‘You are silent, my dear,’ interrupted the voice of Brother Conchobhar.
She started from her reverie. ‘I am sorry. What were you saying?’
‘I was asking if you felt this lightning bolt when you first met our friend Eadulf?’
‘This love at first sight is not to be trusted,’ she said impatiently. ‘Love is knowing someone. You cannot know someone with the first look. Loving is knowing the faults as well as the good qualities.’
Brother Conchobhar disguised his surprise. He had always understood from Eadulf that his had been a matter of the teinntide and thought it had been reciprocated by Fidelma.
‘I am afraid for young Gormán,’ Fidelma was continuing sadly. ‘The fact that Aibell is living with Della, Gormán’s mother, and already becoming part of the family. . that will lead to difficulties. I was expecting to hear an announcement of the intentions of Aibell and Gormán soon.’
‘It will become even more difficult if Deogaire is indeed the person who attempted to kill you and Eadulf,’ the old man dryly observed.
They were crossing over the town square by now. Fidelma glanced towards Rumann’s tavern. The Laighin warriors were still there and seemed to be paying court to a couple of local girls from the township who were obviously enjoying their attentions.
‘Somehow I do not believe that Deogaire will be found guilty for everything,’ she replied absently.
‘I hope not, if only for the fact that I, as his only kinsman here, would be responsible for paying his fines, compensation and honour price.’
Fidelma whipped round — and then saw that the old physician’s eyes were twinkling. She chuckled. Brother Conchobhar was known for his oblique sense of humour. ‘I think your money will be perfectly safe, Brother Conchobhar,’ she said. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure of that.’
Gormán had led the way at a brisk pace, with Eadulf, clinging precariously to his speeding mount, alongside Brother Berrihert, while Aidan brought up the rear, keeping a watchful eye on the unskilled riders. They paused only once to allow the horses to water, and thereby made good time across the low-lying country towards the mountains that marked the beginning of the wide pass into the great glen through which the broad River Eatharlach flowed.
As Eadulf had estimated, the sun had already lowered behind the mountains as they turned into the mouth of the valley which ran east to west. They forded the river across to the south side of the valley, which brought them into the foothills of the range called the Forest Mountains. Some dozen peaks emerged from the great spread of trees which covered their slopes. A little way from the river, but near one of the myriad streams that fed it, Brother Berrihert and his two brothers had built a little wooden hut and had started work on erecting a chapel in which they could tend to the spiritual needs of the local Uí Cuileann clan. Dusk had not entirely encompassed the mountains but they could see a flickering fire through the trees from some distance before they came into the clearing where the buildings were. The reason the fire had been built outside was so as not to present any danger to the wooden buildings while they were under construction.
Brother Berrihert gave a cry of reassurance as they were challenged.
One of his brothers emerged to greet them from the wooden hut as they came into the clearing. Eadulf was already dismounting from his horse and recognised Brother Pecanum.
‘He has grown worse,’ Brother Pecanum said without preamble. His features were set in a mask of concern. ‘I thought we had managed to control the wound but I fear corruption has taken hold of his arm. I have seen the like before. I fear that the arm may have to be removed.’
Eadulf was horrified. ‘Is Dego’s wound that bad?’
‘We are at fault. We thought it was a clean wound, but since Berrihert left for Cashel, the cuts have worsened. He was stabbed in the arm — his sword arm,’ Brother Pecanum replied contritely. ‘We cleaned it as best we could, but now there is much putrescent, foul-smelling odour from the wound.’
There was a sharp intake of breath from Gormán. As commander of the King’s bodyguard he knew what it meant to a warrior to have his right arm amputated, even if he survived the surgery.
A cry of pain came from within the hut and Eadulf asked: ‘Have you given him anything to ease the suffering?’
‘He has insisted nothing be done until he has seen you, Brother Eadulf,’ was the reply. ‘He is a determined man.’
Eadulf turned to Gormán and Aidan. ‘Wait outside while I go and examine him.’ He paused, swallowed as if preparing himself, then he entered the hut. The interior was lit by a couple of lamps. Naovan, the third brother, was squatting by the side of a palliasse, dabbing with a damp cloth at the brow of the figure that lay writhing on it. Brother Naovan glanced up, giving no more than a quick look of recognition, before leaning close to the figure and saying, ‘Brother Eadulf is here.’
The warrior’s face was bathed in sweat in spite of being almost sickly pale in complexion. The eyes were barely open and seemed unable to focus. There was little of the handsome young man that Eadulf had last seen at Cashel, only a few days before.
‘Friend. . friend Eadulf?’ the voice croaked. ‘Are you there?’
Eadulf crouched beside the palliasse. He could already smell the odour of decay from the arm. ‘I am here, Dego.’
‘I am. . am truly sorry.’
Eadulf ran a tongue around his dry lips. ‘Sorry for what?’
‘We were fishing, Egric and I. . fishing. Leaning over water. . stream. Something hit me. . hit me from behind. Sharp blow. They. . someone. . Egric disappeared. Whoever attacked me must have dealt with him. Heard horses. Sorry I. . I didn’t. . didn’t protect your brother.’
He was agitated and Eadulf told him to relax, but even as he did so, Dego fell back into semi-consciousness and started to mutter incoherently.
Brother Naovan reached forward, feeling his forehead. Then he said: ‘Berrihert saw no sign of any companion with the warrior. Someone had attacked him from behind. There is a small flesh wound in his shoulder but a jagged dagger wound in the arm. I think the attacker was aiming for his back, but then Dego moved and the knife struck into the arm. Before he could turn to defend himself, he was also hit across the back of his head. The head wound was not so bad and could be treated. So could the smaller wound. But the one in the arm. .’ He ended with a shrug.
‘Let me see this arm,’ Eadulf muttered, trying not to think about his brother for the moment. He peered down at the tortured face of the warrior with whom he and Fidelma had shared so many adventures. His first duty was to do what he could for the young man.
Brother Naovan moved aside the coverings and exposed the right arm. Eadulf’s mouth tightened as he saw the condition of the swollen tissue and smelled the curious foetid odour like a rotting cheese. Whatever knife had been used, it had not been clean nor was it sharp. The infection had spread rapidly. Brother Pecanum was right, the area was blackening. Eadulf had not wasted his time in the period that he had studied the apothecary’s art at Tuam Brecain. He knew the signs.
‘We must amputate the arm immediately if he is to have any chance at all of surviving,’ he announced.
‘So we thought,’ agreed Brother Naovan. ‘But we lack any skill. Simple things we can do — administer potions, make salves. . but to take a knife to the flesh, muscle and bone — that requires knowledge.’
‘Yet it must be done,’ Eadulf replied roughly. He rose and went outside to where the others were waiting and looked around grimly. He had been speaking in his own language to Brother Naovan: now he sought for the right words so that Gormán and Aidan could also understand what was to be done. He settled on trochugad, a cutting-off of the limb.