‘It is of no consequence,’ replied the foxy-faced man.
Eadulf left his room and the man followed him outside. The fortress seemed deserted in the cold white light of the crisp autumnal dawn. A frost still lay on the ground making it slippery beneath his leather sandals. His breath came like puffs of smoke and he realised just how cold it was.
‘Is it possible to borrow a cloak?’ he asked pleasantly. ‘It is cold and my cloak was confiscated at the abbey.’
His companion seemed impatient.
‘Your companion has clothing for your journey. Do not delay. She will be growing impatient.’
They had reached the gate of the fortress. A second man stood there; a sentinel who began to unlatch the wooden bolts and swing open the portal.
‘Can’t I express my thanks to anyone for giving me this sanctuary?’ Eadulf thought it churlish to leave the fortress in such a fashion.
His companion seemed about to make some sharp comment and then a curious smile flickered over his cadaverous features.
‘You will be able to thank him soon, Saxon.’
The gate swung open.
‘Your friend will meet you down by the river,’ the man repeated. ‘Now you may go.’
Eadulf thought he was a surly fellow but smiled his gratitude all the same and hurried on through the gate. Before him stretched a sloping path from the small hillock on which the fortress stood, winding down towards a wooded area through which he could see the grey ribbon of water a few hundred metres away.
He halted and glanced back to the man at the gate.
‘Straight down there? Is that where Sister Fidelma is waiting?’
‘Down by the river,’ echoed the man.
Eadulf turned down the frosty path. It was slippery beneath his feet but the only alternative was to walk in the centre of the path where horses had churned it into a muddy mess. He stuck to the side of the path, its angled level causing him to move more quickly than he wanted. It was only a few moments later that the inevitable occurred. He suddenly slipped and fell.
That was what saved his life.
As his legs shot out from under him, causing him to fall backwards, two arrows flew by, one embedding itself with a hard thud in a nearby tree.
For a split second Eadulf looked at the arrows in stupefaction. Then he rolled swiftly on his side and glanced back.
The thin-faced man who had told him to go stood in the act of placing another arrow to his bowstring. He had been joined by the second man who looked every inch a professional archer for he was just releasing his second shot. Eadulf rolled again, this time into the side of the track and then he scrambled to his feet in an ungainly movement, throwing himself immediately into the underbrush. He heard the soft whine of the wood pass by his ear.
Then he was running; running for his life. He had no thoughts as to how or why; he did not try to work out what had happened. Some animal instinct for self-preservation overcame all his thought processes. He was pushing through the woods, while some small part of his brain uttered a prayer of thanks that they were mainly evergreen trees and shrubs which thus shielded him from his attackers. However, the frost was not on his side. He knew he was leaving tracks and he prayed for the sun to rise and allow the frost to disperse. Failing that, he must find some ground where the frost had not taken.
Inevitably he made his way towards the river. He knew that air near running water was sometimes warmer. Would Fidelma be there, waiting for him?
He gave a sardonic laugh.
Of course not. It had simply been a ruse to kill him. But why? He suddenly realised that the men had law on their side. What was the ruling of the maighin digona? He had been given sanctuary provided he kept within the bounds of the grantee’s land. The owner of a sanctuary was bound not to allow a fugitive to escape, for the owner would then be held responsible for the original offence.
Eadulf groaned in anguish as he ran through the brush. He had fallen for a trick. He had been told to go but now could be shot down as a fugitive who had broken the laws of sanctuary. He had given them the legal opportunity to kill him, but who were they? Was this some ruse of Coba himself to kill him? If so, why rescue him in the first place? It did not make any sense.
He came to the riverbank and, as he had anticipated, the air was warmer here near the water and the frost was vanishing. The pale sun was climbing upwards in the sky and soon it would be dispersed. He paused and listened: he could hear the sounds of his pursuers. He began to hurry along the bank of the river, eyes searching for cover. He knew that his pursuers would soon break out of the trees behind him. He could not afford to stay on the bank any longer.
