He gave a quick exhalation of breath and Fidelma felt the rope round her wrist suddenly slacken.
‘I’m free!’ she said quickly, rubbing her wrists to restore the circulation.
Eadulf helped her to stand up.
‘What now?’ she asked him, knowing that he would have already thought out some plan.
‘I saw that they had left our two horses still tethered. I suggest we take them and ride in the opposite direction to the one which they have taken.’
They started out of the hut and then Fidelma suddenly pulled him back. He realised why almost immediately.
‘Halt!’ cried a voice. An outlaw who had been left on guard came racing towards the hut. They saw the flash of firelight on the naked blade of his sword. ‘Stand still. You cannot escape.’
Eadulf acted swiftly. He reached down, picked up a handful of mud and threw it at the man. It was not thrown with any degree of force but simply to distract the outlaw, who parried it with ease. At the same time, Eadulf dived towards a wood pile and seized the first log he could from the stack. He swung round, almost in the same rolling motion, and came into a defensive crouch as his assailant recovered, realising there was no danger from the makeshift missile. Not waiting for the outlaw to move, Eadulf was on him, brandishing the wood above his head. The men were too close for the sword to be used effectively, and a moment later Eadulf had sent the wood crashing against the side of the man’s head.
‘Come on!’ he called to Fidelma, even before the outlaw had fallen to the ground. Fidelma was already untying the horses. With Eadulf leading, they set off at a brisk canter along the track which led in the opposite direction to the trail which Clydog and his men had taken.
It was fairly dark and the woods with their canopy of branches increased the darkness. A sudden wind was whipping at the treetops. Fidelma glanced up into the darkness.
‘It will be raining before long, Eadulf,’ she called. ‘This wind is a harbinger of a storm, I’ll warrant it.’
‘Then it might help rather than hinder us,’ replied Eadulf. ‘At least it might hide any tracks.’
She could not be sure how far they had travelled, except that it was a fair distance, when a short time later the sky suddenly lit with a momentary flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by a harsh rumble of thunder which caused the horses to shy and whinny in protest. Rain, like cold, icy pinpricks, began to fall, quickly increasing in intensity.
‘We are not going to get far at this rate,’ Fidelma called. ‘Any idea where we are?’
‘I could not see the stars. There were too many storm clouds before this set in to be sure,’ replied Eadulf, ‘but I think we are heading west or south-west. The forest was due south from Llanpadern.’
His words were punctuated by another flash, and almost immediately the crash of thunder reverberated once again.
‘We’ll have to find some shelter out of this,’ Eadulf said. ‘This rain is too intense.’
‘It might be providential as the rain will wash away our tracks,’ replied Fidelma. ‘We’d best dismount and lead the horses. The thunder and lightning are making them skittish.’
Eadulf reluctantly acknowledged that it was the best course. He knew Fidelma was an expert horsewoman, learning to ride almost before she could walk. He was more used to travelling on foot. They dismounted and began to lead the animals along the track, feeling it turning to a muddy slushy mess beneath their feet as the rain gushed down through the trees.
It was just after another bright flash that Eadulf halted and pointed along a small pathway leading off the main track which had been illuminated by the lightning.
‘I thought I saw a rock face along there. I am sure there was an overhang. It might provide shelter. It would be better than nothing at all.’ He had raised his voice to be heard above the sound of the torrential rain and the rolling storm.
Fidelma simply nodded.
‘Wait here!’ yelled Eadulf. ‘I’ll make sure that it is safe along there.’
He turned along the path, leading his horse. Soon he had disappeared in the darkness and sheeting rain. Fidelma stood impatiently, waiting by the head of her nervous mount, gently speaking to it and stroking its muzzle in an attempt to keep it calm.
Then Eadulf reappeared. ‘It’s all right,’ he called. ‘Come on. The overhang leads into a large cave where we can shelter with the horses. I’ve left mine there. It’s big and dry.’
She followed, guiding her horse carefully along the muddy path through the whipping branches.
