Peter Tremayne - Valley of the Shadow

‘She had me play a game of Brandub and demanded a wager be set. If she won she was going to demand I go to bed with her. If I won she expected me to make the same demand of her.’

‘Did you?’

Eadulf looked aghast.

‘Did I go to her bed?’ he asked in horror.

‘No, did you win the game?’

Eadulf shook his head vehemently.

‘I saw where this matter was leading and was able to win but did not fulfil her expectations. Anyway, that did not stop her trying to persuade me. I barely escaped her seduction.’

‘More importantly,’ Fidelma said, as they entered the guests’ hostel, ‘did you find out whether she was involved with her parents’ politics? What is her connection with Rudgal?’

‘All she cares about is carnal pleasure.’ Eadulf sniffed in disgust. ‘She knows little about anything else. As for Rudgal, I think he is smitten with a passion which comes close to unquestioning adoration of the little wanton. I feel sorry for the man.’

Fidelma lit the lamp.

‘Well, an early night is called for. We have done all we can for now. Hopefully, Ibor will be here before dawn.’

Eadulf’s expression changed to one of anxiety.

‘We play a dangerous game here, Fidelma. It is one thing to secure this ráth but we must be able to solve the mystery.’

Fidelma seemed happy enough.

‘I think I can … now,’ she added with emphasis. ‘But the main danger is tonight. If someone is to take action against me, it will be tonight. We have to be vigilant.’

Eadulf was worried.

‘I will not sleep tonight,’ he vowed. ‘Have no fear.’

It was still dark when Eadulf was roused from the slumber intowhich he had fallen almost as soon as he clambered between the blankets.

He struggled up in bed his heart beating fast, aware of a figure bending over him.

He recognised Fidelma’s scent in the shadows. She bent forward and whispered: ‘There is someone outside the hostel. I heard them trying the door. They are downstairs. Stand ready. I think they are going to come up here.’

As Fidelma moved silently back to her room, Eadulf swung out of his bed, hurriedly hauling on his robe.

He could hear the footsteps quietly ascending but betrayed by a creaking on the stair.

He moved behind the door and seized one of the heavy iron candlesticks, resolving that as soon as the intruder had passed his door towards Fidelma’s chamber he would hurry out and come on them from behind. He had hardly determined this strategy when he heard the steps falter in the passage outside and then — then the latch of his own door was lifting.

He pressed back against the wall with a pounding heart, automatically raising the candlestick defensively.

The door creaked open.

A shadow entered the room. It was burly and that of a man. There was a sword in his hand.

Eadulf waited for no more. He swung the candlestick. It contacted with the figure’s head with a sickening thud. There was a soft grunt. The figure collapsed and fell to the floor, the sword clattering out of its hand.

Eadulf stood trembling for a moment.

He heard Fidelma exclaim in alarm and come hurrying from her room.

‘Where are you, Eadulf?’ she demanded anxiously.

‘Here,’ mumbled Eadulf, retrieving the candle and stick and reaching for flint and tinder to light it. It was a difficult task in the gloom and took a time. For he had to find the metal box of rotten beech wood, the wood almost powdered by the action of fungus, and then hold his flint over it and strike at it with a sharp piece of metal to cause the spark. Once the spark caused the wood to smoulder, he could light the wick of the candle.

Once it was burning they could examine the figure on the floor.

‘Rudgal!’ whispered Fidelma.

‘I gave him a hefty blow,’ confessed Eadulf. ‘His skull looks as though it is bleeding profusely. I’d better dress his wound.’

‘But not before you bind his hands together,’ Fidelma pointedout. ‘He did not come here, sword in hand, in the middle of the night out of friendship’s sake.’

Eadulf went in search of a stout piece of cord, finding it in the kitchen of the hostel and returned to bind the warrior’s hands. As he did so Rudgal began to moan as consciousness started to return. Eadulf heaved him on to the bed and then found water and a bowl and started to bathe the bloody area of his skull.

Rudgal’s eyes flickered and opened. They glanced round quickly and he flexed his arms.

‘Stay still!’ snapped Eadulf. ‘Your hands are tied.’

Rudgal immediately relaxed.

Fidelma stood, hands folded before her, examining the warrior carefully.

‘You have some explaining to do, Rudgal,’ she observed. ‘Were you sent here to kill me or was it your own idea?’

Rudgal stared at her in bewilderment.

‘Kill you, Sister?’ he gasped. ‘I do not understand.’

Fidelma was patient.

‘I presume that it was not for my health that you came to seek me in the darkness of the night with a naked blade.’

Rudgal blinked and then shook his head slowly.

‘You, Sister? It was not you that I sought but …’ he jerked his head towards Eadulf, ‘but that foreigner. Him I meant to kill.’

Eadulf was shocked.

‘Why would you want to kill Brother Eadulf?’ asked Fidelma.

Rudgal glowered.

‘He knows,’ he replied tightly.

‘I do not,’ averred Eadulf. ‘What have I done?’ Then he groaned. ‘Do not tell me that it is to do with that silly little girl?’

‘You have tried to take Esnad from me!’ cried Rudgal, trying to struggle forward. ‘She told me that you were with her last evening. I will kill you.’

Eadulf easily pushed him back on the bed.

‘You must be mad,’ the Saxon said slowly. ‘I am not interested in that child.’

‘Rudgal, listen to me,’ Fidelma said, interrupting the fair-haired man’s sobs of torment. ‘Eadulf has no interest in Esnad. Whatever your relationship with her is a matter for you to sort out.’

‘But he was with her last night.’

‘At my instructions,’ replied Fidelma, realising the logic in his madness.

Rudgal flushed.

‘Why would you tell him to go to flirt with Esnad?’

‘In Christ’s Truth!’ snapped Eadulf. ‘If any flirting was done, it was that young girl who was doing it. You must know, man, what she is like.’

‘I love her!’

‘But is the girl in love with you?’ Eadulf snapped.

It was clear from Rudgal’s features that he was not confident to answer this question.

‘Rudgal,’ Fidelma said, ‘there is no need for anyone to shed blood over a capricious girl.’

The warrior was reluctant to be persuaded.

‘Esnad told me that he was in her apartment. She made fun of me saying …’

Fidelma held up her hand to quiet him.

‘Aegra amans!’ she muttered. Only Eadulf understood. Indeed Virgil had spoken of possessive love as a disease.

Eadulf looked towards her sourly.

‘Amantes sunt amentes,’ he responded, pointing out that lovers were lunatics.

Rudgal was scowling at them both, not understanding.

‘There is nothing between Esnad and I,’ Eadulf repeated. ‘Now why don’t you sort out your problems with Esnad?’

Rudgal glowered.

‘It is sound advice, Rudgal,’ Fidelma added. ‘If you feel so much in love with Esnad then you should speak with her. Surely her opinion is more important to you than anyone else’s opinion?’

The man was still angry.

‘Can it be that you know she does not love you in return and so it is easier for you to blame other people, saying that they are taking her from you?’ Fidelma continued. ‘Was she ever yours to take?’

Her words struck home. The warrior and wagon-maker flinched as if she had struck him.