The Leper's bell sf-14

by Peter Tremayne

  Eadulf smiled wanly. ‘So you would rather suffer from his evil, and allow him to inflict it on many other innocent people, than prevent it?’

  Basil Nestorios raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

  ‘What can I do? The oath is absolute.’

  Eadulf was thinking furiously.

  ‘When will you be called to treat him next?’ he repeated.

  The physician glanced through the window, trying to estimate the hour. The sky was already darkening. At this time of year that implied that it was mid-afternoon.

  ‘The tide will be on the flow soon. Any time now the guard will come for me. I have watched their time-keeping for several days now.’

  ‘Then if you will not poison Uaman, surely you can make a brew that will render him unconscious?’

  ‘I could. But it would take some time for such an infusion to work. I will be brought back here and locked in. What then?’

  ‘I’ll be waiting behind the door when the guard brings you back. Get him to come into the cell on some pretext… I know … I’ll leave the stone out by the bed and if he doesn’t see it, draw his attention to it. Then I can jump him from behind.’ Eadulf began to get enthusiastic as he considered the idea.

  ‘But it would still take some time for the infusion to work on Uaman,’ Basil Nestorios pointed out again. Then he paused and said reluctantly, ‘I could increase the dose. On reflection, the sooner we take our departure the better.’ Then he sighed in irritation. ‘But when the guard comes to fetch me for the treatment, you will be found here.’

  Eadulf shook his head and pointed to the tunnel.

  ‘I will slip into there and you will push the stone slab before it, not blocking it off, but allowing me hang on with my hands, for my legs will be over the edge dangling into the next cell. As the bed covers your tunnel, with luck the guard will not notice that the slab is not quite in place.’

  Basil Nestorios was looking thoughtful.

  ‘It might work. But even so, if we can deal with one guard, when we escape then there are still five others.’

  ‘Let us deal with one thing at a time,’ replied Eadulf. ‘How do you propose to render Uaman unconscious? Do you have any gafann?’

  The physician looked puzzled as Eadulf, momentarily, could only think of the word used by the people of the five kingdoms.

  ‘Henbane,’ he said, trying to think of the Latin word. ‘Mandragora’ he added, knowing that the plant was related to the mandrake. ‘That is what I would use. In infusions it yields a potion which, if given in undiluted form, will cause a loss of speech and physical paralysis.’

  Basil Nestorios smiled agreement.

  ‘You have some knowledge, my friend. Left with no alternative, I would say that it is a good choice. Yet I have, among my medicines, a distillation of a plant that grows in parts of my country which is called papaver and which will be far stronger and quicker in its effect. It is a white poppy that we use at Jundi-Shapur which is a powerful narcotic and sometimes relieves pain, sometimes stimulates the mind. But it can also be dangerous in large doses.’

  ‘A white poppy?’ Eadulf frowned. It was a new plant in his experience.

  ‘We make an incision in the seed head that ripens once the plant has flowered. The cuts secrete a thick juice, which we scrape off and leave to dry. From this we take our medicinal potion. It will dull the Evil One’s brain and induce a deep sleep. That I am prepared to do, but I will inflict on him no more than sleep.’

  Eadulf shrugged. ‘Well, sleep is better than nothing. If he is not able to order and co-ordinate his warriors, perhaps we have a chance. Are you sure there are no more than six guards in this fortress?’

  ‘I am sure. I have seen only six men who look after the Evil One.’

  Eadulf glanced round. ‘So where is your chest of medicines?’

  ‘The Evil One looks after it. He does not trust me. He keeps the chest in the chamber where I treat him.’

  Eadulf glanced through the window to judge the sky and the tide.

  ‘We had better get prepared, Basil Nestorios,’ he said.

  The physician nodded. ‘Let us hope we are not beloved of the gods,’ he muttered.

  Eadulf glanced at him curiously.

  The physician replied with a smile. ‘In my land we have a saying — hon hoi theoi philousi npothneskei neos — those whom the gods love, die young.’

  Eadulf grinned as he prepared to crawl back under the bed.

