Master of Souls sf-16

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘I thought you were a pagan?’ interrupted Eadulf.

  ‘I do not talk of the Christian Brigit of Kildare,’ responded Gaeth patronisingly. ‘I speak of Brigit the triune daughter of the Dagda, the Good God, Brigit, goddess of wisdom and poetry, Brigit goddess of medicine and Brigit goddess of smiths and smithwork. She led my footsteps through hidden passes under An Cnapan Mor and up to the black lake, high up in the mountains, beside whose shores I found my master, Cosrach the Triumphant. Ten years I spent at his anvil until he pronounced me a flaith-goba — the highest rank of all the smiths. I gave thanks to Brigit

  ‘Each man must find God in his own way,’ asserted Fidelma quietly.

  Eadulf glanced at her in surprise. He had grown up in the pagan religion of his people and had been converted to Christianity by a wandering Irish missionary when he was in his early manhood. He still had the fervour of the converted and felt uncomfortable when confronted by those who held to their old religious beliefs. Nevertheless, Fidelma ignored his disapproving look.

  ‘So you have been here ever since?’ she went on.

  ‘I built this forge as soon as I left the forge of Cosrach. Within a week, Gaimredan joined me.’

  ‘And the old saying is that there are three places where one can gather news — the priest’s house, the tavern and the smith’s forge,’ Conri observed, reminding them of why they had come there.

  Gaeth chuckled softly.

  ‘I thought that you were garnering a lot of information.’

  Fidelma responded with a smile.

  ‘We were talking of what has befallen those on Seanach’s Island.’

  ‘We were,’ agreed Gaeth.

  ‘We, my companions and myself, have decided that we should try to reach Seanach’s Island, preferably under cover of darkness to avoid the attentions of the warship that guards the waters. We have to discover what has happened to those prisoners and the hermits who live on the island.’

  Gaeth regarded her with a look of admiration.

  ‘It is an admirable enterprise, lady. One that requires courage.’

  ‘It merely requires determination,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Moreover, it requires a vessel and a guide.’

  Gaeth’s eyes lit with understanding.

  ‘And that is what you are in search of? A vessel and a guide to take you to the islands?’

  Fidelma nodded.

  ‘It needs to be a swift naomhog.’

  Gaeth examined them and his look became doubtful.

  ‘I presume that your companions have handled a naomhog before? You would be facing the turbulent seas that separate these shores from that island.’

  ‘My warriors and I can row,’ Conri asserted.

  ‘Row? But can you row a naomhog? Can you guide it through tempestuous waters to reach the island? And you say that you intend to do this in the hours of darkness?’ He smiled sadly. ‘Give up the idea, lady.’

  ‘Leave the question of our skills to us,’ replied Fidelma firmly. ‘If you can just tell us where we may find such a vessel that will be sufficient.’

  Gaeth gazed thoughtfully at her and then turned to his silent companion.

  ‘Well, Gaimredan, what do you think?’

  The man had been watching Fidelma with his woeful expression. He suddenly leant forward as if peering into her mind.

  ‘Insight, reason and intellect. Impulsive, hot-tempered but sincere and unbegrudging. Positive, active and dominant, withal almost masculine but a mutable quality. This one is full of fire, searching restlessly for new fields to conquer.’

  Gaeth was chuckling at Fidelma’s surprised expression.

  ‘Do not mind my friend, lady. He has a gift. I presume that you have recently celebrated a birthday?’

  Eadulf was staring at the smith and his comrade in astonishment.

  The smith glanced at him and his smile broadened.

  ‘It is no trick, Brother Saxon, merely the ancient knowledge.’ He turned back to Fidelma. ‘You were born when Danu, our mother goddess, was rising in the sky — the constellation of Eridanus. We are forgetting Eridanus, preferring to call it Toxetes as the Greeks do or Sagittarius as do the Latins. Both represent the fiery archer, but did not Danu also have a bow of victory, the fidbac bua?’

  Fidelma, who knew something of the astrologer’s art from old Brother Conchobhar, the apothecary at Cashel, was following what he was saying. It did not surprise her that Gaimredan had fathomed such matters. She had seen it done often. But, interested as she was in the old knowledge, she was growing a little impatient.