Ahead he saw some small juniper trees and then a patch of densely growing holly with its thick, waxy green leaves rising into a narrow conical shape with several proclaiming their feminine gender by their red berries. Eadulf was well aware that the sharp spines on the lower leaves, nature’s design to protect the trees from browsing animals, were going to hurt, but there was no other means of concealment to hand.
He could hear the two men tracking him shouting to one another now. They were very close. Eadulf left the river bank and jumped into the juniper coverage, falling to the ground, before pushing and hauling his way under the uncomfortable screen of the holly trees. He flung himself flat under their cover and lay on the hard, cold ground, heart beating wildly from its recent exertions. He could see a little stretch of the riverbank from his position, and from this vantage point he saw his pursuers come to a halt.
‘God’s curse on the wily Saxon!’ he heard the thin-faced man declare.
His companion looked around. His voice was morose. ‘He could have gone either way, Gabrán. Up or downriver. It’s your choice.’
‘God rot him!’
‘That’s no answer. Anyway, I can’t see why we had to wait until he was out of the fortress to shoot him down. Why couldn’t he have been killed while he slept?’
‘Because, Dau, my good friend,’ the other explained with a sarcastic tone, ‘it had to be made to look as though he had fled the sanctuary, that’s why! Also, we had to get him out of Coba’s fortress quietly before the household awakened. The death of the guard that I had to silence will be put down to the Saxon. Another murder to his account. Anyway, you go upriver and I’ll look downriver. My boat is moored below. I shall have to bring it upriver before noon. I do not like this. All the while the Saxon is alive, he is a danger to the whole scheme of things. It would have been best had he been left to hang at the abbey.’
The thin-faced man left his companion and began to move off rapidly along the river bank, his eyes searching the ground for signs of Eadulf’s tracks. His companion halted a while and examined the surrounding countryside and then began to walk slowly in the opposite direction. Then he paused. Eadulf shifted nervously. Had the man spotted where he had left the bank and pushed through the juniper trees?
He looked desperately round for some means of defence. Near at hand lay a discarded blackthorn stick, torn from a nearby tree. Eadulf reached tentatively forward and eased it towards himself with his fingertips. Then he grasped it firmly and rose carefully, trying not to catch the sharp leaves of the holly.
The warrior who had been addressed by the name Dau had kept an arrow in his hand, holding it in the same fist as his bow, and was now peering round as if searching for tracks.
It was at that moment that Eadulf suddenly realised that he had no choice as to his next move. The man was going to kill him. He was not sure why but that did not matter at the moment. His task was to save his own life. Eadulf moved carefully, trying to remember the skills he had once been taught as a youth by his father when hunting in his own country, the land of the South Folk. Avoiding the entwining branches, he moved slowly inch by inch around the holly tree and through the junipers to come up behind his adversary. With each footstep, he swore that the man must surely hear him.
The bowman stood looking irresolutely before him into the trees and shrubs, even
as Eadulf crept forward, raising the stick in both hands. It took one swift blow to knock the man down. He fell with an almost imperceptible grunt. For a moment Eadulf stood over the inert form still holding his blackthorn stick ready to strike again. There was no further movement.
‘Forgive me for I have sinned,’ he muttered as he genuflected and knelt down by the unconscious man. He removed his adversary’s leather boots, throwing them into the river, swiftly followed by his bow and quiver of arrows. He removed and placed the man’s hunting knife in his own belt. He also removed the man’s sheepskin cloak, realising that he needed it if he was taking to the open country. At least, when the archer came around, he would not be thinking in terms of pursuit for a while, not without his boots, warm cloak and weapons. Eadulf glanced skyward, trying to remember the lines from John: ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just.’ He hoped that the divine powers would understand his actions.
