The Seventh Trumpet

CHAPTER NINE

‘I did not specify last night,’ Eadulf said coolly. ‘I can now assume that there was, indeed, a boat that passed upriver last night.’

The woman’s eyes widened as she realised her mistake. Her husband, Echna, rose and went to her, laying his hand on her arm.

‘These are the King’s men; we must tell them the truth.’

‘Even if we come to harm?’ the woman said with a wail. ‘Even if our boy comes to harm?’

Gormán spoke firmly. ‘You will come to no harm from us, nor from any who is in the service of Colgú of Cashel. Say what you know to be the truth and the truth will protect you.’

Echna turned back to them. ‘Are the people you seek, those in this boat, your enemies?’

‘They are,’ replied Eadulf. ‘Now — what did you mean when you said that you or your boy might come to harm?’

Echna patted his wife’s arm again and told her to return to the cabin. Then he came and sat down with them, pouring himself a large drink from the pitcher of lind.

‘Last night we were all asleep; that is, myself, my wife and my son, Enán. It was well before first light. As you know, it is the duty of the ferryman to keep a lantern burning during the hours of darkness, so that travellers who are late on the river might find the place. The lantern was burning low when I awoke.’

‘Why did you awake?’

‘I heard a noise, the oars scraping in the rowlocks, and a moment later came the sound of a boat knocking gently against the wooden jetty here.’ He paused to lick his lips which had gone dry, and take another swallow of the ale. ‘As I rose, my wife also awoke. I went to the door. As I say, the lantern outside was burning low and, at first, I thought I would be in trouble for not maintaining its brightness. Everywhere was in shadows but I saw a man standing on the jetty. He turned towards me. Alas, I could not see what sort of man he was. Behind him, I saw the dim outline of a boat.’

‘Did you see what type of boat it was or how many were on board?’ asked Gormán.

‘That sort of craft usually takes four rowers but I had the impression there were others in the boat besides the oarsmen. One of the rowers was leaning forward over his oar and moaning softly. I said: “Do you need help?” The man on the jetty asked me if I was the ferryman. When I confirmed it, he said: “Then you must come with us. We need your skill with the oar. Our companion has had a misfortune and cannot row.” I think that he added that I would be well compensated.

‘I asked how far they expected to get upriver in the darkness. I said it would be better for them to wait until daybreak. The man, who seemed to lead those in the boat, said it was not far and it would soon be light in any case. He mentioned that they must reach the area of poor land, which we call Cabragh, on the banks of the Suir. That’s to the north of here.’

‘So you went on board to row?’ The hope that rose in Eadulf was quickly dashed.

‘As we were speaking,’ went on Echna, ‘my son, Enán, who had been disturbed, came behind me and heard the last part of the conversation. He said to me: “Your place is with my mother. I will row their craft. Cabragh is only a short distance.”’

‘Then why is your wife so fearful?’ Gormán demanded. ‘Has he not returned?’

‘The man said that we must tell no one about the boat, neither of its passing nor its passengers. If we did as he bade us, then all would be well. The implication if we did not was that we would suffer.’

‘He threatened you?’

‘I took it as a threat.’

‘But your son went with them?’

‘There was no option. They were armed, from what I saw. And that is why my wife fears telling you about it.’

Eadulf looked kindly at the boatman. ‘We will not reveal that we have heard anything of this matter from you. However, these people have abducted the sister of the King. That is why we pursue them.’

A shocked expression came over the features of the ferryman.

‘Then G-God grant you success,’ he stammered. ‘You should have told me at once. If Fidelma of Cashel was a prisoner in that boat, and I allowed my son to aid the abductors, then there is great shame on me.’

‘You did not know and, if so, what could you have done?’ replied Eadulf. ‘Can you tell us any more about the man to whom you spoke? Was there anything about him that might distinguish him? Was he round or tall? What manner of man was he?’

Echna reflected for a moment. ‘He stood with his back to the lantern which, as I have said, was showing only a poor light as the oil was low. He was in the shadows, so I could scarcely tell what his manner of dress was.’

