Fidelma could sense the girl’s fear. ‘We left the two attackers dead,’ she went on. ‘You had gone along the eastern branch of the river to the Great Island and those warriors were waiting for you there as well. I believe the conspirators – whoever they are – intended you to be blamed for the murder of the abbot.’
‘And now we have been captured by Tialláin,’ concluded the girl bitterly.
‘There are many questions that arise,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully. ‘However, to keep things simple, let us consider what facts we know. There is a plot to assassinate the High King Cenn Fáelad. Or is there? A message is sent to his wife with certain instructions. It purports to come from Abbot Nessán. But does it? The abbot denies all knowledge to you. You are to be blamed for his murder; Grella is abducted. Is this all a plot to kidnap her? If so, why is it so complicated? It seems as incomprehensible as ever. I thought that all had been peaceful in Tara since Cenn Fáelad took the sovereignty?’
‘Peaceful, yes,’ the girl replied. ‘But there is a resentful undertow, drawing support away from the High King, because of who my lady’s family were. There were whispers that the Eóganacht were trying to reclaim the line of the High Kingship.’
‘But that is ridiculous. Grella is of the Uí Liatháin. And anyway, no Eóganacht has wanted the High Kingship in four centuries. There are certainly no such aspirations in Cashel.’
‘In which case, is it possible that whoever abducted Grella meant to eliminate her influence at Tara?’ suggested Cairenn.
‘I would have thought, being of the Uí Liatháin, she would have had little influence in any argument between the Uí Néill over the High Kingship.’
‘And it is the High King who is to be assassinated, not the lady Grella. I swear, this is all bewildering,’ the girl said in a helpless tone.
‘Bewildering indeed,’ Fidelma sighed. ‘I would suggest we better devote our intentions to removing ourselves from this place, instead of just wasting our efforts on seeking an explanation for how we came here. How do you feel now?’
Cairenn raised a hand to her head. ‘My head still throbs. It is never good to be slapped around by a coward of a man.’
‘Have you been able to explore this store room since you were locked in?’
The girl grimaced. ‘I was as you found me, Fidelma, unconscious, and so not in the best of conditions to begin any exploration.’
‘I am sorry.’ Fidelma was irritated at her thoughtlessness.
‘I am now recovered enough, however, to start. How are we to inspect the place when we have no lamp?’
‘We have eyes and there is a little light, so we are not entirely blind.’ Fidelma stood up and reached forward to help the girl to her feet. ‘Also we have our hands free to explore. So I think we should start as best we can.’
‘What are you doing, friend Eadulf?’ called Enda, as Eadulf bent over his medical bag and started rummaging around in it.
‘Looking for a way out of this confinement,’ answered Eadulf.
He stood up, holding a candle stub. ‘I remembered I had this in my bag. And so I hoped those idiots did not remove the means of igniting it?’
‘Do not worry,’ answered Enda. ‘The fools left me my tenlach teined.’
Every warrior carried kindling gear in a firbolg: flint, steel and tinder to produce the spark to make fire. They were trained to do this even in the dark. Indeed, warriors prided themselves on their ability to light a fire in a remarkably short time.
With the candle lit, Eadulf began to explore their prison with growing disappointment.
‘It is not good, is it, friend Eadulf?’ Enda said, pointing out the obvious.
Eadulf sighed in frustration. ‘It does seem that they were right. The only way in or out is through the trapdoor above us. As I recall, there was only one iron bolt fixing it, and the door itself was pulled up by an iron ring that was not fixed. Perhaps if we could find a way of loosening the bolt, a good thrust of your broad shoulders could snap it open.’
‘True enough,’ grinned Enda. ‘The trapdoor would fly open and up we would come … into the inn, among all the locals having a drink. How long would we last?’
Eadulf made a wry expression with his mouth.
‘You are saying that there is not much prospect of escape?’
‘I am saying that there is no prospect at the moment. We have no weapons, even if we could burst into the inn and surprise them. Furthermore –’
‘What’s that?’ Eadulf suddenly interrupted as a new sound caught his ears.
