other craft that Fidelma had presumed Iuna and Iarnbud were using. Indeed, they had probably made landfall on the island already. Eadulf hoped that Fidelma had thought matters through because, as soon as they approached the island, they would surely be spotted and if she were right, then they would have no excuse about disguising their suspicions of the guilt of the children of the Lord of Brilhag.
The island’s southern end rose, inhospitable. Eadulf knew from his observation from the tower that to the east was a long sloping sandy shore while to the west there was a small strip of sand. Both provided easy landing-places, but either would be easily observable.
‘Where are you going to land?’ he asked nervously.
It was something that had just begun to bother Fidelma. She did not want to land observed, if possible. She actually hoped their crossing from the peninsula had not been seen or, at least, mistaken as a normal fisherman crossing the waters. But to land on either beach was to invite inspection from the inhabitants of the fortified dwelling on the island.
‘The one place that won’t be watched is the southern end of the island,’ she said at last. ‘We could bring the boat in unobserved under the high banks there and climb up to the treeline. Then we could see the lie of the land before committing ourselves.’
Eadulf’s jaw tightened as he viewed the dark, high shoreline. ‘Land
‘It is not that forbidding,’ replied Fidelma calmly.
‘There’s white water there. Rocks.’
‘Get into the bow and tell me if I come near anything. Use one of the oars to stand us off.’
Muttering under his breath, he turned and scrambled forward, dragging an oar with him.
They were closing fast — too fast, thought Eadulf.
‘Left!’ he shouted, waving his hand in that direction. ‘Keep left!’
They were still a long way from the stony seashore when he realised that not only did the white water herald rocks poking above the sea, but there were also shadows of hidden rocks beneath the dark waters.
‘It’s too dangerous!’ he protested. ‘We should turn back.’
Even as he spoke he could see they had come in too close among these underwater rocks to turn with any degree of safety. There was a tidal current driving them towards the shore.
‘Right!’ he suddenly screamed. ‘Bear right!’
He felt the boat begin to respond.
Thoughts raced through his mind. They were going too fast. They ought to take down the sail. But he was needed as lookout to shout warnings of the rocks, and Fidelma was needed at the tiller. It was too late to take the sail down and no one to do so anyway. And now they could not turn out of danger. There was still 100 metres to go before they reached the shore. It was just a matter of time when…
The impact knocked Eadulf forward over the bows and into the water. He felt his head bang against a rock and, for a moment, he was confused and dizzy. For a split second, before he was thus precipitated, he had been conscious of a tearing sound, and had an image in his mind’s eye of a sharp rock ripping into the wooden planking of the boat. Then he was struggling in the water, struggling for his life for the second time in recent days. The currents and eddies among the rocks were strong and pulled him this way and that. He reached out, trying to grasp a rock but they were all covered with slimy weeds and he could get no purchase. The waves smashing down from the swirling currents drove the breath from his body, and when he opened his mouth to inhale, seawater gushed into it and he swallowed automatically. He was choking. He had no breath and then suddenly everything was black. He felt a brief moment of regret; regret that life had to end in such a fashion.
Chapter Eleven
‘I am sorry…I am sorry…I am sorry…’
Fidelma’s voice echoed as if in a cave far, far away. Eadulf found himself fighting against the black oppressive current, swimming badly upwards towards the light and suddenly…His eyes snapped open. Fidelma was leaning over him, her hair and clothing soaked, water streaming down her face — mingling, it seemed, with tears. Her expression was tragic.
He started to cough and spit out seawater. The taste in his mouth was vile.
‘I am sorry.’ Her voice came again.
He sank back. ‘It seems that we are making a habit of trying to drown one another,’ he managed to croak, unable to control the timbre of his voice.
Her face above him broke into a smile of relief.
‘Eadulf!’ was all she said, and was unable to speak further for emotion.
Eadulf became aware that he was lying on grassy ground. The crash of waves came at a distance. He was soaked through. His head ached and his throat was sore. The realisation came to him gradually that he must have been hauled from the water and carried to this spot. He looked at Fidelma and was about to form a question when he observed the shadows behind her. He tried to focus on them and after a moment they moulded into two grim- faced warriors whose swords, however, were sheathed.
Fidelma saw his glance.
‘We were seen — these men came down to the shore and managed to save us.’
He became aware of another man kneeling by his head and proffering a goatskin water bag.
‘Take a sip, swirl it round your mouth and then spit it out,’ the man instructed. ‘You have swallowed much seawater and ’tis better not to digest any more water until your mouth has been cleansed.’
Eadulf tried to raise himself on one elbow but his head started to swim.
‘Better if I could spew it forth,’ he replied, remembering the advice of the physicians under whom he had trained.
‘We caused you to vomit on the seashore, otherwise…’ The man did not finish.
Obediently Eadulf took a sip, tasting the cool fresh water in his mouth. It was hard not to swallow but he rinsed his mouth and spat the water out again.
The man took the goatskin bag and put back the stopper. Then he signalled to his men. They lifted Eadulf like a child between them.
‘It is not far to my lady Trifina’s dwelling,’ the man said. ‘Do you require assistance, lady?’ This last enquiry was addressed to Fidelma.
Eadulf did not hear her answer but it must have been negative.
‘It was lucky for you that we were at the southern point of the island,’ the man said, as they began to move forward. Eadulf had the impression that he was young and swarthy. He was feeling light-headed again and wanted more than anything to close his eyes and sleep. However, he struggled to keep his senses attuned as he remembered their circumstances and realised that they might soon be in trouble.
‘Is the lady Trifina in residence?’ he heard Fidelma ask innocently.
‘She is often at this island, which she regards as her home more than at her father’s residence. Do you know the lady Trifina then?’
‘We have met.’ Fidelma’s voice was solemn.
It seemed that Eadulf must have passed out then, for when he came to, he was inside a building and could feel the warmth and hear the crackle of a fire. A young man was bending over him and prodding him with firm but gentle fingers. Eadulf felt nauseous and his headache had not improved. He blinked and groaned but his eyelids felt like lead.
‘He will be all right after a short rest, lady,’ the young man said to someone behind him. He spoke in Latin.
‘What on earth has happened?’ The voice was familiar and it took him a moment or two before he identified it as that of Trifina.
‘We were coming to pay a call on you and mistook a safe landing-place,’ he heard Fidelma reply. Even through the fog of his mind, it did not sound convincing. ‘We struck a submerged rock and our boat broke up. It was fortunate for us that these men saw the incident from the shore and effected a rescue. They saved our lives.’