‘Then what manner of speech did he use?’ Gormán interposed. ‘Was it local or could you place where he came from?’

The question would never have occurred to Eadulf for, as a stranger, he could barely make out differences between the accents of the Five Kingdoms. He gave an appreciative nod at Gormán.

‘He was definitely a man from the south-east,’ the ferryman replied immediately. ‘I would say he spoke like a man of Osraige.’

Eadulf exchanged a meaningful glance with Gormán.

‘This river is navigable into Osraige, isn’t it?’

‘The Osraige claim their land starts on the east bank of the Suir, where it runs through Durlus Éile. But the Éile claim they dwell on both banks at that point. The border agreed by the Brehons years ago was that both banks were the land of the Éile. Nonetheless, the territory of Osraige is very close to the river.’

Eadulf suddenly found himself thinking of their original quarry, Biasta. Perhaps the matter of abduction was a coincidence — but what if it was not?

‘From Durlus Éile, would you have to travel far on horseback to the north-west through the mountains to Biorra or Tír Dhá Ghlás?’ he asked.

‘That would be a long, tough journey,’ replied the ferryman. ‘Are you saying that these people might abandon the boat at Durlus and proceed in that direction?’

‘It would be very difficult, especially if one had unwilling companions to transport,’ Gormán pointed out to Eadulf.

‘But it might be accomplished?’ he pressed.

‘Anything might be accomplished with determination,’ said the ferryman.

Eadulf sighed softly. It really did not help him form any idea of their quarry’s intentions. That the river they were following went north to the capital of the Éile was the only real information they had. They would just have to carry on.

Eadulf stood up and addressed the ferryman. ‘The information you have given us is of great help, Echna. Be circumspect with what you tell others, but if a warrior from Cashel named Enda comes by, then be sure to tell him what you have told us.’

‘I understand, Brother Eadulf. You can rely on me. And, if you are able, take care of my son, Enán. I will offer a prayer for your safety and for the safe return of the Lady Fidelma.’

It was only a short distance north of the ferry that the course of the river turned almost as a right-angle and headed eastward.

‘Do you believe that the abductors would have told the truth about going to this place called Cabragh?’ Eadulf asked Gormán, breaking the silence that had fallen between them since they left Echna and his ferry. They were now heading east along the riverbank and passed an islet in the middle of the water. Other than wildlife, there was no sign of movement there and nowhere that anyone with a boat could hide themselves.

‘If they were confident that they would not be pursued, they might have told the truth. But I doubt they would be so open about their intentions. I am fearful for the young man they took as the replacement rower. When he has outrun his usefulness …’ Gormán raised a shoulder and let it fall. ‘Once in the boat they could coerce him to row as long as they wanted. A weapon pointed at one’s throat is a strong inducement.’

Further on, they had to ford a smaller river that fed the Suir from the south, and to do so they had to move south for some distance before finding a suitable place to cross it. To the east the ground started to rise slightly and they could see some distant hills. They turned north again to find the bank of the Suir and once more follow its course.

Gormán raised his hand and indicated a stretch of low flat country before them. ‘This is called Cabragh, the Poor Land.’

Eadulf halted and carefully examined it. It was the same on both sides of the river; low-lying and stretching flat in both directions. There was a bleakness about it that caused him to realise that it was descriptively named. A poor land, indeed. It was thick with gorse and bracken and, from what he could see, the earth was very soft, almost bog-like, land. He presumed it would be liable to flood and that must be why he could see no habitation anywhere.

‘It’s a desolate place,’ he said. ‘I thought that the highway we were originally following must have crossed this place, yet I see no sign of it.’

‘Remember we decided to follow the river when we left the highway,’ Gormán reminded him. ‘The road swings more to the north-east and it joins another highway leading over a bridge that will take us into Durlus Éile itself. But that is some way further along this valley ahead.’

