The Seventh Trumpet (15 page)

At any other time Eadulf would have been interested, but now he was only concerned as to whether the hill hid any dangers for them.

‘Is it worth checking this farmstead?’ he asked.

‘Not if we are following a boat. We should keep to the river.’

They pressed on again in silence. They could see no boats on the water. The countryside too seemed deserted. There were no farmworkers in the bare fields because all were now stripped of crops. The harvest was over. Nor did there seem any sign of herdsmen or boys attending to the cattle or sheep that they occasionally caught sight of in the distance. It was a clear day with only a few wispy clouds very high in the bright blue canopy over them. The sun was reflected in a milliard of winking bright sparks over the surface of the river.

‘We are coming up to the point where the river bends towards the east soon,’ Gormán broke the silence. ‘There is a ferry there, and if, as you say, the abductors have passed along that route, then we might get information from the ferryman.’

‘Perhaps we should be careful?’ suggested Eadulf. ‘If the abductors came by boat, then the ferryman might be involved.’

Gormán shook his head. ‘It is only a small ferry-crossing and it has been there since I have known it. As I recall, the ferry is run by a man and his wife, and they have a son who helps them.’

Eadulf knew that ferryboats were common on the rivers throughout the Five Kingdoms. Each ferryboat and owner were subject to strict laws and regulations on ownership and management. Sometimes the ferries were owned by individuals; at other times they were owned in common by the people who lived in the settlements along the banks of the river. Churches and religious communities also had the right to own their own ferry, but on condition that people wishing to cross the river were allowed free right of passage.

The ferryman’s house was soon revealed as a log cabin almost hidden among the trees that grew close to the riverbank. They could see, as they approached, that the
ether
, or ferryboat, was only a small one that could be pulled by two oarsmen and seat four passengers. It was tied to a small wooden jetty which was a short distance away from the cabin. There were no other dwellings in the vicinity. Obviously the sound of their approach had been heard inside the cabin, for the door opened and a short, muscular man with greying hair came out.

‘I cannot take horses to the other side,’ he told them, gazing at their mounts.

‘We do not come seeking the use of your ferry,’ replied Gormán. ‘A beaker of
lind
and the answer to a few questions would serve our wants.’

The ferryman pursed his lips in disapproval.

‘The ferry is the means of support for my wife and my son, who helps row people across; otherwise you would be welcome to my hospitality.’

‘Then you shall be rewarded for your hospitality and your time,’ Gormán declared, swinging off his horse and leading it to a wooden hitching-post by the hut. ‘Do you not recognise me, Echna?’

The ferryman stared at him, suddenly noticing the golden torque. ‘Why, it is Gormán of the Nasc Niadh.’ The man seemed well-informed and quick-witted, for he turned to Eadulf and said, ‘Then you must be the Saxon named Eadulf, husband to the Lady Fidelma, the sister of our King?’

Eadulf felt the time was not right to be pedantic and point out that he was an Angle, not a Saxon. He simply acknowledged the fact.

The ferryman was already calling into the cabin for his wife to bring a jug of
lind
and beakers. He indicated a wooden bench overlooking the jetty by the river.

‘Be seated, Gormán. Brother Eadulf, also. My name is Echna and I run the ferry here,’ he added for Eadulf’s sake.

‘Is this a busy crossing?’ asked Eadulf as he seated himself.

At once Echna shook his head. ‘Were it not for my fields and livestock, we would be starving. We are some way from any settlement. The main track to Durlus Éile passes further to the east of here. Of course, there used to be a chapel, tavern and ferry just to the south of us, but they were destroyed less than a week ago.’

‘What happened?’ asked Gormán. There was no doubt the ferryman meant the place where they had camped for the night and confirmed their estimate of the time it had been burned.

‘A strange raid from the west of the river,’ continued Echna. ‘We were told that a dozen bandits crossed the river, attacked the chapel and set fire to it. The tavern which stood near it, also caught alight.’

