It was agreed that Aibell would remain there with Eadulf while Enda and Fidelma climbed the hill to spy out the land. The first intention was to see if Gláed and his men were camping on the hill or had passed on. Before they left, noticing that Aibell was preoccupied in bathing her head and her arm, which still needed some attention after the attack on her, Eadulf quickly asked Fidelma what she had seen with Enda.
‘Deogaire?’ he whispered in surprise. ‘I knew he came from Sliabh Luachra but he was surely no fighting man? All that mysticism and magic show and belief in the pagan gods and goddesses …’
‘Maybe we should not dismiss Deogaire so easily,’ Fidelma replied, then recalled that she had reacted in almost exactly the same way. ‘What I mean is that he rescued Aibell from being Fidaig’s bond-servant and led her out of Sliabh Luachra with Fidaig’s men chasing after them. I would never under-estimate his physical courage.’
‘But having rescued her from Fidaig, why would he join the war band of Gláed?’ protested Eadulf.
‘If filial allegiance stands for naught in Sliabh Luachra, one can easily change other allegiances.’
Aware that Aibell had left the brook, they fell silent on the subject and continued to make a camp.
A short time later, Fidelma and Enda left to ascend the hill, leaving Eadulf and Aibell waiting anxiously. It was approaching twilight when they returned. They were looking disappointed.
‘There wasn’t much to see,’ confessed Fidelma. ‘Gláed’s men are certainly encamped there for the night. They have erected bélscálán across the hillside and we could see smoke from their fires.’
Eadulf frowned, uncertain of the word that she had used. ‘Erected what?’ he asked.
‘Travelling tents,’ she explained. ‘They are encamped on the southern lower slopes below the high point of the hill. We also saw a wooden building that appears to be a chapel on the eastern slopes.’
‘A wooden chapel?’ frowned Eadulf.
‘Perhaps Abbot Nannid was meeting a religieux there, after all.’ Fidelma sighed. ‘Anyway, we saw no sign of him or his steward, although there were a lot of horses tethered nearby.’
‘We decided that the only thing to do is wait until nightfall and then see if we can get closer,’ Enda said. ‘We need to get near the chapel because that would be a natural point where Gláed would be camped and, if Gormán has been caught by him, he would also be nearby.’
‘That’s dangerous,’ Eadulf protested. ‘Would it not be better to—?’
Fidelma cut him sort. ‘Periculum in mora!’ she said sharply, resorting to one of the aphorisms of Publilius Syrus whom she was so fond of quoting. Eadulf grimaced. There was, indeed, ‘danger in delay’ especially if Gormán was still in the hands of Gláed.
‘It will be dark soon,’ said Enda. ‘We had better decide on a plan of how to get near their camp.’
‘I was thinking that one person might elude the sentinels that Gláed will have undoubtedly set up to patrol their camp, but not all of us,’ Fidelma said.
‘You cannot go on your own,’ Eadulf asserted. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Eadulf, you and lady Fidelma are not trained at infiltrating an enemy encampment,’ Enda argued. ‘I am, and I should go alone.’
‘It is my duty to go as a dálaigh,’ Fidelma contradicted him.
‘Then the three of us must go,’ Eadulf said.
‘I do not wish to remain here on my own wondering if you are caught or not,’ Aibell protested.
‘It is best if Enda and I go, Eadulf.’ Fidelma was determined to have her own way. ‘You and Aibell will remain here again.’
It happened without warning. There was a sound like a rush of air followed by two thuds. The quivering arrows stuck in a tree just above head height behind Enda. He was reaching for his sword when a nearby voice rasped: ‘Stop or you are dead, warrior. The next arrows will be aimed at you and not as a warning. Hold your hands high, away from your weapons.’
They all froze, hands rising reluctantly in obedience to the harsh command.
Then, to Eadulf’s surprise, there came a strange ‘churring’ sound. It took him a moment to recognise it as the call of a nightjar – a bird that was rarely heard, and only in summer. It must be a signal from one of the men hidden in the trees around them. A signal to whom?