Eadulf glanced round. The land here was uninviting and gloomy. There would be no place to hide a man, let alone a boat. It appeared the abductors had lied to the ferryman that their destination was Cabragh. They could only have been heading for Durlus Éile, after all.

The sun was now high in the sky. It was a warm day for the time of year. The broad River Suir was reflecting the blue of the sky except where little white ripples and eddies indicated the current gushing around stony parts of its bank and across the riverbed.

‘We’ll have to stop and let the horses drink soon,’ Gormán said. ‘And it would be no harm to have some refreshment ourselves.’

Eadulf nodded half-heartedly. He would have preferred to press on. However, they chose a little inlet along the riverbank, which was sheltered by gorse bushes, and dismounted. Gormán led all three horses to the edge of the bank and allowed them to drink. Then he secured them by their reins to the roots of the nearby bushes. Eadulf had taken some dried bread and cheese from his saddle-bag and divided it between the warrior and himself. A small earthenware pot served to scoop up some of the brackish water from the river.

As they ate their frugal meal, Gormán remarked, ‘Aonbharr is still nervous.’ Aonbharr, Fidelma’s favourite horse, which they had been leading, had been skittish all morning. ‘He knows something is wrong with his mistress.’

Eadulf was certainly no horseman and did not have any knowledge of equine behaviour. He glanced at the animal. It was true that the ears seemed laid back and the eyes were rolling a little as it moved its head this way and that, nostrils flaring as if trying to pick up some scent.

‘Horses are intelligent creatures,’ continued Gormán, staring moodily along the river.

‘I cannot argue with that,’ replied Eadulf. ‘I just wish I had intelligence enough to puzzle out this mystery. At the moment it is like looking at a blank wall and trying to visualise what is on the other side.’

‘If they have made for Durlus Éile, then they will have been seen coming ashore in the town,’ observed Gormán.

‘What manner of place is this Durlus Éile?’

‘It’s a busy market township. Our task will be to find someone who has made an observation of this boat. The town is overlooked by the stone fortress of the Princess of the Éile, and in front of it is the market and then quays along the western bank of the River Suir.’

‘Did you say the Princess of the Éile? I think I have heard it mentioned that it is a woman who rules the Éile, but she has never been to Cashel,’ reflected Eadulf.

‘She is called Gelgéis, the Bright Swan.’

‘Is she well thought of?’

‘Some have voiced their suspicions of her.’

‘Suspicions?’ Eadulf asked sharply.

‘So far as I know, Gelgéis rules with a firm but just hand and the Éile see themselves as the primary defenders of the gateway into Muman from the north-east,’ the warrior replied carefully. ‘But some advisers of King Colgú maintain that she is not to be trusted because she is willing to make an alliance with anyone who serves her purposes. I suppose that is natural.’

‘Natural?’ frowned Eadulf. ‘How is it natural? Is there something wrong with Durlus?’

‘Not with Durlus but it is on the border with Osraige.’

Eadulf was trying to remember what Fidelma had told him of Osraige, the land of ‘the People of the Deer’ which was the border area between Muman and Laigin.

Gormán shrugged. ‘Forgive me, but my people have long memories. For many years the Éile have been dependable allies of Cashel. Éile sits on the western border of Osraige and that land straddles the easy passes from Laigin into Muman. The Osraige once fought to form their own independent and powerful kingdom. It was only two centuries ago that they submitted to the authority of Cashel. Even so, one feels that if any opportunities ever arise, they will seize them. Beyond Osraige is the Kingdom of Laigin, and Osraige has often sided with Laigin. They did so nearly a century ago when Laigin attacked us and were involved in the killing of King Feargus Scannel of Cashel. True, both Laigin and Osraige were defeated and paid reparation. King Colgú collects his tribute regularly from them, but they are not to be trusted.’

‘So what of the Éile?’

