Peter Tremayne - Valley of the Shadow

‘It is not our business what you do, Rudgal,’ Fidelma went on, ‘but I would be wise and consider matters more calmly. You would do well to see if you actually loved Esnad apart from being in love. These are two different things. And if you loved Esnad you would care for her opinion and her happiness.’

‘What do you mean to do with me?’ growled Rudgal, ignoring her advice.

‘You have broken the law by launching a murderous attack on Eadulf,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘What if you had killed him? What do you think we should do with you?’

‘I claim justification on my side,’ the man said stubbornly.

‘There is no justification at all.’ Eadulf was outraged by the man’s persistent attitude.

Fidelma laid a hand on Eadulf’s arm and motioned for him to follow her into the corridor.

‘What do you suggest?’ he whispered once they were outside.

‘We cannot release Rudgal before tomorrow. It might well be that he is just insane with jealousy over Esnad. However, in case there is something more to his love sickness, we should keep him here until morning. We’ll leave him in your room and you can change to another. Is he securely bound? Good. We can sort out his real motives in the morning.’

They returned to find Rudgal struggling with the bonds.

‘Stay still,’ instructed Eadulf in a harsh tone, ‘unless you wish for another clout on your skull.’

Rudgal glowered at him.

‘If my hands were free, foreigner …’

‘That is why you will continue to be bound,’ interrupted Fidelma. They used more cord and had difficulty in tying Rudgal’s feet together for he flayed around with powerful motions. Even when his feet and hands were secured, Rudgal started to cry out and Eadulf seized a towel and wrapped it around the man’s mouth, silencing him.

It took a few minutes more for Rudgal to accept that escape from his bondage was impossible and relax on the bed. It was only when he had quietened down that they heard a movement on the lower floor of the guests’ hostel.

Fidelma and Eadulf exchanged a look of alarm. Then Eadulf seized Rudgal’s discarded sword in one hand and took the oil lamp in the other, moving quietly to the door. Fidelma came behind him, peering over his shoulder. They moved cautiously along the corridor to the landing overlooking the stairs leading to the lower floor of the hostel.

A figure stood there below them in the darkness.

Eadulf raised the lamp.

Colla stood revealed in its rays at the bottom of the stairs.

‘What do you want here?’ demanded Eadulf, feeling angry that his voice cracked a little with emotion. Here stood the very person whom they had been expecting to attempt to harm them this very night.

Colla stared up at them in surprise. He blinked as he caught sight of the sword in Eadulf’s hand.

‘Is there anything wrong?’ he faltered.

‘Wrong? Should there be anything wrong?’ inquired Fidelma quietly.

‘I was just passing by when I heard a noise like someone calling for help. So I came in.’

Fidelma examined the tanist carefully. It was a plausible story for after all Rudgal had made considerable noise before they had gagged him.

‘It was Eadulf,’ she lied blandly. ‘He cried out in his sleep and I went to see if he were ill. Then we heard a noise below and thought someone had broken in …’

Eadulf nodded hurriedly, wondering what penance he would have to pay for the falsehood.

‘It is true. A nightmare,’ he added quickly.

Colla hesitated, then shrugged.

‘The door was wide open,’ he said. ‘I’ll shut it as I leave.’

He stared up at them for a moment and then turned and left the hostel, shutting the door behind him. Outside they heard him greet someone and there was a muttered conversation. Eadulf moved swiftly to the upper window and peered out into the courtyard and listened to the whispered conversation.

‘It is Laisre,’ he whispered to Fidelma. ‘He was apparently passing the hostel, saw Colla coming out and asked what was wrong. He and Colla have both left now.’

Fidelma heaved a deep sigh.

‘I do not think anything else will happen before dawn now,’ she observed with a tone of satisfaction. ‘I think our mystery comes finally near a solution.’

Fidelma rose from her bed long before the sky began to turn light and was waiting nervously in the main room of the guests’ hostel. She had checked Rudgal and found him still bound and actually sleeping, although his repose did not seem comfortable. Eadulf was also asleep, snoring softly. She listened carefully but could hear nothing stirring outside the hostel. She went to the window and peered anxiously up at the sky as it began to turn grey over the eastern peaks. With a sinking feeling she began to wonder if she had been premature in hazarding all for this dawn rendezvous with Ibor of Muirthemne. What if Cruinn had lied and there had really been no other route into Gleann Geis? Perhaps there was only the one ravine? What if Ibor and his men were not able to get into the valley? What if they had not been able to take over the fortress? What if …?

She paused and tried to still her rambling thoughts. What was it that her mentor, the Brehon Morann of Tara, had once said? ‘With an “if” you could put the five kingdoms of Éireann into a bottle and carry them with you.’

She forced herself to sip a beaker of mead and tackle some dry bread and cheese to fortify herself against what she knew would now be an ordeal that morning … one way or another.

There came a sound nearby and she sprung up nervously. The sound was merely a sleepy yawn and she realised that it was only Eadulf rising. A moment later he came lethargically down the stairs.

‘Have you heard anything yet?’ he whispered, becoming more alert when he saw that she was up and waiting. Fidelma shook her head. They listened together for a moment to the silence. It was broken only when a dog barked in the distance.

Then, shattering the early morning stillness, a cock began to crow nearby.

It seemed as if it were a signal for at that very moment the door of the hostel swung open. They swung round, filled with misgiving. Ibor of Muirthemne stood framed in the doorway, sword in hand, grinning.

‘The ráth is ours, Fidelma. I have rounded up the guards and placed them under the care of some of my warriors in their own dormitory. The gates are now closed and my men are guarding all points, including the council chamber.’

‘Was there any bloodshed?’ Fidelma demanded anxiously.

A grim smile met her question.

‘None that would be noticeable. A bruised skull here and there but nothing worse.’

‘Good. We shall proceed to rouse the people of the ráth and make them gather in the council chamber.’

Ibor hesitated.

‘There is one thing that you should know, Sister. We found the passageway, exactly as you told us we would. It was a rocky path leading up alongside the turbulent river which exits from this glen. Now and then, the path ran through a complex of caves before emerging into the valley. We were traversing this path, as you instructed. In one of the caves we found Artgal.’

She showed no emotion.

‘He was dead, I presume?’

‘He was dead,’ affirmed Ibor. ‘How did you know?’

‘In what manner had he met his death?’ she asked, ignoring his question.

‘That I cannot tell you. He was lying along the path. He carried a bag with him as if he were going on a long journey. There was no mark of any wound on him at all.’

Eadulf looked at Ibor in astonishment.

‘No wound?’ he demanded. ‘No wound and yet he was dead?’

‘Who can say how he died?’ Ibor shrugged. ‘What slays without leaving a wound? When I examined the body I saw a ghastly expression of fear contorting Artgal’s features. The lips were blue and twisted, showing teeth and gums. The eyes were bulging as if he had seen a phantom from hell. I have seen a few such deaths in my time and always among pagans. This is a death inflicted by a Druid. God protect us, Sister. I had to put the fear of my sword into some of my men in order to force them to continue into this accursed valley.’