Eadulf asked: ‘Was anyone killed?’

‘The chapel was only attended by a visiting priest and he was not there at the time. Unfortunately, the tavern-keeper, who also ran the ferry, was killed and his family have fled to the Abbey of Ros Cré in the land of the Éile. Now the place is derelict; just a pile of ashes.’

‘What was the purpose of the raid?’

‘Do bandits and thieves need a purpose?’ Echna asked, then added cynically, ‘The destruction of that ferry has not helped us by way of business, because merchants now make for safer crossings further north. There are bridges there as well as ferries.’

A homely-looking woman came from the cabin with a pitcher of
lind
and beakers to drink the ale from. With a quick smile she placed the tray within reach of her husband and disappeared back to the cabin.

‘It’s not often that travellers come to this nook of the river unless they wish to use my ferry. Are you on your way to Cashel?’

‘To Durlus,’ replied Eadulf.

‘I see – in which case you have taken a long route,’ the ferryman pointed out. ‘But surely you know that, Gormán.’

The warrior smiled thinly. ‘We were interested in following the course of the river. Is there much traffic along it these days?’

Echna gave a dry laugh. ‘It is still a main trade route into Durlus Éile. North beyond Durlus it is scarcely navigable for traders.’

‘There do not seem to be many boats on the water today,’ Eadulf observed. They had seen no river traffic since leaving the spot where they had camped.

‘Today?’ The man shook his head. ‘Today there is a feast in Durlus to celebrate the end of a good harvest, and many of the farmers and merchants will be attending. That is why you will not see much traffic along the river.’

‘I suppose that you know the river well?’

‘I know the Suir like the back of my hand, Brother Eadulf. I know the sound of her waters, the way the current gushes over the stones on her bed; I can tell when she is running in flood or when the water is drying upstream. Indeed, I know her very well.’

‘You keep account of the vessels moving up and down?’

The question surprised the ferryman. ‘I take note of them, as most river men are my friends,’ he explained. ‘Often some of the traders will call in at our jetty to rest or take refreshment as they journey downriver.’

‘I was wondering if you had heard any vessels passing at night?’

There was a momentary flicker of suspicion in the man’s eyes. ‘Surely you know that trade vessels do not pass along the river at night,’ he said. ‘They keep to safe anchorage.’

‘In normal circumstances,’ Eadulf agreed with a grim smile. ‘But do you know of such boats passing at night?’

The ferryman glanced from Eadulf to Gormán, but before he could answer, a sharp voice cut in: ‘There was no vessel passing last night!’

They turned at the sound of a new voice. It was the ferryman’s wife who was no longer smiling, but who now stood before them in an aggressive manner. Her hands were placed on her hips and her jaw was thrust out. ‘No vessel passed here last night!’ she repeated angrily. ‘Is that understood, my lords?’

CHAPTER NINE

‘I
did not specify
last
night,’ Eadulf said coolly. ‘I can now assume that there was, indeed, a boat that passed upriver last night.’

The woman’s eyes widened as she realised her mistake. Her husband, Echna, rose and went to her, laying his hand on her arm.

‘These are the King’s men; we must tell them the truth.’

‘Even if we come to harm?’ the woman said with a wail. ‘Even if our boy comes to harm?’

Gormán spoke firmly. ‘You will come to no harm from us, nor from any who is in the service of Colgú of Cashel. Say what you know to be the truth and the truth will protect you.’

Echna turned back to them. ‘Are the people you seek, those in this boat, your enemies?’

‘They are,’ replied Eadulf. ‘Now – what did you mean when you said that you or your boy might come to harm?’

Echna patted his wife’s arm again and told her to return to the cabin. Then he came and sat down with them, pouring himself a large drink from the pitcher of
lind
.