‘As I say, their small territory lies on the western border of Osraige. We have had no cause to suspect the Éile or their loyalty to Cashel for many decades. However, there is an inherent suspicion among the people of Cashel that the Éile could be intimidated by those from Osraige. The latter are definitely not to be trusted, although they outwardly swear loyalty to Cashel. It is hard to maintain independence when one has covetous and powerful neighbours.’

‘How long has Gelgéis ruled the Éile?’

‘Not long. I think it was the year that Colgú was acclaimed King of Muman.’

‘But she has kept the peace ever since?’

‘She has, but as I say, I do not think she is trusted by some of Colgú’s advisers. They think Gelgéis would make alliances with her powerful neighbours against Muman, if it was to her advantage.’

‘Her advantage?’

‘Perhaps I do her a disservice. I am told she always puts the welfare of her people first. So she would make the right choice for their welfare.’

‘Knowing this does not actually help us.’

‘That is true, my friend,’ agreed Gormán. ‘But it forearms us in our dealings in Durlus.’

‘If, as you say, it is a market town,’ Eadulf went on, ‘surely there would be boats up and down the river more regularly than we have seen this morning? After all, it is just after the harvest and there is grain to be shipped and produce to be delivered. The river is undoubtedly the main highway for such goods.’

‘You forget what the ferryman said. There is some big harvest festival taking place in Durlus — and most people will no doubt be attending it.’

Eadulf glanced up at the position of the sun. ‘We should be on our way,’ he said.

They rode on in silence beside the broad stretches of the river, moving ever closer towards the rising ground to the east, Eadulf keeping his gaze on the river. They were approaching a slightly elevated ridge running from south to north.

‘Another river?’ he asked Gormán.

The warrior shook his head. ‘That is the highway between Durlus and Cashel: it runs along that ridge. We join it and cross a bridge spanning the Suir and continue into Durlus Éile. Just east of the bridge, the river turns sharply north, passing through the town itself.’

Eadulf had learned that the droichet or bridges were usually built where the rivers offered areas for natural fords, and thus those who built them were able to use the existing roadways. The bridge they now crossed was no different, with its supports ranging from natural rocks to artificial piers. Tall broad trees had been cut down and thrust into the softer riverbed, providing strong hurdles on which were laid planks. These timber bridges were very common throughout the Five Kingdoms, so far as Eadulf had seen. The bridge they were crossing was not as wide as some he had observed. It was wide enough for only one large cart to pass at any time, although with plenty of clearance on either side for single horses or people travelling on foot.

Eadulf guessed that the highway leading over the bridge would be classed as a ró-shét made for horses, chariots or carts. Their horses’ hooves echoed hollowly on the wooden planks as they crossed over. Eadulf noticed appreciatively that the bridge was well kept, and then remembered that the laws of the country were very specific on the maintenance of roads, causeways and bridges. There was still no sign of any people about and the land on this northern side of the river seemed deserted, although in the distance he could see the buildings of the township.

‘That is Durlus Éile,’ confirmed Gormán, noting his interested gaze.

Eadulf felt his breath quickening. ‘Let us go straightway to the quayside and see if we can trace the boat,’ he said.

Gormán disagreed. ‘That is not a good plan, my friend. I would suggest that we find a place to stable our horses and then go with circumspection to the quayside. We would not want the abductors to recognise us before we recognised them.’

Eadulf was about to protest when he realised that Gormán was right. Now they were coming to this township they would have to use stealth until they knew whom to trust and whom not.

From its approaches, the place appeared to be far smaller than Cashel. The main difference was that it was built on one bank of the river. Numerous wooden houses on the west bank constituted the township, and from these rose a small hill whose summit was dominated by the ramparts of a stone fortress. The grey walls stood proud and dominant, facing out over the town and river. Below the fortress, they could see the roof of a wood-built chapel. There were several larger buildings as well. Some distance before the entrance to the main town was spread an area of barns and open fields. They were approaching this area when Gormán reached across and tapped Eadulf’s arm, then pointed. A short distance down a track descending towards the riverside, Eadulf saw what appeared to be a blacksmith’s forge. At the back of the forge was a small field, with two horses grazing in it.