‘Who are you?’ Enda called, trying to recover his dignity, because he felt he should have been aware of any hostile approach. After all, he had just boasted about his warrior’s training and then he had let them down.
‘You will find out shortly,’ came the uncompromising voice from behind the trees.
There was a movement through the shrubbery, a whispered exchange and a tall man appeared, then halted with an exclamation of surprise.
Fidelma looked at the newcomer and said wearily, ‘May we put our hands down now, Conrí?’
The warlord of the Uí Fidgente turned towards his hidden companions and called: ‘You can put your weapons down.’ Then he said to Fidelma, shaking his head, ‘Yes, you may all put your hands down. However, I am in no mood to be tricked a second time.’
‘A second time?’ Fidelma asked, slightly amused, as four of Conrí’s warriors emerged from the trees.
‘We thought that you were heading directly after Abbot Nannid to the Hill of Truth. But you eluded us.’
‘We took a more circular route,’ Fidelma replied mischievously.
‘And still you managed to meet up with Aibell. Where is Gormán, by the way?’
‘We believe that he has been captured by Gláed.’
Conrí’s expression of surprise said it all.
‘It is a long story which I hope to make short.’ Fidelma told him as sparsely and as quickly as possible without losing its sense. When Conrí had a chance to absorb the story, Fidelma prompted: ‘Now it’s your turn. How did you come here?’
‘Brehon Faolchair ordered me to take some men and follow you to ensure that you brought Gormán back to us. He wanted him safe at the prince’s fortress so that we can resolve the matter under the law. You managed to elude us almost immediately after we left the fortress. That was clever. So we came up along the river road and found Nannid, but no sign of you until just now.’
‘Are you saying that Abbot Nannid is here?’ demanded Fidelma with unconcealed excitement.
‘There is a small chapel and habitation on the east slopes of the hill. We followed the abbot and his steward, keeping well back so as not to be observed. They stayed there last night and then around midday today we saw a large body of men arrive. That was Gláed and his brigands.’
‘So Abbot Nannid had gone to meet Gláed?’
‘We kept well out of sight, hidden in the woods. I decided to wait until nightfall to see if I could get closer and find out what was happening.’
‘That is exactly our plan,’ Fidelma said.
‘But we were having some difference of opinion over it,’ Eadulf added.
‘As a dálaigh it is essential that I witness what is happening,’ explained Fidelma. ‘I was taking Enda with me.’
‘I insist on going.’ Eadulf was still assertive.
Conrí scratched his head for a moment. ‘And I must go as an unbiased witness.’ He saw the dangerous glint in Fidelma’s eyes and her mouth open ready to protest, and held up his hand, saying, ‘I know that you, as a dálaigh, are sworn to be without bias, lady. I do not question that you serve only the law. But you know that tensions have risen between the Uí Fidgente and the Eóghanacht, especially over this matter that threatens dissension between us. I must go. But we would put ourselves in danger if more than two people went.’
‘I have to go,’ Fidelma said stubbornly. ‘It is my duty as a dálaigh.’
‘I was about to agree to that,’ the warlord said, surprising her.
‘If Fidelma goes,’ Eadulf was immovable, ‘I go.’
The warlord heaved a sigh to express his irritation. ‘Friend Eadulf, I must agree with Fidelma and insist that you stay her
e. You are no warrior and frankly your presence will put us at a disadvantage. I will take Enda but you must stay here with Aibell and my men. We will be back long before first light.’
Eadulf was still reluctant, but Fidelma told him, ‘You know that I will be in safe hands with Conrí and Enda.’
He saw that her mind was made up and so bowed to the inevitable.
‘Very well, but I do not like it, Fidelma,’ he said. ‘But if you are not back at first light – what then?’
‘My men will take you to Socht,’ Conrí answered for her. ‘I have left him and another man watching the main highway to Dún Eochair Mháigh in case Gláed tries to make a sudden attack along it. He will decide whether we are at war with the men of Sliabh Luachra and act appropriately.’
‘Do you really think Gláed would be so foolish as to attack the fortress?’ Eadulf was dubious. ‘Ceit has twice the men Gláed has guarding the fortress.’
