Peter Tremayne - The Leper's bell

Fidelma could, at first, only nod as she massaged her wrists. The bonds had cut deep into the flesh, leaving harsh marks around them and her ankles.

‘How came you here, Conrí?’ she managed to ask at last.

The war chieftain gave her a grin. ‘Have you forgotten that we planned to meet here, lady?’

She smiled at his bantering tone. ‘But not in these circumstances,’ she returned in kind.

‘True indeed,’ he agreed. ‘Our story is simple. We did as I told you we would and went through the valley of Bilboa and waited for the chieftains at Crois na Rae. When they didn’t turn up, I decided to post half my men to cover the mountain passes, in case they went that way, and then to come back to make our rendezvous with you here. Because we waited a while, we could not reach here last evening, but came on through the night to arrive at dawn.’

‘How were you warned of the presence of the chieftains?’

Conrí shrugged. ‘I was more concerned with encountering your brother’s warriors, seeing that Colgú’s whole kingdom could be raised against us. So we approached the hunting lodge cautiously, leaving our mounts behind in a copse at some little distance. I was about to reconnoitre the stables when I spotted Cuán. I knew something was wrong.’

‘So how did you know where to find me?’

‘I told my men to cover the main door and then I climbed up to the roof. I saw you through the window. One of the chieftains went out through the main door and I think one of my men shot him. So I had to come through the window. I barely had time to regain my balance before Crond came bursting in.’

‘You knew him?’ queried Fidelma.

‘He was an Uí Fidgente chieftain. Am I not warlord of the Uí Fidgente? I know them all.’

‘Is he dead?’ Fidelma asked, coming slowly to her feet and looking down at Crond.

‘He is dead,’ confirmed Conrí, ‘but for the harm he has done, I shall not weep at his graveside.’

One of Conrí’s men came up the stairs to see if all was well, and informed them that Cuán had taken an arrow in the shoulder but would recover while Cuirgí had been captured without a struggle.

‘And your baby, lady, where is he?’ asked Conrí.

Fidelma shook her head. ‘That I do not know, my friend. They denied any knowledge of abduction or involvement in abduction. If this was not a plot by some Uí Fidgente to have these chieftains released, then I am at a loss to understand it.’

‘It is as I said, lady,’ Conrí replied. ‘Unless there is some rebellious group that we do not know of, the Uí Fidgente disclaim all knowledge of this matter. We have made our peace with your brother and we will remain at peace with him.’

Fidelma stamped her feet a little to restore her circulation. She looked up at Conrí.

‘Are you prepared to come with me back to Cashel and make that statement? To return these chieftains to my brother’s authority as a sign of good faith?’

‘Will we be under your protection? The Eóghanacht will not take kindly to Uí Fidgente in Cashel.’

Fidelma nodded. ‘You will be under my protection,’ she said gravely.

‘Then we shall come and gladly.’

‘Then let us break our fast and prepare for the journey back,’ she replied. Her brother would be thinking the worst about her disappearance. Fidelma’s relief at her rescue and the recapture of the Uí Fidgente chiefs was tempered by her frustration that the only apparent reason for Alchú’s disappearance and the killing of Sárait had ended in a blank wall through which she was unable to see further. The relief at her rescue was nullified by her feeling of fear for her baby and for Eadulf. She closed her eyes for a moment to hide her inward pain. Eadulf! Where was Eadulf now?

Eadulf awoke from a fitful doze. It was still night. He became aware that Gormán was putting wood on the campfire that they had made earlier. He raised his hand to massage his forehead and looked round. He dimly recalled how in the darkness they had organised a makeshift camp in the forest clearing near the water’s edge. His own horse as well as Gormán’s mount had been tethered nearby. He turned. On the other side of the campfire, lying on his back with his eyes still closed in slumber, was Basil Nestorios.

Eadulf realised that he had sunk into such despair that he had not been able to concentrate on anything. Much of the organising of the fire had been done without his assistance.

Gormán, spotting that he was awake, turned and handed him a drinking horn.

‘ Corma ,’ the warrior explained. ‘How do you feel, Brother Eadulf?’

Eadulf grimaced before he took a swallow of the fiery liquid and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he shook his head.

‘I have lost the only chance I had of finding my baby,’ he said simply. ‘How should I feel?’

The tall warrior was reassuring.

‘You are a clever man, Brother Eadulf. You have traced the baby thus far, and you will trace it further.’

‘How did you get here, anyway?’ Eadulf demanded. ‘Were you following me?’

Gormán shrugged. ‘I was a full day behind you. As soon as I learnt from the lady Fidelma that you had ridden west to the abbey of Coimán, I knew that your path would take you through the land of the Uí Fidgente and, that being so, you might need a strong sword-arm. So I saddled my horse and tracked you. When I came through the mountain pass near the Hill of the Stone Forts, I encountered a herbalist named Corb and his wife. They confessed that they had taken the child-’

‘You did not harm them?’ Eadulf asked quickly. ‘I believe that the part they played was an unwitting one.’

‘They were returning to Cashel at your behest. I did not harm them. I followed you first to the abbey of Coimán and thence to the Tower of Uaman. I arrived there at dusk and made my way across the sand link to the gates. I was about to demand entrance when the gates opened and, lo and behold, you and your taciturn friend there came running out. The rest you know.’

Eadulf leant forward and laid a hand on the warrior’s arm.

Thank the fates for that,’ he said reverently. ‘Had you not been there, we would not have made it this far. Uaman had marked me down for an early grave while our Persian friend was only allowed to live so long as he treated Uaman for his ailment. However,’ he examined Gormán with a side glance, ‘I find it hard to believe that you thought me so important that you chased me across Muman simply in order to protect me.’

Gormán hesitated, then spread his hands expressively.

‘You are a perceptive man, Brother Eadulf. It is no wonder that you and the lady Fidelma have garnered the reputation that you have. When I heard that you had gone to the abbey of Coimán, I knew that it must be for a specific purpose. You had gained some knowledge that sent you hurrying there. I wanted to be on hand in case you needed help in achieving that purpose.’

‘Are you so devoted to the service of Cashel?’ Eadulf could not help sounding a little cynical.

The big warrior smiled softly.

‘I am devoted to the service of Cashel, that is true, Brother. But you may recall the personal reason that brought me hither.’

‘Ah.’ Eadulf’s eyes lightened as he remembered Gormán’s confession of his feelings for Sárait.

‘I will make no attempt to disguise it.’ Gormán saw that Eadulf had remembered. ‘I want to be present when the person who murdered Sárait is caught. I have a score to settle with them. Did Uaman kill her?’

‘No. But he bought my baby from the herbalist and his wife who had picked up the child thinking it was abandoned. Therein is a mystery. Someone, soon after the child went missing, had worked out that the herbalist and his wife had taken it without knowing its identity. That person sent a message to Uaman to tell him. That much I learnt in the Tower of Uaman.’