Then he stood up, swung the heavy cloak around his shoulders and started to walk towards the rising hills. He was unsure which way he should go. He realised that he ought to put enough distance between the fortress of Cam Eolaing and himself before he started to make any decisions on his ultimate destination. Certainly, he had realised that Fidelma was not any part of this strange plot to kill him. It would probably be a waste of time to go in search of her now. The best thing to do might be to head eastward to the coast and try to find a ship that would take him to either the land of the West Saxons or one of the other Saxon kingdoms? Well, there was plenty of time to think about it. He must find shelter, and some food, before he started to make decisions.
Fidelma glanced up at the knock on the door. It was Lassar, the innkeeper. She looked tired and somewhat nervous.
‘It is the Brehon, Bishop Forbassach, again. He wishes to speak with you.’
Fidelma had just finished dressing and was about to descend to the main room of the inn for breakfast.
‘Very well. I’ll come immediately,’ she told the innkeeper.
Downstairs, seated by the fire and enjoying some of Lassar’s hospitality was not only the Brehon of Laigin, Bishop Forbassach, but the elderly, white-haired man called Coba the bó-aire of Cam Eolaing. She tried to disguise her astonishment at his appearance at the inn that morning. Immediately she became aware of a third man seated before the fire, an austere, elderly fellow with pinched features and a prominent nose. He was dressed in rich robes, the robes of a religieux with an ornate golden crucifix on a chain around his neck. He greeted Fidelma coldly and without approval.
‘Abbot Noé.’ Fidelma inclined her head towards him. ‘I was wondering only last night whether I would meet you during my stay in Fearna.’
‘It was, alas, an inevitable meeting, Fidelma.’
‘I am sure it was,’ she replied dryly and then, turning to Forbassach, ‘Do you wish to search my room again for Brother Eadulf? I can assure you that he is not there.’
Bishop Forbassach cleared his throat as if in embarrassment.
‘I have actually come to offer you an apology, Sister Fidelma.’
‘An apology?’ Her voice rose incredulously.
‘I am afraid that I leapt to the wrong conclusion the other night. I now know that you did not help the Saxon to escape.’
‘Really?’ Fidelma did not know whether to be amused or concerned.
‘I am afraid that it was I who aided that escape, Sister Fidelma.’
Fidelma swung round to Coba who had spoken slowly and with a note of regret.
‘Why should you help Brother Eadulf?’ she demanded in astonishment.
‘I have just arrived from Cam Eolaing this morning to confess my deed. I found Abbot Noé had arrived back at the abbey and was in conference with Bishop Forbassach. We spoke of the matter and came here to support Forbassach in his apology to you.’
Fidelma raised her arms in a helpless gesture. ‘I do not understand.’
‘Alas, it was simple enough. You know already where I stand on the infliction of punishment under the Penitentials. I could not stand by and see another of these punishments carried out when I claim that they are opposed to the basis of our legal system.’
‘I agree with your concerns,’ Fidelma acknowledged. ‘But how did that lead you to take the law into your own hands and help Eadulf escape?’
‘If I am at fault, I shall be punished.’
Bishop Forbassach scowled at the man. ‘You will have to pay compensation for this action, Coba, and you will lose your honour price. No more can you claim to exercise magisterial powers in this kingdom.’
Fidelma was impatient to know if her suspicion that Coba had given Eadulf shelter was correct.
‘What has happened to Brother Eadulf?’
Coba glanced nervously at Abbot Noé.
‘It would be wise if you tell Sister Fidelma all,’ the abbot advised brusquely.
‘Well, being against the punishment, I decided that I would offer the Saxon sanctuary – the maighin digona of my fortress …’
‘Sanctuary does not involve helping someone escape from incarceration,’ muttered Forbassach.
‘Once in the confines of my fortress, the sanctuary applies nevertheless,’ snapped Coba.
Fidelma considered the argument.
‘That is true. However, the person seeking sanctuary usually finds the territory of the maighin digona by themselves before requesting sanctuary. Nevertheless, the sanctuary rule applies once inside the boundaries of the chieftain willing to provide it. Are you confirming my suspicion that Brother Eadulf is now receiving shelter and sanctuary in your fortress?’
