Fidelma regarded him sadly.
‘So, if Abbot Maelcar had told you to go to a high cliff and jump off, you would have obeyed it as a divine command?’
Budic broke into a laugh as the scribe’s brows came together in a puzzled expression.
‘He would not have ordered it.’
‘But if he had? You say that you must obey every superior of the Faith, whatever orders they give you?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘Indeed, you are right, for that is the Rule of Benedict. But in such a matter it cannot be taken so literally,’ Brother Ebolbain replied stubbornly.
‘Where in the Rule does it say that?’ Fidelma responded sharply. ‘Are you saying that, in spite of the Rule, you can pick and choose which ones to obey? We have recently been at the Council in Autun where this Rule has been debated. There is nowhere in the Rule that says that you can choose what orders you will obey.’
‘You have clearly not read the Rule properly, Sister,’ protested the scribe. ‘There is such a Rule if the order is unreasonable.’
Fidelma eyes sparkled.
‘I know the Rule well, for it has been my task to examine it to see if it is contrary to the laws of my people,’ she told him. ‘You are the one who misunderstands, Brother. What the Rule actually says is, if a Brother is given a difficult or impossible task he must receive the order with meekness and obedience. If the task is beyond his strength, he may go to the superior and submit his reasons for his inability to carry it out. And if the superior still insists on the order, the Brother must obey, relying only on the help of God. There is no choice, my friend. No choice. Blind obedience is an evil. Caeci caecos ducentes! The blind lead the blind.’
Even Eadulf stirred uneasily as her voice grew angry. He knew that Fidelma did not tolerate those who never questioned and went blindly through life obeying rules.
Brother Ebolbain stood stiffly before her.
‘I have my beliefs,’ he said slowly. ‘My loyalty is to my Abbot.’
‘And since he is dead? Then to whom?’
‘Whoever is appointed his successor.’
She shook her head in frustration and dismissed him with a wave.
‘Well, my sister from Hibernia, you seem to have strong views.’ Riwanon was regarding her with amusement. ‘Also, it seems that you have an adherence to the old beliefs of your people.’
‘I dislike the idea that one should obey and not question, no matter how extreme the order. I especially dislike it in those who are presumably bestowed with intelligence. In them it is a sin worse than ignorance, for as we often preach, ignorance does not excuse one from responsibility. How can we do this if we teach them to obey without understanding?’
‘You are angry, my sister.’
‘Such things do anger me, Riwanon. Forgive me.’
‘There is nothing to forgive, for I am in accord with you.’ She paused a moment and then said: ‘I suppose we must despatch Brother Ebolbain back to the abbey to inform the community there of what has happened. Perhaps some of the mac’htiern’s attendants can transport the body of the Abbot back to the abbey for the interment?’
Brother Metellus began to speak and then stopped.
Fidelma turned to look at him enquiringly. ‘You have a thought, Brother Metellus?’
‘I just wondered if I should return with Brother Ebolbain. I am a member of the community. If a new Abbot is to be chosen by the brethren, I would not like the decision to be made precipitately or without an opportunity to express my opinion.’
‘Would they choose one so soon? Should not the obsequies for Abbot Maelcar be conducted first?’ queried Eadulf.
Brother Metellus pulled a cynical face.
‘Abbot Maelcar gathered around him some, like Brother Ebolbain, who might be panicked into a wrong choice.’
Riwanon now intervened.
‘Brother Metellus is correct that he should return to the abbey. To be honest, Brother Ebolbain does not seem a person who is able to present himself in a leadership role, and that is probably what is needed at this time. The community will be shocked and fearful. Brother Metellus here has the strength of character that is needed to guide them.’ It was a statement without guile or any hint of flattery. ‘I am sure that if a guide or interpreter are needed for you and Brother Eadulf, we can find someone to replace Brother Metellus in this role.’
Fidelma was, in fact, reluctant to see Brother Metellus leave, for his knowledge of the area was invaluable. But she found herself assenting. As most people seemed to speak a form of Latin as well as their own tongue, she was not worried on that account.
‘You are right, Riwanon. I am too selfish in this matter. Of course, I agree that Brother Metellus should go to the abbey.’
Brother Metellus smiled at her and Eadulf.
‘I will see you again soon. You will be waiting here for King Alain, no doubt. I may well return before his arrival.’
After he had left, Riwanon excused herself to accompany her female attendants in a walk in the grounds while Budic muttered something about attending to the horses and also left.
‘What now?’ Eadulf asked Fidelma.
‘I am going to have a further word with Iuna,’ she said and, as Eadulf made a movement to join her, she added: ‘You stay here. I think she might be more amenable to my questions without a witness. I want to challenge her about the subject of that argument with Abbot Maelcar.’
‘As you wish,’ Eadulf replied. ‘Though I cannot see her revealing anything more than she has already.’
‘You do not know how revealing someone can be when they do not wish to answer questions,’ Fidelma replied dryly, then turned and went through the door that led into the kitchens.
