Peter Tremayne - A Prayer for the Damned

‘What, by all that is holy, was that?’ Eadulf asked, shaking his head.

Gormán grinned. ‘You have just encountered a wild boar. It nearly did for you.’

Eadulf shuddered. ‘What distracted it? I thought it had me.’

‘I smacked it across the snout with my sword and it turned off. Then the hunters came up. They have chased it back into the forest. I suspect that if it keeps in the cover of the trees and undergrowth, it will elude them.’

Eadulf rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head this way and that to ensure there was no damage from his fall. Then he remembered what he was there for.

‘Was Muirchertach with them?’ he inquired anxiously.

‘I didn’t see him,’ replied Gormán.

‘Devil’s teeth,’ swore Eadulf, annoyed.

Gormán mounted his animal again and waited while Eadulf clambered back into the saddle of his own horse.

‘Muirchertach may have gone off with the other group, when they divided back at the clearing,’ he suggested.

‘Let’s go and find him, then.’

They retraced their path back to the clearing, and as they reached it they saw a horse and rider coming along the path. It was the slight figure of a woman. She suddenly tugged on the reins of her horse as she noticed them and then, as if wanting to avoid them, plunged off along an adjoining path and quickly vanished.

‘One of the women following the hunt,’ muttered Gormán, ‘but I think she is going in the wrong direction. Shall I go after her?’

‘She is moving pretty rapidly,’ replied Eadulf, adding: ‘Did you notice who she was?’

Gormán shook his head.

‘That was Sister Marga, one of those who came with Abbot Ultán,’ Eadulf said. ‘I thought I recognised the horse. . that is the same horse that Ultán arrived on.’

Gormán pulled a face, expressing his disapproval. ‘Obviously, Sister Marga does not believe in following the proprieties. One would expect a time of mourning after her superior’s death.’

He suddenly glanced up with a frown. There came the sound of laughing and chattering and a band of riders appeared along the track in front of them. They were proceeding at a sedate pace through the forest. It was the rest of the hunt followers and their escort. The attendants carried baskets of food and drink and the ladies rode in a relaxed manner, talking and laughing as if out on some innocent picnic.

One of the attendants called to Gormán and asked him which way the main band of huntsmen had gone, and Gormán pointed along the path where they had last seen them.

‘My lord Colgú, the High King and their party were chasing a tusker in that direction only a short time ago,’ he told them. ‘Be careful, ladies, for the animal is large and strong.’

Little cries of excited horror came from them but it was all done with humour and laughter. The attendant thanked him as the party moved slowly off. Meanwhile, Eadulf had ridden a short distance along the second path to the left. Gormán quickly caught up with him.

‘The ladies seem to think this is an amusement,’ he commented sourly. ‘They don’t realise the dangers.’

‘Nor did I,’ Eadulf observed dryly. ‘I’m sorry. I neglected to thank you for what you did back there. You saved my life.’

Gormán gestured indifferently. ‘Smacking the animal across the snout? That was nothing. It was frightened and wild. It would probably have run off anyway. The hunters were close by.’ He drew rein and looked around, then cursed softly. ‘Begging your pardon, Brother Eadulf, but I think we may have lost the other party. I see no sign of a large body of horsemen passing along here. That is the trouble in these hunts — people often tend to scatter all over the place.’

‘Do you think that we should turn back again?’ Eadulf was beginning to when, once again, the sound of horses came to their ears, but muted this time by the rich tone of a man’s laughter.

‘Hóigh!’ shouted Gormán to attract attention. ‘Hóigh!’

There came an answering call and a few moments later two horses emerged through the woods from their left. One of the riders was the smiling Abbot Augaire and behind him came the sharp-featured lady Aíbnat.

‘Brother Eadulf,’ the abbot said in jovial fashion. ‘Are you lost?’

Gormán immediately answered for him. ‘Not lost, but we have become separated from the main hunt.’

Abbot Augaire shook his head with a smile. ‘Well, my friend, we are definitely lost. I think the main hunt went in that direction.’ He pointed back the way they had come. ‘We were actually thinking of returning to Cashel, if we can find the way.’

Gormán nodded. ‘In that case, if you follow the path along here as far as a fairly large clearing back there and then turn to the west, that track brings you to the main road back to Cashel.’

Abbot Augaire and lady Aíbnat were about to move off when Eadulf stayed them with a sudden thought.

‘Have you seen anything of your husband, lady?’ he asked politely.

She frowned irritably at him. ‘I presume that he is with the main body of the hunt.’

‘I thought that he and another group had moved further that way.’ Eadulf pointed to the direction from which the two had come.

Abbot Augaire shook his head. ‘We have seen nothing of anyone there. But I was part of the body separated from the High King’s group. We tried to get round behind the boars but in the excitement we lost each other. I don’t think you’ll see anyone back there.’

Eadulf acknowledged the information and they separated, Abbot Augaire and the lady Aíbnat riding off towards the clearing.

Gormán looked after them with a puzzled expression. ‘I find it strange,’ he muttered.

‘Strange?’ queried Eadulf with a smile. ‘What is strange, my friend?’

‘That people no longer seem to take notice of conventionality in their behaviour.’

‘You mean Sister Marga going on a hunt when her abbot has just been buried after being murdered? Even to the extent of using his horse?’

‘That, and Muirchertach Nár and his wife Aíbnat being part of the hunt when he is charged with murder.’

‘It is a distraction,’ explained Eadulf. ‘No one is going anywhere until this matter is cleared up so why not let them have their diversions? And a king is hardly likely to flee from justice in these circumstances.’

They rode on in silence for a while and then another cry cut through the still forest air.

‘Hóigh! Hóigh!’

This time it sounded like a man shouting for help. Eadulf and Gormán drew rein immediately and peered through the trees, turning in the direction of the sound.

One of the dog handlers emerged from the trees. He was red-faced and breathless but when his eyes alighted on Gormán a look of relief crossed his features. He gave another shout and came running forward, speaking rapidly. Gormán moved towards him, bending down. The man spoke so quickly that Eadulf was unable to hear what was said. Gormán turned in his saddle and waved Eadulf forward. He seemed troubled.

‘What is it?’ Eadulf demanded.

‘Something that I think requires your attention,’ replied the young warrior. He turned to the man on foot. ‘How far?’

The man gestured with his outstretched hand behind him.

‘Not far, through the trees there. There is a clearing beyond called Cúil Rathan — the brook of the ferns. I’ll show you the way. You’ll have to dismount and lead your horses along here for the path is overgrown. The branches are too low for riders.

Eadulf and Gormán slid from their mounts and followed.

The man led them quickly along a narrow winding path through the dark forest of oaks, beeches and chestnuts, through a covert of broom, bramble and ferns dressed in the brown-white sheen of winter. Then they were in open shrubland. There was a small mound ahead and the man trotted up it and pointed downwards without speaking.