  ‘What has this to do with my question?’ she snapped.

  Gaeth and Gaimredan exchanged a look and both burst out laughing.

  ‘Impulsive, hot-tempered and brusque!’ chortled Gaimredan.

  Gaeth controlled his mirth, seeing Fidelma’s brows drawing together, and held up a hand, palm outward.

  ‘Hold, lady, and we will tell you. You are setting out on an honourable course. My partner and I have such a naomhog as you seek. We use it for fishing. Mostly we fish in the lake here, Loch Gile, the bright lake. Sometimes we will take ourselves out into the seas. And we have fished

  She was still frowning so he continued.

  ‘What I am saying is that we will take you out to the islands in our naomhog.’

  Fidelma’s frown dissolved into a look of bewilderment.

  ‘You will do this simply because of the constellation under which I was born?’

  Gaeth shook his head.

  ‘Because of the character that you have revealed to us,’ he replied firmly.

  ‘And what do you ask in return?’ Eadulf demanded, distrusting the smith and his companion.

  ‘What are you asking as payment for going to the islands to find out if the hermits are alive and well?’ Gaeth replied quietly.

  ‘Nothing, of course. We do not do this for payment.’

  Gaeth smiled thinly.

  ‘Then that is what we ask for in return. Nothing.’

  For a moment there was silence.

  ‘It is a very dangerous course that we embark on,’ Fidelma said slowly.

  ‘Did we not tell you so?’ replied Gaeth. ‘Let us simply say that in doing this we can repay those who have tried to despoil the tranquillity of this land. Now, we have a naomhog that can be rowed by six oarsmen, so it is big enough to accommodate us all. We can use your two warriors there to row with us to compensate for the extra weight in the boat. We can, at least, give them some instruction in the art of naomhog rowing. Is it agreed?’

  Fidelma glanced at the warriors for affirmation.

  ‘Agreed,’ she said.

  ‘Then I suggest you leave your horses here, in our pen. Our vessel is beached on the shore of Loch Gile, so we will carry it overland from there to the beach in Breanainn’s bay.’

  Eadulf stirred uneasily.

  ‘Carry it? Surely it is a long way?’

  Gaeth shook his head.

  ‘Even the two of us have been known to carry it. It is very light. It is the oars that are heavy and so we keep spare oars in a hiding spot on the beach itself, as well as at the lake. It will take us but a little while.’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘We have time for a cold meal and to prepare

  For the first time, Eadulf realised the enormity of what they were doing.

  ‘Are you sure that you know the waters well enough? When we sailed through those islands a few days ago, I saw so many rocks and tidal currents that I would be unsure of navigating the passage in broad daylight, let alone at night.’

  ‘My friend,’ Gaeth said reassuringly, ‘all you have to do is be a quiet passenger in the vessel. Leave the navigation to us. But if it reassures you, Gaimredan was born here on this shore and knows these waters so well that he can name each individual rock. The tide and the gods will be with us.’

  Gaimredan was already preparing dishes of cold meats, cheeses and bread. A jug of cider was produced.

  ‘The wind is coming up from the south-east,’ Gaeth was sayin
g, ‘so it will be at our backs and in our favour. It is when there is a westerly blow that we can expect a very rough sea and big swells.’

  ‘How can we approach Seanach’s Island without being seen?’

  Gaeth rubbed his chin.

  ‘Dark will cover us all the way but there is only one sure place to land in safety. That place is the steep sandy beach on the east side. The landing is easy there and the community have their buildings just south of the landing place.’

  ‘Is there any other anchorage?’ Conri asked.

  Gaeth shook his head.

  ‘Then that might be a problem,’ went on the warlord. ‘If the warship were already anchored at the island, that would be its natural harbour. It would dominate the landing place.’

  ‘I understand what you mean,’ agreed the smith. ‘However, it will be dark when we come round the headland and stand into the sandy beach. Unless a watch is being kept on ship and shore we have a good chance of not being seen.’

