea.’

‘Are you sure that you are above the sea level?’

‘I have watched the tides,’ came the response. ‘At high tide, I am just above sea level. Certainly the stone walls and floor of the cell that I am in keep out the waters.’

Eadulf felt a sudden surge of hope.

‘Then if I could somehow climb up to you and into your cell, I would avoid being trapped and drowned down here.’

‘You would be merely exchanging one cell for another. I have been trying to escape these last few days. I thought I had when I forced a way through into your cell.’

‘Well, better your cell than mine.’ Eadulf smiled in the gloom. ‘At least, from what you say, I won’t drown there.’

He peered up, trying to figure out distances by the light of his lamp. If the aperture was four metres from the floor, as he estimated, then it might as well be a million. The stone was too wet to climb and clammy with seaweed and lichen. There was no hope of even attempting to scale it. It would be far too slippery.

‘Perhaps when the water starts to flood in, I might be able to rise up with it,’ he suggested.

‘Dangerous, my friend,’ warned the voice above him. ‘Wait.’

Eadulf was about to rejoin that he would not be going anywhere, but the head and shoulders had disappeared.

An interminable time passed. He heard strange sounds, a tearing noise. Then the head and shoulders appeared again.

‘Stand by!’

Something came snaking down. It was a series of strips of torn linen knotted together. It came to just above his head.

‘Can you reach the end, my friend?’

‘If I put down my lamp and jump.’

‘In that case, do so. I think it will be strong enough. I have tied the end to the wooden cot here so I think it should hold.’

Eadulf put down the lamp. At his second jump his hands closed over the end of the strip and for a moment he swayed, crashing into the side of the cell and grazing himself on the stone blocks. He hung for a moment and then, slowly, he began to haul himself up hand over hand. The man above encouraged him and it did not seem very long until his head drew level with the aperture high in the wall. It was not large, but big enough to thrust his head and shoulders through.

His companion had started to back through the space before him. Eadulf realised that the mouth of the aperture gave on to a small tunnel-like hole which stretched upwards at an angle for a little more than a metre. The man backed upwards and out of the hole while Eadulf managed the difficult task of heaving himself over the edge into the inclining tunnel. A few moments later he was through and lying on the stone-flagged floor of his new-found companion’s cell, recovering from his exertion.

After a few moments he glanced round. His rescuer was hauling in the makeshift ‘rope’ which had been tied to a wooden imda, a bed frame. In fact, this was the only piece of furniture in a stone-walled, stone-floored cell. There was a thick wooden door at one end and in one wall a small barred window which, when he later examined the view, looked out on to the seaward side of the island.

Eadulf turned to his companion and grinned.

‘At least I am given a respite from a watery grave.’

The man facing him was older than he was. He was tall, and fairly muscular, with black hair that receded from his forehead and an abundant beard. He had a sallow, olive skin, and his brows and eyes were almost as black as his hair, which he wore without a tonsure. He met Eadulf’s grin with an equally humorous expression and shrugged.

‘A respite only, my friend. That is, unless we can make a new tunnel and find a means of escape.’

Eadulf went to look at the hole his fellow prisoner had made. A large block had been lifted to one side immediately under the bed, which disguised it from anyone making a quick examination from the doorway. The man shrugged.

‘I saw the stone was loose and prised it away. Then I saw the tunnel beyond. Well, not tunnel exactly. You saw that it was scarcely a metre long. I think it must have been an air vent when they first constructed it. However, I had hoped it would lead into another room or give me some means of egress. I little dreamt that I would be entering a cell far worse than mine. Had you not been there, I might have attempted to climb down, broken my leg or worse and then wound up drowning myself.’

Eadulf gave an affirmative nod. ‘You have my thanks for your intervention, for what my thanks are worth. It seems that they may not be worth much. Once our captors discover they have not drowned me, they will come here. But my thanks for this moment of respite.’ He reached out a hand. The dark man took it. His grip was warm and firm. ‘My name is Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

The man raised his eyebrows a fraction. ‘A Saxon?’

‘From the land of the South Folk?’ Eadulf nodded.

‘Truly, my friend, you are far from home.’ His companion smiled.

‘I would say that you must be even farther from home,’ Eadulf pointed out with an answering grin.

The man responded with a chuckle.

‘Forgive me, my friend. I am called Basil Nestorios.’

‘A Greek?’

‘A healer, but from Jundi-Shapur.’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘I do not know of that land.’

‘Ah, it is a city, my friend, in the kingdom of Persia. The hospital and college of Jundi-Shapur hold first place in the world of medicine and science. Do you not know that all the great courts of the kings of the world recruit their physicians from Jundi-Shapur? Pupils from all the nations of the world gather there.’