  ‘Let us hope that we are considered to be well past our youth, then,’ he replied before pushing himself backwards into the hole.

  The physician waited a few moments to allow him to settle himself and then pushed the stone block before the entrance, using his hands to sweep away the rubble. He then sat on the edge of the bed facing the door.

  ‘Are you all right, my friend?’ he whispered.

  ‘My arms are beginning to ache,’ Eadulf replied. ‘A pity this space is at such an acute angle. If it was level, then perhaps I would not need to put my weight on my hands.’

  ‘Let us hope the guard comes soon.’

  ‘Sssh … I think…’

  Eadulf could hear bolts being drawn back. Metal rasped on metal as the door swung inwards. A voice called: ‘Come!’ He heard Basil Nestorios standing up and moving to the door. A moment or two later he heard the door bang closed and the bolts being pushed back.

  Eadulf waited a short time before he began to haul himself from the hole, pushing at the stone block, which, fortunately, was not heavy. It was but a few moments before he was crawling under the bed and back into the cell again. His first thought was to try the door. As he expected, it had been secured from the outside. He had wondered whether, if the door had been left open, he might have found an opportunity to ambush the guard from the outside rather than wait inside the cell.

  Now there was nothing to do but wait.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eadulf was dozing. He had almost fallen asleep when a noise startled him into wakefulness. There was a movement outside the door. He sprang up, back against the wall, behind the door. He glanced to where the stone lay. It should be well visible from the doorway. Then he heard the bolts being drawn back. He wished he had a weapon of some sort, but there was nothing to hand.

  The door swung inward. A guttural voice said: ‘In you go. You will get your food later.’

  Eadulf waited for the warrior to come forward into the cell. Was he blind? Why didn’t he see the stone? He heard Basil Nestorios begin talking in voluble Greek.

  ‘Silence!’ grunted the guard. ‘I don’t understand your heathen gibberish, and…’

  The voice fell quiet. It seemed that Basil Nestorios was pointing to the stone in an attempt to make the warrior move forward into the cell. It finally worked. Eadulf heard a gasp and then the bulk of the warrior was inside the cell, beyond the door. Eadulf was on the man like a cat springing on its prey, his hands fastening round the warrior’s neck, clenching tight. The man was muscular and large; his big hands came up to tear at Eadulf’s grip. He swung this way and that as Eadulf clung on in desperation, refusing to let go and trying to constrict the man’s breath.

  It seemed hopeless. The man was strong and struggled violently to dislodge Eadulf. Just when Eadulf was almost giving up, the man suddenly relaxed and crumpled to the floor. Eadulf went down with him and remained with tightened grip until he was sure the warrior was not faking. He kept a tight hold on the man’s neck for a few seconds more, then suddenly released his hold and sprang for the door, where Basil Nestorios stood. He slammed it shut and shot the bolts before the guard could stir. He leant against the door, panting for breath. A few minutes passed and then he looked at the physician.

  ‘How did it go with Uaman?’ he whispered urgently.

  ‘I am not sure,’ replied the man. ‘I mixed the potion and told the Evil One it was a new part of the treatment which he must drink. If he does, I would say it should be working already.’

  Eadulf looked aghast. ‘Yo
u mean that you didn’t wait to ensure that he drank the mixture?’

  Basil Nestorios shook his head. ‘The Evil One simply told the guard to take me back to the cell. I left the potion by his side in his chamber.’

  Eadulf groaned softly. ‘Then we cannot rely on Uaman’s being incapacitated. We must get away from here immediately.’

  ‘But my medicine chest, my saddle bags … they are still in his chamber.’

  Eadulf snorted in annoyance.

  ‘Abandon them for the time being. I am not going to waste time going to Uaman’s chamber to see if he is asleep in order to retrieve them. They’ll slow us down anyway.’

  Basil Nestorios looked as if he would argue, but then he realised the logic of what Eadulf was saying.

  ‘Where how, then, Saxon friend?’

  Eadulf looked about. He realised that the corridor they were in, like the others he had seen, ran around the outer wall in a circular fashion. There must be another level above this one where the windows were. He estimated, therefore, that they were on ground level.

