to cross.’
A moment later they came on the dark rushing waters of the stream. Here and there in the darkness were little patches of white water as the swiftly flowing current rushed and gurgled over the stones and rocks in the river bed.
‘The deer track leads straight down to it,’ she pointed out. ‘The stream is no more than two or three metres wide here, and I think I can just see a path on the other side. That means that the deer use this as a crossing, and if a deer can cross here so can we. Are you ready?’
‘Let me go first, just in case,’ insisted Eadulf, moving forward.
Fidelma allowed him to go on. Sometimes she was so absorbed that she forgot that Eadulf’s masculine pride could be wounded when she did not allow him to take the lead in those areas where he felt he should.
She waited while he stepped into the bed of the stream and heard him gasp as the coldness struck him. Then he began to pick his way across, swaying now and then as the deceptive force of the current pushed against him. The waters, however, did not rise above his knees and soon he was scrambling up the far bank. She did not wait for him to call to her but began to cross immediately. As she reached the bank he leaned forward and helped her out.
The clouds were bunching up now and obscuring what little light there had been from the low-lying moon, causing the woods to be almost in total darkness. There was, however, a faint gloom which allowed them to follow the deer trail with a fairly fast pace.
‘We must be a fair distance from Llanwnda now,’ muttered Eadulf breathlessly after they had been travelling for some time.
‘I think we have only been moving in a semicircle,’ Fidelma replied cautiously.
A moment or so later, they came to a darkened building. Eadulf shivered as he recognised its outlines. ‘It’s the woodsman’s hut. We have not gone far at all.’ He sounded disappointed.
‘But at least we have come upon the main track through the wood. If we follow this road we will come to the forge of Goff. .’
Eadulf grunted in dismay. ‘But that is about seven or eight kilometres from here, and without horses. . why. .!’
Fidelma suspected that if she could see his features in the darkness they would be extremely woebegone. But it was too dark and she had only his voice to go by.
‘A good pace, Eadulf, and we should be there by daylight. We might be able to get horses from Goff and ride on to the abbey of Dewi Sant to prevent this conspiracy from bearing fruit.’
She halted abruptly. ‘I thought I saw a movement ahead,’ she whispered.
Eadulf strained forward, peering along the track. The trees seemed to converge on them in a dark twist of gnarled branches. He shivered slightly.
‘Isn’t one of these trees the one on which they strung up Idwal?’ he muttered nervously.
Fidelma nodded before realising that he could not see her gesture in the darkness.
‘I think so,’ she agreed.
The clouds seemed to part abruptly and the moon emerged once again to cast a gloomy light over the woods. This time they both saw it.
A body was swinging from one of the lower branches of a squat oak just ahead of them. It hung low to the ground so that the toes of the feet, fully extended, almost brushed the earth. The head was at a curiously disjointed angle to the body.
Fidelma moved forward, Eadulf nervously at her side. He wished that Fidelma had not told him the folklore of this night, the eve of All Hallows.
They halted before the body. Once again the moon had disappeared behind the clouds. It was impossible to see who it was, although Eadulf felt that there was something very familiar about it. They both came to the realisation at the same moment. It was Iorwerth.
‘
‘You don’t sound surprised?’ muttered Eadulf, recognising the line of Virgil which indicated that God granted an end to all trouble.
‘I am not,’ she replied. ‘Though I thought he was made of sterner stuff. Otherwise I would not have shown him that piece of jewellery. Let’s cut him down.’
Eadulf took out his knife and began to saw at the rope. ‘I don’t follow what you mean. Who killed him?’
‘He did it himself.’
The rope split and Eadulf lowered the body to the ground. ‘Why should he. .?’
Sounds broke the stillness of the night. Lights moved in the darkness; burning brand torches. Their provenance was obvious. Fidelma grabbed Eadulf’s hand.
‘Run! That’s Clydog or his men looking for us.’
Together they sprinted away into the woods. A cry behind them told them that they had been spotted. A moment before, Eadulf had been cursing the clouds obscuring the moon. Now he cursed the fact that the night was not dark enough to hide them.
Within moments they realised their flight was almost hopeless. Their pursuers were on horseback. They searched desperately for some narrow path which would lead them more deeply into the woods away from the main track; some way by which they might elude the pursuing horses. There was none. The undergrowth was thick and dark and shut them out.
A moment later, one of their pursuers had overtaken them and turned his horse to block their path. His swinging sword blade menaced them.
‘Hold or be struck down!’ he snarled. They halted reluctantly.
The mocking tones of Clydog came from behind them. ‘Did I not tell you that we would soon meet again? We have some unfinished business, you and I, Sister Fidelma of Cashel.’
They turned and stared at him in the moonlight. Fidelma did not reply.
‘We have wasted enough time this night,’ Clydog suddenly said in businesslike fashion. ‘Bind their hands behind them and bring them along. We will return to Llanwnda.’
One of his men jumped down from his horse and roughly drew Fidelma’s hands behind her and secured them with a rope. She gasped in pain. Eadulf, clenching his hands, took a step towards her but was halted by the pinprick of cold steel at his neck. The sword was expertly held in the hands of the warrior on horseback who had blocked their path.
The other man, having finished with Fidelma, turned on him with an evil expression and swiftly searched him, removing his knife. Then Eadulf found his hands being dragged behind him. He tried to resist but the warrior spun him round and slapped him viciously across the side of the head, sending him toppling. His hands were bound before he had recovered. In less than a minute, they were both hoisted onto horses behind two warriors.
Clydog gave the command to ride on. To Fidelma’s surprise, it seemed that neither Clydog nor his companions had noticed the body of Iorwerth, for they passed by the tree without a glance. She realised that when Eadulf had cut the body down it lay in the high grass, and in the gloom had not been seen.
‘What do you intend now, Clydog?’ Fidelma called.
The outlaw chief glanced back at her. ‘Still asking questions, Gwyddel?’ he jeered.
‘I am afraid it is part of my nature,’ Fidelma responded cheerfully. ‘You have grown very bold since last we met.’
‘What is your clever tongue about now?’ Clydog demanded suspiciously.
‘Nothing clever. Last time we met you were hiding in the woods, like the scavenger you are, preying on wayfarers to rob and kill. Now you have decided to attack an entire township. That means that you have become bolder. I merely wonder why?’
‘I believe that you are clever, woman,’ grunted Clydog angrily. ‘I have a feeling that you know more than you say. We shall find out exactly what you know when we return to Llanwnda.’
Fidelma realised there was little to be gained by trying to continue the conversation. She looked over to where Eadulf was struggling to keep his balance behind the warrior on whose horse he sat. Poor Eadulf. He was not a good horseman. It was difficult enough for her, with her hands bound behind her back, to keep her balance. It must be extremely unpleasant for Eadulf.
At least the group of horsemen made no detours. Clydog led them down the track straight towards the
