The Seventh Trumpet (18 page)

Gormán uttered a quiet oath. There was no need to ask why. Eadulf knew that
glais iarnaidhi
or iron locks were commonly used in households in the Five Kingdoms, but storehouses such as these usually had other means to secure them. Gormán led the way around the building, but there were no other doors or means of ingress. They returned to the main door and now Gormán went to the bank of the river and picked up a piece of smooth rock.

‘Keep a watch, especially on the far bank,’ he instructed Eadulf.

Eadulf did as he was asked. Behind him he heard three sharp blows of stone against metal, which he felt must surely be heard even up at the great fortress overlooking the township on the far side. Apart from the sounds of the music and merrymaking drifting down from the hilltop, however, there was silence, which indicated that they had not been heard. One more blow and Eadulf heard metal fall on the ground. Gormán gave a grunt of satisfaction and when Eadulf turned he was holding open one of the large doors.

‘Quick – inside!’ he hissed.

As Eadulf hurried in, Gormán pulled the door shut behind them. A faint light drifted into the storehouse through some of the loose boards of the walls. The overpowering smell was of dried hay and rotting vegetation. Eadulf was trying to peer into the gloom when sparks caught his eye; he caught his breath before he realised that Gormán was on his knees using his
tenlach-teined
, his tinderbox. It took him a while to light a handful of straw. They were in luck for there was a lantern on a shelf nearby, and once this was lit they could examine the interior of the storehouse more clearly. At first Eadulf experienced a feeling of intense disappointment and panic. The place seemed completely empty.

Then Gormán pointed to some sacking half-hidden under a pile of straw at the back of the shed. While he held the lantern aloft, Eadulf hurried over and pulled aside the straw and sacking. A body was lying under it. He could not help a surge of relief as it was immediately obvious that it was that of a young man.

It was not Fidelma but he still felt a moment of guilt. He peered closer and realised that neither was it the body of Torna, the poet. He glanced up to Gormán with a grim expression. ‘It must be the ferryman’s son, Enán. They have cut his throat.’

Gormán let out an oath. Then he pointed nearby. ‘Quickly, friend Eadulf; pull aside the straw there.’

Eadulf needed no further urging, and in a short while had uncovered another large piece of sacking. There was a body inside it. Eadulf took out his knife and hacked desperately at the thongs that held it together.

‘Fidelma!’

She was not stirring. There was a gag in her mouth, tied firmly so that she could not loosen it, had she been able. Ripping off the sackcloth, they saw she was bound hand and feet.

‘Dead?’ Gormán’s voice croaked with emotion.

‘God be praised, she is not!’ cried Eadulf, removing the gag and cutting the bounds. ‘Do we have water?’

‘I’ll get some from the river.’

He left Eadulf with the lantern while he hurried outside.

Eadulf bent over Fidelma’s unconscious figure and slapped her cheek a couple of times.

‘Wake up! Wake up! You are safe!’ he whispered urgently.

There was some movement on her face in response to the slap and then her eyes fluttered open for a second or two. Then she groaned and closed them again. Gormán returned with a broken piece of pottery that held a little water from the river. Eadulf took it and splashed it in Fidelma’s face. She blinked again and her eyes opened and focused on him for a moment. A brief smile began to form on her dry lips, and then she started coughing.

‘More water,’ ordered Eadulf. ‘Make it as fresh as possible.’

When Gormán returned, Eadulf poured a little down her throat, causing her to cough and retch.

‘We must get her out of here. We’ll take her back to the smith’s place. At least I can use my apothecary’s bag that I left there. If she has been bound like this since last night, it is a wonder she has survived at all. Maybe her captors thought she was already dead and that is why they abandoned her here.’ Eadulf glanced at the dead body of the ferryman’s son. ‘We’ll have to leave him. Help me move Fidelma to the boat.’

Gormán blew out the lantern and together they lifted Fidelma. She was moaning softly and drifting in and out of consciousness but could make no intelligent sound.

Between them, they carried her from the storehouse and back to the boat. Once placed in the stern, with Eadulf holding her, Gormán took the oars again. The current pushed the vessel to the south so that by the time they crossed the river they had landed on the southern outskirts of the township.

