Étromma sprang to her feet with surprising agility for one of her age. ‘That’s the bell to mark the extinguishing of all lights in the community. It is time to prepare yourselves, lads.’
Enda rose with a studied languor, attempting to show how calm he was. ‘We are prepared enough,’ he said, easing his sword in its scabbard and checking the knife which hung in its leather sheath on his left side. He gazed at Eadulf critically. ‘I wish you had armed yourself with something more powerful than a blackthorn stick, friend Eadulf.’
He was referring to the weapon that Eadulf now clutched determinedly. It was a thick stick with a knob at one end, and it had been well tempered in the smoke of a fire until the stick was almost blackened. It had apparently belonged to Étromma’s dead husband. She had handed it to Eadulf to use when it became obvious that he was no swordsman and, indeed, was unsure of his resolve to kill a fellow human with sharp steel. As a member of the religious he had often tussled with the idea of turning the other check, rather than resorting to violence to prevent further injury or death at the hands of an aggressor. However, he had seen enough death recently to know that the men of Sliabh Luachra would have no compunction about using violence on him.
‘It’s my late husband’s maglorg,’ Étromma had explained. ‘In his day, fighting with the sticks was a way of settling an argument of honour if you didn’t feel like calling a Brehon and pleading your case. You would challenge the person who did you wrong and the better man at plying the stick would win.’
Eadulf had stared at the stout stick with wide eyes. ‘Were many people killed then?’
The elderly woman had chuckled. ‘Bless you, Brother Eadulf, none at all. The purpose of the stick-fighting was to get the other to submit – not to kill them. But you could give them a sore head with a tap of this.’ She pointed to the knob end of the stick.
Enda looked serious. ‘In this instance, friend Eadulf, I think you should be aware that our opponents will not settle for just a tap on the head.’
As the chimes faded, Étromma went to the door and peered out.
‘There is darkness across the township,’ she reported, closing the door. ‘Bide here a short while and then go – and may God go with you.’
Eadulf found himself wondering whether God would approve of such a mission to secure Gormán’s release. He grinned at the thought – and then straightened his features as he realised that Enda was looking at him with some concern.
‘Don’t worry, Enda,’ he said. ‘I’ll not let you down.’
‘I am not worried that you would,’ the young man replied. ‘But this is a job for a warrior.’
‘I think you should go now,’ Étromma advised. ‘Éladach will be waiting for you.’
Enda led the way into the darkness. Outside the door of the elderly woman’s homestead, they paused to allow their eyes to adjust to the night. Then the young warrior set off without hesitation, Eadulf close on his heels. Enda appeared to have a good grasp of the route through the now darkened cabins and homesteads. Hardly any time passed before they reached the wooden wall that encompassed the so-called Abbey of Nechta and eased their way along it. Enda spotted the wooden gate easily.
He paused, ensured Eadulf was with him and then tapped softly, once only. The gate immediately swung inwards and they passed inside.
The shadow that greeted them did so in Brother Éladach’s reassuring tone.
‘Follow me closely. There are no lamps now that the community has retired to bed. However, you’ll see a faint glow further along this path. That is by the central square of the community. There is a lamp burning outside the hut where Gormán is incarcerated.’
Enda allowed a faint hissing breath to escape him. ‘But that means that we have no element of surprise emerging from the darkness,’ he whispered. ‘The guards will see us approaching. If we have to make a frontal attack, friend Eadulf, both men must be rendered unconscious or eliminated.’
‘I understand the problem,’ Eadulf whispered back. ‘Even if we could silence one guard, the other will raise the alarm. They must both be dealt with at once.’
‘Let us hope that fortune will be with us, my friends,’ muttered Brother Éladach.
‘Then the sooner we observe the situation for ourselves, the better,’ Enda said.
Led by the doorkeeper, and keeping well within the shadows of the line of huts, they crept stealthily towards the centre where they could see the flickering glow from a lantern.