‘Last night we were all asleep; that is, myself, my wife and my son, Enán. It was well before first light. As you know, it is the duty of the ferryman to keep a lantern burning during the hours of darkness, so that travellers who are late on the river might find the place. The lantern was burning low when I awoke.’

‘Why did you awake?’

‘I heard a noise, the oars scraping in the rowlocks, and a moment later came the sound of a boat knocking gently against the wooden jetty here.’ He paused to lick his lips which had gone dry, and take another swallow of the ale. ‘As I rose, my wife also awoke. I went to the door. As I say, the lantern outside was burning low and, at first, I thought I would be in trouble for not maintaining its brightness. Everywhere was in shadows but I saw a man standing on the jetty. He turned towards me. Alas, I could not see what sort of man he was. Behind him, I saw the dim outline of a boat.’

‘Did you see what type of boat it was or how many were on board?’ asked Gormán.

‘That sort of craft usually takes four rowers but I had the impression there were others in the boat besides the oarsmen. One of the rowers was leaning forward over his oar and moaning softly. I said: “Do you need help?” The man on the jetty asked me if I was the ferryman. When I confirmed it, he said: “Then you must come with us. We need your skill with the oar. Our companion has had a misfortune and cannot row.” I think that he added that I would be well compensated.

‘I asked how far they expected to get upriver in the darkness. I said it would be better for them to wait until daybreak. The man, who seemed to lead those in the boat, said it was not far and it would soon be light in any case. He mentioned that they must reach the area of poor land, which we call Cabragh, on the banks of the Suir. That’s to the north of here.’

‘So you went on board to row?’ The hope that rose in Eadulf was quickly dashed.

‘As we were speaking,’ went on Echna, ‘my son, Enán, who had been disturbed, came behind me and heard the last part of the conversation. He said to me: “Your place is with my mother. I will row their craft. Cabragh is only a short distance.”’

‘Then why is your wife so fearful?’ Gormán demanded. ‘Has he not returned?’

‘The man said that we must tell no one about the boat, neither of its passing nor its passengers. If we did as he bade us, then all would be well. The implication if we did not was that we would suffer.’

‘He threatened you?’

‘I took it as a threat.’

‘But your son went with them?’

‘There was no option. They were armed, from what I saw. And that is why my wife fears telling you about it.’

Eadulf looked kindly at the boatman. ‘We will not reveal that we have heard anything of this matter from you. However, these people have abducted the sister of the King. That is why we pursue them.’

A shocked expression came over the features of the ferryman.

‘Then G-God grant you success,’ he stammered. ‘You should have told me at once. If Fidelma of Cashel was a prisoner in that boat, and I allowed my son to aid the abductors, then there is great shame on me.’

‘You did not know and, if so, what could you have done?’ replied Eadulf. ‘Can you tell us any more about the man to whom you spoke? Was there anything about him that might distinguish him? Was he round or tall? What manner of man was he?’

Echna reflected for a moment. ‘He stood with his back to the lantern which, as I have said, was showing only a poor light as the oil was low. He was in the shadows, so I could scarcely tell what his manner of dress was.’

‘Then what manner of speech did he use?’ Gormán interposed. ‘Was it local or could you place where he came from?’

The question would never have occurred to Eadulf for, as a stranger, he could barely make out differences between the accents of the Five Kingdoms. He gave an appreciative nod at Gormán.

‘He was definitely a man from the south-east,’ the ferryman replied immediately. ‘I would say he spoke like a man of Osraige.’

Eadulf exchanged a meaningful glance with Gormán.

‘This river is navigable into Osraige, isn’t it?’

‘The Osraige claim their land starts on the east bank of the Suir, where it runs through Durlus Éile. But the Éile claim they dwell on both banks at that point. The border agreed by the Brehons years ago was that both banks were the land of the Éile. Nonetheless, the territory of Osraige is very close to the river.’

Eadulf suddenly found himself thinking of their original quarry, Biasta. Perhaps the matter of abduction was a coincidence – but what if it was not?