‘I was so worried for you when you disappeared earlier today. After Ceingar’s death and the disappearance of Trifina and Iuna, why, I was in great agitation. It is good to see you alive and safe. And now that Alain is here, all is well, is that not so?’ Riwanon turned round as if searching for someone. ‘But where are Eadulf and Bleidbara? Did you have any success in finding Trifina and the girl Iuna?’
Fidelma shook her head with a sad expression.
‘No — but we have not given up,’ she replied. ‘We hope to have some news soon. Bleidbara is continuing the search. All we can do is get some rest tonight and await the coming of tomorrow.’
Lord Canao was looking glum.
‘This is a strange homecoming for me. My son, Macliau, is accused of murder. My daughter, Trifina, and my foster-daughter, Iuna, are both missing. Abbot Maelcar and the queen’s maid have been murdered under my roof. My people are now accusing me and mine of untold crimes. God alone knows what conspiracy is underway. I even find that a bretat from Bro-Gernev named Kaourentin has arrived here to judge my son.’
Fidelma was surprised at the news.
‘Brother Metellus told me that it took at least four days to travel to Bro-Gernev and back,’ she said. ‘You mean the bretat is here already?’
‘Apparently, Kaourentin was travelling from Bro-Gernev to Naoned and had arrived by chance at the Abbey of Gildas seeking hospitality,’ replied Canao. ‘Brother Metellus told me that it had been suggested a judge from Bro-Gernev should sit to hear my son’s defence rather than my own bretat. Apparently, the people would not respect a judgement given by the bretat of Brilhag.’
‘Is Brother Metellus here?’ asked Fidelma.
‘He came in company of this man Kaourentin. I would have preferred my bretat, Iarnbud, to be here to advise me.’
Fidelma looked at him levelly for a moment.
‘I regret that Iarnbud is also dead,’ she said. ‘I will explain in a moment.’
‘More deaths? Are we threatened in any way, Fidelma?’ asked King Alain in a shocked voice.
Fidelma could not resist answering with dry humour.
‘I think that we are threatened in every way,’ she replied solemnly. ‘As I said, we must be alert tonight.’
‘But no one would dare break into this fortress.’ Budic’s chuckle was dismissive. ‘We have guards enough.’
‘Perhaps they don’t have to break in,’ replied Fidelma softly.
Riwanon shivered slightly, saying, ‘You frighten me, Fidelma. What do you mean?’
‘I simply mean that we all need to be vigilant, for tomorrow will be an important day.’
‘Tomorrow?’ queried King Alain. ‘You keep saying that. Why tomorrow?’
‘Because that is when this mystery will finally be unravelled.’
Chapter Eighteen
Like a swan gliding across the dark waters, the Morvran slid forward, her sails stirring at the first breaths of the pre-dawn breeze. Her rigging began to shake and whisper like the soft movement of fingers over the taut strings of a lyre. Bleidbara seemed relaxed as he instructed the man at the tiller, guiding the vessel into the westerly darkness with the first glimmerings of the light heralding a new day behind them. Not for the first time Eadulf reminded himself that these people were essentially a seagoing community whose ancestors, with their large ships and maritime dexterity, had nearly brought disaster to Julius Caesar’s fleet centuries before.
Eadulf and Heraclius stood to one side of the raised deck at the stern of the vessel, near the tiller, where Bleidbara had planted himself, feet wide apart and hands before him, thumbs stuck into his belt. He glanced up at the moon that was still low in the western sky but so pale that it was almost indiscernible. The dawn atmosphere was chill.
‘Do you think we will catch them?’ Eadulf asked quietly, breaking the silence that had descended since the order had been given to hoist sail. ‘There are so many islands for them to hide behind in order to evade us, and once they are through the channel into the great sea beyond…’
‘You forget, Eadulf,’ replied Bleidbara, ‘the tide is now flowing into Morbihan with a powerful surge. No ship can move against that current in the channel. They are stuck here until the tide turns and that will be well after dawn. It’s a very dangerous tide to face: the sea can rise up to four metres here.’
Eadulf remembered what old Aourken had told them about the passage into the Morbihan. As little as he knew the sea and ships, he could still appreciate the dextrous way that Bleidbara’s crew handled the large vessel.
‘What do you intend?’ Heraclius asked Bleidbara.
‘I intend to go to Er Lannig, an island called the Little Heath, which guards the entrance to the channel. We won’t feel the strong pull of the incoming tide there. That would be the closest point where the Koulm ar Maro can wait for the turn of the tide. If they are not there, I’ll start to weather up to Gavrinis, the Isle of Goats, and then move up the channel, keeping the Isle of Monks to our starboard. Unless I am a bad sailor, we’ll find our sea-raider somewhere in those waters.’
Bleidbara sounded confident enough.
‘And when we do meet up with them, what then? What if they want to fight?’ asked Eadulf. ‘I’ve never been in a real sea battle before.’
Bleidbara smiled grimly in the semi-darkness and looked towards Heraclius.
‘We have the wild ass already in place at our bow. Then we will see if that little invention is what it claims to be. If it is not, it will be a contest to see if our bows are stronger than their bows, our arrows more powerful than their arrows.’
‘The wild ass?’ Eadulf peered at the bow, but in the darkness all he could see was the curious canvas-covered wooden frames that had been brought aboard the previous afternoon.
Heraclius touched him on the arm and pointed at the covering.
‘The onager is a form of catapult used by the Roman legions. They called it the wild ass because, when the projectile is released, the engine that fires it kicks back like a mule,’ he explained. ‘I have trained some men to use it, and I’m hoping that we don’t have to come to close quarters to fight the enemy ship. The range of the weapon is about three hundred to three hundred and fifty metres.’
‘You hope to hole the ship by throwing rocks at it?’ Eadulf had heard that the Romans had used such engines in siege war, but never on shipboard.
Heraclius just smiled mysteriously and shook his head.
Eadulf, during the period that followed, had cause to feel regret that he had come on such a voyage. He was not the best of sailors and now the excitement of the first part of the chase began to wear off, he realised the stark truth: he was on a vessel, ploughing across dark waters, en route to engage a ship that would obviously fight back. He was anxious but knew that showing anxiety would not be advisable; at this time he must feign the same indifference that Bleidbara and Heraclius appeared to be displaying. He had never seen two ships engage one another on the sea before, and he anticipated that it would be fierce and bloody. His calling as a religious would not protect him in this battle. He wondered whether he should ask Bleidbara what he should do when the attack began, but them compelled himself to refrain from comment.
The vessel was moving along at a fast pace now as a south-westerly wind, coming off the land, caught the sails. A white ribbon of sea foam was spreading on either side of its bows, almost phosphorescent and clearly visible in spite of the darkness. But the darkness was now vanishing. The moon was still well above the horizon but had become a pallid white orb, a wispy blob of sheep’s wool in the pale sky. The coastline of the peninsula was close to their portside, a dark, impenetrable line of trees and hills. To the starboard, the humps of islands were now rising out of the early-morning mist that hung across the Little Sea. The helmsman appeared to know the waters well even in the darkness, skilfully moving the helm a point or two to avoid submerged rocks, judging his distance from points Eadulf could not even see.