‘This is for the best,’ Gormán said as they disembarked. ‘We won’t have to carry her through the township. Gobán’s forge is easily reached across these fields.’

It was twilight now but they could see their way clearly.

‘Let’s hope no one has released their dogs in this area for night guard,’ Eadulf observed nervously.

‘It’s too early,’ Gormán assured him.

They carried Fidelma across the fields that ran at the back of the outlying buildings of the township and, by Gormán’s unerring sense of direction, they arrived at the rear of Gobán’s forge. A lantern had been lit in the forge and the smith was still at work. He glanced up startled as they entered, and then saw their burden.

‘The Lady Fidelma,’ he gasped as he recognised her. ‘What has happened?’

‘We managed to find her, but now we need a place where she can be nursed,’ Eadulf panted.

‘Follow me,’ replied the smith, catching the urgency in his voice. ‘My cabin is behind the forge. You can bring her there. Have no fear – I live alone. My poor wife died last year.’

They carried Fidelma through the forge and across a small yard area into the stone cabin beyond. There was a bed in a curtained-off area inside the cabin and it was to this that the smith conducted them.

‘First we need some stimulant,’ Eadulf said.

‘I have some strong
corma
,’ offered Gobán.

Eadulf asked the man to fetch it. As he poured a little down Fidelma’s throat, she began to cough and tried to push it away.

‘Being gagged for so long has probably made her throat very sore,’ Eadulf fretted. ‘Where is my bag?’

Gobán pointed to a corner of the cabin. ‘I turned your horses loose in the pasture beyond, but brought your bags inside where they would be safe from prying eyes.’

Eadulf rose and picked up the
lés
, the small medical bag which he always carried, and peered through its contents, sighing in exasperation.

‘What is it?’ asked Gormán.

‘I was looking for something to help ease the soreness of her throat and act as a tonic.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’ asked the smith.

‘Not unless you have some wild angelica,’ replied Eadulf, automatically naming the flower in his own language.

Gobán stared blankly at him.

Eadulf thought for a moment: ‘
Gallfheabhrán
.’ He dredged the name from his memory.

‘Ah, but there is some that grows not far from here by the grass on the riverbank. I will go and get some. Is that all?’

‘That will be fine.’

As he left, Eadulf went to Fidelma’s side and gave her another sip of
corma
. Again she struggled and coughed, but this time opened her eyes and seemed to become aware of her surroundings. There was a moment of panic and then she saw Eadulf. She tried to speak but could not manage more than a rasping sound.

‘It’s all right,’ Eadulf smiled soothingly. ‘You are safe. You are with me and Gormán here.’

She blinked her eyes in acknowledgement and gave a weak smile. Then she tried to speak again.

‘Plenty of time to speak when you are feeling better,’ admonished Eadulf. ‘Just be assured that you are safe for the moment. You are in the house of a friend in Durlus Éile. Safe with Gormán and myself.’

This time she managed a nod.

‘As soon as our friend comes back with a particular plant, I shall mix a potion for you that will do you good. After that, you must rest.’

A moment or so later, Gobán appeared with a bunch of the wild angelica. Gormán, at Eadulf’s instruction, had already started to boil water over the fire that heated the cabin. Eadulf removed the leaves of the plant and then chopped the stem and put both together in the hot water to make the infusion. Gobán offered some honey as he also kept bees, and so Eadulf added it to the mixture before allowing it to rest and cool. Then he washed and cleaned the roots of the plant.

‘You can chew these, they can be very refreshing,’ he explained to his companions when he put them in a small pile.

When the tonic was cool enough, he took it to Fidelma’s side and supported her head and shoulders while she sipped a sufficient quantity to satisfy him. Then he told her to rest.

While he had been doing this, Gobán had prepared a meal for them of cold meats, bread and cheese, washed down with some ale which, he boasted, he had brewed himself. They ate the meal seated in front of the fire. It was devoured mainly in silence except for once, when Gobán glanced at the recumbent form of Fidelma on the bed and asked Eadulf: ‘Will she be all right?’

‘I have every hope that she will,’ Eadulf replied fervently. ‘She has had quite a shock. She nearly suffocated with a gag stuffed into her mouth and confined in a sack. But I have found no external injuries apart from where the bonds cut into her wrists and ankles. So once we have her breathing normally, that will be good. She needs only to know that she is safe and without restriction. She should be well in a little while.’

