‘If they want us to walk, they will not bind our legs,’ Fidelma asserted. ‘The narrow streets of the city in the darkness before dawn…it would be our only chance…How well do you know this area of the city?’
‘I know it well,’ replied Valretrade. ‘I was born and grew up here. But even if there was a possibility of escape-what then? Where would we go? Certainly not back to the abbey, for how would one know friend from foe?’
‘I have friends at the abbey who will help. There is also Brother Sigeric. But first things first. Let us think about escape, before we think of where to escape to.’
‘If it is of any help, I have a sister who still lives close by and I am sure, if we can reach her house, she will shelter us until we can contact your friends. Her husband is a local blacksmith.’
Fidelma nodded absently. ‘Much will depend on the route we take. Verbas of Peqini comes from the east. I suspect he will want to go south to the Mediterranean Sea.’
‘Then the journey will be a long one. Most merchants travel by boat. I am sure we will be taken to the river.’
‘Do the rivers go right through this land?’ asked Fidelma. ‘I thought they rose on mountains in the centre?’
‘We would go along the Liger, which means a journey against the flow of the river. Mules usually pull boats as far south as a town called Rod-Onna-a Gaulish name. The Liger is navigable south to this trading centre. After that, there are narrow gorges and the river winds up at its source on the Massif Central. No large boat can navigate it.’
‘And is that near to the southern sea?’
Valretrade shook her head. ‘No, but from there some tributaries and waterways can be crossed from the Liger to a city called Lugdunum.’
‘And from Lugdunum?’
‘There is a great river called Rhodanus that runs from it and, going with the tide, a boat can reach the open sea within days.’
‘Rhodanus?’ Fidelma smiled. ‘That is a good omen for it means Great Danu. Danus was the mother of all the pagan gods of our land.’
Valretrade said nothing, waiting as she saw Fidelma had relapsed into thought.
‘Once out to the southern sea, we shall be lost,’ Fidelma finally said. ‘It seems that the weakest part of the journey is leaving this city to get to the Liger.’
‘The river that runs by this city joins the Liger at a point further upstream to Nebirnum. I think this man Verbas will want to avoid Nebirnum, since Bishop Arigius there has long campaigned to stop traffic in slaves along the river. Of course, Verbas may use wagons to transport us to the Liger.’
‘Then we must seize any opportunity to escape before we leave this city,’ Fidelma announced firmly. ‘So let us get some rest for we will need our strength later tonight.’
Bishop Leodegar gazed from Brother Eadulf to Abbot Ségdae, a look of disapproval on his face. He had not been pleased when Ségdae and Eadulf had come disturbing him with the news that Fidelma was missing. Nor was he pleased that the abbot was supporting Eadulf in the demand that he confront no less a person than the Lady Beretrude.
‘I would weigh your words carefully, Brother Eadulf, when you affront the reputation of a noble lady. And as for you, Abbot Ségdae of Imleach, you should consider what support you give to the insinuations and demands of this Saxon.’
Abbot Ségdae reached out a hand to grasp Eadulf’s arm and hold him back as he moved impulsively towards the bishop. The bishop’s steward, Brother Chilperic, also took a step forward as if to intercept Eadulf, should he threaten the bishop.
‘Bishop Leodegar!’ Abbot Ségdae’s voice sounded like the crack of a horsewhip. ‘It is quite clear what Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham is asking of you. I see no need for me to reconsider my support of him. Fidelma, who is the sister to King Colgú, ruler of my own land, went out with the declared intention of visiting the Lady Beretrude, whom she suspects of some involvement in the matters which she is investigating on your behalf. It is now after midnight and she has not returned. Let me say, Bishop Leodegar, that Fidelma is not only dear to her husband, Eadulf, but to her friends as well as to her brother, the King. It might be construed as an unfriendly act to all Hibernia, should this matter be ignored.’
Bishop Leodegar stared at the abbot in surprise. He was not used to such challenges to his authority.
‘That sounds very much like a threat, Ségdae of Imleach.’ His voice was tight and angry.
