Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

‘That is due to his own ability and perseverance,’ Eadulf replied, setting aside the ancient law text. ‘Now, what was it that your brother wished to see you about? Did the messenger bring him some important news, as we thought? You said he bore the banner of the Ui Fidgente prince, and we both know that nothing good ever comes out of that people.’

‘Come, walk with me and I will tell you.’

She had noticed a few people in the library regarding them with irritation at their conversation destroying the quiet. Outside, she led the way back towards their chambers and, by the time they reached them, she had told Eadulf the dreadful news of Segdae’s murder.

Eadulf was shocked by the death of the old abbot. Although Eadulf was an Angle and wore the tonsure of Rome’s St Peter rather than the Irish tonsure of St John, Segdae had always been a good friend and adviser to him. Indeed, it was Segdae who had blessed the wedding of Eadulf and Fidelma.

After Eadulf had digested this news, Fidelma went on to tell him of her brother’s request. Eadulf was not the best of horsemen and he preferred to avoid long journeys by horseback if possible. Therefore, his expression was momentarily forlorn as he contemplated the journey across the mountains; then he simply said: ‘When do we leave?’

‘As soon as I have had a word with Muirgen,’ she replied. Muirgen was nurse to their son. ‘I need to make arrangements for Alchu to be looked after while we are away.’

‘At least we shouldn’t be gone more than a few days,’ Eadulf reflected. ‘I must admit, since we were last in Dun Eochair Mhair and nearly met our untimely ends there, I did not think we would be returning quite so quickly.’

‘This time we will be there at the invitation of the Ui Fidgente prince, so I doubt we shall be met with quite the same hostile reception,’ Fidelma mused. ‘But I agree with you that I do not feel at ease in that country either.’

‘You say that only Enda will come as escort?’

‘Colgu does not want to upset Prince Donennach by implying that we do not trust him.’

Eadulf said wryly, ‘But we don’t trust him, so why hide the fact?’

‘Hiding one’s real feelings is called diplomacy,’ admonished Fidelma. ‘Anyway, not all the Ui Fidgente are bad. Look at Conri, the Ui Fidgente warlord.’ They had shared several adventures with the tall warrior, who had become a friend. ‘Come, Eadulf. Let us say our farewells to little Alchu and then join Enda who, I am told, is even now preparing our horses for the journey.’

The sun was nearly at its zenith on the day after they had left Cashel when Fidelma halted her grey-white pony, named Aonbharr after the magical horse of the Ocean God, Mannanan Mac Lir. Turning to her two companions with a satisfied smile, she announced, ‘It’s not far now. If I remember this track well, the fortress of the Prince of the Ui Fidgente is beyond those hills across the valley. We’ll soon be there.’

The midday sun was warm. Glancing around at the scenery, Eadulf said: ‘Perhaps there is a stream where we could stop awhile and take the opportunity of the etsruth ?’ The etsruth , sometimes called the middle meal, was the light snack taken when the sun was highest in the heavens.

Head to one side, Fidelma considered the suggestion. ‘You are right. We don’t want to arrive at the prince’s fortress in a state of hunger and agitation. There must be a stream or spring down in the valley here. We’ll stop the moment we find one.’

The day was not unduly hot for the time of year but the sky was blue with only a few fleece-like clouds scudding high above, and it was warm enough to wish for cooling water. They had been passing along the high track across the hills, which was intermittently encroached upon by trees and shrubs. Blackthorns formed a boundary to this stretch, while beyond were the straggling shapes of native pine, with areas of alder and hazel, giving way to glimpses of gorse and bracken. Beyond that were some cultivated areas of barley, the crop somewhat yellow and shrivelled after a cold, rainy spring. They saw areas where a lone farmer was cutting grass and trefoil ready to dry and stack as fodder, and once they encountered a couple of men sawing down a tree. Greetings were exchanged but the trio had not stopped in their westward progress.

As the trees began to thin out into more open countryside, Fidelma recognised the shape of the distant hills and knew they were approaching the southern territory of the Ui Fidgente. Across the valley and beyond the next hill and they would be in sight of the River Maigh and the bend on the river where rose Dun Eochair Mhaigh, the fortress of the Prince of the Ui Fidgente.

Sounds from the nearby grasslands – the loud grating ‘kerrx, kerrx’ cry of the traonach or corncrake, startled Fidelma. She turned to watch it rise into the sky, red-brown, with its weak, floppy flight and dangling legs. Its cry reminded her of two rough sticks rubbing together. As her eyes followed the ungainly flight of the bird, they dropped to what she thought at first was an odd cluster of dark clouds around the top of a hill. She soon realised it was smoke.

Eadulf had spotted it as well. ‘A farmer must have lit a bonfire atop that hill. It’s an odd time to burn crops.’ Then it occurred to him that no farmer would burn crops on a hilltop.

Enda chuckled. ‘ Breo telchae ,’ he grunted.

Eadulf had not heard the term before and asked what it meant.

‘It’s a signal fire on a hill. But what it signals and to whom, I do not know.’

‘The smoke seems to rise in regular little puffs,’ Eadulf observed.

‘Lady!’ Enda’s cry was a low warning. The young warrior moved forward slightly, his hand falling to his sword hilt as his eyes narrowed to focus down into the valley before them. ‘A rider is coming this way at a gallop. He must have been hidden by those rocks below us.’

Fidelma and Eadulf peered down the long, low slope into the valley.

‘It doesn’t look like a warrior,’ Eadulf said, screwing up his eyes.

‘The rider is coming from the direction of Dun Eochair Mhaige,’ said Enda. ‘Whoever it is, they are in a great hurry.’

‘And certainly punishing that poor horse.’ Fidelma disapproved. As a good horsewoman herself, she knew that forcing a horse to a gallop up a steep hill for no apparent reason was good for neither man nor beast. Why was the rider in such a desperate rush anyway? There were no signs of pursuit; no cause for him to punish the beast to such an extent.

They decided to halt and wait for the rider to come to them. They soon realised that it was a woman – no, more a young girl – crouching low over the neck of the beast.

‘That girl seems familiar!’ Eadulf exclaimed as the figure drew nearer.

‘It’s the friend of Aibell whom we met at Dun Eochair Mhaigh,’ confirmed Fidelma in surprise. ‘What was her name?’

The girl was almost on top of them when she drew rein on her horse. It came to a halt, rearing back on its hind legs, lashing out with its forelegs before dropping back to the path on all fours, snorting and blowing from its exertions. The rider was little more than twenty years of age and her bare head was a mass of black hair; her skin fair and with pretty features which now seemed to be moulded into an expression of relief. Yet along with that relief was still something tense about her expression.

‘God be thanked, lady!’ she cried, moving her horse closer to Fidelma. ‘One of the Ui Fidgente guards told me that the signal fire meant riders from the east were approaching. I was hoping it might be you. I wanted to intercept you before you reached the fortress.’

Fidelma glanced in astonishment at Eadulf before she replied, ‘Why would you think it was me on this road – and why would you want to meet me before I arrived at the fortress?’