  ‘If we follow round, this must lead out to the inner courtyard by the gates. If we can get there without being observed, and then through the gates, the tide should not be so far advanced as to prevent us getting to the mainland.’

  Basil Nestorios pursed his lips. ‘It is already getting dark, though, and I think the tide comes soon after.’

  ‘Then let us not waste time debating,’ snapped Eadulf. ‘Follow me.’

  He began to move through the narrow stone corridor, watching carefully for any means of exit or sign of movement from the guards. After a while he halted.

  ‘There is a small door in the inner wall just ahead. I think it must lead into the courtyard. There are neither bolts nor locks on it. Are you ready?’

  The physician nodded quickly.

  Eadulf moved to the door. There was a circle of metal that raised the latch by which the door was fixed. Eadulf reached out a hand and gave it a tentative twist. The latch lifted without any noise. He pushed it cautiously so that a crack to the outside appeared between the door and the jamb. He applied his eye and let loose a soft sigh.

  The door did open into the inner courtyard. In fact, he could see the tall wooden gates that led to the exterior of the tower stronghold. Then he moved back and closed the door quickly and without noise, glancing to the puzzled Basil Nestorios.

  ‘There is a guard going round lighting the brand torches for the evening,’ he whispered in explanation.

  The physician said nothing. Eadulf stood mentally counting the minutes until he felt the guard would have completed his task. There could be no more than half a dozen torches lighting the inner courtyard.

  Carefully, he opened the door again and peered round.

  The courtyard appeared deserted. The torchlight lit the area with an eerie glow. If the guards were patrolling it, the fugitives would be seen as soon as they emerged from the door. They would have to take that chance. Eadulf hoped that the guards would not be bothered about the interior of what appeared to be an impregnable fortress. After all, in their eyes, their prisoners were safe in the cells and there was no way out — unless the guard who had been escorting the physician was missed. They had to move now, for the longer they delayed the slimmer their chances of escape became.

  Abruptly, there came the jangle of a distant bell.

  Eadulf froze.

  He heard Basil Nestorios exclaiming something in his own tongue that did not sound happy.

  ‘It’s Uaman’s bell,’ hissed the physician. ‘He cannot have taken the potion.’

  ‘Then it’s too late to do anything other than make for the gates. There are two iron bolts on them — see? I’ll take the top one, you take the bottom one, and don’t stop for anything.’

  The bell was jangling urgently now.

  Eadulf opened the door quickly and dashed across the courtyard to the gates. He felt rather than saw Basil Nestorios behind him. He grabbed at the top iron bolt and wrenched it back with a thud. The physician was almost in time with him. Eadulf pulled on the tall wooden doors just as a shout sounded behind him.

  Eadulf hurried through the gap between the doors, closely followed by his companion. Then he skidded to a halt, eyes wide in dismay.

  Outside, directly in front of him, stood a tall, broad-shouldered warrior, his sword already raised as if to strike. Eadulf stood frozen, petrified with shock as he recognised the features of the man in the torchlight from the brands in their holders on either side of the entrance.

  ‘Gormán!’ he gasped.

  The warrior of Cashel’s eyes flickered over Eadulf’s shoulder and narrowed slightly.

  ‘Move, Brother Eadulf!’ he cried, his sword already beginning to swing.

  Eadulf plunged forward, ducking in an automatic reaction to the shouted command. Then he swung round on his heel, nearly tripping himself in the movement. Behind him, as Basil Nestorios had also leapt aside, two of Uaman’s men had come through the gates, swords in hand.

  Gormán’s slash caught one in the neck, either killing or disabling him. As the man fell sideways, his weapon dropped from nerveless fingers. The second warrior met Gormán’s next cut with a parry, and for a few moments blade clashed against blade. But the second warrior was no great swordsman, and the singing sword of Cashel’s élite golden-torqued warrior swept under his guard and caught him beneath the rib cage. With a grunt the man, still grasping his weapon, dropped to his knees, staring wildly before him. Then his eyes seemed to glaze and he fell forward on his face, dropping his blade.