Eadulf smiled softly at the pride in the other’s voice.

‘Persia is a long way from this land, Basil Nestorios.’

‘I do not doubt it, for have I not travelled every metre of the path here? A long journey only to end in this fashion…’ He gestured disdainfully to the stone walls. Then he looked at Eadulf. ‘What are you doing here, and why have you been imprisoned by the Evil One?’

‘The Evil One?’ Eadulf frowned.

‘The leper with the unpronounceable name.’

‘Uaman?’

‘That is he.’

Briefly, Eadulf told him the story. The healer from Jundi-Shapur nodded sadly. ‘He is, indeed, the Evil One.’

Eadulf saw beyond his immediate problems as a memory came back.

‘You were travelling with a brother from Ard Macha and you passed through Cashel a short time ago? A Brother Tanaide? I heard your names at the abbey of Imleach.’

‘That is so,’ agreed Basil Nestorios. ‘I came to this land to discover what cultures and beliefs lay on the western rim of the world. Through intercession from a bishop in the country of Gaul I was put in touch with a bishop in Fearna, the capital city of the land called Laigin.’

Eadulf knew Fearna well and had nearly lost his life there. He sighed as he thought of how Fidelma had saved him.

‘What then?’ he said, thrusting the memory from his mind.

‘It was the bishop who gave me Brother Tanaide as my guide and interpreter. When it was discovered that I was a physician, the bishop and the king of Laigin begged me to stay awhile and practise my arts.’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose it was news of my cures that reached the Evil One …’

‘Uaman?’

‘The name is difficult for my tongue and lips. Ooo-er-mon? Is that how it is pronounced?’

Eadulf smiled encouragement. ‘Good enough,’ he acknowledged. ‘But are you saying that Uaman heard of you in Laigin?’

‘Truly, my friend. He sent word to me there that he would pay a large sum if I came to his palace to try my skill at curing him of the disease that had struck him down. In Jundi-Shapur we know much of this disease that causes disfigurement, skin lesions and sensory loss. We have several means of treating it and I had brought with me a box of the cures we use.’

Eadulf was interested in spite of the surroundings and the dire straits they were in. ‘I have studied some of the healing arts but do not pretend to be a healer. Here, it is usual to pound burdock leaves in wine and cause the sufferer to drink it as a way of treating the disease.’

Basil Nestorios grimaced. ‘Where I come from we have a herb called gotu kala … it can be taken both internally and externally. It is an ancient cure for healing wounds and curing leprosy. I brought some with me.’

‘So you arrived here with Brother Tanaide at Uaman’s request?’

Basil Nestorios inclined his head. ‘Cursed be the day when I crossed the mountains to this place.’

‘Where is Brother Tanaide? In another cell?’

Basil Nestorios shook his head. His expression was a mixture of anger and sadness.

‘The Evil One had him killed.’

Eadulf felt a chill run through him, but he was not shocked, knowing the extent of Uaman’s treacherous soul.

‘What happened?’

‘He was run through by one of the Evil One’s swordsmen and thrown from the tower into the sea. He was dead before he fell into the water.’

‘But why? Why, if you had come to cure him? Why did he kill your companion and imprison you? I do not understand it.’

‘Understand this, my friend. The disease of his skin is reflected in the disease of his mind. He is evil. There is no redeeming quality in him.’

‘So he has saved your life only for you to tend to him? Are you treating him?’

‘I am prolonging my life, that is all. Twice a day I am taken from this cell to mix and prepare my medicines and then treat the man. So far as I can see, he is beyond cure, either physically or in the darkness of his mind, which seems to nurse dreams of revenge on all who challenge him.’

Eadulf rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Twice a day? At what times?’

‘Something crosses your mind, my friend. What is it?’

‘Have you never thought to use your skills to escape?’

The physician frowned. ‘I am not sure what you mean.’

‘Simple. What can cure can also kill.’

Basil Nestorios looked shocked. ‘In my culture, my friend, a physician must do no harm. Many centuries ago there lived on the island of Cos a physician named Hippocrates who is regarded as the father of the physician’s art. He imposed an oath on his pupils which says that we cannot use our knowledge to inflict harm on people. We of Jundi-Shapur swear that oath even today.’

Eadulf smiled wanly. ‘So you would rather suffer from his evil, and allow him to inflict it on many other innocent people, than prevent it?’

Basil Nestorios raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

‘What can I do? The oath is absolute.’

Eadulf was thinking furiously.

‘When will you be called to treat him next?’ he repeated.

The physician glanced through the window, trying to estimate the hour. The sky was already darkening. At this time of year that implied that it was mid-afternoon.