A few moments later, they halted by a hut. Brother Éladach pointed to the next one along. He did not have to tell them that it was where Gormán was imprisoned. Two men were on guard outside the hut on which a lantern hung. Other lanterns lit up the square beyond. One man was standing warming himself before a brazier, which added to the glow of light. It was a cold night in spite of being summer. Another man was sitting, whittling at a piece of wood with a knife. Eadulf found himself perspiring in spite of the chilly air; his heart thumping.
‘Stay here, my friends,’ Enda breathed. ‘Keep out of sight. I’ll be back in a moment.’
He moved forward at a crouch into the darkness towards the back of the hut. Both of his weapons were now out of their sheaths and ready for use, sword in one hand and knife in the other.
It was not long before he reappeared.
‘I’ll go to the other side of the hut and make a soft noise,’ he whispered, outlining his plan. ‘Hopefully that will catch the attention of the guard who is standing up and he’ll come to investigate. I think I can deal with him. But you, Eadulf, will have to get close to the one sitting down and incapacitate him before he realises something is wrong. Understood?’
Eadulf muttered an acknowledgement. Then Enda crawled away. Eadulf moved up to the corner of the hut, gripping the blackthorn stick in both sweaty hands. He peered round at his quarry. The man still sat on a bench and continued to whittle away at his stick. His companion was stretching himself before the brazier. Eadulf drew back quickly and tried to mentally prepare himself.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ came a gruff voice.
Eadulf nearly jumped, his heart pounding. He was about to swing round to see who was threatening him when he realised that it was one of the men speaking to the other.
A lazy voice replied, ‘It helps to pass the time. Better than doing nothing.’
The first voice swore. ‘I’ll be glad when this is over, so that we can rejoin Gláed. Better to be riding with sword in hand. Blood and booty. That’s the life.’
‘We have to do what Gláed tells us,’ the other replied. ‘He tells us to act as bodyguard to this abbot, so that is what we must do.’
‘Why do we have to wait until tomorrow to kill the man? I could end it with a single sword-thrust now if the old man wants him dead so badly.’
‘Old man or not, he is an abbot,’ reproved his companion. ‘And we have been ordered to do what he tells us.’
‘And as an abbot he must be a bigger thief and killer than any of us,’ his companion sneered cynically. ‘Although it does not take much strength to dominate this lot of sad rejects …’ The voice went silent all of a sudden. Eadulf had not heard anything but the voice then continued, ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Likely just a cat or dog,’ hazarded the second man.
‘We were told to be careful.’
‘Go and look then. I say it is nothing.’ The guard resumed his whittling.
Eadulf heard the first man curse and the sound of him moving. Easing his blackthorn to shoulder level, Eadulf sprang forward. It seemed to happen so slowly, as if his limbs had become weighed down with lead. The seated man heard him, looked round in surprise; his mouth started to open to shout an alarm while at the same time the hand holding the knife rose in self-defence. Grunting with the effort, Eadulf swung the cudgel and struck the man hard on the side of the temple.
He stood over the fallen man breathing heavily for a few seconds.
Then there was movement from the far side of the cabin.
Eadulf tried to raise the blackthorn again, ready to defend himself against the unconscious man’s returning companion. But it was not him. Enda emerged from the shadows, sword in hand, and Eadulf almost collapsed in relief. Enda glanced at the fallen second man. He did not say anything but went to the door of the cabin and examined the bolts on the door. As Éladach had said, there were two of them and they slid back easily, making no sound.
Even as they prepared to open the door there was a sudden gasp of agony from behind them. They whipped round to find the man that Eadulf thought he had knocked unconscious was struggling erect, a sword in his hand. But his eyes blurred in the lamplight as if unable to focus. Blood gushed from his mouth. Then he fell forward on his face. They saw the hilt of a knife buried in the man’s back.
Behind the body stood the shaking figure of Brother Éladach.
‘Deus miseratur,’ he prayed. ‘May God have mercy on me.’
Enda quickly realised what had happened. ‘I am sure God will forgive you,’ he whispered, regaining his sense of humour. ‘Meantime, silence.’
He turned back to the door and with Eadulf they pulled it open. In the shadows a figure had risen awkwardly into a sitting position on the straw palliasse.