It was the faint sound of a bugle being blown. It came in several short blasts.
‘That signals another ship coming into the harbour below,’ Eadulf guessed. ‘Remember, a stoc was sounded when Fécho’s ship entered?’
Enda shook his head. ‘I don’t think it was the same. This sounded more urgent, like a call to arms.’
Eadulf raised an eyebrow in surprise.
‘You mean someone is attacking this place?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. But someone is approaching to whom, it is felt, the people need to show a defensive posture.’
Eadulf shook his head. ‘I can’t say I understand the difference.’ He brightened. ‘Maybe it is Fidelma’s cousin, Artgal, who has heard of our predicament?’
‘How would Artgal know we were in trouble?’ Enda was dismissive. ‘Anyway, whoever is approaching, friend or foe, Tialláin appears to be making sure his people are ready in case it should be the latter.’
They could hear some movements now. Shouts, orders, acknowledgements, and then the sound of the stoc, the bugle, died away and there came the echoing sound of several goatskin drums being beaten quickly but rhythmically, in a loud rolling motion. Then all went quiet.
‘I’d give anything to see what is happening,’ muttered Eadulf.
‘Then let us try your suggestion,’ Enda suddenly said.
‘My suggestion?’ Eadulf was astonished.
‘Don’t you realise? Whatever has happened, everyone will have gone down to the harbour to witness it. The tavern is quiet above; it is probably empty.’
Without waiting for a reply, the young warrior went to the short flight of steps and braced himself, back and shoulders firmly placed against the underside of the trapdoor, his head down. His knees bent to take the strain; he reached out to clutch the support that the slim wooden beams afforded. Enda breathed deeply and began to push upwards.
Wood groaned against wood, and there was a slight give. The trap door was raised a little against the pressure of the single bolt.
Eadulf began to see hope. ‘This trapdoor was never meant to hold prisoners,’ he exclaimed excitedly. ‘It was only intended as a covering for a food store. Try again, Enda. Try again.’
Once more the warrior braced himself, his face reddening, muscles bulging as he exerted his strength again. This time the boards gave even more. He felt that he had prised up the screws holding the bolt a little. Sweat began to stream from his face and his breaths became shorter. Eadulf was impatient, but he tried not to goad the warrior to greater exertion before he had recovered. Moments passed, and then Enda braced himself again. With a wild shout, the warrior pushed his shoulders once more against the trapdoor. Slowly he ascended the steps backwards until he was in the main room of the inn and could let the wooden boards crash to the floor.
Enda turned round quickly and surveyed the empty tavern with satisfaction. He looked down at Eadulf and grinned.
‘Come on up, friend Eadulf. No one is here, just as I suspected.’
For a few moments, they stood nervously, looking around. There was no sign of anyone else – nor of their confiscated weapons and belongings.
Some distance away the drums were still pounding, and they could even hear pipes being played. Orders were being called and people were moving here and there.
‘I wonder what is going on?’ murmured Enda.
‘Whatever it is, it sounds like some friends of Tialláin have arrived below. That does n
ot bode well for us,’ Eadulf replied. ‘Let’s get away from here and assess the situation.’
‘We cannot desert the lady Fidelma,’ protested Enda.
‘Did I say that we should desert her? Let’s first find out what is happening and then try to find where they have taken her. Watch out for any weapons we can use.’
He suddenly realised that Enda’s wound had begun to bleed again, soaking his shirt.
‘I’ll have to dress that wound again,’ he said, shouldering his medical bag. ‘I’ll do it as soon as we have a moment.’ He led the way across the tavern to the back door.
They went through a deserted kitchen and out into a garden that obviously served the inn, for it contained all manner of edible plants. Nearby was the stable yard and to their surprise they saw their horses tethered there, standing patiently, complete with saddlebags and weapons.
