The Subtle Serpent (28 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: The Subtle Serpent
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‘Of all people, Eadulf,’ Fidelma said, forcing a tone of rebuke, though there was a slight catch to her voice. ‘Brother Eadulf, you are the last person I have been expecting to see in this land of mine.’
‘If the truth be known,’ replied Eadulf, the corners of his mouth twitching in a dry grimace, ‘if the truth be known, I will admit that I never hoped to see anyone I knew ever again. But how have you come here? You are surely not a friend of these people … ?’
‘There is much to explain,’ Fidelma replied with a shake of her head. ‘But we must hurry and get you away from this place before we are discovered. How are you bound?’
Eadulf bit back the hundred and one questions that were obviously flooding into his mind and gestured to the iron manacle on his ankle.
‘I have been trying to work it loose but I do not have the right tool.’
Fidelma examined the lock, frowning slightly in concentration. It was a simple mechanism but needed something
long and thin to prise it open. She reached into her crumena and drew out the knife she carried and attempted to insert the point into the opening of the padlock. It was too broad.
Eadulf watched her glumly as she peered around the room obviously searching for a long piece of metal to prise the lock open.
‘There is nothing within my reach. I have looked.’
She did not reply but rose and examined the lantern which was hanging on the wooden pole. She reached forward, removing it and examining the iron nail on which it had been hooked. Then she put down the lamp and using her knife began to dig at the nail. It took a few moments to remove sufficient wood around it to start to loosen it and a few moments more to wiggle it up and down so that she could extract it with ease. Then she returned to her task.
‘I still do not understand how you came here, Fidelma,’ Eadulf said as he watched her twist the nail in the lock.
‘It will take some time to explain. More important than that is the question of how you came here.’
‘I was a passenger on a Gaulish merchant ship. The captain put into this port to trade and suddenly we were all captured.’
‘Where are the rest of the captives?’
‘Mostly held in the mines to work. There are some copper mines here …’
‘I know. Ah! That’s it.’
There was a click of the mechanism as it turned. She unloosened the fetter from his ankle.
Eadulf began to massage his bruised flesh.
‘Well, I shan’t be sorry to desert these people’s hospitality,’ he muttered. Then he glanced awkwardly to the shut door which separated this part of the cabin from the second room. ‘However …’
‘What is it?’ Fidelma demanded impatiently, she was already moving for the outer door. ‘We should leave now. Our luck can’t hold forever.’
‘There is an elderly religieuse imprisoned in the next room. She has been here for several weeks now. I would not like to leave her. Can we take her with us?’
Fidelma did not hesitate.
‘Is she alone?’
Eadulf nodded.
Fidelma took the lamp and moved cautiously to the next room and opened the door.
An elderly, white-haired woman lay on a straw palliasse in a corner. She was asleep. Like Eadulf, one ankle was gripped in an iron manacle which was fastened by a chain to the wall.
Fidelma bent beside her and shook her gently
The elderly religieuse came awake, eyes wide in fear. She opened her mouth but Fidelma placed a finger to her lips and smiled reassuringly.
‘I’m here to help you. I presume that you are Sister Comnat?’
The woman stared in astonishment and then gave an affirmative gesture.
Fidelma took the nail and bent to the lock.
‘This should not take a moment.’
Sister Comnat looked from her to Eadulf who was standing in the doorway, stretching and massaging his leg to restore the circulation.
‘Thank God!’ whispered the elderly sister. ‘Then Sister Almu managed to get through safely?’
Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment and then gave a quick shake of her head.
‘We will talk about this later.’
The lock on Sister Comnat’s fetters was not so difficult as that on Eadulf’s manacle or else Fidelma had become more learned at the art of the manipulation of the mechanism. There was a click and the fetters came undone.
‘What now?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘There are many warriors in this place.’
Fidelma helped to raise the frail religieuse to her feet.
‘I have some friends with horses close by. Come.’
She took the weight of Sister Comnat, who was swaying a little with weakness, and led her to the door of the cabin.
‘Take a look outside and see if it is clear,’ she instructed Eadulf.
The tall monk nodded briefly and eased open the door. A moment later he turned with a grim look of satisfaction.
‘No sign of anyone.’
‘Then we shall go. Move around the side of the cabin and into the cover of the woods behind. Be careful, for there is at least one dog about this place.’
They moved out of the cabin and Fidelma motioned Eadulf to close the door and thrust home the wooden bar, so, to the casual glance, the cabin would still appear secure from the outside. Then they moved cautiously to the edge of the cabin. A dog started to howl close by but its cry was taken up by the distant baying of the wolves high up on the mountainside. They heard a voice cursing and then a sharp yelp. Obviously the irritated owner of the voice had thrown something at the poor beast.
With Fidelma leading the way, they continued along the side of the cabin and into the trees and undergrowth behind. Here there was a clump of round headed yews and the area was thick with a profusion of holly and strawberry trees, some female species of holly with their bright red berries and many younger trees with green bark. Ivy leaves permeated through the trees, among the elders, so that the forest welcomed them with a natural screen. Trying to avoid the prickling of the sharp spines on the lower leaves, Fidelma pushed into the shelter of the woods.
‘My friends should be close by here,’ she whispered, indicating the path. She led them silently in a semi-circle around the edge of the settlement, keeping under cover of the trees and bushes until they came across Ross standing impatiently with Odar and the horses. The burly sea captain examined Fidelma’s companions in amazement.
‘No time for explanations now,’ Fidelma cut in before he could begin to ask questions. ‘We must put some distance between this place and ourselves.’
Ross responded to the urgency immediately.
