The Seventh Trumpet (23 page)

Fidelma sighed deeply. ‘It was, more or less, what we have learned here. Were you able to pick up any information about Dego and his attempts to find the raiders we hear so much of?’

‘Dego and his warriors had already left Abbot Ségdae at Imleach. There was no news of him but, as I say, there is much gossip abroad about these bandits. Some even tell stories of riders coming through their villages bearing a religious banner carried by a woman.’

Fidelma sucked in her breath sharply. She turned to Eadulf.

‘The Whore of Babylon,’ she rapped out. ‘Do you recall her description from the old Scriptures?’

‘I think I recall the passage,’ he said. ‘It is mentioned in the Book of Revelation. She is described as a woman arrayed in purple with a scarlet cloak decked with …’ His voice trailed off.

‘With gold and precious gems,’ finished Gormán. ‘That is exactly how the merchant described the woman leading the raiders.’

As Enda was looking puzzled, Gormán quickly explained.

‘What can it mean?’ wondered Eadulf.

Fidelma thought for a moment and then shrugged. ‘It is Dego’s task to discover the meaning. We have more than enough tasks to concentrate on.’

‘So what is our next move, lady?’ asked Gormán.

‘We follow the same plan as we were about to embark on when Enda joined us. We try to trace Torna and his captors.’

‘Torna?’ Enda echoed.

‘I’ll tell you about him as we go,’ Gormán said. ‘We have half a day of daylight left. We should start out soon, otherwise we shall lose a day.’

‘If the man who observed the boat yesterday was correct, how are we to follow it?’ asked Eadulf. ‘They were seen on the far side of the river and going east along some tributary.’

‘It’s easy enough,’ Gormán assured him. ‘We ride back south across the bridge then ride east over rough ground, eventually reaching the tributary called the River Drise – that was where the boat was spotted. We can then proceed eastwards along it. We should be able to find out if they have left the river at any point.’

‘Very well.’ Fidelma was decisive. ‘Gormán, you and Enda get our horses saddled and ready.’

After the warriors left, Fidelma turned to Eadulf. He was looking thoughtful and she knew what was passing through his mind.

‘This is turning out to be more complicated than I expected, Eadulf. I must admit that I do not see any purpose to these seemingly unrelated matters – as yet. My instinct is that they are all connected.’

‘Would it help to run through the situation?’

‘Very well. We find a body near my brother’s palace. It seems to be that of an envoy from the Uí Máil Kings of Laigin. His killer has apparently ridden eastward in the direction of the Black Heath: there we lost his tracks. We start our search for clues, and are led to the chapel of Brother Ailgesach. He has had two visitors staying on the night of the murder, a man and a woman. The woman is said to be of noble appearance. They ride off early that morning.

‘We find Brother Ailgesach in a drunken stupor in the local tavern when we arrive. Then someone who claims to be his cousin Biasta arrives. He kills Brother Ailgesach and escapes northward. We try to follow and fall in with a poet named Torna. Abductors arriving from the river attack us. I am mistaken for the poet’s companion and am left for dead when the error is discovered. An innocent young boatman is killed. You are told that a religieux was waiting for them. Was it Brother Biasta? I now realise that it could not be, since I would have recognised his harsh whisper when I heard a voice tell the abductors that I was not the right woman. I am rescued by you, but Torna is taken into the Land of the Osraige. To get to Laigin from here you need to cross Osraige. Is there some connection with the killing of an envoy from Laigin? Have I missed anything?’

Eadulf grimaced. ‘Yes – what about the message that was found in Ailgesach’s cabin from an unknown person, saying that they would come to him there with evidence of some conspiracy? I am certain that Gelgéis recognised the name, Torna, when you spoke it. What is she hiding? Also, what about the fact that Brother Ailgesach was raving about the Whore of Babylon and these raiders from the west being led by someone who resembles the description in the Scriptures?’ Eadulf paused and asked: ‘Is that another thread?’

‘At the moment, it is a loose one,’ said Fidelma. ‘There are too many of these loose threads with no apparent connection that I can see at the moment.’

Gormán re-entered. ‘All is ready, lady. The horses have been watered and foddered. Shall I tell Gobán that we are going? He is at work in the forge.’