If anything, the rain was increasing in its intensity. The storm seemed to be circling round in the forest as if some angry storm god were trying to seek them out, sending his lightning forks sizzling down to the ground seconds before following them with a thunderous explosion. One must have struck nearby for they saw, on what must have been a hill, a fire break out among the trees only to be quenched moments later by the torrent of rain.
Fidelma found herself entertaining the irreverent thought that the Saxon thunder god Thunor had prepared this vengeance for them. It was not so long ago that her people measured storms as a manifestation of the power of the gods and goddesses. It occurred to her to wonder why Thunor sounded so similar to the Irish thunder god Torann and to his British counterpart Taranis, but then she dismissed the thought.
The overhang was quite large and Fidelma had no difficulty leading her horse under its shelter. As Eadulf had said, a dark, almost pitch black cavern yawned beyond. His horse was hobbled inside; he had taken the reins and tied the beast’s forelegs to prevent it walking far, for there was nothing to tether it to. Fidelma smiled to herself, approving of his forethought. She’d make a horseman of him yet. She quickly followed his example.
The cave seemed large and dry but they were both saturated and cold.
‘I don’t suppose there is a chance of a fire?’ she asked.
‘I doubt whether I could find dry kindle or wood,’ replied Eadulf, a shadowy figure against the mouth of the cave, lit only when the lightning flashed. ‘Even then I am not sure whether it would be prudent. We have not come so very far from Clydog’s camp. We don’t want to attract any attention.’
‘He and his men would surely give up the chase while this storm lasts,’ she decided. ‘Let’s see what we can do.’
As soon as it was light enough and, they hoped, the storm had abated, they ought to try to increase the distance between themselves and Clydog and his cut-throats. In the meantime, there was the problem of being wet and cold to overcome. Eadulf was right: there was no dry fuel to be found, and so they resigned themselves to making the best of the situation.
Eadulf, more by touch than an ability to see anything in the darkness, had removed the horses’ saddles. He found a smooth boulder to one side of the cave and Fidelma heard him arranging things.
‘I’ve put down the saddle blankets here. They are pretty damp, but better than the cold rock. I suggest we try and get warm together and perhaps our garments will dry on us.’
Fidelma and Eadulf huddled together against the boulder. Their embrace was one of animal necessity, each needing the warmth of the other’s body. Outside the cave, the storm was drifting away, but the dark rain clouds still rolled over the forest, sending cascades of water pouring across the landscape.
‘It’ll be clear by morning,’ muttered Fidelma as she nestled into the crook of Eadulf’s arm.
Eadulf was silent for a moment. ‘If we head due west in the morning we ought to reach the coast. But perhaps we might find a southerly road before that.’
‘Why southerly?’ she asked, momentarily perplexed.
‘So that we can find our way back to the abbey of Dewi Sant.’ He felt Fidelma stiffen a little.
‘We have not fulfilled our commission from Gwlyddien.’
‘Surely we have? We know that Llanpadern was attacked by sea-raiders. We found the body of the Hwicce warrior. I think it is obvious what happened to the community and to the king’s son.’
‘I don’t think it is obvious at all. I want to go to Llanferran to see Dewi, and hear more about the bodies he found.’
Eadulf’s facial muscles tightened in dismay. ‘How can we remain here with this madman Clydog in the vicinity?’ he demanded. ‘There is no way that we can move about seeking information, not with this band of maniacal killers on our heels.’
‘I cannot retreat now, Eadulf,’ she answered quietly. ‘That would be to deny my oath as a dálaigh, not to mention my acceptance of Gwlyddien’s commission.’
‘But surely. .’ protested Eadulf helplessly. He realised that he would not win against the remorseless logic of her decision.
‘You may return to the abbey if you wish,’ Fidelma interrupted without rancour. ‘You can await me there. But there is too much evil here to allow me to admit such a defeat without trying to resolve the questions that spring to mind.’
Eadulf was quiet for a moment. ‘Do you plan also to go back to Llanpadern?’
