‘I thought I saw a rock face along there. I am sure there was an overhang. It might provide shelter. It would be better than nothing at all.’ He had raised his voice to be heard above the sound of the torrential rain and the rolling storm.
Fidelma simply nodded.
‘Wait here!’ yelled Eadulf. ‘I’ll make sure that it is safe along there.’
He turned along the path, leading his horse. Soon he had disappeared in the darkness and sheeting rain. Fidelma stood impatiently, waiting by the head of her nervous mount, gently speaking to it and stroking its muzzle in an attempt to keep it calm.
Then Eadulf reappeared. ‘It’s all right,’ he called. ‘Come on. The overhang leads into a large cave where we can shelter with the horses. I’ve left mine there. It’s big and dry.’
She followed, guiding her horse carefully along the muddy path through the whipping branches.
If anything, the rain was increasing in its intensity. The storm seemed to be circling round in the forest as if some angry storm god were trying to seek them out, sending his lightning forks sizzling down to the ground seconds before following them with a thunderous explosion. One must have struck nearby for they saw, on what must have been a hill, a fire break out among the trees only to be quenched moments later by the torrent of rain.
Fidelma found herself entertaining the irreverent thought that the Saxon thunder god Thunor had prepared this vengeance for them. It was not so long ago that her people measured storms as a manifestation of the power of the gods and goddesses. It occurred to her to wonder why Thunor sounded so similar to the Irish thunder god Torann and to his British counterpart Taranis, but then she dismissed the thought.
The overhang was quite large and Fidelma had no difficulty leading her horse under its shelter. As Eadulf had said, a dark, almost pitch black cavern yawned beyond. His horse was hobbled inside; he had taken the reins and tied the beast’s forelegs to prevent it walking far, for there was nothing to tether it to. Fidelma smiled to herself, approving of his forethought. She’d make a horseman of him yet. She quickly followed his example.
The cave seemed large and dry but they were both saturated and cold.
‘I don’t suppose there is a chance of a fire?’ she asked.
‘I doubt whether I could find dry kindle or wood,’ replied Eadulf, a shadowy figure against the mouth of the cave, lit only when the lightning flashed. ‘Even then I am not sure whether it would be prudent. We have not come so very far from Clydog’s camp. We don’t want to attract any attention.’
‘He and his men would surely give up the chase while this storm lasts,’ she decided. ‘Let’s see what we can do.’
As soon as it was light enough and, they hoped, the storm had abated, they ought to try to increase the distance between themselves and Clydog and his cut-throats. In the meantime, there was the problem of being wet and cold to overcome. Eadulf was right: there was no dry fuel to be found, and so they resigned themselves to making the best of the situation.
Eadulf, more by touch than an ability to see anything in the darkness, had removed the horses’ saddles. He found a smooth boulder to one side of the cave and Fidelma heard him arranging things.
‘I’ve put down the saddle blankets here. They are pretty damp, but better than the cold rock. I suggest we try and get warm together and perhaps our garments will dry on us.’
Fidelma and Eadulf huddled together against the boulder. Their embrace was one of animal necessity, each needing the warmth of the other’s body. Outside the cave, the storm was drifting away, but the dark rain clouds still rolled over the forest, sending cascades of water pouring across the landscape.
‘It’ll be clear by morning,’ muttered Fidelma as she nestled into the crook of Eadulf’s arm.
Eadulf was silent for a moment. ‘If we head due west in the morning we ought to reach the coast. But perhaps we might find a southerly road before that.’
‘Why southerly?’ she asked, momentarily perplexed.
‘So that we can find our way back to the abbey of Dewi Sant.’ He felt Fidelma stiffen a little.
‘We have not fulfilled our commission from Gwlyddien.’
‘Surely we have? We know that Llanpadern was attacked by sea-raiders. We found the body of the Hwicce warrior. I think it is obvious what happened to the community and to the king’s son.’
‘I don’t think it is obvious at all. I want to go to Llanferran to see Dewi, and hear more about the bodies he found.’
Eadulf’s facial muscles tightened in dismay. ‘How can we remain here with this madman Clydog in the vicinity?’ he demanded. ‘There is no way that we can move about seeking information, not with this band of maniacal killers on our heels.’
‘I cannot retreat now, Eadulf,’ she answered quietly. ‘That would be to deny my oath as a dálaigh, not to mention my acceptance of Gwlyddien’s commission.’
‘But surely. .’ protested Eadulf helplessly. He realised that he would not win against the remorseless logic of her decision.
‘You may return to the abbey if you wish,’ Fidelma interrupted without rancour. ‘You can await me there. But there is too much evil here to allow me to admit such a defeat without trying to resolve the questions that spring to mind.’
Eadulf was quiet for a moment. ‘Do you plan also to go back to Llanpadern?’
‘Not to Llanpadern. Clydog would doubtless think of following us there. For the time being we have learnt all we can from that sad, desolate place. As I have said, we must see what information we can pick up at Llanferran.’
‘And after that, where then?’
‘Back to Llanwnda. I must inform Brother Meurig and Gwnda of the presence of Clydog and his men. Doubtless Gwnda is equipped to protect his people against them and I will also seek that protection. Brother Meurig and Gwnda might know something about this Clydog and his outlaws.’
‘What more do you want to know other than he is a thief, a rapist and a would-be murderer?’
‘I want to know much more,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Both Clydog and Corryn are educated. They have the bearing of men born to authority and used to rule. That intrigues me.’
‘Yet what has that to do with Llanpadern? That is surely what we must concentrate on if you are determined that we must remain here to solve this mystery.’ He felt Fidelma relax a little at his quiet acceptance of her decision.
‘You’ll stay with me, then?’ she asked.
Eadulf sniffed uncomfortably. ‘Did you have any doubt?’
He heard her sigh. ‘Of course I didn’t,’ she confessed. ‘Anyway, I am going to prove you wrong.’
He frowned in the darkness. ‘Wrong? What do you mean?’
‘You said that Clydog had nothing to do with the disappearance at Llanpadern. I think he knew more than he said, which, admittedly, was not much.’
‘You forget that Saxon sea-raiders were seen. That some of the brethren’s bodies were found, and the body of the Hwicce at Llanpadern. What more evidence do you want as to what happened there? What connection would a thief like Clydog have with Saxon raiders?’
‘Remember that I said that he must have been there before, or been forewarned that we were there, hence the silent approach he made with his men?’
‘There is another explanation for it.’
‘Which is?’ Fidelma was surprised that Eadulf had been giving the riddle some thought.
‘He could have seen our approach to Llanpadern, watched our entry and then waited until we were inside before slinking up on us.’
‘As I recall, we were inside for well over an hour before going to the barn. That is a long time for him to wait, if he had been watching before deciding to entrap us there.’
‘You obviously have a theory,’ Eadulf said in resignation.
To his surprise she gave a negative shake of her head. ‘At this stage, I have only questions.’
‘But what makes you think there is some connection? The fact that he surprised us in the barn is hardly reason to think he was connected with the Saxon raid.’