‘I will do so,’ Fidelma replied. ‘I want to make sure that he has not been put out by the hospitality that he has afforded us.’

Within the hour they were crossing the long wooden bridge that spanned the Suir south of Durlus Éile. Gormán rode in front, followed by Fidelma and Eadulf, with Enda bringing up the rear. They rode at a brisk pace, but not as fast as would quickly fatigue their horses, and soon encountered the smaller River Dríse where it flowed into the Suir.

Just beyond a slight bend after some thick woodland, the river narrowed a little and Gormán called on them to halt. He pointed. Someone was swimming in the waters and it seemed that the swimmer was making towards an empty boat that was caught in a log-jam about mid-stream. As they watched, the swimmer reached the boat and was apparently intent on loosening it.

‘Let’s give him assistance,’ Fidelma suggested, dismounting.

‘Careful,’ warned Eadulf. ‘He might be one of the abductors.’

‘There’s no one else about,’ replied Gormán, ‘so we stand in no danger.’

They walked their horses down to the bank and Gormán called to the swimmer, asking if he needed help. The man glanced back over his shoulder and waved acknowledgement. He was holding up the painter, the rope attached to the bow of the boat used for tying it, and was trying to ease the bow away from the logs which had held it fast. He began swimming back, and Gormán quickly stripped and entered the water to help him drag the vessel towards the bank. As they neared it the others lent a hand while Fidelma remained on the bank.

She averted her gaze until Gormán and the unknown swimmer had climbed out, secured the boat to a nearby tree stump and resumed some garments. The swimmer was a young man whose clothes placed him as a farmer.

‘Did you have an accident?’ she asked.

‘This is not my boat, lady,’ he replied, noting her dress and obvious rank. ‘I farm the land beyond this rise and when I came down just now in search of one of my sheep, I saw this boat caught in those logs. It looked a good boat and not damaged, so I thought I would swim out and try to free it.’

Gormán was rubbing his chin as he examined the boat. ‘It must have come adrift,’ he said. Then his eyes narrowed; a moment later he had climbed aboard and was extracting something from the stern planking.

‘What is it?’ asked Fidelma.

‘There are some blood splatters on the stern seat – and this.’ Gormán was holding up a tiny particle of material that he had spotted, caught on a splinter of wood.

Fidelma gasped and her hand went to her sleeve where there was the slight tear.

‘This must be the boat we are following,’ Eadulf said, stating the obvious.

It was not good news for Fidelma. ‘They have abandoned it – and they could have done so anywhere along the river, so that it drifted down and was caught in this log-jam.’

Eadulf smiled and shook his head. ‘Not so. They abandoned it here.’

‘What makes you say that?’ She felt irritated at his confidence.

Eadulf pointed to the river. ‘They were pulling upstream, against the current. If they abandoned it before this point, it would have been swept back downstream. So they came here, abandoned it and took to the land.’

She flushed slightly at having forgotten the flow of the river. However, she recovered her poise and said: ‘And why would they leave the boat at this point?’

‘Easy enough.’ Eadulf gestured at the log-jam in which the boat had been trapped. ‘That log-jam is so secure that even the current has not dislodged it. I think they came here but could not move beyond the logs. They might have been able to drag the boat out of the river and haul it around to the other side of the dam, but maybe that was too awkward for them with a prisoner to take care of and a man with a damaged hand.’

Fidelma smiled ruefully. There were times when she underestimated Eadulf’s capabilities at deduction.

‘I suppose you can’t tell us which bank they landed on and the direction that they went?’ she said in a sarcastic attempt to cover her own shortcomings.

Eadulf’s face was expressionless. ‘Yes, I can. They came ashore on this side of the river and started walking eastwards.’

Fidelma raised her eyebrows, wondering if he were exchanging sarcasm for sarcasm. But Enda, who had a reputation among the warriors of Cashel as an expert tracker, let out an exclamation of triumph.

‘Friend Eadulf is right, lady!’ he called. He indicated the ground. ‘Six men passed here, one dragging his feet reluctantly. They came ashore and began to move off across the land, taking that path eastwards.’

‘So now they are travelling on foot,’ Eadulf commented, ignoring Fidelma’s irritation. He neglected to say that he had spotted the footprints and made a guess, whereas Enda had provided the detail. ‘Is there anywhere near here where they can purchase horses?’