Eadulf lowered himself into one of the comfortable chairs by the fire with a deep sigh of relief. He turned matters over in his mind and came to the conclusion that, while he had been in worse situations, none had made him so uneasy. Was it being in an unfamiliar country whose language he did not speak, whose laws he did not know, which, combined with the mysteries with which they were faced, made things seem so malevolent and threatening? Sea-raiders…well, he certainly knew about them from the stories he had heard in Seaxmund’s Ham, where he had been brought up. The sea was nearby – the very shores across which raiders had come to plunder or to settle since time began, including his own people only a few centuries before.
He was saddened for Fidelma’s loss of her cousin and her friend Murchad, the captain of the Barnacle Goose. But such things happened. It was a part of life, and life was brutal. Attacks on merchants and their goods – that, too, he knew about. And the murder of abbots was not unknown: Eadulf had been with Fidelma enough times when they had to investigate the untimely deaths of prelates. So what was the cause of the dark threatening atmosphere that seemed to be oppressing him? He had just settled to his analysis when the door through which Fidelma had vanished a few moments before, burst open and she stood there, flushed and slightly breathless.
‘Eadulf, come quickly.’
He sprang up and went towards her.
‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘What is the matter?’
‘I have just seen Iuna in animated argument with Iarnbud and they have left the fortress,’ she replied, motioning him to follow her. ‘I want to know where they are going.’
‘Iuna and the old pagan? I didn’t think she liked the old man.’
‘Come. They are moving so fast, they might disappear before we catch up with them.’
Eadulf did not protest further but ran with her through the kitchens, ignoring the puzzled glances of those servants who were busy about their duties, preparing the food for the day.
Fidelma led the way to some storage rooms and halted before a door.
‘I could not find Iuna,’ she explained, opening it, ‘so I asked one of the kitchenmaids where she was and was told she was in here. When I came here, the door was open and I heard raised voices. She and Iarnbud were quarrelling. A door was slammed shut on the far
side of the room. I waited a moment and went in. The door led out onto the cliffs, and the two of them were moving together down the path towards the shore. So I came back to find you.’
As she was speaking, she and Eadulf went through a storage area to another door. It was a sturdy one with bolts and chains on the interior which, of course, had not been secured.
This door, Eadulf found, as Fidelma had told him, opened beyond the fortress walls to where a path led through an area of thick bushes and trees, steeply downward towards the shore of the Morbihan. It was a well-trodden path and they were able to move quickly down it. The salt tang of water was immediate, and within a few moments they had come to a small inlet surrounded by rocks where waves lapped noisily against them and where several wooden boats bumped against each other with a hollow thudding noise. Eadulf realised that the other side of the rocks to their right must be the stretch of sandy shore where Fidelma had nearly come to disaster in the quicksand.
Rocky steps had been carved on the more precipitous part of the incline that had ended in a natural harbour. There seemed no one in the vicinity.
Fidelma halted, peering around in frustration.
‘This is a means of supplying the fortress from the sea,’ Eadulf commented, ‘but it presents a weak point in times of war.’
But Fidelma was not interested in his martial views. She was looking for some sign of Iuna and Iarnbud. Then she noticed a sail some way out on the glinting waters before them. It seemed to be heading in the direction of one of the islands.
‘Can you see who is in that boat?’ she demanded.
‘It’s too far away.’
‘What was the island – the one where the boat is heading? Macliau or Trifina told us the name of it.’
‘Govihan, I think. The island of the smith’s forge, they said it meant.’
‘That’s it. It’s where there is a fortified dwelling and watchtower where Trifina prefers to spend her time. That’s where Iuna and Iarnbud are heading. Come on, I believe some answers will be there.’
Eadulf’s eyes widened in alarm. Fidelma was already descending the stone steps at a dangerous pace into the small harbour.
‘Wait a moment…’he began.
She ignored his protests and seemed to be examining the remaining boats moored there. Two were small boats with oars but a third one held a mast and single sail.
‘We’ll take that one,’ she said firmly. ‘Come on.’
‘But…but I hate sailing,’ protested Eadulf.
Fidelma’s brows drew together. ‘I’ll handle the sail. It doesn’t require more than one person in this tiny skiff.’
‘But we are stealing…’
‘Borrowing,’ she corrected.
‘We ought…’
‘Do I have to go alone?’ she threatened.
Eadulf knew when he was beaten and, with a shrug of his shoulders, moved down the steps to join her. She had clambered into the small skiff and was untying the sail.
‘Unfasten the rope there,’ she instructed, ‘and push us away from those other craft.’
He did so without further argument. There were two oars in the skiff as well, and while she made ready with the sail, he used one of them to push the boat away. He tried to guide them out into the mouth of the inlet. There was a wind blowing from shore which flapped at the sail, and now Fidelma hoisted it; it immediately filled with wind and a tremor went through the vessel as the offshore breeze caught it. It began to move, slowly at first.
‘Quickly, come and sit here by the mast,’ she instructed. ‘Mind the boom.’
Eadulf moved with alacrity as the vessel began to gather speed across the wavelets. Fidelma went to the stern and took the tiller. She steered the vessel out into the open water.