‘Not to Llanpadern. Clydog would doubtless think of following us there. For the time being we have learnt all we can from that sad, desolate place. As I have said, we must see what information we can pick up at Llanferran.’
‘And after that, where then?’
‘Back to Llanwnda. I must inform Brother Meurig and Gwnda of the presence of Clydog and his men. Doubtless Gwnda is equipped to protect his people against them and I will also seek that protection. Brother Meurig and Gwnda might know something about this Clydog and his outlaws.’
‘What more do you want to know other than he is a thief, a rapist and a would-be murderer?’
‘I want to know much more,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Both Clydog and Corryn are educated. They have the bearing of men born to authority and used to rule. That intrigues me.’
‘Yet what has that to do with Llanpadern? That is surely what we must concentrate on if you are determined that we must remain here to solve this mystery.’ He felt Fidelma relax a little at his quiet acceptance of her decision.
‘You’ll stay with me, then?’ she asked.
Eadulf sniffed uncomfortably. ‘Did you have any doubt?’
He heard her sigh. ‘Of course I didn’t,’ she confessed. ‘Anyway, I am going to prove you wrong.’
He frowned in the darkness. ‘Wrong? What do you mean?’
‘You said that Clydog had nothing to do with the disappearance at Llanpadern. I think he knew more than he said, which, admittedly, was not much.’
‘You forget that Saxon sea-raiders were seen. That some of the brethren’s bodies were found, and the body of the Hwicce at Llanpadern. What more evidence do you want as to what happened there? What connection would a thief like Clydog have with Saxon raiders?’
‘Remember that I said that he must have been there before, or been forewarned that we were there, hence the silent approach he made with his men?’
‘There is another explanation for it.’
‘Which is?’ Fidelma was surprised that Eadulf had been giving the riddle some thought.
‘He could have seen our approach to Llanpadern, watched our entry and then waited until we were inside before slinking up on us.’
‘As I recall, we were inside for well over an hour before going to the barn. That is a long time for him to wait, if he had been watching before deciding to entrap us there.’
‘You obviously have a theory,’ Eadulf said in resignation.
To his surprise she gave a negative shake of her head. ‘At this stage, I have only questions.’
‘But what makes you think there is some connection? The fact that he surprised us in the barn is hardly reason to think he was connected with the Saxon raid.’
‘You said that he did not know about the Saxon in the crypt.’
‘Yes. Otherwise he would have made some remark when he knew I was a Saxon.’
‘He did.’
Eadulf stared at her in the darkness, although he could see nothing but the deeper blackness of her head against his chest. ‘Well, I did not hear it,’ he said defensively.
‘His first words when I told him who we were. Don’t you remember?’
‘He simply made some remark like “A Gwyddel and a Saxon.” ’
‘He did not. What he said was “A Gwyddel and another Saxon.” Who was the other Saxon if not-’
‘The Hwicce?’ supplied Eadulf quickly.
‘Who-wicca.’ Fidelma struggled again with the pronunciation. ‘Why do you Saxons have such unpronounceable names?’
‘Because,’ Eadulf snapped testily, ‘we are a different people. Every language is easy to pronounce to those who speak it. Every language is phonetic once you know the phonetics!’
‘Absit invidia,’ Fidelma murmured pacifyingly. ‘There is no offence intended. I simply make a statement as it appears from my own viewpoint.’
‘I’m sorry,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘A curse on languages, anyway. They are twisty things, words upon words, with sly meaning and never any precision.’
‘On the contrary, Eadulf, the only thing that creates an enemy of language is insincerity. Language can only be our friend if it is in accordance with the truth of the speaker.’
Eadulf groaned softly. ‘Is this the time and place for philosophy?’
‘All times and all places are conducive. Language has betrayed Clydog’s knowledge. Clydog knew the Hwicce was in the tomb. When he heard that you were a Saxon, unconsciously it slipped out — another Saxon.’
Eadulf was silent as he considered the matter. Then he said: ‘So he must have known that the body was in the tomb?’ Suddenly he gave an audible groan. ‘What a fool I am. Sualda!’
