Peter Tremayne - Badger's Moon

Dusk was beginning to settle now. There was hardly any discernible path in the undergrowth and she had to twist and turn to find a way through. After a while she began to feel sorry that she had not gone by way of the main path from the bothán to the track. After all, the raiders had ridden in the opposite direction. But it was better to be safe than sorry, although her safety was a matter of speculation at the moment. She realised that she had become a little disorientated and she looked about, trying to figure out if she were going in the wrong direction. The darkness made such observation futile and the tall oaks and alders stretched skyward, blotting out the residual light which might have revealed the path.

When all seemed utterly hopeless, she realised that a natural path, perhaps a track used by generations of wild boar, had opened up to give an easier trail through the trees and undergrowth. She saw, even in the twilight, that several of the trees were dark on one side and stopped to reach out a hand to touch this shadow. It was damp moss.

Fidelma smiled.

That side of the tree was facing north. It was an old woodsman’s trick to establish direction. She placed her back to the dry side of the tree and held her two arms straight at right angles to her body. Her left arm would indicate the easterly direction, the direction of the track.

She turned in that direction and nearly tripped over a long, slender branch. It was like a staff and perhaps someone had begun to shape it as such. She picked it up and realised it was a handy weapon. Feeling more secure, she began to push her way along another narrow path and it was not too long before she saw the open space of the track before her. She felt better. Although it was now dark, the moon and stars were out in a cloudless sky and there was some light along the road.

She estimated it would take about an hour certainly no more, of good walking to reach the fortress of Becc. She set out at a quick steady pace.

Barely ten minutes had passed when she heard a horse coming at a gallop. She moved quickly into the nearby bushes and held her staff ready. The moon gave light to a long stretch of the road behind her and she saw the black shadow of a horse emerge. Its rider seemed to be crouched in an awkward position over the beast’s neck. Was it one of the Uí Fidgente who had discovered her flight and was trying to cut her off before she reached Rath Raithlen? Well, little time to debate the point. And she could use the horse.

As the beast drew near she leapt out screaming like a bean sidh — a woman of the fairy folk. The horse reared up on his hindquarters, lashing out with his forelegs at the air. The rider tumbled backwards and hit the road, lying still. Fidelma dashed towards the figure with upraised staff ready to strike.

The figure groaned and swore — a strange Saxon oath. Fidelma dropped her staff and stared down.

‘ Nar lige Dia! God look down on us!’ she cried. ‘Is it you, Eadulf?’

Eadulf groaned and shook his head, which he was holding in both hands.

‘I don’t think I ever will be me again,’ he muttered. ‘I am surely broken in two.’

‘I am sorry. I thought you were one of the Uí Fidgente,’ cried Fidelma. She was aghast as she bent forward and tried to raise him into a sitting position.

Eadulf blinked and attempted to focus in the darkness. Her saw her shadowy form, heard her voice, and realisation suddenly hit him. His senses returned in a rush. He struggled up.

‘You were not captured by them?’ he demanded incredulously, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek.

She shook her head with a brief smile, which he could not see in the darkness.

‘As you can surely tell, Eadulf,’ she replied waspishly to hide her relief. ‘Otherwise I would not be here.’

‘Accobrán and Menma with some men from Rath Raithlen have gone in pursuit of the Uí Fidgente,’ he said, managing to scramble to his feet. ‘We thought that you and Suanach were captured.’

‘Suanach is their prisoner,’ she confirmed regretfully. ‘The Uí Fidgente were hoping to lure Menma after them.’

Eadulf seemed to have recovered his senses if not the feeling of his bruised body. He was puzzled.

‘ Lure Menma? I don’t understand.’

‘No more do I. But I overheard two of the Uí Fidgente speaking. It seemed that the purpose of their raid was to get information out of Menma. Information about some discovery on the Thicket of Pigs.’

‘It seems a bit extreme to conduct a raid as far south from their territory as this in search of information. What sort of information?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine, Eadulf. My immediate concern is for Suanach. She hid me in the sousterrain of the house while she went to confront the Uí Fidgente. That is how I managed to escape.’

Eadulf spoke with all seriousness. ‘Let’s hope Accobrán is as good a warrior as we have heard. Anyway, I think Menma is an excellent tracker and he will be able to follow the trail of the raiders.’

‘In this darkness, I doubt whether he will be able to track them. Why are you not riding with them?’

‘Accobrán told me to go back to the fortress and tell Becc just in case this is not a small raiding party but part of some larger attack on the Cinél na Áeda. Accobrán said that they saw the smoke from Rath Raithlen and he and his warriors rode to investigate. No one realised it was the Uí Fidgente. I was to inform Becc of the fact.’

‘Accobrán said…?’ Fidelma suddenly realised the implication. ‘Were you not at the fortress. then?’

‘I went with Menma this afternoon to investigate the cave that you were so concerned with,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘We were returning to the bothán when we saw it in flames. We were there when Accobrán arrived.’

‘You did what ?’ came Fidelma’s sharp tone. ‘You went back to the cave?’

‘You were so keen to explore it that I felt I could save you the trouble. If there was anything of interest there, I felt that I could find it without you endangering yourself again.’

There was a pause while Fidelma digested the information. ‘And did you find anything of interest?’

‘ Dei gratia! ’ Eadulf confirmed.

‘Then you must tell me all as we ride.’

Fidelma looked round. The horse that Eadulf had been riding had trotted on a few yards and now stood nibbling at some bushes by the roadside. She started for the horse, felt for the reins in the darkness, and then turned to Eadulf.

‘You mount first and I’ll get up behind you.’ Then she paused. ‘You are sure that you are not hurt by your fall?’

‘As you know, I have a thick hide.’

She imagined that Eadulf was grinning in the darkness and she nodded.

Eadulf had just finished his story as they came within sight of the gates of Rath Raithlen. Fidelma had been mostly silent during his recital, only intervening once or twice to clarify points.

Eadulf waited a while and then said: ‘ Quid nunc? ’

‘Well might you ask what now,’ Fidelma mused.

There came some shouting from the gates ahead as the lookouts spotted them in the darkness.

‘Now,’ she reflected on the question, ‘now we shall tell Becc what has happened at Menma’s bothán and then I must think awhile.’

In fact, Becc was waiting at the fortress gates for them with his steward Adag.

‘Fidelma!’ He came forward with arms outstretched. ‘I am thankful to see you, cousin. When we saw smoke rising in the forest we were concerned. When Adag told me that you had not been in the fortress since this morning — you and Brother Eadulf,’ he nodded quickly to Fidelma’s companion, ‘we grew very concerned.’