Our Lady of Darkness

They skirted the abbey walls and rode into the township straight to the Inn of the Yellow Mountain.

A stable lad came to take their horses and, as they entered the warm main room of the inn, Dego came across to them. He seemed relieved to see them.

‘I was going to ride out in search of you both,’ he said. ‘It has been dark for ages and this is not the countryside to ride freely about in the dark.’

Fidelma was reassuring.

‘I think that we would agree with you, Dego. Let us find a table near the fire and see what food Lassar can offer us this evening. Not that I feel particularly hungry tonight.’

Lassar had come bustling out of an inner room with a tray of drinks. She saw them, served her customers, and then came across with a smile of welcome.

‘I was wondering whether you would be back for an evening meal, Sister. You are late this evening. Have you been searching for the Saxon? I am told there is no news of him at all.’

Fidelma pulled off her travelling cloak and indicated a table near the large fire that was now crackling away in the hearth.

‘We have been out riding,’ she confirmed shortly. ‘We’ll sit there and you may tell us what you can offer us this chilly night.’

Lassar followed them to the table and waited as they seated themselves.

‘For the main dishes, there is a choice tonight of lonlongin, the gullet of an ox filled with minced meat and cooked like a sausage. It is a delicacy of the area. Or there is fish — salmon — or I still have some sea-calf which I serve with duilesc and butter.’

‘This meat pudding sounds fine for me,’ Enda said enthusiastically.

Fidelma wrinkled her nose a little in distaste. ‘I’ll have salmon and the duilesc.’ She had a liking for the red, edible seaweed.

‘There is the hair-onion, leek, if you like it, with goose eggs and cheese,’ added Lassar.

‘I’ll remain with the salmon but the hair-onion sounds good.’

Dego decided to accompany Enda with the lonlongin served with root vegetables. For the next half an hour or so, a silence fell on their company. For Fidelma, each mouthful was an ordeal as her thoughts returned to Eadulf and how he might be faring that cold night. Concentration was better when she had some task to fulfil; some objective. Left to her own thoughts, she fell into a morbid frame of mind. She broke the silence by turning to Dego.

‘Did you find out any more about Coba?’

Dego paused while taking a sip of wine. ‘Not really. He has a fortress not far from here, a place called Cam Eolaing. He is a minor chieftain and magistrate, well-respected and not a supporter of Fianamail’s introduction of the Penitentials.’

Fidelma was irritable. She could have told Dego as much.

‘But would he go against Fianamail to the extent that he might help Eadulf escape?’ she asked.

Dego shrugged but was silent.

‘We will go to see this chieftain tomorrow,’ Fidelma decided.

When Lassar reappeared to collect their dirty plates, Fidelma took the opportunity to ask her about Gabrán.

‘Gabrán? Why do you ask about him?’ The woman looked suspiciously at her.

‘I am interested in this river-boat trade, that is all.’

‘He has gone away for a few days now.’

‘Gone?’ asked Fidelma innocently. ‘Back to his home port? Where is it that he comes from — somewhere upriver?’

‘Not far from here — Cam Eolaing. Beyond that place the river is not really navigable for any length.’

Chapter Thirteen

Eadulf had not slept well. The pre-dawn chattering of the birds finally caused him to give up the idea of sleep and splash his face in the bowl of cold water which stood by his bed. As he towelled himself he felt a new strength of purpose. He had been left alone for an entire day since the old man, Coba, had brought him to the fortress. He was free to wander around but always within the confines of the walls and there were always guards nearby who answered him in monosyllabic tones and politely refused to elaborate on any of his questions. When he had asked to see Coba he was told that the chieftain was unable to see him. True, he had been fed well, but he was irritated that no one would explain what was happening. He wanted information.

Why had Coba given him sanctuary? Did Fidelma know where he had been taken and what his position was in law? While Eadulf had heard of this maighin digona he was not sure that he entirely understood it although he did realise that sanctuary was an ancient custom. Coba had said that he had disagreed only with the punishment handed out to him because it was not in accordance with the law of the Fénechus. But would a man really stand against his King and the highest authorities in the kingdom to such a point that he would rescue a foreigner from his death cell in total defiance of them? Eadulf was uncomfortable and suspicious of the motivations of the chieftain.

As if in answer to his thoughts, there was a sound outside his door and it opened. Eadulf threw the towel on the bed and found himself face to face with a small, wiry and thin-faced man whom he had never seen before.

‘I am told that you understand our language, Saxon,’ the man said abruptly.

‘I have a knowledge of it,’ admitted Eadulf.

‘That is good.’ The man obviously believed in brevity. ‘You may go.’

Eadulf frowned, uncertain that he had heard him correctly. ‘Go?’

‘I am to tell you that you are free to leave this fortress. If you godown to the river you will find a religieuse from Cashel waiting for you.’

Eadulf’s heart beat faster and his face lightened. ‘Fidelma? Sister Fidelma?’

‘I am told that is her name.’

Eadulf felt a surge of relief and joy. ‘Then she has cleared me? She has won the appeal?’

The thin-faced man’s features were immobile. His eyes dark and deep set.

‘All I am asked to convey to you is what I have already done. I know no more.’

‘Then, my friend, I shall leave you with my blessing. But what of the elderly chieftain? How may I express my thanks to him for his kindness in bringing me here?’

‘The chieftain is not here. There is no need to thank him. Go quickly and silently. Your friend is waiting.’

The man’s tone was without emotion. He stood to one side and made no attempt to take Eadulf’s extended hand.

Eadulf shrugged and glanced round the room. He had nothing to take with him. All his possessions were at the abbey.

‘Tell your chieftain, then, that I owe him a great debt and will ensure that it is repaid.’

‘It is of no consequence,’ replied the foxy-faced man.

Eadulf left his room and the man followed him outside. The fortress seemed deserted in the cold white light of the crisp autumnal dawn. A frost still lay on the ground making it slippery beneath his leather sandals. His breath came like puffs of smoke and he realised just how cold it was.

‘Is it possible to borrow a cloak?’ he asked pleasantly. ‘It is cold and my cloak was confiscated at the abbey.’

His companion seemed impatient.

‘Your companion has clothing for your journey. Do not delay. She will be growing impatient.’

They had reached the gate of the fortress. A second man stood there; a sentinel who began to unlatch the wooden bolts and swing open the portal.

‘Can’t I express my thanks to anyone for giving me this sanctuary?’ Eadulf thought it churlish to leave the fortress in such a fashion.