  ‘Are you sure that there is no other place to land?’ pressed Fidelma.

  ‘The rest of the island is protected by fairly steep rocks and to attempt to scramble up them in the darkness is simply to court disaster.’

  Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.

  ‘I wonder how the old man managed to flee in his little boat without being pursued across the sea?’

  Conri shrugged.

  ‘Whoever shot him with that arrow probably thought that he was already dead. He was as good as dead anyway.’

  ‘We will have to keep our wits about us,’ Gaeth advised. ‘It will be no journey for the faint-hearted.’

  Conri smiled and glanced knowingly at Eadulf, who had seemed oblivious of the conversation. His features were drawn into deep contemplation.

  Fidelma followed Conri’s meaningful gaze.

  ‘Eadulf has been in more dangerous situations than this one,’ she said stoutly in his defence.

  Eadulf glanced up at his name and frowned.

  ‘Sorry, I was thinking of something else. What is it?’

  Conri grimaced with amusement.

  ‘I think that Gaeth may be concerned in case you are over-anxious about the forthcoming trip.’

  Realising Conri was doubting his courage, Eadulf’s brows came together in an annoyed expression.

  ‘It is said that there are only two sorts of people who are fearless-the drunkard and the fool. I am neither.’

  ‘Fear is worse than fighting,’ replied Conri in a mocking tone.

  ‘Knowledge is better than ignorance,’ replied Eadulf spiritedly. ‘Ignorance is the real cause of fear. It is better to think out the possibilities before running into a dangerous situation when knowledge might save a life.’

  Conri made a barking noise as if containing a laugh.

  ‘That is the timidity of a mouse.’

  Eadulf kept his temper.

  ‘Mus uni non fidit antro,’ he said softly.

  ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘A wise person named Plautius pointed out that even a mouse does not rely on one hole.’

  Gaeth slapped his knee appreciatively at the intensity of the argument.

  Even Gaimredan nodded in appreciation. He peered closely at Eadulf and smiled.

  ‘This one is silent, almost passive but receptive. Intuitive, just and kind. Reliable but worrying, at one with the spirit of the two natures of man.’

  Gaeth looked directly at Conri.

  ‘Do not concern yourself, warrior. A man who goes into danger without fearing it is a man who is himself to be feared. A man who knows fear and still confronts it is a man to be relied upon who will stand steady.’

  Conri flushed in irritation.

  ‘I have no time for homespun philosophy. Is it not time to set out on this venture?’ he said sharply.

  Gaeth’s glance encompassed them all.

  ‘If you are all ready…? Then we will collect our naomhog and commence this undertaking. May all our gods go with us.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Eadulf was doing his best to prevent himself from giving way to seasickness. While he had an horizon to look at he could control it, but as dusk gave way to darkness there was little to focus on. The up and down motion of the naomhog was difficult to gauge. He found himself desperately clinging to the side of the vessel for support as the frail craft began the slow climb up the waves before falling with a suddenness that left his stomach in the air behind him.

  In front of him, backs to the bow, sat Socht and his companion, each with the curious bladeless oar which was traditionally used with these vessels. Behind them were Gaeth and Gaimredan, also with an oar apiece. The four men bent their backs, using great reaching strokes to send the craft through the dark waters. Fidelma and Eadulf sat facing the bows, directly in front of the two warriors, while Conri. sat behind in the stern, ready to grasp a fifth oar to use it as a tiller if it was needed.

  Gaeth had told Eadulf to place his feet carefully in case he inadvertently stuck his foot through the hide covering of the canoe. Eadulf had to place them on the wooden framework to which the hide was tightly sewn. He hoped those in front of him were unable to see his white face, his panic-stricken features, as the boat heaved in the waves, and, now and again, when the sea threw its salt waters over him.

  He shivered slightly and hoped no one could see him in the darkness. Then he hoped, if his companions had seen him, that they might take it as a reaction to the penetrating cold of the winter’s evening. Even though everyone had furs and sheepskins wrapped round them, the icy winter fingers permeated their clothing.

