‘Quick — inside!’ he hissed.
As Eadulf hurried in, Gormán pulled the door shut behind them. A faint light drifted into the storehouse through some of the loose boards of the walls. The overpowering smell was of dried hay and rotting vegetation. Eadulf was trying to peer into the gloom when sparks caught his eye; he caught his breath before he realised that Gormán was on his knees using his tenlach-teined, his tinderbox. It took him a while to light a handful of straw. They were in luck for there was a lantern on a shelf nearby, and once this was lit they could examine the interior of the storehouse more clearly. At first Eadulf experienced a feeling of intense disappointment and panic. The place seemed completely empty.
Then Gormán pointed to some sacking half-hidden under a pile of straw at the back of the shed. While he held the lantern aloft, Eadulf hurried over and pulled aside the straw and sacking. A body was lying under it. He could not help a surge of relief as it was immediately obvious that it was that of a young man.
It was not Fidelma but he still felt a moment of guilt. He peered closer and realised that neither was it the body of Torna, the poet. He glanced up to Gormán with a grim expression. ‘It must be the ferryman’s son, Enán. They have cut his throat.’
Gormán let out an oath. Then he pointed nearby. ‘Quickly, friend Eadulf; pull aside the straw there.’
Eadulf needed no further urging, and in a short while had uncovered another large piece of sacking. There was a body inside it. Eadulf took out his knife and hacked desperately at the thongs that held it together.
‘Fidelma!’
She was not stirring. There was a gag in her mouth, tied firmly so that she could not loosen it, had she been able. Ripping off the sackcloth, they saw she was bound hand and feet.
‘Dead?’ Gormán’s voice croaked with emotion.
‘God be praised, she is not!’ cried Eadulf, removing the gag and cutting the bounds. ‘Do we have water?’
‘I’ll get some from the river.’
He left Eadulf with the lantern while he hurried outside.
Eadulf bent over Fidelma’s unconscious figure and slapped her cheek a couple of times.
‘Wake up! Wake up! You are safe!’ he whispered urgently.
There was some movement on her face in response to the slap and then her eyes fluttered open for a second or two. Then she groaned and closed them again. Gormán returned with a broken piece of pottery that held a little water from the river. Eadulf took it and splashed it in Fidelma’s face. She blinked again and her eyes opened and focused on him for a moment. A brief smile began to form on her dry lips, and then she started coughing.
‘More water,’ ordered Eadulf. ‘Make it as fresh as possible.’
When Gormán returned, Eadulf poured a little down her throat, causing her to cough and retch.
‘We must get her out of here. We’ll take her back to the smith’s place. At least I can use my apothecary’s bag that I left there. If she has been bound like this since last night, it is a wonder she has survived at all. Maybe her captors thought she was already dead and that is why they abandoned her here.’ Eadulf glanced at the dead body of the ferryman’s son. ‘We’ll have to leave him. Help me move Fidelma to the boat.’
Gormán blew out the lantern and together they lifted Fidelma. She was moaning softly and drifting in and out of consciousness but could make no intelligent sound.
Between them, they carried her from the storehouse and back to the boat. Once placed in the stern, with Eadulf holding her, Gormán took the oars again. The current pushed the vessel to the south so that by the time they crossed the river they had landed on the southern outskirts of the township.
‘This is for the best,’ Gormán said as they disembarked. ‘We won’t have to carry her through the township. Gobán’s forge is easily reached across these fields.’
It was twilight now but they could see their way clearly.
‘Let’s hope no one has released their dogs in this area for night guard,’ Eadulf observed nervously.
‘It’s too early,’ Gormán assured him.
They carried Fidelma across the fields that ran at the back of the outlying buildings of the township and, by Gormán’s unerring sense of direction, they arrived at the rear of Gobán’s forge. A lantern had been lit in the forge and the smith was still at work. He glanced up startled as they entered, and then saw their burden.
‘The Lady Fidelma,’ he gasped as he recognised her. ‘What has happened?’
‘We managed to find her, but now we need a place where she can be nursed,’ Eadulf panted.
‘Follow me,’ replied the smith, catching the urgency in his voice. ‘My cabin is behind the forge. You can bring her there. Have no fear — I live alone. My poor wife died last year.’
They carried Fidelma through the forge and across a small yard area into the stone cabin beyond. There was a bed in a curtained-off area inside the cabin and it was to this that the smith conducted them.
‘First we need some stimulant,’ Eadulf said.
‘I have some strong corma,’ offered Gobán.
Eadulf asked the man to fetch it. As he poured a little down Fidelma’s throat, she began to cough and tried to push it away.
‘Being gagged for so long has probably made her throat very sore,’ Eadulf fretted. ‘Where is my bag?’
Gobán pointed to a corner of the cabin. ‘I turned your horses loose in the pasture beyond, but brought your bags inside where they would be safe from prying eyes.’
Eadulf rose and picked up the lés, the small medical bag which he always carried, and peered through its contents, sighing in exasperation.
‘What is it?’ asked Gormán.
‘I was looking for something to help ease the soreness of her throat and act as a tonic.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’ asked the smith.
‘Not unless you have some wild angelica,’ replied Eadulf, automatically naming the flower in his own language.
Gobán stared blankly at him.
Eadulf thought for a moment: ‘Gallfheabhrán.’ He dredged the name from his memory.
‘Ah, but there is some that grows not far from here by the grass on the riverbank. I will go and get some. Is that all?’
‘That will be fine.’
As he left, Eadulf went to Fidelma’s side and gave her another sip of corma. Again she struggled and coughed, but this time opened her eyes and seemed to become aware of her surroundings. There was a moment of panic and then she saw Eadulf. She tried to speak but could not manage more than a rasping sound.
‘It’s all right,’ Eadulf smiled soothingly. ‘You are safe. You are with me and Gormán here.’
She blinked her eyes in acknowledgement and gave a weak smile. Then she tried to speak again.
‘Plenty of time to speak when you are feeling better,’ admonished Eadulf. ‘Just be assured that you are safe for the moment. You are in the house of a friend in Durlus Éile. Safe with Gormán and myself.’
This time she managed a nod.
‘As soon as our friend comes back with a particular plant, I shall mix a potion for you that will do you good. After that, you must rest.’
A moment or so later, Gobán appeared with a bunch of the wild angelica. Gormán, at Eadulf’s instruction, had already started to boil water over the fire that heated the cabin. Eadulf removed the leaves of the plant and then chopped the stem and put both together in the hot water to make the infusion. Gobán offered some honey as he also kept bees, and so Eadulf added it to the mixture before allowing it to rest and cool. Then he washed and cleaned the roots of the plant.
‘You can chew these, they can be very refreshing,’ he explained to his companions when he put them in a small pile.