‘Eadulf, come quickly.’
He sprang up and went towards her.
‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘What is the matter?’
‘I have just seen Iuna in animated argument with Iarnbud and they have left the fortress,’ she replied, motioning him to follow her. ‘I want to know where they are going.’
‘Iuna and the old pagan? I didn’t think she liked the old man.’
‘Come. They are moving so fast, they might disappear before we catch up with them.’
Eadulf did not protest further but ran with her through the kitchens, ignoring the puzzled glances of those servants who were busy about their duties, preparing the food for the day.
Fidelma led the way to some storage rooms and halted before a door.
‘I could not find Iuna,’ she explained, opening it, ‘so I asked one of the kitchenmaids where she was and was told she was in here. When I came here, the door was open and I heard raised voices. She and Iarnbud were quarrelling. A door was slammed shut on the far side of the room. I waited a moment and went in. The door led out onto the cliffs, and the two of them were moving together down the path towards the shore. So I came back to find you.’
As she was speaking, she and Eadulf went through a storage area to another door. It was a sturdy one with bolts and chains on the interior which, of course, had not been secured.
This door, Eadulf found, as Fidelma had told him, opened beyond the fortress walls to where a path led through an area of thick bushes and trees, steeply downward towards the shore of the Morbihan. It was a well-trodden path and they were able to move quickly down it. The salt tang of water was immediate, and within a few moments they had come to a small inlet surrounded by rocks where waves lapped noisily against them and where several wooden boats bumped against each other with a hollow thudding noise. Eadulf realised that the other side of the rocks to their right must be the stretch of sandy shore where Fidelma had nearly come to disaster in the quicksand.
Rocky steps had been carved on the more precipitous part of the incline that had ended in a natural harbour. There seemed no one in the vicinity.
Fidelma halted, peering around in frustration.
‘This is a means of supplying the fortress from the sea,’ Eadulf commented, ‘but it presents a weak point in times of war.’
But Fidelma was not interested in his martial views. She was looking for some sign of Iuna and Iarnbud. Then she noticed a sail some way out on the glinting waters before them. It seemed to be heading in the direction of one of the islands.
‘Can you see who is in that boat?’ she demanded.
‘It’s too far away.’
‘What was the island — the one where the boat is heading? Macliau or Trifina told us the name of it.’
‘Govihan, I think. The island of the smith’s forge, they said it meant.’
‘That’s it. It’s where there is a fortified dwelling and watchtower where Trifina prefers to spend her time. That’s where Iuna and Iarnbud are heading. Come on, I believe some answers will be there.’
Eadulf’s eyes widened in alarm. Fidelma was already descending the stone steps at a dangerous pace into the small harbour.
‘Wait a moment…’he began.
She ignored his protests and seemed to be examining the remaining boats moored there. Two were small boats with oars but a third one held a mast and single sail.
‘We’ll take that one,’ she said firmly. ‘Come on.’
‘But…but I hate sailing,’ protested Eadulf.
Fidelma’s brows drew together. ‘I’ll handle the sail. It doesn’t require more than one person in this tiny skiff.’
‘But we are stealing…’
‘Borrowing,’ she corrected.
‘We ought…’
‘Do I have to go alone?’ she threatened.
Eadulf knew when he was beaten and, with a shrug of his shoulders, moved down the steps to join her. She had clambered into the small skiff and was untying the sail.
‘Unfasten the rope there,’ she instructed, ‘and push us away from those other craft.’
He did so without further argument. There were two oars in the skiff as well, and while she made ready with the sail, he used one of them to push the boat away. He tried to guide them out into the mouth of the inlet. There was a wind blowing from shore which flapped at the sail, and now Fidelma hoisted it; it immediately filled with wind and a tremor went through the vessel as the offshore breeze caught it. It began to move, slowly at first.
‘Quickly, come and sit here by the mast,’ she instructed. ‘Mind the boom.’
Eadulf moved with alacrity as the vessel began to gather speed across the wavelets. Fidelma went to the stern and took the tiller. She steered the vessel out into the open water.
‘You do realise that we will be seen as soon we approach that island?’ Eadulf fretted. ‘Remember what Macliau said about the watchtower and having lookouts posted there?’
Fidelma had forgotten but did not say so.
‘We will be careful,’ she assured him. ‘If we can find one link in this mystery then we will ask Riwanon for assistance.’
‘Riwanon? So you think Macliau and his sister are involved?’
‘It is their symbol that these brigands are using. It is logical to believe that they are involved.’
‘This is true,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘Except that if they were, why didn’t they make us prisoners or even kill us when we turned up at their fortress? The leader of the pirates certainly had no compunction about killing when he raided the Barnacle Goose.’
Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment.
‘Yes. That is one thing that I cannot explain at the moment,’ she agreed.
Eadulf twisted round to glance at the island ahead of them. When he had viewed it from the tower at Brilhag, it appeared small and compact. Now it grew larger as they approached it. There seemed no sign of the other craft that Fidelma had presumed Iuna and Iarnbud were using. Indeed, they had probably made landfall on the island already. Eadulf hoped that Fidelma had thought matters through because, as soon as they approached the island, they would surely be spotted and if she were right, then they would have no excuse about disguising their suspicions of the guilt of the children of the Lord of Brilhag.
The island’s southern end rose, inhospitable. Eadulf knew from his observation from the tower that to the east was a long sloping sandy shore while to the west there was a small strip of sand. Both provided easy landing-places, but either would be easily observable.
‘Where are you going to land?’ he asked nervously.
It was something that had just begun to bother Fidelma. She did not want to land observed, if possible. She actually hoped their crossing from the peninsula had not been seen or, at least, mistaken as a normal fisherman crossing the waters. But to land on either beach was to invite inspection from the inhabitants of the fortified dwelling on the island.
‘The one place that won’t be watched is the southern end of the island,’ she said at last. ‘We could bring the boat in unobserved under the high banks there and climb up to the treeline. Then we could see the lie of the land before committing ourselves.’
Eadulf’s jaw tightened as he viewed the dark, high shoreline. ‘Land there?’
‘It is not that forbidding,’ replied Fidelma calmly.
‘There’s white water there. Rocks.’
‘Get into the bow and tell me if I come near anything. Use one of the oars to stand us off.’
Muttering under his breath, he turned and scrambled forward, dragging an oar with him.
They were closing fast — too fast, thought Eadulf.
‘Left!’ he shouted, waving his hand in that direction. ‘Keep left!’
They were still a long way from the stony seashore when he realised that not only did the white water herald rocks poking above the sea, but there were also shadows of hidden rocks beneath the dark waters.
‘It’s too dangerous!’ he protested. ‘We should turn back.’