‘That would be an ideal place to leave our horses,’ the warrior said.

‘Could we trust the smith?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Only one way to find out.’

Gormán led the way along the short track and halted before the forge. The fire seemed to be dying and the anvil stood silent and unused. But at their call a thin, wiry man with a shock of fair hair emerged from the gloom of the building beyond. He wore the leather apron over his shirtless torso which denoted his profession. His pale eyes glanced over their horses, doubtless assessing the quality of them, before focusing on Gormán. They rested for a moment on his golden torque and warrior’s apparel.

‘How may I serve you, lord?’ he asked, straightening himself in a respectful attitude.

‘We seek a place to fodder and stable our horses for a while,’ replied Gormán. ‘Would this be such a place?’

The smith grinned and nodded.

‘It would — and it would be an honour to care for such fine beasts as those that you ride. Especially that one,’ he gestured at Aonbharr. ‘I have never seen a finer animal. Yet it has no rider. I trust there has been no accident?’

‘Who are you?’ asked Gormán, not responding to the question.

‘My name is Gobán and this is my smithy. I presume from your torque and the direction you have come from, that you hail from Cashel?’

Gormán swung down and faced the man. ‘You have a sharp eye, my friend.’

‘Your manner proclaims you to be a warrior of Cashel, even if your golden collar did not betray that fact.’

‘Then I will admit that is what I am. We come to you to look after our horses because we do not want our arrival or our identity made common knowledge in the township.’

Gobán’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘Know that I am a true clansman of the Éile, loyal to my people. I will not be involved in any secret plots that bring harm on them or the Lady Gelgéis.’

Eadulf had dismounted and laid a hand on the man’s arm.

‘Will you take my word, as a member of the Faith, that we are not here to harm anyone but to rescue someone from harm?’

The smith’s expression did not change; he remained mistrustful. ‘You are a Saxon. I have no cause to accept your word or take notice of you.’

‘You will take notice, Gobán, smith of the Éile,’ Gormán said quietly and confidently. ‘Because the Éile claim loyalty to the King of Cashel, and Brother Eadulf and I-’

He did not have to finish.

‘You are Eadulf?’ the smith exclaimed. ‘Then you are husband to …?’ He paused, then said quietly, ‘Fidelma of Cashel once saved the honour of my sister by her wise counsel and fair judgement.’

‘Then know that we have come to this place in search of Fidelma, who has been abducted,’ Eadulf responded. ‘That is why we do not wish our identities to be made generally known.’

Gobán searched his features closely as if trying to ascertain whether he was telling the truth. Then he replied softly: ‘Then God has guided your footsteps to my smithy, my friends, for I am in your service to repay the debt that my family owes to Fidelma of Cashel. I will ask you only one question — how may I help Fidelma?’

‘We need to go down to the quays and make enquiries, being as inconspicuous as we can. That is why we need to shelter our horses here.’

‘That is easily done.’ As he spoke, the smithy took the reins and led the horses into the darkness of the barn behind the forge. ‘Once I have removed their accoutrements, I can release them into the field at the back. These saddles and bridles can be hidden until you need them.’

‘This is much appreciated, my friend,’ Gormán said approvingly.

The smith smiled at the warrior. ‘I have to tell you that your attempt to be inconspicuous will not last two minutes, unless you remove your golden collar and perhaps cover your finery with a rough cloak.’ He glanced at Eadulf. ‘I suppose one more religieux, more or less, will pass unnoticed in this township even if you do wear the tonsure of Rome and not that of the Blessed John. However, one of the élite bodyguards of the King would certainly be noticed.’

‘You are right, my friend,’ Gormán agreed ruefully. After a moment’s thought he removed the golden torque from his neck and placed it in his saddle-bag. Then he unstrapped a cloak and swung it around his broad shoulders, tying it at the neck.

Eadulf looked on with approval before returning his gaze to the smith.

‘We were remarking as we crossed the river that there seemed little traffic upon it today and we were puzzled. Someone told us that there is some festival in the town.’

