Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

Eadulf, with a cry of anguish, had recognised the figure on the ground. Egric lay with his back propped against the stone wall. His wrists were tied by rope to an iron cow-ring set in the stone. There was blood staining his garments, covering his face and arms. It was clear that he had suffered torture. The fingers of one hand were broken and bent. Eadulf knelt towards him and one glance was enough to assess his brother’s condition. He pulled the corpse of his erstwhile captor off his brother, drew his knife and severed the cords that bound Egric’s wrists. The young man slumped forward with a groan.

Eadulf gently lifted him back into a semi-sitting position, legs splayed out on the ground before him. Eadulf then drew out a lastar , containing water, and allowed it to dribble against his young brother’s mouth. Egric groaned and opened his eyes, trying to focus.

‘Is it you, Eadulf?’ The voice was the merest whisper.

‘I am here, Egric.’

‘Sorry. . so sorry that it has turned out. . like this.’

‘Lie still and all will be well.’

‘Don’t try to lie to me. I know. . I am not long for this world. Trouble is, I don’t share the beliefs that you have adopted.’ Egric started coughing blood. ‘Must tell you. .’

‘I knew that you were no religious,’ Eadulf replied tenderly. ‘That doesn’t matter now.’

‘Never could fool you, even when we were young,’ the dying man joked. ‘But it was true I lived among the Cruthin. I was a warrior in Oswy’s army. After the retreat. . went to Canterbury. Nothing to do. Met old Victricius. . a fine thief. We made a good pair. .’

There was another bout of coughing and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

‘Going to leave you. .’ he whispered.

Eadulf forced a smile. ‘Can’t do that. You have only just found me. Anyway, who were these men? Who were they who tortured you?’

‘Wanted to know where it was hidden. . couldn’t tell them.’

‘Where what was hidden?’

Egric groaned and Eadulf allowed him a little more water. It didn’t really matter now if it was the wrong thing to do.

‘Leader. . called Maon. Maybe same gang as attacked us on the river. Maon. Don’t know.’

‘What did he want?’

There was another bout of coughing. Egric’s face was screwed up in pain.

‘Who. . who is Brother Docgan? Ask custodes . . ask. . Bosa! Bosa! No time now.’ His face contorted again.

‘We’ll find out. Don’t worry,’ Eadulf promised.

Egric tried to shake his head. ‘Not worried. I hear them coming — soon be off to Gladsheim.’ Then an anxious look appeared on his face. ‘It does exist, doesn’t it, big brother?’

Eadulf swallowed hard. Gladsheim — Woden’s Castle in Asgard. Thoughts of his youth, the time before he adopted the New Faith, flooded into his mind. Should he deny the Old Faith now? He realised that his younger brother’s eyes were becoming dull and foggy. It would not be long now.

‘If you truly believe in the House of Vali, you will speed yourself to Asgard, little brother,’ he mumbled. ‘Woden will be waiting for you in Gladsheim.’

A smile of contentment spread slowly across Egric’s features and he closed his eyes for a moment. Then they were suddenly wide with anxiety again, and his eyes flickered from side to side as if seeking something.

‘But I must go. . weapon in hand! Can’t enter without sword!’ Some incredible power caused his hands to flail about as if searching.

Eadulf turned quickly to Gormán. ‘Lend me your sword for a moment.’

Gormán did not question him but handed him his sword, hilt first. Eadulf took it and seized the uninjured hand of his brother, placing it around the hilt.

‘Feel it, little brother? Feel it?’ he whispered urgently. ‘The sword — your sword — it is in your hand.’

Egric’s eyes closed again, the smile once more on his face. His hand was clutching spasmodically at the hilt of the sword.

‘Thank you, big brother.’ His voice was no more than a sigh. ‘I will see you again, one day, in the great city of Aesir. Live long and be well, before that day surely comes.’

A coughing fit came on him, and when it passed, a curious strength and purpose moulded his features. Slowly he raised the sword in his one good hand until the tip was pointing skyward. Then he gave a mighty shout. ‘ Woden! ’ His voice was still echoing through the surrounding woods when he fell backwards, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky.

Eadulf felt the tears begin to stream from his eyes.

‘God’s speed, little brother,’ he wept. ‘May Woden be ready to greet you in Gladsheim. And may my God forgive me for helping you journey to him rather than to the Heaven of the Christians.’

After a few moments he realised that Gormán was standing nervously at his side. He took the sword from his brother’s lifeless hand and, without wiping away the tears, handed it back to him hilt first.

‘You have just seen the death of a warrior of my people,’ he said. ‘The death of a warrior, according to the rituals of the old gods of my race.’

Gormán said nothing but allowed Eadulf to continue to kneel in silence by the side of his brother and take his own time in saying his farewells.

Eventually, Eadulf drew himself together. He rose and looked around. Gormán and Aidan had searched the camp and placed the bodies of the two men side by side.

‘I don’t recognise them,’ he said. Gormán and Aidan shook their heads at his unasked question. ‘My brother mentioned the name of one of them. What was it? Maon.’ He frowned suddenly: where had he heard that name before? Wasn’t it the name of the girl that Beccan said he had taken medicines to? No, that was surely wrong. He turned to Gormán. ‘What sort of name is Maon? I thought it was a girl’s name, but my brother said it was the leader of these two men.’

‘It can be either a male or female, friend Eadulf,’ answered the warrior. ‘It means the Silent One and was a by-name for one of the old pagan gods. The lady Fidelma would know it also, for Maon was the name of the daughter of her teacher, the Brehon Morann.’

Eadulf glanced around and then up at the sky. ‘Can we get back to Cashel from here by nightfall? It is important.’

‘Nightfall comes early at this time of year. But we could cross at Finnian’s Height now that the brothers in the abbey there have built a new bridge across the Siúr, and there is, as you know, a good road from there. The last part of the journey could be made in safety even after nightfall.’

‘Is Finnian’s Abbey nearby?’ Eadulf asked in surprise. ‘I know that road well.’

‘It is. What do you wish to do, Eadulf?’

‘Put these bodies in that hut. We’ll take their horses to the abbey and tell the brothers there that they can have them if they come and retrieve the bodies for burial or dispose of them as they will. We do not have the time. However, I shall take my brother’s body back to Cashel.’

Gormán and Aidan exchanged a glance but said nothing. Gormán took a blanket and wrapped Egric’s body carefully in it. As easily as if he were lifting a child, he picked it up and slung it over one of the horse’s backs and secured it. While he was doing this, Aidan gathered some dead wood and branches and covered the two bodies.

‘There was absolutely no means of identification on them?’ Eadulf asked.

‘None,’ affirmed Gormán. ‘They were certainly not warriors. Perhaps they were members of Rudgal’s thugs. Didn’t Cummasach say that two of them had escaped?’

Eadulf had forgotten. ‘Let’s get back to Cashel,’ he said wearily.

With that, they mounted, with Gormán leading the horse bearing Egric’s body. Eadulf followed while Aidan brought up the rear, leading the other two horses. Apart from their brief stop at the abbey in Finnian’s Height, the journey back to Cashel was made in sombre silence.