Fidelma gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Dead? How can that be?’
Eadulf felt a still-warm and wet substance at the corner of the man’s mouth.
‘He has been coughing blood,’ he said in surprise. ‘We would have noticed it had it been light.’
‘But the man did not look ill earlier. He did not appear to be the sort to cough blood.’
Eadulf bent forward and tried to bring the body back into an upright seated position. His left hand was trying to act as a brace for the back of the man when he felt the same warm, sticky substance over the man’s back. There was a tear in the man’s shirt and Eadulf’s fingers touched the ragged, torn flesh.
‘Oh, dabit deus his quoque finem!’ he muttered in the dark.
‘What is it?’ Fidelma was frustrated as it was too gloomy now to see exactly what Eadulf was doing.
‘The man has been stabbed in the back. He lay here talking with us all the while he was mortally wounded. God knows how he survived. He has been stabbed in the back …’ Eadulf paused. ‘The very movement he made to get up must have ruptured his wound further and caused his death. Maybe he would have lived had he not moved. I don’t know.’
Fidelma remained silent for a moment.
‘He should have spoken up before,’ she said eventually, articulating a brutal realism. ‘We cannot help him now.’
Eadulf reached for the well bucket which was full of the water and cleaned the blood from his hands.
‘Shall I carry his body back to the inn?’ he asked. ‘We should tell Samradan.’
Fidelma shook her head in the gloom before realising that it was too dark for Eadulf to see the negative gesture.
‘No. If we announce our involvement with this man we might be prevented from following up the information he has given us.’
‘How so? The man was stabbed in the back. Murdered. He was on his way to meet with us. When he arranged the meeting this afternoon he feared to be seen talking with us. Whom did he fear? Whoever it was must have killed him to prevent him passing on information.’
‘We do not know that for certain. But I am inclined to agree. If he was killed to prevent him telling us what he knew then it would be wiser to let whoever killed him believe that he was unable to speak with us. We must keep quiet about this. He will be found tomorrow when someone comes to the well. We will work on the assumption that he was killed to keep him silent, and we should pretend he kept that silence.’
‘I do not like it,’ confessed Eadulf. ‘It seems an unChristian thing to do, simply to go away and leave him thus.’
‘He will not mind and, as we are in pursuit of justice, neither will God. It might be an advantage in tracking his killers for if they are connected with our assassin friends then we have learnt something important which gives us a small advantage.’
She knelt down beside the body and uttered a short blessing before standing up.
‘Sic itur ad astra,’ muttered Eadulf sarcastically. Thus one goes to the stars.
Eadulf was suddenly aware of the continued howling of the wolves which seemed to have grown closer while they had been talking atthe well. He picked up his staff, which he had let fall when he had examined the body, and turned to Fidelma.
‘We’d best start back.’
Fidelma was in agreement. She, too, had noticed the growing nearness of the sound of the wolves.
They went back across the field and climbed over the short stone wall which bordered the field and onto the track. The moon was up now, a bright mid-September moon. It seemed no longer dark. There were a few clouds in the sky but they did not obscure the pale white brightness. The gloom and mist had only hung in the field around the well, encouraged by the dampness. Here on the track the darkness had been dissipated and the pallid light cast shadows across the lane as they hurried towards the distant lights of the township.
The rising cry of the wolves caused an involuntary shudder, not for the first time, to tingle its way down Eadulf back.
He cast a nervous glance around. ‘They sound as if they are pretty near,’ he muttered.
‘We will be all right,’ Fidelma replied confidently. ‘Wolves don’t attack adult humans unless they are starving.’
‘Who’s to say that these beasts aren’t starving?’ Eadulf grunted.
If the truth were known, Fidelma was thinking the same thought. Eadulf was not sure that he had seen it, so quickly did the shape flit across his gaze. It appeared to be a large dark shadow which moved swiftly across the path about twenty yards ahead. Some instinct caused him to halt.
‘What is it?’ whispered Fidelma, seeing his shoulders suddenly tense. She stood still by his side, peering forward.
‘I am not sure …’ began Eadulf.
The soft growling caused their limbs to feel as if they had suddenly been frozen.
The shadow moved again, a long low, muscular shape and suddenly the pale moonlight reflected on two round pinpoints which seemed to twinkle like points of fire. The growling sound increased.
‘Get behind me, Fidelma,’ hissed Eadulf, raising his staff protectively before him.
The beast took a step nearer, all the while continuing its deep growling sound.
‘I can’t see if it is a wolf or just a watch-dog from a farm,’ Fidelma whispered, squinting into the darkness.
‘Either way, it is a threat,’ replied Eadulf.
Abruptly, with no warning at all, the great animal launched itself forward. Had Eadulf not been possessed of quick reflexes it would have been at his throat. Even as the animal was springing from theground, Eadulf swung his staff and met the creature halfway with a blow, more out of luck than a sound aim, that contacted with its muzzle. He had put what force he could muster into the stroke. With a yelp of pain the animal was knocked to the ground and, whining, it trotted back a few yards. Then it halted, its whimper turning into a snarl of defiance.
When Fidelma spoke, Eadulf heard fear in her voice for the first time since he had known her.
‘It’s no dog, Eadulf. It’s a wolf.’
Eadulf had not taken his eyes from the beast which began to move slowly back and forth before them, continuing to growl, as if watching them for some weak spot. It started to make short little runs up and down but did not approach them. The red, luminescent eyes were constantly fixed on Eadulf as he turned, keeping the staff held before him at all times.
‘We cannot keep this up all night,’ he muttered.
‘There is nowhere to go,’ replied Fidelma.
‘There is a tree a few yards down there … if I keep the animal at bay, perhaps you could make it … scramble up into the branches …?’
‘And what would you do?’ she protested. ‘You would not be able to reach the tree before the beast reached you.’
‘What alternative do we have?’ replied Eadulf, fear giving him an irascible tone. ‘Shall we both be caught here and savaged by the animal? I will try to turn the beast out of the path so that you can slip by it. That will give you a clear field to run. When I call to you … run! Don’t look back and make sure you climb as high as you can.’
There was such determination in his voice that Fidelma realised it was pointless to protest. In any case, logically, Eadulf was correct. They had no other choice.
Eadulf made a few lunges at the growling wolf which caused it to start back in surprise at his audacity. Then it seemed that its fiery eyes narrowed and it showed its great slobbering fangs again. It had turned a little. Eadulf lunged again.
There came a single eerie wail from nearby. The howl sent shivers through them both. It echoed from the direction of the field that they had just left.
The attacking wolf stood and lifted its head to the moonlight, which fell with its soft white rays on the upturned muzzle of the animal. From some point deep down in the throat there rose a sound, faint at first, then welling in strength and volume until the jaws parted and the most unearthly shrill howl rent the air. Never had Eadulf heardanything like it. Once, twice and a third time the cry shattered the evening stillness around them. As the cry subsided, the wolf seemed to pause and listen.