‘You are counting the men encamped here, but what if there are other encampments elsewhere?’ Conrí said. ‘What if this is not the main force out of Sliabh Luachra? What if there is some strategy to attack us from two points? More worryingly, what if there are more conspirators within Prince Donennach’s fortress? Remember the guard who released Gormán and Aibell there? It is better to be prepared than to spend time regretting one’s lack of foresight.’
Finally, when the time came, Conrí led the way with Fidelma and Enda into the encroaching darkness. They skirted the small hill, finding themselves on rising ground as they climbed towards the larger hill beyond. They could now see several campfires in the distance. It was difficult terrain to move across without a light for it was not cleared for farming purposes and there were many obstacles. They had to make their way through bushes and closely growing trees. Even though they were still in the phase of the full moon, An Gealach – the ‘great brightness’ as the country folk referred to it – the light was not entirely adequate.
It was to their advantage that the trees grew almost up to the area they were making for, the spot just below where Conrí had identified the wooden chapel and some smaller buildings; the higher elevations of the hill were gorse-covered or fairly bare. As they neared the end of the treeline, Conrí turned and made a lowering movement with his hand at the same time as dropping to one knee. Fidelma realised that they had come to the edge of the forest and were just below a shoulder on which one of several campfires blazed. This was just in front of the wooden chapel building. Unfortunately the fire was between the building and themselves and they could only see faint outlines of figures behind it.
Conrí turned to Fidelma who had positioned herself alongside him, with Enda on the other side. The warlord pointed wordlessly to his right. Some distance away was a clump of gorse and small boulders further up the rise. If they could get to that spot, they would have a better vantage-point to observe the figures on the other side of the fire. Conrí pointed to himself and then to the position, but Fidelma shook her head and indicated herself and then Conrí. The warlord hesitated and then nodded agreement. He turned to Enda and, again using his hand, motioned him to remain where he was.
Crawling flat on their stomachs they left their shelter and moved slowly and diagonally up the hill towards the boulders and gorse. The sloping hill was not even and there were many bumps and ridges, even molehills that, with odd clusters of gorse and tufts of tall grass, actually made excellent concealment from anyone looking down the hill. Conrí knew that, even in daylight, someone peering down a hill slope with such a terrain would not be able to see very much. High ground was not always the best ground to observe someone approaching so close. Luck was on their side. They reached the boulders without any alarm being sounded.
Now they could see the area between the fire and the entrance of the wooden chapel. The first person she saw, seated on a chair just outside the door of the chapel, was the gaunt figure of Abbot Nannid. The sight took Fidelma’s breath away. He seemed relaxed and held a pottery mug in his hand. To one side of him stood the easily recognisable form of Brother Cuineáin. In front of him was a strange, bearded man, hands on hips, who looked vaguely familiar.
Fidelma peered, searching for Deogaire, but there was no sign of him. She felt Conrí tap her arm and allowed herself a soft gasp, for into the firelight strode a man she recognised immediately. Even in the flickering light he was still as she remembered him with his youthful air and confident stance. It was Gláed; Gláed the Howler, Lord of Barr an Bheithe, the murderer of his father and of his brother. Gláed, who now called himself Lord of Sliabh Luachra.
As they watched, the brigand chief seated himself in front of Abbot Nannid, and the other familiar-looking man stepped forward and filled the goblet Gláed held and then stepped respectfully back. There was nothing menacing between Gláed and the abbot. Both seemed relaxed. At one point, Abbot Nannid even laughed, an unusual event for him. For a while they engaged in some deep conversation. Then Abbot Nannid turned to his steward and gave him instructions. The steward nodded and disappeared into the wooden chapel. More drinks were poured and consumed as the two men seemed to wait for the reappearance of the steward.
