Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

‘So where is he now?’ demanded Eadulf sharply.

‘Our captain said our orders were to head out to sea and then come along the Rhuis Peninsula on the seaward side tonight at dusk. We were to wait near the cliffs by the abbey. Then pick up the man in white and his companion.’

‘At dusk?’

The prisoner nodded rapidly.

‘And you swear that you do not know who this young man is, who has been giving you orders?’ pressed Eadulf.

‘I truly do not know who he is, Brother. Do not punish me for my ignorance. I have never seen him unmasked. I never saw his features, and if anyone dared disobey his orders then death was the immediate penalty. Even our captain, Taran, was in fear of him.’

‘Were you ever told what cause you were fighting for?’ intervened Bleidbara.

‘For booty, for riches — that is all I know.’

Eadulf gazed down at the wretched man, who was now kneeling on the deck, hands still tied behind him and with the loosened rope still around his neck.

‘One question more. Who supplied you with your arrows? They are all well made.’

The man hesitated a moment, as if surprised by the question, before replying, ‘The man in white supplied them and told us to use them. Also to use the banner and to make sure it was seen when we carried out our attacks.’

‘Did he explain the purpose?’

‘Perhaps to Taran but not to us.’

‘Let him be taken back to the other prisoners.’ Eadulf sighed, feeling a little disgusted with himself at having to force the information out of him in such a manner.

Bleidbara gave the order but was gazing at Eadulf with something akin to admiration.

‘Well, Brother Eadulf, I swear that you make a good conspirator. That man would not have spoken, had we not frightened him to extract the information.’

Eadulf’s expression was one of repugnance.

‘I did not enjoy the experience. What if he had refused to give the information?’ he asked.

‘Then we would have had to keep him a prisoner so that he could be tried,’ shrugged Bleidbara.

Eadulf’s eyes widened. ‘You were just playing a game?’

‘I did not think it was a game,’ Bleidbara assured him. ‘But we needed the information and quickly.’

‘And now we have that information?’ queried Heraclius, speaking for the first time since the scene was played out before him.

‘I suggest that we sail directly for Enez Lovrdi, for this creek, and board the Barnacle Goose . While some of my men engage the guards, Eadulf will head for the hold and release the prisoners. He knows them, so he can reassure them about what is happening. Do we agree?’

‘I should go with Eadulf,’ Heraclius advised. ‘He will need someone to watch his back.’

‘Agreed,’ replied Bleidbara. ‘I’ll instruct the men now, for we do not have much time before we are upon the island.’

It seemed only minutes later that the Morvran was bearing down on a heavily wooded island. Bleidbara was determined to lead the assault himself and passed over the handling of the ship to his first mate. Already the sails were coming down and two smaller boats were swung out and lowered even as the Morvran closed towards what at first seemed a wall of dark rocks and trees. But as they came nearer, Eadulf saw that the rocks parted into a passage. Edging closer still, he saw the stern end of a large ship and felt a sudden elation as, more by instinct than recollection, he recognised the Barnacle Goose .

He and Heraclius scrambled into one of the boats, joining Bleidbara and several of his men. Other warriors climbed into the second boat. Both small vessels were quickly propelled towards the creek in which the Barnacle Goose was moored.

A shout from the ship told them they had been spotted. Eadulf was surprised that they had not been seen long before. Perhaps the guards who had been left behind were lax in their watch or were more concerned with watching their prisoners than thinking of an external attack.

A few arrows flew harmlessly into the waters around them and then they were bumping against the side of the large seagoing vessel and Bleidbara’s men were swarming up the sides. Yelling and the clash of metal, along with the occasional cry of pain, filled the air as Eadulf grasped the rope and hauled himself up on the familiar deck he had quit what seemed a lifetime ago. Was it really just a few days? Heraclius came quickly after him.

The deck was now a confusion of struggling bodies, men intent on killing each other. Eadulf dodged through them, the young Greek at his side, and headed towards the hold of the ship. It was no use trying to remove the deck hatches and so he led the way down beyond the stern cabins, for he knew that a small hatchway led from there into the cargo hold. They met with only one man, who seemed to be guarding the gangway; he lunged at Eadulf with his sword and, as Eadulf threw himself aside, Heraclius pressed forward and drove his weapon under the man’s ribs. With a gurgling scream, the assailant sank to the ground.

Eadulf was at the hatch. He threw back the bolts and swung open the door. Inside was an evil-smelling darkness, relieved by a single candle. People were stirring there. A face appeared, familiar albeit bearded and haggard.

‘Hoel?’ frowned Eadulf, recognising the second mate of the Barnacle Goose . ‘Is that you?’

The man’s eyes widened. ‘Brother Eadulf? Do you still live? We thought that you had drowned.’

Eadulf had no time to tell the story, merely saying: ‘Get your people out and grab what weapons you can. You are being rescued.’

Hoel turned back and repeated Eadulf’s words to those inside. There was a suppressed cheer and the next familiar figure that emerged was Wenbrit, the cabin boy.

‘Is the lady Fidelma alive?’ he asked wonderingly. ‘We thought you had drowned.’

‘We are both well,’ replied Eadulf quickly. ‘How many of you survived?’

‘They killed no more of us after they murdered the captain Gurvan and Menma, the crewman they shot when they first attacked the ship — and, of course, the lord Bressal.’

‘And you have all been confined here in the hold?’

‘We have.’

‘Then we’ll talk later. Let us make sure the ship is retaken.’

Heraclius led the way back to the deck and by the time they reached it, they found that the fighting was over. The followers of the ‘Dove of Death’ had paid a heavy price, for there was only one prisoner. The bodies of the others were strewn across the deck, their fighting days over.

The crew of the Barnacle Goose were confused after their long incarceration and by the bloody sights before them. Blinking in the daylight, and rubbing their eyes, they started to come to terms with the new situation.

Bleidbara strode forward across the deck and clapped Eadulf on the shoulder with a big smile of satisfaction.

‘It was well done,’ he said approvingly.

‘Any casualties?’

‘A few minor cuts and scratches, that’s all. These scum are no match for real fighting men when it comes to a fair fight.’

Eadulf turned back to Hoel and Wenbrit and asked: ‘Are all the prisoners safe?’

‘We are,’ Hoel confirmed. ‘We were ordered to throw the bodies of Murchad and the others overboard while we were still at sea. We had to sail the ship here. Then we were placed in the hold. No one has harmed us since.’

Bleidbara was looking around with a frown.

‘Where is the lady Trifina?’ he asked.

Hoel looked blank.

‘A female,’ Eadulf said rather impatiently. ‘A woman of this country. Was she not in the hold with you?’

Hoel shook his head. ‘Since we were forced to enter this creek we have been battened down below decks and have lost count of the day or night. We know of no other prisoners.’