She had been feeling confident, having assumed that Eadulf was safe in Coba’s fortress and could remain there until Barrán arrived. Her spirits began to drop however as she realised how sombre Coba’s features were.
‘I informed the Saxon of the conditions of the sanctuary. I thought he had understood them.’
‘The conditions being that he remain within the confines of the fortress and make no attempt at further escape,’ Bishop Forbassach intervened pedantically, for Fidelma knew well what the restrictions were. ‘If he attempts to escape then the owner of the sanctuary has the right to strike him down to prevent that escape.’
A cold feeling crept through Fidelma’s veins. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Early this morning, when I awoke, I found the Saxon was not in his room,’ Coba stated quietly. ‘The gates of the fortress were unbarred and he was gone. One of my men was found near the gate. He was dead. Struck down from behind. I only have two watchmen there at night for no one has ever attacked the fortress of Cam Eolaing before. The other guard, Dau, was later found by the river, unconscious. He had been robbed of his cloak, boots and weapons. When he recovered, he told my men that he had attempted to pursue the Saxon and recapture him. He had been on the bank when he had been hit from behind. It is clear that the Saxon is trying to make good his escape into the countryside.’
Bishop Forbassach was nodding impatiently. He had heard the story before from Coba.
‘Coba has done a foolish thing in believing that the Saxon had any morals and would obey the rules of the sanctuary. He will be heading east towards the sea and a ship for the Saxon lands.’
He turned to Fidelma, suddenly looking awkward again.
‘I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry that I thought you were involved in his initial escape. I want to make clear to your brother, the King of Cashel, that I have apologised for any insult to you. I also wanted to let you know, however, that the Saxon has tied the noose about his own neck now.’
Fidelma was preoccupied with her thoughts and only caught the last part of his sentence.
‘What?’
‘It is clear that he fled from Cam Eolaing because he was guilty.’
‘You said that when you claimed that he had fled from the abbey. It was not so then. It may not be so now.’
‘Why flee from the safety of the sanctuary of Cam Eolaing if he were not guilty? He could hav
e remained there indefinitely.’
‘He could only have remained there for as long as sanctuary was granted, not indefinitely,’ she corrected pedantically.
“The fact remains that he fled. Now he can be hunted down and killed without further ado. Anyone can kill him and do so in accordance with the law.’
At that moment Mel entered the room. He started to apologise and was about to leave when Bishop Forbassach, in irritation, waved him to remain.
‘I might need you, Mel. It is a matter of the King’s business.’
Meanwhile Fidelma had lowered herself wearily into a seat as she realised that what Forbassach had said was true. A convicted murderer who broke the rules of maighin digona and fled from the sanctuary could be treated as one already dead. She found herself clenching her teeth together to contain her anguish for a moment.
Bishop Forbassach was moving to the door. ‘I must alert the warriors of the King. Come with me, Mel.’
‘Wait!’
The Brehon turned back at Fidelma’s call.
‘Since you are here, I have a complaint to lodge against Gabrán. He and his men attacked me last night.’
‘The river-boat man?’ Bishop Forbassach seemed bewildered. ‘What has this to do with the matter we are discussing?’
‘Perhaps nothing, perhaps a lot.’
‘Gabrán comes from Cam Eolaing, of which I am chieftain,’ Coba a intervened. ‘What did he do?’
‘Last night, one of my companions and I were returning to Fearna. Gabrán and some of his men attacked us. They used swords.’
There was a silence.
‘Gabrán?’ Coba’s voice was hollow. ‘How would you know that it was Gabrán who attacked you? It was a dark night.’
Fidelma swung round to him with narrowed eyes.
‘You forget that even on a dark night, the moon still hangs in the sky, and sometimes even the heaviest clouds are obliging.’
‘But why would he attack you?’
‘That is my question. Do you know anything more about his personal life, his allegiances and values?’
Coba gestured indifferently.
Our Lady of Darkness Page 19