‘It was not intended as such, only as a warning of what feeling might be aroused if the matter is ignored. All we are asking is that we proceed forthwith to the villa of the Lady Beretrude and discover what has happened to Fidelma.’
The bishop’s jaw was thrust out aggressively.
‘You are aware of who Lady Beretrude is? She is of the line of Gundahar of the Burgunds. It may be that her indolent son, Guntram, besports himself with drink, hunting and women, but it is Beretrude who is the ruler of this land.’ Bishop Leodegar let out an angry breath. ‘You expect me to march to her villa and accuse her…accuse her of what? Do you think that I am mad, that I would make such an enemy here?’
Eadulf was tight lipped. ‘So, you would rather be a coward than champion truth and justice?’
Bishop Leodegar’s steward again moved threateningly towards him.
‘Brother Chilperic!’ The bishop waved his hand to motion the steward back to his side. ‘Come, let us have no more of threats. We are too old and should be too sensible to come to such a misunderstanding. You must appreciate that what you are suggesting is offensive to the dignity of the rulers of this land.’
‘So you will do nothing? Am I to tell the King of Cashel that you did nothing to protect his sister?’ demanded the abbot.
Bishop Leodegar sighed. ‘I will send my steward to Lady Beretrude’s villa and ask if Sister Fidelma is there or has called there. That is all I can do.’
Abbot Ségdae glanced at Eadulf and his look admitted defeat.
‘And if, as I suspect, the reply is in the negative?’
The bishop shrugged. ‘Autun is a big city. It is unwise for a foreign woman to have wandered its streets alone at night, for there any many thieves and robbers.’
Chapter Twenty-one
Fidelma was awoken by the noise of several armed men entering the cellar. They were shouting orders and the women were jolted from their sleep in confusion. The young children started to cry and the warriors cursed and threatened them when they wouldn’t fall silent, which only made matters worse. Valretrade was already awake and shivering slightly in the dawn chill. Fidelma rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced up at the window. She was satisfied to see that it was still dark, but the men had brought several lanterns. There was no sign of Verbas of Peqini among them.
‘Stand in line here,’ shouted one of the warriors. Fidelma thought it was the burly man who had addressed them on the previous night. He held several lengths of chain in his hand with manacles on either end. The length of the chain between the manacles was about a metre.
‘What are you going to do?’ demanded one of the women, a Latin speaker.
The guard grimaced evilly. ‘You will be manacled together. So if you have any ideas of running away, you can forget them.’
Fidelma grabbed Valretrade and moved quickly to the line. Instructions were being given in Burgund and in Latin. At Fidelma’s prompting, Valretrade asked the warrior: ‘Are you not going to provide wagons for us to ride in?’
‘Wagons for slaves?’ The man chuckled in amusement. No, my lady, you will walk to the river and like it. From there you will have a nice trip by boat.’
Fidelma uttered a silent cheer. It meant there would be an opportunity to escape as they walked through the small streets and alleys of the city, but the manacles would create a problem. She tried to assess the attitude of the guard as he locked a manacle shut on one woman’s right wrist and then fastened the other end to a second woman’s left wrist.
The guard fitting the manacles was not doing it haphazardly, she could tell. He was c
hoosing to place the strong with the weak-looking. He was obviously a clever man. There was a thickset and tough-looking woman standing just before her and Fidelma saw the guard considering her. She decided to gamble.
‘I’d like to be shackled to her,’ she said, moving forward and pointing to the woman.
The guard stared at her for a second and then burst out laughing as he viewed her would-be companion. Grabbing Valretrade’s wrist, as she stood close behind Fidelma, he fastened one manacle on it and placed the other on Fidelma.
‘I suppose you think that you stand a better chance of escape with someone who is so strong?’ He spoke with a sneer in his voice. ‘I say to whom you are to be shackled.’
As they were pushed back into line, Valretrade was clearly puzzled.
‘Why did you want to be shackled to her?’ she demanded in a whisper.