‘The tide will be on the flow soon. Any time now the guard will come for me. I have watched their time-keeping for several days now.’

‘Then if you will not poison Uaman, surely you can make a brew that will render him unconscious?’

‘I could. But it would take some time for such an infusion to work. I will be brought back here and locked in. What then?’

‘I’ll be waiting behind the door when the guard brings you back. Get him to come into the cell on some pretext… I know … I’ll leave the stone out by the bed and if he doesn’t see it, draw his attention to it. Then I can jump him from behind.’ Eadulf began to get enthusiastic as he considered the idea.

‘But it would still take some time for the infusion to work on Uaman,’ Basil Nestorios pointed out again. Then he paused and said reluctantly, ‘I could increase the dose. On reflection, the sooner we take our departure the better.’ Then he sighed in irritation. ‘But when the guard comes to fetch me for the treatment, you will be found here.’

Eadulf shook his head and pointed to the tunnel.

‘I will slip into there and you will push the stone slab before it, not blocking it off, but allowing me hang on with my hands, for my legs will be over the edge dangling into the next cell. As the bed covers your tunnel, with luck the guard will not notice that the slab is not quite in place.’

Basil Nestorios was looking thoughtful.

‘It might work. But even so, if we can deal with one guard, when we escape then there are still five others.’

‘Let us deal with one thing at a time,’ replied Eadulf. ‘How do you propose to render Uaman unconscious? Do you have any gafann?’

The physician looked puzzled as Eadulf, momentarily, could only think of the word used by the people of the five kingdoms.

‘Henbane,’ he said, trying to think of the Latin word. ‘Mandragora’ he added, knowing that the plant was related to the mandrake. ‘That is what I would use. In infusions it yields a potion which, if given in undiluted form, will cause a loss of speech and physical paralysis.’

Basil Nestorios smiled agreement.

‘You have some knowledge, my friend. Left with no alternative, I would say that it is a good choice. Yet I have, among my medicines, a distillation of a plant that grows in parts of my country which is called papaver and which will be far stronger and quicker in its effect. It is a white poppy that we use at Jundi-Shapur which is a powerful narcotic and sometimes relieves pain, sometimes stimulates the mind. But it can also be dangerous in large doses.’

‘A white poppy?’ Eadulf frowned. It was a new plant in his experience.

‘We make an incision in the seed head that ripens once the plant has flowered. The cuts secrete a thick juice, which we scrape off and leave to dry. From this we take our medicinal potion. It will dull the Evil One’s brain and induce a deep sleep. That I am prepared to do, but I will inflict on him no more than sleep.’

Eadulf shrugged. ‘Well, sleep is better than nothing. If he is not able to order and co-ordinate his warriors, perhaps we have a chance. Are you sure there are no more than six guards in this fortress?’

‘I am sure. I have seen only six men who look after the Evil One.’

Eadulf glanced round. ‘So where is your chest of medicines?’

‘The Evil One looks after it. He does not trust me. He keeps the chest in the chamber where I treat him.’

Eadulf glanced through the window to judge the sky and the tide.

‘We had better get prepared, Basil Nestorios,’ he said.

The physician nodded. ‘Let us hope we are not beloved of the gods,’ he muttered.

Eadulf glanced at him curiously.

The physician replied with a smile. ‘In my land we have a saying — hon hoi theoi philousi npothneskei neos — those whom the gods love, die young.’

Eadulf grinned as he prepared to crawl back under the bed.

‘Let us hope that we are considered to be well past our youth, then,’ he replied before pushing himself backwards into the hole.

The physician waited a few moments to allow him to settle himself and then pushed the stone block before the entrance, using his hands to sweep away the rubble. He then sat on the edge of the bed facing the door.

‘Are you all right, my friend?’ he whispered.

‘My arms are beginning to ache,’ Eadulf replied. ‘A pity this space is at such an acute angle. If it was level, then perhaps I would not need to put my weight on my hands.’

‘Let us hope the guard comes soon.’

‘Sssh … I think…’

Eadulf could hear bolts being drawn back. Metal rasped on metal as the door swung inwards. A voice called: ‘Come!’ He heard Basil Nestorios standing up and moving to the door. A moment or two later he heard the door bang closed and the bolts being pushed back.

Eadulf waited a short time before he began to haul himself from the hole, pushing at the stone block, which, fortunately, was not heavy. It was but a few moments before he was crawling under the bed and back into the cell again. His first thought was to try the door. As he expected, it had been secured from the outside. He had wondered whether, if the door had been left open, he might have found an opportunity to ambush the guard from the outside rather than wait inside the cell.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.