Eadulf hesitated but Enda pulled at his sleeve. ‘We had better not chance taking the horses until we have discovered where they have put the lady Fidelma. It will be easier to go on foot. Once they see the horses are gone, they will be looking for us. They will know we have escaped and follow. And we cannot abandon the lady Fidelma.’
‘But we will never have a better opportunity to retrieve the horses,’ protested Eadulf.
‘If they have trackers, and I am sure they do, they will soon follow. Better stay and see if we are able to effect a rescue of the lady Fidelma first.’
Enda turned and began to lead the way from the stable yard into an area of thick bushes and undergrowth with several trees on rising ground, the only place suitable for concealment for the moment. The rise overlooked the inlet and harbour below.
‘Let’s hide ourselves here for a moment,’ Enda muttered, ‘where we should have a good view over the harbour. We can see who has arrived and we might see what we can do to find the lady Fidelma.’
Eadulf placed himself beside Enda behind some rocks. The view below was extraordinary.
It was easy to spot the Tonn Cliodhna, with its furled sails, secured next to the jetty. He could almost think he saw Fécho strutting angrily up and down.
But then he realised that a second ship was tying up alongside Fécho’s vessel, a sleek and much larger ship. The sails were still being furled: broad squares of white canvas with blood-red stripes on them. Voices were shouting as ropes were secured, and drums still beat a wild, rapid rhythm. The local people were crowding around the newcomer at the landing place below.
Eadulf stared down for a moment. Then he exclaimed, in barely a whisper: ‘My God!’
Enda turned to stare at him in bewilderment. ‘You recognise that ship, friend Eadulf? I have not seen its like before. What manner of ship is it?’
‘It is a ship that I had hoped never to see in these waters.’ Eadulf’s voice was no more than a soft breath.
‘What do you mean?’
‘That, my friend Enda, is a Saxon warship.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘What is that?’ Cairenn asked, frowning, as the sounds of the stoc came to their ears.
Fidelma rose to her feet and went to stand by the door, listening.
‘Someone or something important has arrived. That was similar to the trumpet that announced the arrival of Fécho’s ship. I can hear the noise of people gathering in the harbour.’ She had placed her ear close to the wood, trying to detect any sounds that would give her a clue to what was happening outside.
‘Nothing that can be of help to us then,’ Cairenn sighed. ‘It is probably just another merchant vessel.’
Fidelma turned back and stared up at the darkness of the wooden roof. ‘Perhaps one of those boards might be loose or could be prised up,’ she said thoughtfully.
Cairenn made a sound that was meant to be a cynical laugh as she looked up, too. ‘How are you going to get up there to reach them?’
Fidelma looked quickly around.
‘Those boxes.’ She pointed to the dark shapes. ‘It would only need two of them balanced on top of each other.’
‘Fine, if they will hold our weight. They are just storage boxes and their wood seems thin and rotten. We’d probably fall through the moment we climbed up.’
‘We won’t know until we try.’
‘If we do manage to climb up, how long do you suppose it would take to explore the roof boards by that means, pushing the boxes into position to explore just a small area each time?’
‘Where there is a will …’
‘And then,’ went on the girl remorselessly, ‘if by some miracle, we find a loose board and manage to loosen it and its neighbours to make a hole big enough to pass through onto the roof, what then?’
Fidelma then remembered that the roof of the storehouse would lead them only into the bigger storehouse, where they would be presented with the same problem. And the next roof would be entirely beyond reach.
Fidelma could not help but take out her disappointment on the girl. ‘You have a quality of defeatism about you, Cairenn. Anything is better than sitting here. We don’t know what the conditions are like outside. We only know that if we get out of this small room, we might find a way out.’
The girl shrugged. ‘It would take stronger folk than us to find a way out.’
‘I had thought, Cairenn, judging by your escape from the abbey, that you had more tenacity about you.’
‘Tenacity? I did well to get so far. But I do not believe in wasting time and effort on something that can’t succeed.’
‘And you can guarantee this lack of success that you predict?’ snapped Fidelma.
‘It is obvious,’ the girl said dismissively.
‘I was always taught to suspect the obvious – semper credunt appertus est. The obvious way might be the only way.’