‘Is it time?’ muttered a familiar voice.
Eadulf replied in a light-hearted whisper, ‘Yes – time for you to leave this den of evil.’
There came an audible swallow. ‘Is that you, friend Eadulf, or am I hearing things?’
‘You are not hearing things and I am with him,’ Enda said, moving forward with his sword. ‘Now keep quiet and still, while I cut those bonds.’ He sheathed his sword and took out his dagger.
‘Enda? What is happening?’ gasped Gormán and was immediately told to be quiet again.
‘What is happening,’ hissed Eadulf, ‘is that you are being rescued. Now save your questions until we get you away from this place.’
Gormán knew enough to turn and hold out his bound wrists behind him so that Enda could get to work on severing them. Having done so, it being the work of a few moments, Gormán began to rub his wrists to restore the circulation. ‘I wondered what Brother Éladach meant by his cryptic Latin,’ he croaked.
Enda now motioned to Eadulf and Brother Éladach to help him carry the bodies of the two dead guards into the hut. He closed the door on them and noiselessly pushed the two bolts back into place. Brother Éladach waved at them to follow him and they trod softly back to the side gate through which they had entered.
Before they went through it, they paused, listening in the darkness. Apart from the distant bark of a dog and the mourning cry of a night owl, it was quiet.
‘I regret I had to kill that man,’ Brother Éladach whispered. ‘But he was about to raise the alarm.’
‘You did well,’ Enda assured him. ‘If no one notices that the guards are not on watch, it might not be until first light before their bodies are found.’
‘Are you sure that you want to stay?’ Eadulf asked Éladach. ‘Nannid is of a suspicious mind and he will work out that Gormán had help from someone here.’
Brother Éladach shook his head ruefully. ‘I have already prepared the east gate so it looks as though Gormán has fled in that direction. But I must stay to try to help my people. Deus vult. God wills it.’
‘Then it is time for us to move. The sooner we are away, the better,’ Enda said.
‘Go with God and I will secure this gate after you.’
With quick gestures of farewell, the trio hurried silently along the wall and, with Enda leading, were soon swallowed by the shadows. As they passed the darkened houses, moving away from the newly constructed walls of the so-called Abbey of Nechta, Eadulf felt thankful he could rely on Enda, with his warrior’s training, to guide them with such certainty towards the house of Étromma. The sudden bark of a dog from a nearby building caused them to halt, breaths catching in their throat. There came the rattle of a chain and then a masculine voice swore and shouted at the animal to be still. There was a further bark, then a clatter as if something had been thrown, followed by a protesting whine before silence descended again. No one spoke as the men moved on.
Only once did Gormán signal that he needed to halt. It was then that Eadulf realised he was barefoot. ‘It’s all right, friend Eadulf,’ Gormán said, wincing. ‘I can manage awhile but the stones are hard. They took my shoes from me to make sure I did not run off.’
Eadulf knew that most warriors of the King’s bodyguard wore máelan, shoes of fully tanned leather with hard soles and heels. Warriors needed the comfort of good footwear and were unused to going barefoot.
‘It won’t be long now,’ Enda promised his friend. ‘Just to that corner.’
‘Where are we going?’ Gormán asked.
‘A safe house. Aibell has arranged it.’
Gormán grunted but said no more. A moment later, they arrived at Étromma’s house on the border of the township. Enda halted and rapped softly on the door. It was opened immediately and they entered. A lamp was lit and Étromma came forward.
‘So you have him. Did all go well?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but I am afraid that we had to kill the guards – the two men of Sliabh Luachra,’ admitted Eadulf.
‘May their troubled souls find rest in the Otherworld,’ the old woman muttered, but it was only a formula without meaning. ‘What of Éladach?’ It was clear that she was concerned for the doorkeeper.
‘He is fine. Everything went as planned,’ confirmed Enda.
‘As soon as they realise this man is missing they will start searching,’ the elderly woman said.
‘We are hoping they will think he has fled eastwards, thanks to Brother Éladach.’
