Peter Tremayne - The Subtle Serpent

The echoing tones of the gong proclaiming the midnight hour reverberated clearly from the tower of the abbey. Fidelma, her woollen cloak trimmed with beaver fur wrapped tightly around her, moved silently through the white shrouded woods. The newly-laid snow crunched crisply under her feet and her breath hung like a mist before her as the cold air caught it. In spite of the hour, the night was made bright by a full, rounded moon, which had appeared between the clouds, and whose rays sparkled against the snowy carpet below.

She was sure that no one had seen her leave the guests’ hostel and make her way silently out of the abbey grounds into the surrounding woods. She had paused once or twice to look back but nothing seemed to be stirring in the deathly quiet of the night. She moved rapidly now, her breath coming in pants, the cold air causing her to make more exertion than normal.

She was reassured when she heard the soft whinny of horses ahead of her and, after a minute or two, she saw the animals with Ross and Odar holding their reins.

‘Excellently done, Ross!’ she greeted him breathlessly.

‘Is all well, sister?’ the sailor asked anxiously. ‘Did anyone see you leaving the abbey?’

She shook her head.

‘Let us move out straight away for I believe that we have much to do this night.’

Odar came forward and assisted her into the saddle of adark mare. Then Ross and Odar swung on to their mounts. Ross led the way for he apparently knew the direction to be taken. Fidelma came next with Odar bringing up the rear.

‘Where did you get the horses from?’ Fidelma asked approvingly, as they moved slowly along the forest track. She was a good judge of horses.

‘Odar traded for them.’

‘A small farmer not far from here. A man named Barr,’ Odar supplied gruffly. ‘His farm seems to be prospering since the last time I had business with him. He could not afford horses then. I have paid him for a night’s use of the animals.’

‘Barr?’ Fidelma frowned. ‘I seem to have heard that name before. No matter. Oh, yes,’ she suddenly recalled. ‘I know now. And has Barr found his missing daughter?’

Odar looked at her in puzzlement.

‘Daughter? Barr is not even married, let alone with children.’

Fidelma pursed her lips but made no reply.

She suddenly shivered in the cold, in spite of her cloak, as a chill wind began to whisper its way around the snow-covered skirts of the large mountains.

Ross pointed upwards.

‘Our path lies up across the mountain. There is a track that passes the peak and crosses to the far side of the peninsula. Then it drops down behind the settlement where they dig for copper.’

Odar added: ‘I have brought a container of cuirm in my saddle bag which will keep out the winter chill, sister. Would you like a sip?’

‘A good thought to bring it, Odar,’ Fidelma replied in appreciation. ‘But I think it would be best if you kept that for later, for we have yet to leave the shelter of this wood and climb across the icy shoulders of the mountains. It will get even colder later and that is when we will need it.’

‘There is much wisdom in what you say, sister,’ agreed Odar stolidly.

They rode on in silence now, heads bent as the wind slowly rose and blew fine dry snow against them. There were more snow clouds bunching up from the west but Fidelma was unsure whether to be thankful or dismayed. She was thankful that the clouds might obscure the bright moon which, reflecting on the snow, made the night almost as brilliant as daylight and made them visible for considerable distances against the white background. On the other hand she was dismayed that the heavy clouds were threatening more snow and promised to make their journey as uncomfortable and as perilous as possible.

It was after they had gone five miles that the wisdom of Fidelma’s advice to conserve the cuirm, or spirit which Odar had brought, became apparent. They were freezing in spite of their warm cloaks and she halted her horse in a small clearing. It was a rocky area by an entrance to some caves. She suggested that Odar allow each of them a sip of the cuirm to fortify them. Thus fortified, they rode on again. After another mile or so, they descended through a series of twisting tracks out of the mountains and through the more rounded hills towards the seashore. They could see the black, brooding sea, reflecting now and then by the moon’s rays as the snow clouds parted and allowed it to shine through.

Their horses became skittish and not far away wolves started to bay. Fidelma, looking up the mountain, caught sight of several dark shadows moving hurriedly across the white snow and she suppressed a shiver.

‘The queen of the night is bright,’ muttered Ross, apprehensively. ‘Perhaps she is too radiant.’

Fidelma, for a moment, wondered what he was referring to until she realised that sailors had a taboo about referring directly to the moon or to the sun. The moon was often referred to as the ‘queen of the night’ or, simply, ‘thebrightness’. The ancient language of Éireann gave many other names for the moon, all of them euphemisms so that the sacred name of the moon would never be spoken. It was an old pagan custom from the time the moon was thought of as a goddess of whom no mortal could evoke her power by uttering her name.

‘Hopefully the clouds will thicken before we reach the settlement,’ Fidelma replied.

The howling of the wolf pack gradually died away across the mountains.

After what seemed an eternity, Ross halted his horse and pointed down the hill. Fidelma could just see the tiny glow of fires.

‘Those are the buildings around the mines. It is an area of fields on a cliff top. Below is a strand and the harbour from where the Dóirse islanders told me the Gaulish ship sailed from.’

Fidelma peered forward. Of course, earlier it seemed so easy to simply say that they would ride across the peninsula to the mines and find out what happened to the crew of the merchant ship. Here, in the chilly moonlight, the plan’s flaws presented themselves to her. When Ross interrupted her thoughts with: ‘What will you do, sister?’ she could have rebuked him in her irritation.

‘Do you know how many people live down there?’

‘There are many mine workers and their families.’

‘Are they all prisoners, hostages and slaves?’

Ross shrugged.

‘I do not think so. But many are. If the Gauls are among them then they should be easy to find. Or, at least, their whereabouts will be known to most people.’

‘What about guards?’

‘I cannot really say. There were few warriors there when I last traded at the mines. But, after what the islanders have told me about the Ui Fidgenti warriors, there might be as many as fifty warriors or even more.

‘Do you know the layout of the settlement? Where would the most likely places be in which the prisoners could be kept?’

In answer, Ross swung off his horse and beckoned her to follow suit. He chose a clear patch of snow and took out his sword. With the tip of it, he made several depressions.

‘Those are the entrances to the mines, there,’ he jabbed with the sword point. ‘And here is the path which goes down into the settlement. Here and here, are the huts. There are many shacks where I think the workers live. Apart from that, I cannot help further.’

Fidelma stared at the depressions and sighed.

‘We will ride down a little further and you and Odar will wait with the horses while I go on into the village on foot.’ She held up a hand to stop Ross’s protests. ‘I may achieve much more on my own than the three of us. We would simply attract attention.’

‘But you don’t know what you will find down there,’ Ross protested. ‘The whole place might be an armed camp in which strangers are not welcomed.’