Eventually, Brother Cuineáin came out of the building with a small sack in his hand. Abbot Nannid motioned towards Gláed who set aside his goblet, took the sack and peered into it. He nodded slowly as he examined the contents. Then he stood up, as did the abbot. Gláed’s hand thrust out to take that of Abbot Nannid in a firm handshake. Then they turned together and walked out of sight towards the main encampment. Left alone, Brother Cuineáin lowered himself into the chair vacated by the abbot and stretched his legs before the fire. Then he peered around surreptitiously and reached down to the ground. When he straightened, they saw he was holding the goblet discarded by Gláed. He wiped the lip with the sleeve of his robe and tilted it back, swallowing back the contents with an apparent smack of his lips that they could almost hear.
A long time passed and it seemed that Brother Cuineáin had fallen asleep in the chair. Then the abbot returned alone. The steward came awake with a start. The abbot said something, pointing to the night sky, before the two of them entered the wooden chapel. More time passed, and finally Conrí touched Fidelma’s arm and motioned back to the forest. She gave a nod of her head. There was not much more they could observe, though unfortunately they had not seen Gormán. Back in the cover of the forest, they paused to catch their breath.
‘Well, at least we have seen some sort of bargain being made between Abbot Nannid and Gláed,’ Conrí commented.
‘But what bargain?’ queried Fidelma. ‘By the way, the man who was pouring the drink seemed familiar but I can’t place him.’
‘No? That was the guard who was bribed to let Gormán escape.’
They finally decided that the only thing to do now was to return to the others and then work out a plan of action after they had rested. Aibell was distressed that there was no news of Gormán, but Eadulf was excited to hear about the involvement of Abbot Nannid and his steward.
‘The trouble is,’ Fidelma observed as they prepared to snatch some rest, ‘there are questions. The merchants told Gormán that Gláed was hiring himself as a mercenary to a powerful person who intended to overthrow Prince Donennach. Is that person Nannid?’
‘It seems obvious to me,’ Conrí said.
‘The fact that Abbot Nannid is involved with Gláed and his murdering cut-throats is good enough for me too,’ agreed Eadulf.
It was well after first light when they were sitting down to a simple meal. Eadulf heard it first. The cry of the nightjar again; the curious ‘churring’ sound. There was a pause and then the call was repeated – this time closer to hand. Conrí turned, hand cupped to his mouth, and imitated the call. A short while later, they heard a figure approaching through the undergrowth and Socht emerged. His eyes widened in surprise on catching sight of Aibell and then Fidelma and her companions. Quickly composing himself, he took Conrí aside and had a swift exchange with him. The warlord li
stened with a stony expression.
A few moments later, he turned to them, addressing Fidelma.
‘I have good news and bad news, lady.’ It was obvious that he was trying hard to control his feelings.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Socht and his companion have just spotted Gormán alive and looking comparatively well.’
Aibell gave a little scream, hand to mouth.
‘That is, indeed, good news.’ But Fidelma did not give way to relief. ‘So let us have the bad news?’
‘Gormán was seen on the road back to Dún Eochair Mháigh. He was a prisoner on horseback. Abbot Nannid and Brother Cuineáin were leading the escort, which comprised four of Gláed’s men.’
‘Then the abbot is making no secret of his connection with Gláed by openly riding with his men?’ Fidelma was clearly puzzled.
‘It seems that Gláed has handed Gormán over to Abbot Nannid to take back to Prince Donennach’s fortress as a prisoner,’ Conrí said.
It made no sense. ‘Why would he do that!’ Eadulf exclaimed. He received no answer but Conrí and Fidelma exchanged a worried look.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They arrived back at Dún Eochair Mháigh, exhausted in the heat of the late afternoon. Ceit, the commander of the fortress guard, came running forward to greet them as they dismounted. He was obviously bursting with news, but Fidelma got in first.
‘Has Gormán been taken back to the cells?’ she demanded.
The expression on his face told them that Gormán’s recapture was part of his news. Then he surprised them by shaking his head. ‘He has not, lady.’
She stared at him. ‘Where is he then? I presume that he has been brought back to the fortress?’
‘I was about to tell you,’ Ceit replied with dignity. ‘It was at noon that we saw Abbot Nannid and his steward returning to the Abbey of Nechta. He was escorted by four unknown warriors …’
Penance of the Damned (Sister Fidelma) Page 24