‘Indeed, though not in the town,’ replied the smith. ‘As you say, it is the end of harvest. The Lady Gelgéis has invited farmers, merchants and townsfolk to a great feasting in her fortress to give thanks for a good harvest. That is why the township is so quiet. Most people have gone to the feast.’

‘Why have you not gone?’

‘I have tasks to be done.’

‘Perhaps the absence of townsfolk will work to our advantage?’ muttered Gormán.

‘Although it might prove to be the opposite when we are looking for people who saw the arrival of the boat and can identify it.’

Having thanked their new host, the two men left the forge to walk through the almost deserted township. There were a few dogs running here and there, and some loose chickens pecking at the dirt track — and somewhere near at hand a cow was bellowing mournfully. The street led almost directly into a central square; while one road turned up the hill towards the gates of the fortress, another ran down the gentle slope towards the river. There were a few people about, mainly elderly, who greeted them courteously enough. A young girl was seated at one corner of the square with a basket by her side in which were some loaves and cheese; she sat alone with tear-stained cheeks. It was clear from the sounds of music drifting down the hillside, accompanined by shouts of laughter, that the majority of people were still at the feasting.

‘What’s the matter, little girl?’ Eadulf asked kindly.

‘I need to sell my mother’s produce before I can go to the feast to see the gleemen,’ complained the girl. ‘My mother says I must do so or she will not allow me to go. There is good cheese and do you want bread?’

Eadulf shook his head sadly. ‘Alas, we are not looking for food at the moment.’

Leaving the dismal child, they made their way towards several large buildings that were obviously constructed as storehouses and barns. They walked between the buildings towards the river, along which were several wooden-built quays where boats could load and unload. This area still seemed entirely deserted, apart from the empty boats. They walked out on one of the jetties and stared about them in dismay.

There were numerous boats of all manner and sizes, and many that could have fitted the description of the type they were searching for.

‘So much for our hope of finding someone who might have spotted our quarry!’ Gormán said forlornly. ‘So where do we start now?’

‘Let us try some logic.’ Eadulf considered for a moment. ‘We need to find a boat that came here this morning. Perhaps if we started to examine all the boats that fit the description, ones that need four men to row it, and work our way along, we might find something which could give us a clue of some sort.’

‘That is a long shot and I am better with a sword than with a bow.’

‘It’s better than doing nothing.’

‘Very well, my friend. Let’s start here and work our way along.’

They walked along the quays and began to scrutinise the boats, but found nothing in them to provide any information. It was as they were making towards the next jetty that a cackle of laughter from nearby caused them to halt.

A bundle of rags lying on the ground moved, and a wizened little man sat up and stared at them with a gap-toothed grin.

‘You won’t find many good pickings here, friends,’ he wheezed. ‘The merchants are a tight-fisted bunch. They made sure their produce was taken and locked in their storehouses before they went up to the fortress. They haven’t left even a stalk of wheat lying about. Don’t I know it?’

Eadulf regarded the wreckage of the man in disgust, telling him: ‘We are not scavengers, my friend.’

The old man chuckled again, which brought on a fit of coughing.

‘A leper,’ muttered Gormán, spotting the decaying flesh of the man’s arm sticking out from the rags that covered him.

The man immediately tried to conceal himself.

‘Have I not got the right to exist, the same as you?’ he hissed. ‘These are my pickings, when the fat merchants leave them.’

‘We are not searching for any pickings, as you call them,’ replied Eadulf firmly. ‘We are looking for a boat newly arrived here.’

‘What’s in it?’ gabbled the old man. ‘What’s in it? I want a share.’

‘I doubt there is anything in it that you would want a share of, unless it be several inches of steel driven in you,’ snapped Gormán, clasping his sword as if to draw it from its scabbard.

‘I meant no harm, meant no harm,’ cried the old man in alarm, making to scuttle away.

Eadulf laid a hand on Gormán’s arm and forced a smile at the leper.