  ‘Are there more behind you?’ cried Gormán.

  Eadulf tried to find his voice. ‘Two or three,’ he croaked.

  Gormán glanced at the physician. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘A fellow prisoner.’

  They could still hear the jangling bell.

  Gormán turned in the darkness and pointed to the shadows that denoted the shoreline.

  ‘The tide is coming in. We must get back. Do you know the way, Brother? The sand link to the shore is treacherous.’

  The bell had suddenly stopped and an unearthly wail was sounding within the dark tower. It was scarcely human. Eadulf shivered. It was Uaman’s cry of rage.

  ‘That will bring his remaining warriors,’ Eadulf cried. ‘Let’s get to the shore where we will be safer.’ He turned and peered into the darkness. He was aware of the sibilant whispering of the sea on either side. ‘Straight ahead. Follow me.’

  He walked forward, trying not to hurry and making sure each foot came down on firm sand before moving on. It took time. Halfway across, they could still hear the noise of shouting, a bell intermixed with screams. At one point, Eadulf dared glanced behind.

  The burning brand torches, in their braziers hanging either side of the great doors of the tower, cast a light on the porch where they had left the two fallen warriors of Uaman. Another warrior, perhaps two — even three — were moving there, and he saw the crooked figure of Uaman himself, a thin, dark shadow, with his bell, standing framed in the doorway, screaming abuse.

  ‘They are coming after us,’ muttered Basil Nestorios, also glancing round.

  Eadulf saw that Uaman was now leading the three warriors after them along the sandbank. All four carried torches to light their way and they thus had an advantage over their quarry. In spite of his dragging foot, Uaman was moving at an astonishing pace. It was clear that he had not taken the potion prepared by Basil Nestorios. Indeed, he appeared to be moving more quickly than his warriors. Eadulf increased his pace.

  ‘At this rate, we might make the shore but we will have to stand and fight,’ grunted Gormán, glancing behind.

  ‘Then we will stand and fight,’ replied Eadulf.

  He realised that the incoming tide was now lapping at his feet. The water was coming in rapidly, but not rapidly enough, he thought bitterly.

  A moment or so later, they were scrambling up on the firm bank before the dark trees. There they turned, preparing for the
worst.

  It was a curious, eerie sight that met their eyes. In the background the tall round Tower of Uaman rose on the island, dark and sullen, although its doors now stood open, still lit by the burning torches on either side. A shaft of silvery moonlight had somehow escaped between the low-lying clouds and danced with a thousand pinpricks of light on the sea. By this, they could see how quickly the tide was coming in. There was now little to be seen of the sand link to the island.

  Uaman was not far from the shoreline now. Surprisingly, he was about ten metres ahead of his three warrior companions. His torch was raised in one dead white claw-like hand. It seemed his rage had taken the better of him, for he had no other weapon.

  ‘Look!’ Gormán suddenly whispered.

  Eadulf followed the warrior’s seaward-pointing finger. Something dark was moving on the silvery waters of the sea, moving towards the strip of water that separated the island from the shore.

  At first Eadulf did not understand what it was.

  ‘Tonn taide!’ whispered Gormán.

  A tidal wave, higher than the average man, came pouring through the narrows. Within a second the three warriors behind Uaman, taking the full force of the water, were swept into the darkness, vanishing as their torches were extinguished. Uaman was closer to the shore and escaped the full force of the wave but he, too, was swept off his feet, though he managed by some miracle to cling tightly to his torch, keeping it above the waves. They saw, by its light, the waters recede for a moment or two; long enough for Uaman to clamber to his feet and start towards the shore. But the leper had been swept away from the main path, and as he moved forward, he began to sink rapidly into the sand.

  ‘The quicksand!’ muttered Gormán.

  Already the clawing sand had reached Uaman’s waist and he was flailing about in panic. Eadulf began to move towards him but Gormán held him back.

  ‘You cannot help,’ the tall warrior muttered.

  Eadulf was beside himself with anxiety.

  ‘Don’t you see, don’t you see…? He is the only one who knows what he has done with Alchú. The only one who can lead me to my baby.’