The Dove of Death

water within seconds of each other, the first impact knocking the breath from their bodies.

As Eadulf surfaced he heard shouting that was faint to his ears, and was aware of splashes around him. Arrows! They were being fired out from the ship. He glanced around and saw Fidelma had surfaced nearby.

‘Strike out for the island!’ he cried. ‘Try to keep underwater as much as you can until we are away from the ship.’

He knew that she had heard him but she did not waste precious breath or time to acknowledge. She dived just as several more missiles fell about them. Somehow she had kept a tight hold of the hazel wand and as she struggled beneath the waves she managed to thrust it into the girdle at her waist. Eadulf knew their attempt at escape was probably futile. But faced with immediate death there was no other choice he could think of. It was only a matter of time before the pirates would launch one of the small boats and row after them and they, swimming in their encumbering clothes, would easily be overtaken long before they reached the distant island. In fact, the clothes were weighing them down so much that they were hardly moving at all.

He noticed that in her frustration Fidelma was trying to pull her robe off. She was a brilliant swimmer, he knew. She and her brother Colgú had swum as soon as they could take their first footsteps, in the rushing waters of the ‘sister river’ — the Suir, which ran near to Cashel. She was a better swimmer than Eadulf, but the sodden clothing acted in the same way as if her limbs were bound.

Eadulf heard a shout and glanced back at the Barnacle Goose. His fears were correct, for he could see a small boat being lowered from the side of the ship and three men were clambering down into it. He presumed they would be armed. The shore of the island was too far away. He closed his eyes in anguish for a moment and then a curious anger rose in him as he thought how stupid it was, that his life, Fidelma’s life, could end in such a fashion.

Fidelma suddenly shouted to him above the splashing of the water. He could not hear what she said. Was it a warning?

He turned on his back and saw, bearing down on him, the sleek, dark outline of a small sailing craft. There was only one man in it, crouching at the stern. Eadulf was about to dive away, when he saw that the man was clad in the robes of a religious. He was leaning forward, one hand outstretched, the other on the tiller. Automatically, Eadulf reached out, missed the hand but managed to grab on to the stern of the vessel, which dragged him along, slowing its pace.

The man turned, let go of the tiller, grabbed Eadulf by the shoulders of his robe and literally heaved him into the bottom of the craft. In slowing the tiny vessel down by his weight hanging onto the stern, with the man leaving the tiller, the little boat jibed and lost way. It had allowed Fidelma to swim the few strokes that brought her to the bows of the vessel and she tried to clamber over. The man left Eadulf gasping in the bottom of the boat and moved forward to haul her on board.

Without another word, he glanced to where the three pirates were pulling away from the sides of the Barnacle Goose in their direction.

He muttered something, grabbed the sheets controlling his single sail, seizing the tiller again and moving to find the wind. He seemed to be an expert, for only a moment passed before the wind filled out his sail again. The breeze now carried the small craft along, like a feather across the little waves, the bow wave rippling behind it like a silvery furrow.

Fidelma and Eadulf had managed to struggle into sitting positions and glance towards the disappearing outline of the Barnacle Goose and the ship that had attacked her.

‘I presume from the manner of your dress you are religious?’ the man at the tiller said in Latin.

Fidelma spoke in affirmation in the same language. Their rescuer was middle-aged, his face weather- beaten, and he had black hair, dark eyes and a suntanned skin. He looked more like a sailor than the religious his robes and the crucifix, hanging around his neck, proclaimed him to be. He wore the tonsure of St Peter. While his tone was light, his expression was anxious and he kept turning to look at the ships behind them.

‘We thank you for your timely rescue, Brother,’ Eadulf said, coughing a little to clear the tang of brine from his throat.

The man grimaced. ‘Your thanks may be a little premature. You are not out of danger yet — we are still being followed. If the black ship decides to send more warriors after you, then we may be in trouble, for we are simple fisherfolk and our little island is not large enough to hide you in for any length of time.’

Fidelma raised her head to gaze behind them. The rowing boat from the Barnacle Goose was still coming in their direction.

‘What do you intend to do?’ she asked their rescuer.

‘I intend to offer you what assistance I can. I was on the headland when I saw that your vessel was being attacked. Then I saw two figures leap overboard and the flurry of arrows being loosed. I put out in my own small craft to see what I could do. Who are you?’

‘I am Fidelma of Cashel, and this is Brother Eadulf.’

The man noted the manner of her introduction, as he replied, ‘I am Metellus, Brother Metellus of the community of Lokentaz, the abbey of Gildas of Rhuis. It is on the mainland, but I am serving the little fishing community on Hoedig, which is the island to which we are now heading.’

‘Is there a strong community there?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘Men who can help us against these pirates?’

Metellus shook his head. ‘I told you, my friend, we are simple fisherfolk. We have no warriors, just stout fishermen, their wives and children. Enough for three men, if that is all they send after you, but against armed men from a warship…well. However, we’ll do our best. I know a spot near the Menhir of the Virgin where you may hide.’

‘Menhir?’ queried Eadulf.

‘A tall standing stone set up by the ancients which has been consecrated for the faith, for it was an old custom to go and offer prayers by it.’

They turned to the approaching island, growing large before them. It was mainly low-lying with little sandy beaches, and the waters had turned almost turquoise as they came close inshore. They could see the stretches of green growth on land, sprinkled with little yellow flowers, and here and there were tiny habitations of grey granite.

‘It looks fairly large to me,’ offered Eadulf.

‘No more than a kilometre across and twice that or a little more long, my friend. If those on that ship yonder really want to make a search for you — then, as I say, there is hardly anywhere to hide.’

They were pulling into a bay and Brother Metellus stood up to lower the sail. A small crowd of men, women and children of every age, were crowding curiously on the wooden quay to greet them. They had apparently seen what had taken place.

An elderly man addressed Brother Metellus by name from the shore and an exchange of words followed which was too rapid for Fidelma or Eadulf to understand. Willing hands helped them out as Brother Metellus secured the boat.

‘Come — we must not delay,’ he said urgently. ‘Let us find you a safe place to hide.’

‘But what of our pursuers? Can’t we make a defence now?’ demanded Fidelma, glancing seaward to where the rowers were still some distance out to sea.

‘And bring the crew of that raider down on us? No, we’ll have to find some other way of dealing with them,’ Brother Metellus replied grimly, as he began to usher them through the collection of buildings that formed the main dwelling-places of the islanders near the harbour.

They had not proceeded far when they were halted by sounds echoing across the water.

It was a series of blasts on a trumpet or horn of some type.

Brother Metellus halted, turning with a frown. Then with astonishing dexterity, he scrambled onto a granite wall to give him a higher elevation and looked seaward.

‘What is it?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Your pursuers have halted, and…yes, they are turning back to the ships. The horn must have sounded some signal to recall them.’ He raised his face to the sky and let the wind blow across his features. ‘The wind is changing, and the tide. I think the captain must be calling the men back for the vessels to take advantage of it.’

‘Is there a place where we can see what is happening?’ asked Fidelma, her voice quiet and without emotion, although Eadulf could see that her features were still filled with shock from the experience of seeing the callous