‘But realising that you are on foot, Gormán, they will still search the township,’ the old woman pointed out. ‘I have a place ready for you, but it may be a little uncomfortable.’
Gormán grinned. ‘It will not be as uncomfortable as where I was during the last day. Anyway, to whom do I owe this hospitality?’
‘I am the mother of Ciarnat, who has been murdered by your enemies.’
Gormán gazed at her in amazement.
‘There is a lot to explain,’ Eadulf told him hurriedly, ‘but I am afraid that Enda and I must leave it to Étromma to do so. We have to ensure that we are back inside the fortress before daybreak.’
‘One question,’ insisted Gormán. ‘Where is my wife? Is she safe?’
‘Aibell is with Fidelma in the fortress,’ Eadulf said. ‘They are making sure that their presence is recorded there, for I don’t doubt that there will be much happening tomorrow morning when your escape is discovered.’
They left Gormán looking bemused as the old woman showed them to the door, carefully extinguishing the lamp before opening it.
With a whispered ‘good luck’ they slid once more into the shadows of the township. Again, Eadulf was happy to let Enda take the lead but the way was easier, for this time they kept along the riverbank, passing the entrance to the bridge after checking that the town square remained deserted.
Instead of attempting to follow the main track up to the fortress gates, which stood invitingly open, but with the entrance lit with burning brand torches, Enda took them up the slope above the riverbank to the towering fortress wall. At the foot of the wall was a small ledge-like pathway. The wall enclosed the fortress and palace complex. First, they had to follow the northern wall. Then they must turn to follow the path that curved round the contour of the hill on the eastern side of the fortress, towards the side gate.
‘Let’s hope Fidelma’s plan has worked,’ whispered Enda as they approached it – the very gate through which Gormán and Aibell had escaped from the fortress only a few days ago.
Their heart in their mouths, they pushed against it. It moved quietly inwards and they slipped through, all feeling a sense of elation that they had got away with it.
‘Take care – there’s too much light here,’ Enda hissed in disapproval, for several b
rand torches lit up this area of the fortress. He put his weight against the wooden gate to swing it shut while Eadulf fumbled with the bolts. He took the large key hanging on the nearby hook and turned it in the lock before replacing it on its hook. Then he paused and wiped the sweat from his brow.
‘It’s a chilly night to be out for a walk, my friends,’ came a familiar voice, filled with amusement.
Eadulf and Enda turned with a start. In front of them stood Conrí and the guard commander, Céit. Both men were smiling broadly.
‘We … we were unable to sleep because of what’s happening tomorrow,’ Eadulf stammered, knowing he sounded ridiculous. ‘We needed some air.’
‘Of course you did,’ Conrí assured him nonchalantly. ‘The lady Fidelma told me you were unwell, friend Eadulf. What better than a walk in the cool night air to regain clarity of thought and purge the evil?’
Céit at his side was nodding agreement as if pleased at his companion’s wit.
Eadulf stood silent, wondering if he could bluff it out.
‘I hope Enda was of help in resolving the problem and that the breaking dawn will bring a better day,’ went on the warlord mildly.
Eadulf frowned; it was as if there was some other meaning in Conrí’s words.
‘I certainly hope so,’ he mumbled.
‘Well,’ the warlord said pleasantly, ‘we had best be on our way; we have duties to perform, Céit. Try not to disturb anyone when you return to your chambers. I am sure the lady Fidelma is anxious for you.’
Eadulf and Enda watched the warriors in bemusement as they turned and strolled away.
Fidelma was not the only one anxiously waiting for them in the guest chamber. Aibell was present, and trembling with anticipation.
‘Gormán is safe with Étromma,’ Eadulf told her straight away. ‘Brother Éladach carried out his tasks exactly as we planned. But when Enda and I returned to the fortress and entered by the side gate, we found Conrí and Céit waiting for us. Their behaviour was very curious.’
‘What did they say?’ Fidelma frowned. She did not seem surprised when he told her.
Penance of the Damned (Sister Fidelma) Page 30