Gobán arose after the meal and told them that he must close the forge while they could make themselves as comfortable as possible for the night. After he left, Eadulf said quietly, ‘Do you think we shall be safe here?’

‘Gobán did say that Fidelma had saved some relative of his and he wanted to be of service,’ Gormán reminded him.

‘I was not thinking of Gobán specifically. But someone will eventually see the broken lock on the storehouse and find the body of the ferryman’s son inside. If they are just people who noticed the storehouse is opened, they will raise the alarm. If they are the abductors, who might return to dispose of the bodies, then they will start looking for Fidelma. We should have found out who owns those barns. That leper we met will sell his soul for a handful of food. He could tell anyone we were interested in the barns.’

‘All is possible,’ admitted Gormán. ‘But I cannot think that we will find a better shelter than this for the time being.’

‘You are doubtless right,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I am a little nervous, but we have priorities to attend to. Fidelma’s recovery must come first.’

After a little while, they heard Gobán returning.

‘How is she?’ he asked, gazing at Fidelma.

‘You are very anxious about her,’ observed Eadulf.

‘I have already told you that I am in her debt, for she defended my sister when she was unjustly charged.’

‘When was that?’

‘It was many years ago.’

‘Tell me about it,’ invited Eadulf.

‘My sister was trained in the healing arts, like you have been, and was a member of the community in Cill Dara. Sister Fidelma was then a member of that community as well. There were some deaths from the administration of hemlock, and suspicion turned on my sister, Poitigéir, because she knew the properties of poisons. But Fidelma used her skill to identify the real culprit and thus exonerated my sister. For that I owe Fidelma much. That is why I helped you today and why I am anxious for her health.’

Eadulf felt embarrassed at questioning the sincerity of the man. ‘I apologise for questioning you, my friend. I should have taken your word in the first place. But there are many mysteries here and we are not sure in whom we can put our trust.’

‘I have said that I owe a debt to Fidelma and will be loyal to you so long as I am not asked to be disloyal to my own people.’

‘We trust that you will never be confronted by that choice. Tell us, do you know who owns the three barns on the far side of the river opposite the township quays?’ Gormán asked.

‘Of course,’ Gobán replied at once. ‘This is not so big a place that we do not know who owns what.’

‘So who do they belong to?’

‘Why, to the Lady Gelgéis.’

Eadulf glanced at Gormán, who seemed about to say something but then closed his mouth. However, Gobán saw the gesture and his eyes narrowed.

‘Why do you ask about those barns?’

Eadulf decided there was nothing to lose by being honest.

‘Because that is where we found the Lady Fidelma, tied up and gagged. Had we not found her and rescued her, she would surely have died.’ Ignoring the shocked look on the face of the smith, Eadulf went on: ‘There is still a dead body in the storehouse from which we released Fidelma. It is the body of Enán, the son of a ferryman, who was persuaded to act in place of one of the injured oarsmen in the abductor’s boat. I suspect he was killed simply to prevent him identifying the abductors.’

‘Perhaps a choice has come to confront you sooner than we thought,’ observed Gormán dryly.

‘The sheds have not been used during the last summer,’ Gobán said, ignoring the implication. ‘If the Lady Fidelma was abducted by these people, why was she left there for dead? Would that not be the opposite of what abduction is meant to achieve?’

‘There are many mysteries that must be resolved,’ Eadulf replied. ‘Have you ever heard of a young poet called Torna?’

‘The only Torna I know of was the famous Torna Eigeas who was bard to Niall of the Nine Hostages. He lived centuries ago.’

‘This young man said he was also a bard.’

Gobán shook his head. ‘I know of no other bard by that name.’

‘Our Torna was certainly alive yesterday. He might even have been the intended victim of the abduction all along; maybe the Lady Fidelma tried to interfere and was taken, along with the victim.’

‘I do not understand.’

Eadulf grinned sadly. ‘We have little understanding ourselves. Tell us: what does this Lady Gelgéis use the storehouses for?’

‘As I have said, they are mainly disused now. It is only when there is an excess of tribute coming in from the outlying clans who acknowledge her authority,’ replied the smith. ‘And when there has been a particularly good harvest.’