‘You were lucky to come ashore then,’ observed Gaeth.
‘It was not without difficulty,’ agreed Sister Easdan with quiet humour.
There was a shout in the distance and a flicker of light. Esumaro started nervously.
‘What’s that?’
Fidelma calmed him. ‘That is the rest of our party, anxious for us. They probably heard the sounds of our struggle. I think it is best to get back to the mainland before light and you can tell us the main part of your story. Then we must form a plan to rescue the others.’
They rejoined Conri, Gaimredan and the others. Some corma was drunk to put warmth into them and they ate some wheaten cakes, which Gaeth had kept dry in his leather bag. Then they clambered into the naomhog and the oarsmen began to pull away from the island, heading out into the darkness back towards the mainland.
Eadulf tried to concentrate on analysing what this adventure meant. It was one way of trying to prevent the seasickness returning although he did not hold out much hope of it. He only prayed that he would not make an idiot of himself and vomit in front of everyone. Concentrate!
After Ganicca had described what had happened at his village, he suspected that Fidelma and Conri. were now presuming that Uaman the Leper was still alive. That could not be. Eadulf was sure. He tried to recall the memory of how the leper had been sinking into the quicksand when the great wave had come sweeping in and Uaman was there no more. He would stake his life that Uaman had perished in spite of what everyone now thought.
Who was Olcan? Why would a group of men on a warship abduct a group of religious and imprison them on an island of hermits? Why would they kill them when they tried to escape? Why kill the Abbess Faife? Why would they also wreck a merchant ship from Gaul? They were questions that he realised could not be answered with the knowledge he had. He knew what Fidelma would say. Never try to make a deduction until you have sufficient knowledge. And how did this matter connect with the murder of the Venerable Cinaed? Indeed, did it have any connection at all? Was it simply a coincidence?
On reflection, he believed that the young girl — what was her name? Sister Sinnchene — had killed Cinaed. It was a classic tale of jealousy and rejection. Then he considered further. There was the Venerable Mac Faosma to consider. He hated Cinaed. That much was obvious. But would a scholar resort to killing a fellow scholar? Then there was the physician
He realised with abruptness that his mind was racing. There were too many possibilities. Fidelma was right. You could not make any deductions without sufficient knowledge. He was merely guessing.
The increasing noise of seabirds make him glance up. To his left he saw a headland and his heart leapt. Had they already reached the mainland? The plaintive call of gulls was growing stronger, mingling with the crash of the surf, and he could see, by the pale light spreading in the eastern sky, a long low belt of sandy shore stretching away in a curve to the south.
They were back in Breanainn’s bay.
He had heard much about the Blessed Breanainn and his fabulous seven-year voyage out on the high seas. Well, the saintly man was welcome to such wanderings. Eadulf vowed he would never step on board ship again — not if he could help it. He had done enough sea travelling in his life. It was reassuring to see the mainland again. His spirits lifted and he sat back more comfortably.
It was not long before the naomhog turned and went racing ashore with Gaeth and Gaimredan bringing it almost to the very spot they had set out from. And looking at the eastern sky Eadulf realised that they had set out when the sun had gone down in the west and now there was a light in the east. He was exhausted and wondered how Gaeth, his companion and the warriors who had taken the oars were able to stand.
With quiet instruction, Gaeth hid the oars at the top of the shore by some trees. Then the men lifted the naomhog on their shoulders, balancing bottom upwards, and set off down the path to Loch Gile. Fidelma, Sister Easdan and Esumaro came behind while Eadulf was given the task of carrying Gaeth’s leather bag.
They walked in silence and kept that silence even after they had deposited the boat by the loch shore and moved to the forge.
As if by common consent, the first task was banking the fires at Gaeth’s dwelling house and then, without more ado, still in their sodden clothing, they spread themselves around it and were all asleep within moments.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was a little after midday when Eadulf awoke and found the others also stirring from their exhausted slumber. Gaeth and Gaimredan were already preparing food that smelled appetising over the fire while Fidelma was also up and washed. Eadulf excused himself and went to the cold stream outside and splashed his face in a perfunctory manner before rejoining them.
The winter’s day was bright and sunny, yet the cloudless sky meant that it would be cold again. Snow lay on the mountains and there were still traces of a frost in the shadowy parts of the buildings around Gaeth’s forge. In the paddock at the back of the forge it seemed that the horses had been fed already.
To Eadulf the previous night seemed like some kind of nightmare. He mentally repeated his oath never to take to the sea again. Apart from a few greetings no one among the company spoke until after the meal was eaten and the fire was stoked and burning brightly again. Then they sat round the central hearth in a circle and finally Fidelma invited Esumaro and Sister Easdan to tell their story.
It was Esumaro who told his tale first. Of the storm that had driven his ship into the long inlet that would have led him to the safe anchorage outside the abbey of Colman. But he described how he had been lured on to the rocky shores of the islet by a false signal and his ship dashed to pieces. He went on to graphically recount how the survivors of the Sumerli had been killed on the shore and how he had hidden himself before making it across a sandy strait to the mainland in the darkness and then had fallen into an exhausted sleep. He ended with being woken by a group of religieuse.
It was then that Sister Easdan took up the story of how they were on
‘Tell us who led these warriors,’ instructed Fidelma, wanting to get down to detail.
‘There was a man whom the men called Olcan,’ replied Sister Easdan immediately.
‘While my men were being killed on the shore where we were wrecked, I heard the killers speak this name — Olcan,’ added Esumaro. ‘The warriors were the wreckers and they became our captors. I owe my life to the good sisters who disguised me, pretending that I was also one of their religious brothers on the same pilgrimage. I called myself Brother Maros lest they found out the name of the captain of the ship they had wrecked.’
Sister Easdan was looking troubled.
‘While Olcan clearly led the warriors, I don’t think he was really in charge.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Fidelma encouragingly.
‘There was a small person among them from whom Olcan appeared to take his orders.’
‘Describe this person,’ Fidelma invited, not revealing that she had already had a good description from Ganicca.
‘We never saw his features,’ the girl replied. ‘He was on horseback but clad from head to foot in grey robes, rather like a religious, but he wore no crucifix round his neck.’
‘Can you describe him further?’
‘A slight, bent figure, speaking in a high-pitched, almost whining voice.’
‘But you never caught sight of his face once?’ pressed Eadulf. Esumaro shook his head.
‘But I can tell you his name,’ he said suddenly, making them all turn to look at him. ‘When we stopped at a village among the mountains after we had been captured, one of the villagers — an old man — pointed to him and called, in my hearing, the name Uaman.’