Then he was aware of the crackle of the fire and movement.
He blinked and sat up with a sleepy yawn. It was daylight and Gobán the smith was cooking something over the fire. Eadulf peered round for Gormán, but the warrior’s place was empty. Then he looked at the bed. Fidelma was gone. He was on his feet in a moment, gazing around. Sleep had vanished from his mind.
‘Where is-?’ he began.
The door of the cabin suddenly opened and Fidelma stood there, wet-haired, with a linen cloth and her comb bag in her hands and a smile on her features.
‘Where have you been?’ Eadulf rapped out.
‘Not quite the greeting I expected,’ she replied primly. ‘Gobán has a small spring at the back of the cabin where one can wash and recover a sense of being human. Thankfully, you recovered my marsupium, Eadulf, and hence I was able to find my comb bag.’ Then her features broke into a smile, and she put down her things and turned to embrace him. Gobán bent to his cooking, pretending not to notice them as they kissed. ‘For pursuing the abductors and saving my life, thank you is not an adequate phrase,’ she whispered.
Eadulf felt a little foolish at his anxiety. ‘I was just worried. How are you feeling?’
‘Famished. Gobán here is preparing a meal so that I can break my fast — which fast I feel has lasted a lifetime. The soreness has gone from my throat. My lungs are properly full of air, and whatever you gave me has stimulated me into life again.’
‘Where is Gormán?’ he then asked nervously, changing the subject.
‘I saw him checking the horses,’ Fidelma replied, seating herself at the wooden table.
Eadulf picked up the sheepskin rugs, rolled them to one side and joined her.
‘We have much to ask you,’ he told her.
‘As I, in turn, have much to ask you. But it can wait until Gormán joins us and we can indulge our appetites over Gobán’s meal. He has told me roughly how you came here. It is a miracle that you were guided to this forge of all places. A heaven-sent coincidence that I knew his sister, Sister Poitigéir at Cill Dara, and was able to render her a service.’
The door opened and Gormán entered. He paused to sniff the aromas from Gobán’s cooking appreciatively. Breakfast was usually a light meal, for the principal meal of the day was the prainn, which was taken in the evening. Usually, at midday the eter-shod, or middle meal, was also a light meal. But this morning, in view of Fidelma’s hunger, Gobán was basting trout with honey on an indeoin or gridiron. There was fresh bread, for apparently Gobán had an arrangement with a neighbour to bring him bread while, in exchange, she could call on his services as a smith. There was also butter, plenty of honey, a dish of apples and hazel-nuts, and a pitcher of cold water from his spring or a jug of ale to drink.
At their enthusiastic comments, Gobán smiled deprecatingly. ‘After my wife departed this world, I had to maintain myself,’ he said, as he gave them wooden platters and indicated that they should help themselves. There were even basins of water provided, for the custom was to use a knife in the right hand and eat with the fingers of the left hand, cleaning them in the water and drying them with a lámbrat or hand cloth.
Eadulf was not as hungry as the others and so took the opportunity to narrate what had happened to Gormán and himself since they awoke to find Fidelma and the young man, Torna, gone. Once more Fidelma regarded him with grateful eyes.
When he had finished, Fidelma had completed her meal and was sitting back sipping at a beaker of water.
‘Now it is time for your tale,’ prompted Eadulf softly.
‘There is little in the telling,’ she replied. ‘Little, that is, you have not guessed.’
‘Better that we hear it from your lips.’
Gormán nodded vigorously. ‘Indeed, lady. What has happened to you is a great outrage against the honour of the Eóghanacht. I am responsible to your brother, the King, for your welfare.’
Fidelma smiled briefly.
‘We were, as you recall, all asleep on the riverbank. I was disturbed by our horses. Aonbharr was fretful. I woke just in time to see the shadows of men behind you both as you slept. You, Eadulf, had begun to stir but things happened so quickly. The men hit you both on the head …’
Eadulf ruefully rubbed his head. ‘And a sharp blow it was. However, Gormán suffered the worst.’
At once Fidelma looked concerned. ‘I should have enquired about that sooner.’
‘It was nothing, lady,’ Gormán reassured her. ‘I’ve had a split skull before. Thanks to friend Eadulf’s skills, the abrasions have begun to heal and the throbbing of the hammers in my skull receded.’
‘Just as I would expect from one with his fine skills,’ she said gravely, a smile at the corner of her mouth.
‘What did you do then?’ demanded Eadulf uncomfortably.
‘I sprang to my feet. It was still dark but the moon was up so I could see the attackers, although I could not distinguish their features clearly. I heard a noise behind me, swung round and saw Torna fighting with another man, but a fourth was coming towards me. As you know, I am trained in the troid-sciathagid …’
The Battle through Defence was an old form of unarmed combat which it was said had first been taught by the Druids in the days before the New Faith had come to the land. However, although many of the practices of the Old Religion had been forbidden, this technique was taught to travelling religious as a means of defending themselves against robbers without resorting to the use of weapons and breaking their religious vows not to take a life.
‘And what happened?’
‘I let the man come at me and used the momentum of his attack to send him flying into the man who had knocked you unconscious. I heard him scream. Later I realised my attacker had knocked into the man who held a knife and this had cut his hand.’
‘So that’s why they needed another rower when they reached the ferryman’s house,’ muttered Gormán.
‘Go on,’ Eadulf urged, ignoring the comment.
‘I heard a cry from behind me; turned and saw Torna falling to the ground. His attacker was holding a club. I made ready to face the man. Then I must have been hit on the head as well. Everything thereafter seems to have passed in a semi-waking dream. I know I was bound and that awful gag placed in my mouth. There were snatches of conversation.’
‘Such as?’
‘Torna seemed to have recovered and was telling them to leave me alone as I was not his companion.’
Eadulf looked up quickly. ‘Not his companion?’
‘I know that they laughed at him. Someone else replied that they were paid to capture him and his woman.’
‘But it tells us something, surely,’ said Eadulf. ‘It tells us that you were not the object of their abduction. They did not know who you were.’
‘That is true,’ agreed Fidelma.
‘Why would a poet be worthy of abduction? And who was the companion that they thought you were?’ asked Gormán.
Fidelma sighed deeply. ‘Torna is the mystery. The only thing he told me was that he had been in love with a girl, her parents had disapproved of him and he and she had eloped. She was apparently drowned trying to escape with him across a river, although he survived. After that, he said he became a wandering bard. That is all he told me of himself. So why did these people appear out of nowhere and attack our party and abduct him?’