‘I didn’t, but I had to be sure that I was shackled to you. That guard was clearly choosing who was being joined to whom, and he might not have put us together.’
Valretrade still didn’t understand.
‘He obviously wanted to ensure that two fit-looking women were not placed together,’ explained Fidelma patiently. ‘I had to distract him by pretending I wanted to be placed with that woman, who stood out as being strong. He was so taken off-guard that he reacted and only saw that you were slimmer than the person I asked to be bound to. He thought he was thwarting my chances.’
Valretrade stared at the iron chain that united them by the wrists.
‘I don’t see how this will improve our prospect of escape.’
‘We are going to be walked through the city to the river. The streets are narrow.’
‘Some of them,’ agreed the girl.
‘Then we must ensure we are placed about the centre of the column. There will be guards at the front and at the back. We need to be the furthest away from them.’
‘Then what?’
‘Do you know any narrow lanes or streets where we have a chance to break away? We need to start running and get enough of a lead over our pursuers to have time to find a hiding place.’
Valretrade was suddenly thoughtful. ‘It will depend which side of the villa they march us out from,’ she said. ‘Both afford some good opportunities, but we need to start soon. In daylight we will not have much of a chance.’
As if on cue, the door opened again and Verbas of Peqini stood on the threshold, legs apart and hands on hips. Fidelma had quickly thrown her hood over her head.
‘Well?’ he called to one of the guards in Latin. ‘Are they all ready?’
‘All ready, lord,’ was the reply.
‘Then take them outside and get them into a line. I want to be out of the city before daybreak.’
The guards herded the women through the door and up the stone steps into the side garden of the villa. Thirty women and seven children, one only a babe in arms, were shackled in twos. But there were other guards waiting for them outside.
‘Children in the front, the rest behind. Hurry now!’
The women began to arrange themselves, and Fidelma and Valretrade hurriedly inserted themselves into the middle of the column that was forming.
A horse had been brought, and Verbas mounted it, staring disdainfully down at his charges.
‘Anyone escaping will face the lash,’ he called harshly. ‘Guard, if anyone does not understand Latin, ensure that their companions tell them the penalty. You will move quickly and in silence. Is this clear?’
‘Clear, my lord,’ called the chief guard.
Without more ado, Verbas waved his hand in a forward gesture and moved slowly through the side gates of the villa.
The women were forced in a shuffling movement over the cobbled street.
‘I am relying on you,’ Fidelma whispered to her companion. ‘Tell me when we approach the next small alley. We must run as we have never run before.’
Valretrade nodded surreptitiously.
They had traversed two streets, working their way from the villa and into a complex of intersections, when she said: ‘Down this street, on the right-hand side is a small alleyway. It is like a maze, criss-crossing and with sometimes barely room for one person.’
Fidelma moved closer to her and gripped her hand. ‘We will move together when I give the word.’ Her voice was firm.
‘Together,’ agreed Valretrade quietly.
The alley loomed up in the semi-gloom too quickly for second thoughts. As they reached it, Fidelma snapped, ‘Now!’ and the two women suddenly leaped for its dark mouth. Holding hands to make the manacle more easily handled, they started running down the cobbled way. Behind them they could hear shouts and screams.
It had been well after midnight when Brother Chilperic had returned from his mission to report that the major domus at Lady Beretrude’s villa had informed him that Sister Fidelma had not been seen. By the sound of it, the man had not even consulted his mistress but had cavalierly dismissed Brother Chilperic at the gates of the villa. This was exactly what Eadulf had feared.
It was Abbot Ségdae who had prevented Eadulf from going directly to the villa himself.
‘It is no good. And if you think that the major domus is lying and, indeed, that Lady Beretrude is involved, then it could be dangerous for you as well as Fidelma.’
‘But what can we do?’ asked Eadulf in anguish.
‘Let us wait until daylight. Things are always so much clearer in the morning hours. You need the rest.’
‘Little rest I’ll be getting,’ muttered Eadulf.
