Peter Tremayne - Badger's Moon

Inside, the light that came into the cave showed the rubble of the entrance levelled onto a floor of sand.

‘The dancing floor of the Síog,’ explained Menma in hushed tones.

‘The what?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘The fairies,’ admitted the hunter. ‘There is a legend that the fairies dance here, and that if you throw a stone onto the floor it will not remain there long, for the fairies clear the floor for their dances.’

Eadulf sniffed in disapproval. ‘It seems this whole hill is riddled with legends.’

Menma did not seem perturbed by his cynicism. ‘Of course it is, Brother Saxon. Each crack and crevice of the land is filled with a thousand years of life and experience. Do not your own people have such a folklore?’

Fidelma had turned impatiently. ‘Can we lay our hands on some torches? I would look further into this place. We should have thought to bring some with us.’

‘I will do my best, lady. I should have brought lamps or a candle. I didn’t think.’

Menma’s best proved good, for it was not long before he returned with two substantial brand torches, which he had cut and made from dry grasses.

The cave revealed itself to be large, with several passages leading off. It was clear that the place had once been a place of work and there were even the remains of a forge and rotting bellows to one side.

‘This was abandoned many generations ago,’ Menma pointed out. ‘I was told that it was once a rich mine.’

Fidelma peered around. A stalagmite with a hollow top stood in one corner. There was a small pool fed by drops from a dripstone on the wall above. A few blocks of stone almost concealed a fissure at the back and she immediately felt drawn to it.

‘Careful, lady,’ called Menma anxiously. ‘There are many loose stones and objects here.’

Fidelma did not acknowledge him. She moved forward and began to squeeze through the fissure.

‘Fidelma!’ cried Eadulf in alarm. ‘For heaven’s sake, be careful!’

‘This leads into another chamber,’ her voice came back in reply, as she and her torch vanished. ‘Come on.’

Eadulf exchanged a glance with Menma, who held the second torch. The hunter motioned him to go first. Gritting his teeth, Eadulf plunged into the darkness, turning sideways and trying to hold his breath as he squeezed through the narrow fissure. But a moment later he was, as Fidelma had said, in another chamber about the size of a wealthy chieftain’s hall, with dripstones on the walls and several stalagmite columns on the floor, while the roof, in parts, was almost obscured by stalactites that were quite spectacular.

Fidelma was already crossing this dramatic chamber when Menma joined them.

‘This way!’ she called and disappeared into another passageway.

They could do nothing but follow.

The passage was not as narrow as the fissure and was tall enough to take a man walking at ease, but it led downwards. Eadulf could feel the incline. He had the impression that this passage was manmade, for it seemed rectangular and even in shape, with the sides of its walls as smooth as the floor.

‘I hope we have enough light to find the fissure again to get back into the original cave,’ he muttered anxiously.

Menma, coming behind him, did not reply but his muttered prayer suggested that he was clearly unhappy with Fidelma’s heedless forward progress.

Suddenly the passageway ended and emerged into a high circular chamber in whose centre was a black pool of what looked like deep water. It was beautiful, with stalactites descending from the roof while stalagmites grew up from the floor at various points for a height of fully eighteen or twenty feet. What made it breathtaking was that the stalagmites and boulders were encrusted with a crystalline deposit which resembled small bunches of grapes.

‘There are several galleries leading off over there,’ Fidelma observed aloud.

Menma reached out a hand to hold her arm. ‘Forgive me, lady, but you must go no further. We are not equipped to do so. These torches will last only a little while longer.’

Fidelma was reluctant but realised that Menma was making good sense.

‘This part does not appear to have been worked for metal,’ she said, looking round one more time.

‘Maybe not,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘There was a lot of working up in the main cave. No one seems to have squeezed through the fissure to come as far as this.’

‘It is time we were heading back towards the light,’ insisted Menma again. ‘These torches…’

Before they realised it, Fidelma had taken several quick steps towards the dark pool, bent forward as if to reach for something at its edge, slipped, and fallen into the black water with a splash. Her torch was extinguished and only the light of Menma’s saved them.

‘Quick!’ cried the hunter. ‘Pull her out. The water down here is icy.’

Eadulf had needed no urging. He dashed forward even as Fidelma was falling.

‘Be careful!’ Menma admonished him needlessly.

Eadulf had to watch his step on the slippery stone but he saw Fidelma splashing vainly, her breath coming in great visible gasps in the ice-cold air. He knelt down and reached out his arms to her. The water must be almost freezing for her face was very pale in the gloom. A flailing hand gripped his. He caught it and began to pull. It took several long seconds, seconds that seemed an eternity to him, before he was able to tug her from the dark wetness.

‘No time to delay,’ cried Menma. ‘Quick, we must return to the main cave where there is more light and we can get some warmth.’

Half dragging, half carrying her, Eadulf followed the hunter as he hurriedly led the way back up the inclined passage into the hall-like chamber and straight across to the fissure.

At that point, his torch spluttered and gave out.

Eadulf, with the half-conscious Fidelma in his arms, found himself in total darkness and halted, unsure whether to continue or not. Menma’s voice came out of the blackness not far away.

‘I am at the fissure. Can you continue to come towards the sound of my voice?’

Eadulf hesitated but there was no other decision to make. ‘I’ll try. Keep talking.’

‘This way, then. I can feel the opening and will be able to squeeze through it into the main cave. Can you reach me?’

Eadulf began to edge forward step by step, slowly, slowly…Menma kept talking and after what seemed a great age he bumped into an obstruction. Menma’s voice came from his right.

‘I think you are at the wall. Move towards me.’

A moment later Eadulf felt the hunter’s outstretched hand. With Fidelma, now unconscious, hoisted over one shoulder, he found the opening to the fissure.

‘Thank God!’ came Menma’s voice. ‘I’ll squeeze in first; you push her in and come behind. Between the two of us we should be able to drag her through to the main cave.’

It was easier said than done. It seemed the longest period of Eadulf’s existence before a faint grey light began to replace the blackness and suddenly they were in the main cave with its hint of daylight coming from the distant entrance. Fidelma was still unconscious and Menma joined Eadulf in carrying her. Holding her on either side, they dragged her towards the entrance and out into the pale autumnal day.

‘She needs to be stripped off and dried and have some warmth put into her,’ Menma observed. ‘The water of that underground pool is cold enough to cause frostbite. The sun is not warm enough. We’ll have to get her to my bothán as soon as possible.’

‘Let’s get her to her horse,’ suggested Eadulf. ‘I’ll ride with her and you can take mine.’

Menma was not one to waste words. He helped Eadulf balance Fidelma’s inert form on his shoulder and they moved down the hill towards the clearing where they had tethered their mounts. By the time they reached it, the pain in Eadulf’s muscles was almost unbearable. Menma helped him raise her body onto her horse once Eadulf himself had mounted. Eadulf immediately sent the beast into a canter, praying that his poor horsemanship would suffice to take him to the bothán . Menma was following close behind on Eadulf’s mount. Luchóc, the hound, was barking, puzzled at the mystery.