‘My friend is not known for the mildness of his manners and his temper is quickly roused. However, you could be rewarded in some fashion if you can show us such a boat.’

The old man’s eyes gleamed. ‘Rewarded?’

‘But first you must prove that we can trust you. Did such a boat arrive here this morning?’

‘Several.’ The smile was positively a leer. ‘Many river craft came here for the feasting.’

‘We are looking for a boat that came upstream and was rowed by four men. There were passengers.’

There was a silence before the man said, ‘What if I was to tell you that there was such a boat? Five men, one injured, and some queer sacks in it.’

Eadulf and Gormán exchanged an excited look.

‘Was there a woman with them?’ Eadulf demanded.

The leper shook his head but, seeing the disappointment on Eadulf’s face, added: ‘They carried queer sacks, as I said. Large enough for someone to be inside.’

‘Where is it? Where did they land?’ pressed Eadulf.

‘Didn’t I hear you say something about a reward?’

Eadulf reached into his leather purse and produced a piece of copper. To his surprise the old man spat in distaste.

‘What would the likes of me be doing with that? Who would take copper from a leper?’

‘Then what do you want?’ demanded Eadulf, puzzled.

‘Food is what I want. Give me food, and then I will tell you.’

Eadulf turned to Gormán with a helpless expression. ‘Where can we get food now?’

But Gormán had grabbed the copper from his hand and run off without a word. He was back almost within moments, with two loaves and some cheese. Eadulf realised that he had gone back and bought it from the little girl. The old man’s eyes lit up.

‘That’s more like it. Hand it over, fellow.’

‘Firstly we want the details of the boat,’ Eadulf said. ‘Tell us.’

The old man shrugged. ‘It is not moored along here.’

Eadulf drew in his breath angrily but before he could say a word the old man went on, ‘It berthed on the far side of the river. You see those sheds over there? There’s one with a small jetty in front of it. That’s where they landed.’

‘But there is no boat there now.’

‘Not now there isn’t, but that’s where it landed. Five men. One had an injured arm. The others helped him out and then there seemed to be an argument with one of the oarsmen. I couldn’t see from where I was because they hurried into the shed. I only know that the argument stopped quickly. They lifted two heavy sacks from the boat and carried them into the shed. Oh yes, and someone had been awaiting their arrival. He was a religieux by the manner of his robes, with one of those cowl things covering his head, so don’t ask me what he looked like.’

‘What?’ cried Eadulf. ‘A religieux in robes? Are you sure that he was waiting for them?’

‘What else have I to do but sit here unobserved and watch the river, just in case someone comes along and leaves something unattended? I am sure of what I saw.’

‘And what happened to the boat?’

‘Everyone left the shed, climbed back into the boat and they rowed off.’

Eadulf actually groaned. ‘They rowed off? Where?’

‘Back downriver. Five of them came out and climbed back into the boat with the religieux who had been waiting for them. Two took the oars, one in the bow while the other three sat in the stern.’

‘And these sacks that they took from the boat? What happened to them?’

‘They must have left them over there in the shed,’ shrugged the leper. ‘Now, what about that grub?’

Gormán thrust the loaves and cheese at the old man, who gave an almost animal sound and scampered off among the buildings.

‘Well?’ demanded the warrior, frowning after the bent figure. ‘What now, my friend?’

‘Could the person waiting for them have been Biasta?’ Eadulf asked.

‘He certainly had time to reach here,’ replied Gormán.

Eadulf was studying the shed across the now-darkening waters. The late-afternoon sun was already obscured by clouds as it sank to the distant western mountains.

‘Five men went into that building carrying two bulky sacks,’ he mused, thinking aloud. ‘Five men plus the religieux who was waiting for them came out and rowed away. We presume that one was the ferryman’s son. That means that one of the sacks contained the poet and-’ He came to an abrupt halt. ‘The other sack contained Fidelma.’ He stared at Gormán. ‘That means Fidelma is still in there! Still in the shed!’