The question was addressed to the young farmer.

‘No, your friends will not find any horses around here. I have only one strong plough horse and there are no other farmsteads for quite a distance.’

‘Then we might be able to gain on them,’ Gormán said with satisfaction.

‘Catch them after a night and a day’s start?’ Eadulf was sceptical.

‘If they are heading east, their way will take them through bog land. One has to know the safe tracks. Although the countryside is flat, it is difficult terrain through which to maintain speed, especially on foot.’

‘Are there no marks on the boat to show to whom it originally belonged?’ asked Fidelma, turning back to the craft.

‘None that I saw,’ Gormán told her. ‘It is fairly typical of the boats along the Suir, having four oars and plenty of space.’

Fidelma addressed the young farmer: ‘You do realise that under the law the boat constitutes a
fríthe
.’ The term meant ‘that which has been found’ and implied a lost property.

‘I have no knowledge of the law, lady,’ muttered the young man.

‘Who is the chieftain of this territory?’ she asked. ‘Are we in the territory of the Osraige?’

The young farmer looked indignant. ‘This is still the land of the Éile, lady. Our land ends further on when you come to a fork in the river.’

‘Then you must travel to Durlus Éile and ask to see the steward of the Lady Gelgéis. Say that it is Fidelma of Cashel who has sent you.’

The farmer was staring at her with wide eyes, very nervous now that he had learned who she was.

‘Tell Spealáin the steward that you have found this boat. Say that you have come to proclaim the finding of the boat as it is stated in law, for the finding of all lost property must be proclaimed in this fashion. Do you understand?’

‘I understand, lady.’ The young man licked his dry lips.

‘But this trip will be your gain,’ continued Fidelma, smiling. ‘You see, you are entitled to part of the value of your find. The more remote the place in which the find is made, then the greater proportion of the value goes to you.’

The farmer was frowning. ‘But you came along and helped me bring it ashore.’

‘We are not interested in the financial value of your find,’ replied Fidelma. ‘And you may well have brought it to the riverbank yourself, even had we not been passing. The value will help towards your farmstead. In fact, tell the steward of the Lady Gelgéis that I suggest this river be considered a highway, in which case I recommend that you are to be compenstated with half to two-thirds of the value and, indeed, the payment of an
austad
, a storage fee, for as long as the boat remains on your land. If it is not disposed of, then you are entitled to the full value. Say that is my judgement, and when I return to Durlus Éile I shall hope to see that it has been carried out.’

Leaving the farmer stammering his thanks, they mounted their horses and began to move off, this time with Enda leading the way, bending slightly forward to follow the tracks on the ground. It was only a short time before they emerged from a small stretch of woodland to a more open grassy plain and saw that they had come to the fork in the river. One arm flowed directly from the north, continuing on towards the Suir while a smaller arm flowed from the south to feed the Dríse. Although this smaller river blocked their path, it was narrow and easily fordable.

‘If I recall, the northerly arm is still the River Dríse while the southerly one is called the Bréagagh, the Deceitful River,’ reflected Gormán. ‘Once we cross this river we are in Osraige territory – the Land of the People of the Deer. This whole area beyond is low-lying and very boggy.’

‘Which way then, Enda?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Do we try to turn north along the Dríse?’

Enda glanced down and his keen eyes followed some trail that they could not see on the ground.

‘Six men walking and one appears to be stumbling quite a bit,’ he told her. He walked his horse slowly to the confluence and then moved along the bank of the smaller southern river, where he halted. ‘They decided to ford the river here, lady. It’s quite shallow. They are continuing to move directly east.’

As if to prove the point, he rode across to the far bank, halted and then peered towards the ground. Then he turned and called them across.

‘They came to this point and set off eastward,’ he confirmed.

They swiftly joined him and Gormán pointed across the flat plains towards some distant, low-lying hills, saying, ‘This way lies the old Abbey of Liath Mór.’

‘Will they be able to pick up horses there?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Perhaps,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I have not visited the Abbey of Liath Mór before. The community was formed by the Blessed Chaemóc scarcely seventy years ago. He was a good man, by all accounts.’