‘Are you sure that there is no other place to land?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘The rest of the island is protected by fairly steep rocks and to attempt to scramble up them in the darkness is simply to court disaster.’
Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.
‘I wonder how the old man managed to flee in his little boat without being pursued across the sea?’
Conri shrugged.
‘Whoever shot him with that arrow probably thought that he was already dead. He was as good as dead anyway.’
‘We will have to keep our wits about us,’ Gaeth advised. ‘It will be no journey for the faint-hearted.’
Conri smiled and glanced knowingly at Eadulf, who had seemed oblivious of the conversation. His features were drawn into deep contemplation.
Fidelma followed Conri’s meaningful gaze.
‘Eadulf has been in more dangerous situations than this one,’ she said stoutly in his defence.
Eadulf glanced up at his name and frowned.
‘Sorry, I was thinking of something else. What is it?’
Conri grimaced with amusement.
‘I think that Gaeth may be concerned in case you are over-anxious about the forthcoming trip.’
Realising Conri was doubting his courage, Eadulf’s brows came together in an annoyed expression.
‘It is said that there are only two sorts of people who are fearless-the drunkard and the fool. I am neither.’
‘Fear is worse than fighting,’ replied Conri in a mocking tone.
‘Knowledge is better than ignorance,’ replied Eadulf spiritedly. ‘Ignorance is the real cause of fear. It is better to think out the possibilities before running into a dangerous situation when knowledge might save a life.’
Conri made a barking noise as if containing a laugh.
‘That is the timidity of a mouse.’
Eadulf kept his temper.
‘Mus uni non fidit antro,’ he said softly.
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
‘A wise person named Plautius pointed out that even a mouse does not rely on one hole.’
Gaeth slapped his knee appreciatively at the intensity of the argument.
Even Gaimredan nodded in appreciation. He peered closely at Eadulf and smiled.
‘This one is silent, almost passive but receptive. Intuitive, just and kind. Reliable but worrying, at one with the spirit of the two natures of man.’
Gaeth looked directly at Conri.
‘Do not concern yourself, warrior. A man who goes into danger without fearing it is a man who is himself to be feared. A man who knows fear and still confronts it is a man to be relied upon who will stand steady.’
Conri flushed in irritation.
‘I have no time for homespun philosophy. Is it not time to set out on this venture?’ he said sharply.
Gaeth’s glance encompassed them all.
‘If you are all ready…? Then we will collect our naomhog and commence this undertaking. May all our gods go with us.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Eadulf was doing his best to prevent himself from giving way to seasickness. While he had an horizon to look at he could control it, but as dusk gave way to darkness there was little to focus on. The up and down motion of the naomhog was difficult to gauge. He found himself desperately clinging to the side of the vessel for support as the frail craft began the slow climb up the waves before falling with a suddenness that left his stomach in the air behind him.
In front of him, backs to the bow, sat Socht and his companion, each with the curious bladeless oar which was traditionally used with these vessels. Behind them were Gaeth and Gaimredan, also with an oar apiece. The four men bent their backs, using great reaching strokes to send the craft through the dark waters. Fidelma and Eadulf sat facing the bows, directly in front of the two warriors, while Conri. sat behind in the stern, ready to grasp a fifth oar to use it as a tiller if it was needed.
Gaeth had told Eadulf to place his feet carefully in case he inadvertently stuck his foot through the hide covering of the canoe. Eadulf had to place them on the wooden framework to which the hide was tightly sewn. He hoped those in front of him were unable to see his white face, his panic-stricken features, as the boat heaved in the waves, and, now and again, when the sea threw its salt waters over him.
He shivered slightly and hoped no one could see him in the darkness. Then he hoped, if his companions had seen him, that they might take it as a reaction to the penetrating cold of the winter’s evening. Even though everyone had furs and sheepskins wrapped round them, the icy winter fingers permeated their clothing.
Since the boat had been launched from the broad sandy beach of Breanainn’s bay no one had been able to speak. The noise of the waters
Once or twice, through the darkness, Eadulf saw the white of pounding surf and realised that they must be passing some rocks or small islets. It only increased his fear, not knowing whether they might strike a rock any moment and be precipitated into the waters. In the darkness, so far from land, it would be an agonising death. He tried to concentrate his mind on the prayers that he had been taught and realised that the words that came into his mind were not the prayers of the New Faith but the prayers of his childhood to the ancient sea gods and goddesses of the Saxons.
He glanced at the shadows of the oarsmen before him. In spite of the gyrations of the craft, their dark figures seemed to sit relaxed, moving back and forth in unison, all swaying in an easy, flowing motion, as if they were part of one another, the oars slipping easily into the sea in spite of the waves. Down went the four oars together, never missing a stroke. Eadulf envied them. Envied their ability at the oars; envied their apparent calm.
He glanced to his side. Fidelma was a still shadow in the darkness. He wondered what she was thinking as she sat there so relaxed. Did she share any of his fears? No, not Fidelma. She seemed fearless. Fearless as usual. Quiet, determined and logical.
He became aware of a slightly different sound above the noise of the wind and waves and glanced up, narrowing his eyes and trying to focus in the shadows. Ahead of them was a line of white water showing in the darkness. They seemed to be rowing straight forward. A panic seized him. He was about to shout a warning when Gaeth gave a bellow and the oars ceased their stroke. The craft was left bobbing up and down on the waters.
Eadulf peered round. The turbulent seas had stilled a little and he realised, to his amazement, that they were standing near the shore of a large island, almost sheltered from the wind and the brisk larger waves.
Fidelma leant close to his ear and shouted, pointing to the white breakers.
‘This is Seanach’s Island!’
Eadulf realised he had been so buried in his thoughts that the time had passed quickly and he had almost forgotten his nausea.
It seemed that Gaeth had given an order and the two warriors had shipped their oars, leaving it to the smith and his companion to guide the boat along the rocky shoreline. Eadulf could make out nothing on the island. It was just a dark mass rising a little way above them. The craft moved quickly along. Judging by the blackness of the shape he guessed they had come to a headland of sorts where the south-east corner of the island met its eastern shore. This was where Gaeth claimed that there was a sandy beach where a safe landing might be made.
The sound of the heavy seas and wind had died away now as they reached the shelter of the island and Eadulf heaved a sigh of relief.
As they swung round the rocky outcrop, Conri gave a sharp warning cry.
They had almost collided with the dark outline of a large ship at anchor. Eadulf recognised its lines. It was the warship that had chased them. It appeared to be in darkness except for one lantern bobbing at its stern.