Conri’s two warriors, with their blazing fire pot, did not question him but went aft and clambered into the smaller vessel. It seemed only a moment or two later that they landed on the sandy stretch. Mugron led them in crouching fashion up to the point where they apparently had a view of the war vessel on the other side of the islet.
From the ship Fidelma and the others watched as the two warriors, under Mugron’s direction, loosed off three fire-tipped arrows apiece. No one could see what they were shooting at. Then the three men turned and came scuttling back to the currach, launching it swiftly towards the merchant vessel.
They had hardly reached the side when a long thin column of smoke was seen rising from the far side of the islet.
Mugron climbed aboard with a broad grin.
‘Your men can shoot well, Conri.’
The warlord was looking bewildered.
‘You set fire to the warship?’
Mugron shook his head.
‘We merely singed their sails a little. They’ll have difficulty following us now.’
‘What’s to prevent them clambering on the islet on their side and shooting at us?’ demanded Eadulf.
The merchant was still grinning.
‘It’s rocky that side. You can’t land. However, I do not intend to wait while they attempt such an experiment.’
He turned and gave rapid orders to his crew who hoisted their own sails. In a moment or two they were moving south-south-west away from the islet.
As they cleared it, they could see that the flames had caught the sails of the warship, which would soon burn away to nothing. The members of the crew were still scurrying here and there hauling leather buckets of seawater up the sides on ropes as they attempted to douse the flames. Even if the vessel carried spare sail, it would take them some time before they could get under way again.
The wind was behind them now and with Mugron back at the tiller the vessel was already putting distance between it and the strange warship.
With things calmer, Eadulf went forward to attend to the crewman who had been wounded by the arrow. Since his training at Tuam Brecain, the great medical school of Breifne, Eadulf always carried a small supply of medicines with him. He found that the crewman had, luckily, sustained no more than a flesh wound through the upper arm. The arrow had torn the flesh but not touched a muscle. He would be sore for some days but would recover. Eadulf treated the cut with some dried woundwort which he mixed with some water into a poultice and applied to the wound. It would help in the healing process.
There was an uneasy quiet when he returned to the stern, where Mugron was still standing rock-like at the tiller. Conri was staring moodily back towards the vanishing warship, now apparently becalmed against the islet, while Fidelma was sitting in a silent meditative pose.
There was another islet approaching and this time Mugron was steering to pass it on the north side. Eadulf saw that it was more of a reef for he could see the rocks just under the water as the ship sped by at a reasonable distance from the hidden menace. Then they finally appeared to be free of the islands and into open sea, with a great broad bay extending south of them. It was large and sand-edged, with mountains rising behind the shoreline.
‘Breanainn’s bay,’ Mugron announced, breaking the silence. He pointed to the far western side of the great expanse. ‘That’s Breanainn’s mount,
Fidelma shook her head. ‘Do you mean to say that you intend to go back the way we have come?’
Mugron was equally serious. ‘I am a trader, lady. So long as the weather holds, what other way is there than to transport my goods back to An Bhearbha?’
Conri was worried, knowing what Fidelma meant.
‘That warship still presents a menace, Mugron. We must find out who it is threatening this coast. You cannot chance the journey back before it is dealt with.’
The merchant shrugged.
‘True enough. But whose jurisdiction is it to tackle it? It flies Eoganan’s battle flag. That’s defiance to Donennach, chief of the Ui Fidgente. You are warlord under Donennach, Conri. What do you intend to do?’
Conri looked embarrassed.
‘I can do little enough with only two warriors at the moment. We encountered the warship in the waters of the Corco Duibhne. Perhaps the responsibility should lie with Slebene the chief?’
Fidelma interrupted irritably.
‘Whether or not it is the immediate responsibility of whatever territorial chieftain it concerns Cashel and the peace of the kingdom. We will have to find someone who is prepared to send warships to meet this vessel and secure the peace in these waters.’
‘There is something else, of course.’
It was Eadulf who interposed. They all looked expectantly at him. ‘The warship attacked us sailing from the place you called Seanach’s Island. Is that not so?’ he asked.
Mugron gave an affirmative of his head.
‘You told us that the only people inhabiting Seanach’s Island were a group of religious hermits who have had their hermitage there for a century or more?’
‘I did. I fail to see-’
‘If the warship is using their island, what has happened to the religious? Someone should go there to ensure that they are safe from this marauder.’
‘Eadulf is right,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully. ‘It may be that whoever
Conri was in agreement.
‘Those islands would not be ideal for a base. Mugron has already mentioned the lack of a natural water supply. There must be something else that makes them attack from there. Whatever it is, it must be dealt with.’
‘If the hermits can live there,’ Eadulf contradicted, ‘then a warship can use it as a port.’
‘I think our Saxon friend is right,’ Mugron agreed. ‘Someone needs to go with warriors to Seanach’s Island, make sure the hermits are safe and find out what is happening.’
‘But that someone needs to be wary,’ Fidelma added. ‘If these bandits are prepared to kill unsuspecting merchants, then it is no use sailing to the island in the hours of daylight and simply demanding to see whether the religious community are well. One needs to go with stealth and at night when they cannot be seen.’
Mugron sniffed deprecatingly.
‘I understand your caution, lady, but you do not know these waters. It needs someone who knows them well enough to sail in daytime, but at night…? At night the currents run strong and there are reefs and rocks to consider.’
‘So whoever goes must be someone who knows the waters intimately,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘It must surely not be beyond the realms of possibility to use a currach to reach the island, land at night and check whether the community still dwell there in safety or if indeed they have been overtaken by these outlaws.’
‘True enough, lady,’ agreed Mugron. ‘We must speak of this to Duinn when we get ashore.’
‘Is this Duinn a trader?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Not a trader although he runs the trading post where we will land. He is also the petty chieftain of the area. He controls the area in which Breanainn’s mountain rises and then his territory stretches west of this great bay and almost south to An Daingean. He is subordinate to Slebene, chief of all the Corco Duibhne.’
‘Whoever he is, I hope he understands the seriousness of this matter,’ Eadulf said, ‘and realises the need to take immediate action.’
‘If there is a warship interrupting his trade,’ Mugron observed with a grim smile, ‘then I am sure that he will take the matter extremely seriously.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
B y late afternoon that day they had reached Daingean Ui Cuis, the fortress of the descendants of Cuis, the capital of the Corco Duibhne from which Slebene ruled the entire peninsula. The great fortress overlooked an excellent harbour on the south side of the peninsula. The harbour had a narrow entrance to the sea. Mugron’s coastal vessel could easily have navigated around the end of the peninsula to it but it was faster to land at the northern harbour of Duinn’s settlement and come through the mountain valleys by horse, a distance of some twenty kilometres.