The girl seemed about to reply when there came the noise of people entering the building.
Fidelma backed away from the door and joined Cairenn. Almost immediately they heard the rasp of a key as it grated in the rusty lock. The door of the small storeroom creaked and swung open. A lantern lit the room, and behind it they could see several shadowy figures.
‘Come with us,’ a sharp voice ordered.
Cairenn moved closer to Fidelma, as if seeking protection.
‘Where are you taking us?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ replied the leader of the group in a threatening tone. She could see the flash of light on his unsheathed sword.
Another of the men laughed. ‘You might as well tell her, Matudán. It seems you women are in luck. Our Saxon friend has just arrived in harbour. The Saxons will take you both off our hands once a price is agreed with Tialláin.’
The girl beside her gave an inarticulate sound, a sob of horror. Indeed, cold fear seeped through Fidelma’s body as the man’s words sank in.
‘You cannot do that …’ Cairenn protested.
‘But it is easily done,’ said the leader with malevolence. ‘Now – move!’ The sword point flashed dangerously.
Fidelma and Cairenn moved slowly from the storeroom into the larger building. Four of Tialláin’s men closed around them, smiling and making ribald speculation about what the Saxons would do to the women on the voyage back to their own land.
The Saxon ship was impressive. Eadulf and Enda stared down from their hiding place at its sleek lines. It was thirty metres in length and its great masts dwarfed Fécho’s ship beside it. They could see the crew fastening the furled sails and going about other tasks on deck. Eadulf counted the rowlocks along the side he could see. There were fifteen of them. That meant at least thirty rowers. He also saw several Saxon warriors on board, in full armour and with rounded shields slung on their backs. A banner fluttered briefly at the stern of the vessel. As he saw the device, Eadulf gasped in astonishment for the second time. Enda glanced at him, puzzled.
‘What is it?’
‘That’s the banner of Cenwealh,’ muttered Eadulf, almost in disbelief.
‘Who?’
‘He is King of the
Gewisse, the West Saxons,’ replied Eadulf grimly, shaking his head. ‘He became King of the Gewisse when I was still a child – he must be very old by now. But what would a ship belonging to him be doing in these waters?’
‘I’ve no idea who the Gewisse are but I have heard that the Saxons trade in slaves, and it is not unknown for them to make slaving raids along this coast.’ Enda was worried. ‘Do your people really own slaves, friend Eadulf?’
‘I am afraid so. When my ancestors, the Angles, and the Saxons and Jutes first arrived in Britain and began to carve out their separate kingdoms on the island, they made slaves of the Britons; the welisc, foreigners, as they called them. The word was interchangeable for slave. Slaves are still kept now, but our laws do recognise them as having certain rights. Although they have no wergild – something like your honour price system – if a slave is killed, then the value has to be paid as compensation. But these Saxons don’t appear to be raiding. They are being greeted as friends.’
‘Certainly, they have not come in stealth,’ agreed Enda. ‘But I have never heard of Saxons coming this far west along our coast before.’
Eadulf suddenly pointed. ‘Look! There’s Tialláin walking down to the jetty, and there is Fécho. They seem to be very friendly with one another.’
‘And just as friendly with the Saxon captain,’ noted Enda angrily.
As they watched, a tall man left the Saxon ship, crossing Fécho’s vessel to reach the jetty. He hailed Tialláin with an outstretched hand, like an old friend. Laughter echoed up to them as the greetings were exchanged.
‘Traitorous dog!’ muttered Enda.
‘Obviously the Gewisse are no strangers to this harbour. It looks as if they do regular business with Tialláin.’
‘But what business?’ demanded Enda.
With two men in front and the other two behind, Fidelma and Cairenn were ordered to march down the hill towards the jetty. Fidelma’s mind was working rapidly. She had once seen how slaves were put in iron manacles on board such ships, when she was attending the great council at Streonshalh. Once aboard and secured like that, there would be little hope of escape. She realised that she had to act and act quickly.
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