  Since the boat had been launched from the broad sandy beach of Breanainn’s bay no one had been able to speak. The noise of the waters

  Once or twice, through the darkness, Eadulf saw the white of pounding surf and realised that they must be passing some rocks or small islets. It only increased his fear, not knowing whether they might strike a rock any moment and be precipitated into the waters. In the darkness, so far from land, it would be an agonising death. He tried to concentrate his mind on the prayers that he had been taught and realised that the words that came into his mind were not the prayers of the New Faith but the prayers of his childhood to the ancient sea gods and goddesses of the Saxons.

  He glanced at the shadows of the oarsmen before him. In spite of the gyrations of the craft, their dark figures seemed to sit relaxed, moving back and forth in unison, all swaying in an easy, flowing motion, as if they were part of one another, the oars slipping easily into the sea in spite of the waves. Down went the four oars together, never missing a stroke. Eadulf envied them. Envied their ability at the oars; envied their apparent calm.

  He glanced to his side. Fidelma was a still shadow in the darkness. He wondered what she was thinking as she sat there so relaxed. Did she share any of his fears? No, not Fidelma. She seemed fearless. Fearless as usual. Quiet, determined and logical.

  He became aware of a slightly different sound above the noise of the wind and waves and glanced up, narrowing his eyes and trying to focus in the shadows. Ahead of them was a line of white water showing in the darkness. They seemed to be rowing straight forward. A panic seized him. He was about to shout a warning when Gaeth gave a bellow and the oars ceased their stroke. The craft was left bobbing up and down on the waters.

  Eadulf peered round. The turbulent seas had stilled a little and he realised, to his amazement, that they were standing near the shore of a large island, almost sheltered from the wind and the brisk larger waves.

  Fidelma leant close to his ear and shouted, pointing to the white breakers.

  ‘This is Seanach’s Island!’

  Eadulf realised he had been so buried in his thoughts that the time had passed quickly and he had almost forgotten his nausea.

  It seemed that Gaeth had given an order and the two warriors had shipped their oars, leaving it to the smith and his companion to guide the boat along the rocky shoreline. Eadulf could make out nothing on the isl
and. It was just a dark mass rising a little way above them. The craft moved quickly along. Judging by the blackness of the shape he guessed they had come to a headland of sorts where the south-east corner of the island met its eastern shore. This was where Gaeth claimed that there was a sandy beach where a safe landing might be made.

  The sound of the heavy seas and wind had died away now as they reached the shelter of the island and Eadulf heaved a sigh of relief.

  As they swung round the rocky outcrop, Conri gave a sharp warning cry.

  They had almost collided with the dark outline of a large ship at anchor. Eadulf recognised its lines. It was the warship that had chased them. It appeared to be in darkness except for one lantern bobbing at its stern.

  Gaeth and his companion brought their craft almost under the bows of the vessel. Luckily the craft was so light that it made not a sound as it came into the shadow of the warship. Gaeth and one of the warriors put out their hands to minimise the impact of the craft against the wooden timbers of the larger vessel.

  They heard a harsh voice calling from the stern.

  ‘Did you hear something?’

  A sleepy voice replied from nearby.

  ‘Are you joking? Oystercatchers, terns and gulls — isn’t that enough noise for you?’

  ‘I thought I heard a cry.’

  ‘You are lucky to hear anything after a few weeks on this bird-infested island.’

  ‘We are supposed to be on watch,’ snapped the other voice.

  ‘Watch for what? The old man was killed, wasn’t he? Didn’t Olcan say as much?’

  ‘He was, but no one has recovered the body.’

  ‘We saw the naomhog floating away with the old man slumped in it. You could see the arrow sticking out of his back. Do you think he was going to recover, spring up and row that craft all the way to the mainland? You have a great sense of humour.’

  ‘Well, what of the woman and her companion? I suppose we don’t have to worry about them?’

  ‘We’ll collect them tomorrow morning. If they made it to that other island safely, that is. They took the last of the hermits’ canoes and it was a leaky one at that. That’s why Olcan didn’t bother to destroy it. No sane person would have attempted to put to sea in that. They are probably drowned anyway. I don’t think we have to bother looking for them.’