‘Exactly. I think that the Hwicce was cornered by Sualda in the refectory. He picked up that meat knife and stabbed Sualda, who in turn killed him.’
‘But why hide the body in the sarcophagus?’
‘That is a question that we cannot answer yet.’ Eadulf clicked his tongue in annoyance. ‘I would place a wager that Clydog knows something about this mystery. If only I had tried to make sense of Sualda’s ramblings.’
He heard Fidelma yawn sleepily, and glanced towards the cave mouth. It was still dark and raining outside.
‘We’d better try to sleep a while,’ he advised. ‘At first light we must try to pick up the road to Llanferran and hope we don’t encounter our friend Clydog again.’
There was no sound except the regular rise and fall of his companion’s breathing. Fidelma was already asleep.
The noisy chorus of birds woke Eadulf. It was still dark but one could feel the onset of the dawn. He was surprised that he had even fallen asleep. It seemed only a few moments ago that he had been thinking that sleep would be impossible as he half lay, uncomfortable in his damp clothes, against the hard rock on the cave floor with Fidelma nestled in the crook of his left arm.
He tried not to make too sudden a movement but turned his head slightly and looked down at her still sleeping form. She seemed so vulnerable, so unlike the Fidelma he was used to seeing; the face so confident and, perhaps, a little arrogant.
He moved his gaze back to the cave mouth and saw the sky was not really dark but getting lighter all the time. The cacophony from the birds increased. It was time to be moving.
He stirred, moving his muscles gently. Fidelma moaned a little in protest. He reached over with his free arm and shook her gently on the shoulder.
‘Time to be going,’ he said quietly.
She moaned again and then blinked. In a moment she was sitting up staring about her. She shivered in the chill.
‘Have we overslept?’ she asked, rubbing her eyes.
‘No,’ Eadulf assured her. ‘But it will be dawn in a moment or two.’
Fidelma looked at the cave entrance and saw the sky. ‘We’d better make a start then,’ she said, rising to her feet and stretching. She felt chilly and her damp clothes were uncomfortable. The horses were standing patiently, blowing and snorting in the cool air, their breath like little puffs of steam.
The ground outside had been saturated by the rain and the sky was still filled with menacing heavy clouds. He muttered something in Saxon which sounded like a curse. Fidelma raised an eyebrow in disapproval. Eadulf shrugged and indicated the wet ground with a jerk of his head.
‘It will make our tracks easy to follow, if Clydog is still out looking for us.’
Fidelma began to saddle her horse. ‘He will be,’ she assured him. ‘With luck we can find some rocky trail or perhaps a stream to follow.’
‘I’d give anything for a drink and something to eat,’ Eadulf sighed, following her example and putting the saddle blanket on his mount.
Fidelma was abruptly reminded that they had not eaten since the previous morning. She wished she had eaten the plate of venison she had been offered on the previous night. Eadulf was in the same position, having forsaken his meal to effect his escape.
‘Let’s hope we can find somewhere to refresh ourselves on the journey. We need to find our way to Llanferran,’ she said brightly. ‘Don’t forget our horses are just as miserable as we are. They haven’t been rubbed down or watered and fed either.’
Eadulf led the way out of the cave and back along the small twisting mud path towards the main track from which they had departed on the previous evening. It was a chilly, grey-stone morning. Even the bird song seemed desultory now.
They mounted and began to proceed along the trail. Although they seemed to sit at ease on their horses a close observer would have noticed that their muscles were tensed and now and then they turned their heads as if in expectation of pursuit.
Fidelma wondered how long it had been before Clydog had overtaken the riderless horse and realised how he had been tricked. How long before he had returned to the camp and found that she was gone as well?
They came to a spongy turf clearing among holly and sessile oaks. On one side was a clump of wild pear, leaning together, with their narrow outlines and sparse branches. A few months earlier and they could have eased their hunger with its fruits.
Smoke in the Wind sf-11 Page 13