Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

‘Abbot Segdae never approved of the Penitentials being adopted at Imleach,’ Fidelma commented. ‘It is difficult to believe Brother Tuaman when he said that our friend was considering making concessions on their use.’

‘Abbot Segdae was a wise man … I do not believe in the adoption of the Penitentials.’

‘Nannid argues that they should replace the Law of the Brehons.’

‘It was the very reason why Abbot Segdae agreed to lead this delegation to meet with Nannid. Indeed, it was why Segdae chose me to accompany him as adviser, for I have studied these Penitentials.’

‘I presume that you have heard how Nannid enforced his rules on the community here?’

Prior Cuan grimaced. ‘Nannid is fond of rank and authority. He is a vainglorious man and I am sure he would do anything for power. If he was sent into the wilderness for forty days and nights, within the first few minutes he would accept a deal with Lucifer and settle not even for all the kingdoms of the world but for a small part of a bogland.’

Fidelma answered him with a wan smile as she bade him good night. Then, ensuring that he had entered the guest-hostel where the delegation from Imleach was staying, she moved on towards her real objective. A bell was sounding from the Abbey of Nechta. It was time to play her part in the plan to rescue Gorman. She hoped that she would succeed. The guards were gathered at the main gates standing under the brand torches. There were sounds of music from the laochtech , the warriors’ quarters, where they were noisily entertaining themselves.

She passed the stone building in which Gorman had been incarcerated. It was entirely in darkness now that there were no other prisoners housed there. Fidelma paused and took a careful look around her, listening as well as examining the shadows with her sharp eyes. Satisfied, she moved swiftly to the tall wooden gates through which Gorman and Aibell had fled some days before. Now it was not to supply a means of exit that Fidelma had come there but the reverse – to ensure a means of entrance. The iron key was hanging on the wall to one side of the gate and Fidelma took this and eased it into the lock and turned it. Then she found the two bolts and drew them. To her relief, frequent use had made them draw easily and without a sound. She stood up and leaned against the wall for a few moments, breathing a little quickly after her exertions. She took the iron ring handle and pulled it towards her. The gate swung open a little. Then she pushed it back.

She had done her part now. All she could do was pray that no one came by and noticed that the bolts were not thrust home and that the gate was unlocked. She paused to replace the key on its hook before hurrying back across the courtyard towards the main buildings.

What she did not see, after she had left, were the two shadows emerging from the stables and coming to stand before the gate.

‘Interesting,’ Conri, warlord of the Ui Fidgente, remarked softly to his companion Ceit, the commander of the guard.

‘Interesting, indeed,’ nodded his comrade. ‘I presume that the lady has accepted the hint you gave her?’

‘I hope she has.’ Conri was thoughtful. ‘I can’t imagine how she will achieve it, but we’ll keep a watch on this gate tonight. I imagine that come dawn tomorrow we will be faced with more than a little excitement.’

The soft tolling of a bell came clearly through the night air. It sounded distinctly three times.

Etromma sprang to her feet with surprising agility for one of her age. ‘That’s the bell to mark the extinguishing of all lights in the community. It is time to prepare yourselves, lads.’

Enda rose with a studied languor, attempting to show how calm he was. ‘We are prepared enough,’ he said, easing his sword in its scabbard and checking the knife which hung in its leather sheath on his left side. He gazed at Eadulf critically. ‘I wish you had armed yourself with something more powerful than a blackthorn stick, friend Eadulf.’

He was referring to the weapon that Eadulf now clutched determinedly. It was a thick stick with a knob at one end, and it had been well tempered in the smoke of a fire until the stick was almost blackened. It had apparently belonged to Etromma’s dead husband. She had handed it to Eadulf to use when it became obvious that he was no swordsman and, indeed, was unsure of his resolve to kill a fellow human with sharp steel. As a member of the religious he had often tussled with the idea of turning the other check, rather than resorting to violence to prevent further injury or death at the hands of an aggressor. However, he had seen enough death recently to know that the men of Sliabh Luachra would have no compunction about using violence on him.

‘It’s my late husband’s maglorg ,’ Etromma had explained. ‘In his day, fighting with the sticks was a way of settling an argument of honour if you didn’t feel like calling a Brehon and pleading your case. You would challenge the person who did you wrong and the better man at plying the stick would win.’

Eadulf had stared at the stout stick with wide eyes. ‘Were many people killed then?’

The elderly woman had chuckled. ‘Bless you, Brother Eadulf, none at all. The purpose of the stick-fighting was to get the other to submit – not to kill them. But you could give them a sore head with a tap of this.’ She pointed to the knob end of the stick.

Enda looked serious. ‘In this instance, friend Eadulf, I think you should be aware that our opponents will not settle for just a tap on the head.’

As the chimes faded, Etromma went to the door and peered out.

‘There is darkness across the township,’ she reported, closing the door. ‘Bide here a short while and then go – and may God go with you.’

Eadulf found himself wondering whether God would approve of such a mission to secure Gorman’s release. He grinned at the thought – and then straightened his features as he realised that Enda was looking at him with some concern.

‘Don’t worry, Enda,’ he said. ‘I’ll not let you down.’

‘I am not worried that you would,’ the young man replied. ‘But this is a job for a warrior.’

‘I think you should go now,’ Etromma advised. ‘Eladach will be waiting for you.’

Enda led the way into the darkness. Outside the door of the elderly woman’s homestead, they paused to allow their eyes to adjust to the night. Then the young warrior set off without hesitation, Eadulf close on his heels. Enda appeared to have a good grasp of the route through the now darkened cabins and homesteads. Hardly any time passed before they reached the wooden wall that encompassed the so-called Abbey of Nechta and eased their way along it. Enda spotted the wooden gate easily.

He paused, ensured Eadulf was with him and then tapped softly, once only. The gate immediately swung inwards and they passed inside.

The shadow that greeted them did so in Brother Eladach’s reassuring tone.

‘Follow me closely. There are no lamps now that the community has retired to bed. However, you’ll see a faint glow further along this path. That is by the central square of the community. There is a lamp burning outside the hut where Gorman is incarcerated.’

Enda allowed a faint hissing breath to escape him. ‘But that means that we have no element of surprise emerging from the darkness,’ he whispered. ‘The guards will see us approaching. If we have to make a frontal attack, friend Eadulf, both men must be rendered unconscious or eliminated.’

‘I understand the problem,’ Eadulf whispered back. ‘Even if we could silence one guard, the other will raise the alarm. They must both be dealt with at once.’

‘Let us hope that fortune will be with us, my friends,’ muttered Brother Eladach.