‘We can move to the caves on the hillside a few miles back. The old … the sister can mount behind you, Fidelma. The monk can mount behind me.’
Fidelma agreed and swung up on her horse.
‘Odar, help Sister Comnat up behind me,’ she urged.
Still looking somewhat dazed, the elderly religieuse was helped to clamber up behind her. Ross mounted and helped Eadulf up behind him. Then he turned to lead the way, picking the path up through the woods which hid them effectively from anyone’s prying eyes from the settlement below. It was half an hour before he called a halt in a small clearing where the snow had turned to slush in front of the rocky entrance to a large cave. He signalled for them to dismount and then led the horses into the cave entrance away from any casual observers.
‘Come on,’ he instructed the others, ‘there is plenty of room and we will be out of sight.’
Ross was right. It was a large cave and he had been able to tether the horses well back from the entrance while they gathered in a small circle where a series of dry rocks served as excellent seats.
‘I think your flask of
cuirm
is appropriate now, Odar,’ Fidelma said solemnly.
The tall sailor went to his saddle bag and removed the vessel, unloosening the stopper and handing it first to the elderly Sister Comnat. She coughed a little at the fiery liquid and then smiled in gratitude.
Fidelma took it next, paused then passed it silently to Eadulf.
‘I think you stand in need of this more than I do.’
Eadulf did not argue but seized the flask and took a long swallow.
He grinned apologetically before handing it back to her and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
‘It seems a long while since I have had anything so satisfying,’ he confessed.
Each in turn, now warmed themselves with a draught of the fiery liquid.
‘What happened, Eadulf?’ asked Fidelma, when the warming effects of the drink eased them a little. ‘You give us your explanation first. How came you to be a prisoner in this place? When I left you in Rome, you were to be instructor to your new archbishop of Canterbury. I thought you were to be in Rome for at least a couple of years before returning to your own country.’
‘That is what I thought also,’ Eadulf agreed in a rueful tone. ‘But, as Virgil says —
dis aliter visum.
It seemed otherwise to the gods. There is no escaping destiny.’
Fidelma felt the old irritation rising in her at his ponderous approach and was about to make a caustic response when she suddenly chuckled at the incongruity of the thought. She had risked much to mount a rescue of Eadulf only to be irritated with him the moment he opened his mouth. Eadulf was regarding her with perplexity.
‘Go on, Eadulf,’ Fidelma invited, still smiling. ‘You were in Rome and expecting to stay there for some time.’
‘Theodore of Tarsus was preparing for his journey to Canterbury to be installed as archbishop. He had decided to send emissaries to prepare his establishment there. Since the synod at Hilda’s abbey two years ago the Saxon kingdoms have each accepted Canterbury as the seat of their chief bishop and apostle just as you, in this land, have accepted Armagh as the seat of the successors of Patrick.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Fidelma felt a growing irritation again at Eadulf’s lengthy method of reaching the point. ‘But what are you doing here in Éireann?’
‘I was just coming to that,’ Eadulf protested in a hurt tone. ‘The archbishop also wanted to send emissaries to the Irish
kingdoms to make a peace after the ejection of the Irish clergy from the Saxon kingdoms. He wanted to open dialogue with the Irish churches, especially as he has had communication with many clerics in Ireland who wish to introduce the Roman laws into the ecclesiastical establishments.’
Fidelma pulled an expressive face.
‘Yes; bishops like Ultan at Armagh would welcome such dialogue. But are you saying that you were sent as an emissary to Archbishop Ultan?’
‘No, not to Ultan. I was sent as emissary to the new king of Muman at Cashel.’
‘To Colgú?’
‘Yes, to Colgú. I was to intermediate between Canterbury and Cashel.’
‘How then did you land here in this remote part of the kingdom?’
‘I travelled from Rome to Gaul. In Gaul I searched the coastal ports for a ship that would take me directly to Muman so that my journey would be that much faster. That was when my luck deserted me. I managed to secure passage with a Gaulish merchant ship which was going to a Muman port where there were copper mines. The ship was going there to trade, as I was told.
‘The captain of the merchant ship had a cargo to deliver and swore that when he had done so then he would take me to a place called Dun Garbhán from where I could secure a horse. From there, as I recall, it would have been an easy journey to Cashel. It presented no problem to me for I have spent some years studying in this land and knew vaguely the route …’
Fidelma knew well that Eadulf had studied both at the great ecclesiastical college of Durrow and at the medical college of Tuaim Brecain and spoke the Irish language fluently for even now this was their common tongue.
‘But you said your luck deserted you. What happened?’
‘I did not know what cargo was being taken on board. But I noticed that as well as the crew there were many Franks who came aboard. I was speaking with one of them who was quite garrulous. They were, it seems, soldiers but soldiers of fortune, prepared to sell their services.’
‘Soldiers?’ Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘What would a Gaulish merchant ship be doing transporting Frankish soldiers to this corner of the five kingdoms?’
‘That was also my reaction,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘My Frankish friend was quite boastful of the amount of money he and his friends would be getting. I think he was more open with me because I was a Saxon. It turned out that they were not ordinary soldiers. They were specially trained in the use of artillery.’
Fidelma looked blank. The word, not existing in Irish, Eadulf had used the Latin word
tormenta.
‘I do not understand military terms, Eadulf. Explain what this means. Surely a
tormentum
is an instrument for twisting or winding, a windlass, for example?’
‘It is also a military engine for discharging missiles,’ Eadulf explained. ‘The ancient Romans used them quite a lot in their wars. The
ballistae
was an engine for throwing stones and boulders, so was the
catapulta.’

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