‘You do realise that we will be seen as soon we approach that island?’ Eadulf fretted. ‘Remember what Macliau said about the watchtower and having lookouts posted there?’
Fidelma had forgotten but did not say so.
‘We will be careful,’ she assured him. ‘If we can find one link in this mystery then we will ask Riwanon for assistance.’
‘Riwanon? So you think Macliau and his sister are involved?’
‘It is their symbol that these brigands are using. It is logical to believe that they are involved.’
‘This is true,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘Except that if they were, why didn’t they make us prisoners or even kill us when we turned up at their fortress? The leader of the pirates certainly had no compunction about killing when he raided the Barnacle Goose.’
Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment.
‘Yes. That is one thing that I cannot explain at the moment,’ she agreed.
Eadulf twisted round to glance at the island ahead of them. When he had viewed it from the tower at Brilhag, it appeared small and compact. Now it grew larger as they approached it. There seemed no sign of the other craft that Fidelma had presumed Iuna and Iarnbud were using. Indeed, they had probably made landfall on the island already. Eadulf hoped that Fidelma had thought matters through because, as soon as they approached the island, they would surely be spotted and if she were right, then they would have no excuse about disguising their suspicions of the guilt of the children of the Lord of Brilhag.
The island’s southern end rose, inhospitable. Eadulf knew from his observation from the tower that to the east was a long sloping sandy shore while to the west there was a small strip of sand. Both provided easy landing-places, but either would be easily observable.
‘Where are you going to land?’ he asked nervously.
It was something that had just begun to bother Fidelma. She did not want to land observed, if possible. She actually hoped their crossing from the peninsula had not been seen or, at least, mistaken as a normal fisherman crossing the waters. But to land on either beach was to invite inspection from the inhabitants of the fortified dwelling on the island.
‘The one place that won’t be watched is the southern end of the island,’ she said at last. ‘We could bring the boat in unobserved under the high banks there and climb up to the treeline. Then we could see the lie of the land before committing ourselves.’
Eadulf’s jaw tightened as he viewed the dark, high shoreline. ‘Land there?’
‘It is not that forbidding,’ replied Fidelma calmly.
‘There’s white water there. Rocks.’
‘Get into the bow and tell me if I come near anything. Use one of the oars to stand us off.’
Muttering under his breath, he turned and scrambled forward, dragging an oar with him.
They were closing fast – too fast, thought Eadulf.
‘Left!’ he shouted, waving his hand in that direction. ‘Keep left!’
They were still a long way from the stony seashore when he realised that not only did the white water herald rocks poking above the sea, but there were also shadows of hidden rocks beneath the dark waters.
‘It’s too dangerous!’ he protested. ‘We should turn back.’
Even as he spoke he could see they had come in too close among these underwater rocks to turn with any degree of safety. There was a tidal current driving them towards the shore.
‘Right!’ he suddenly screamed. ‘Bear right!’
He felt the boat begin to respond.
Thoughts raced through his mind. They were going too fast. They ought to take down the sail. But he was needed as lookout to shout warnings of the rocks, and Fidelma was needed at the tiller. It was too late to take the sail down and no one to do so anyway. And now they could not turn out of danger. There was still 100 metres to go before they reached the shore. It was just a matter of time when…
The impact knocked Eadulf forward over the bows and into the water. He felt his head bang against a rock and, for a moment, he was confused and dizzy. For a split second, before he was thus precipitated, he had been conscious of a tearing sound, and had an image in his mind’s eye of a sharp rock ripping into the wooden planking of the boat. Then he was struggling in
the water, struggling for his life for the second time in recent days. The currents and eddies among the rocks were strong and pulled him this way and that. He reached out, trying to grasp a rock but they were all covered with slimy weeds and he could get no purchase. The waves smashing down from the swirling currents drove the breath from his body, and when he opened his mouth to inhale, seawater gushed into it and he swallowed automatically. He was choking. He had no breath and then suddenly everything was black. He felt a brief moment of regret; regret that life had to end in such a fashion.
Chapter Eleven
‘I am sorry…I am sorry…I am sorry…’
Fidelma’s voice echoed as if in a cave far, far away. Eadulf found himself fighting against the black oppressive current, swimming badly upwards towards the light and suddenly…His eyes snapped open. Fidelma was leaning over him, her hair and clothing soaked, water streaming down her face – mingling, it seemed, with tears. Her expression was tragic.
He started to cough and spit out seawater. The taste in his mouth was vile.
‘I am sorry.’ Her voice came again.
He sank back. ‘It seems that we are making a habit of trying to drown one another,’ he managed to croak, unable to control the timbre of his voice.
Her face above him broke into a smile of relief.
‘Eadulf!’ was all she said, and was unable to speak further for emotion.
Eadulf became aware that he was lying on grassy ground. The crash of waves came at a distance. He was soaked through. His head ached and his throat was sore. The realisation came to him gradually that he must have been hauled from the water and carried to this spot. He looked at Fidelma and was about to form a question when he observed the shadows behind her. He tried to focus on them and after a moment they moulded into two grim-faced warriors whose swords, however, were sheathed.
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