‘Relax and meditate. After the morning prayers we shall tell Bishop Leodegar that we mean to go to the villa and demand to see Beretrude.’
It was after some intense discussion and still with much reluctance that Eadulf agreed to return to the hospitia to rest. It is true that sleep did not come easily to him but, nonetheless, it came eventually and when he awoke it was just past dawn and a distant bell was ringing for the morning prayers.
As Fidelma and Valretrade ran into the darkened alley, the other women, seeing what had happened, began to block off the entrance with their milling bodies while the guards tried to get into the alley to pursue the escapees. Frustrated by the women in their way, the warriors started to lash out. Verbas of Peqini shouted useless instructions but then, two of the guards broke through and started to run after the pair.
Fidelma and Valretrade moved as quickly as they dared in the darkness of the confined space.
‘Do you know where this alley leads?’ gasped Fidelma, as they came to a maze of small passageways.
‘Yes. Not far now. I know where we can hide,’ replied her companion.
Then Valretrade twisted and turned through the dark passageways until Fidelma was hopelessly confused and had to put her faith entirely in the hands of the young woman.
Suddenly she halted, breathing hard, in front of a wooden gate set in the black stone wall.
‘Here we are!’ She reached for the latch and it gave with a groaning sound of wood against wood.
She went through it, dragging Fidelma with her. Then she thrust the gate shut behind them.
Fidelma saw that they were in a small yard; a few chickens clucked irritably but were not particularly disturbed while a tethered goat gazed at them with an expression that seemed to imply it resented their intrusion.
‘There’s a hay pile there,’ gestured Valretrade. ‘Let’s catch our breath.’
They flung themselves down in a dark corner away from the gate.
It was not a moment too soon, as heavy footsteps pounded by. They could hear the stertorous grunt of the guards who had been chasing them, then the sound faded away. The women crouched in the corner listening, but the tethered goat had grown restless and its movements had disturbed the chickens that now decided to protest. Suddenly, a door opened and the figure of a muscular man appeared with a lantern in one hand and a large blacksmith’s hammer in the other.
‘Come out, you thieves!’ he called. ‘Careful, for I am armed.�
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The light fell on them in the corner.
‘Come out!’ he called again.
It was Valretrade who moved first. ‘Ageric-it is I!’ she called softly.
The man stepped forward, the lantern raised. ‘By the holy powers! Valretrade?’
The girl moved swiftly and caught him by the arm.
‘Quickly, let us go inside and douse the light. Be as quiet as possible. There are pursuers near by. I have a friend with me.’ Her words came out in a breathless whisper.
The man did not say anything more but turned and went inside the house, with Valretrade and Fidelma following. Once they were inside, he bolted the door.
‘Who is it, Ageric? What is happening?’ A woman entered from the adjoining room and paused when her eyes fell on them.
‘Valretrade!’ She grasped the girl in an embrace. As Valretrade went to respond, the woman saw the manacles that linked her with Fidelma, and she stepped back, eyes wide. The man had now set the lantern on a table. He heard the gasp and turned to see the reason for it.
‘By the holy icons!’ he muttered. ‘Have you run away from the abbey?’
‘It is a long story. This is Fidelma from Hibernia,’ Valretrade said, indicating her companion. ‘We must speak in Latin for she does not understand our Burgund tongue. Fidelma, this is my sister, Magnatrude and her husband Ageric.’
‘I am afraid I know little of your language,’ Fidelma apologised.
Algeric strained to understand her and then said: ‘My wife and I have Latin. It is a lingua franca still among us, for this was once a province of the empire. Most people who have had some learning speak it a little.’
Fidelma was relieved.
Magnatrude was examining them with a worried expression Her features bore a strong resemblance to Valretrade’s except that she was a few years older than her sister. Her husband was of the same age, a big man with strong shoulders and dark hair. There was something humorous about his expression, as though he were permanently amused with the world.
‘What has happened? Why have you run away from the abbey? Why did they manacle you?’
The Council of the Cursed sf-19 Page 30