"Eire it is, then, my friend—or the northern isles, if you find them more to your liking. I had a feeling Derek might not take to your ideas, so I decided not to unload any of your cargo before you returned. We'll rest here tonight and leave with the morning tide. "Don't look so doleful, Yellow Head. You'll see, everything will work out for the best."
I grimaced. "Aye, no doubt you're right, but sometimes I wish life could be more simple. Have you seen Donuil since I left?"
Connor nodded. "Aye, he was here a short time ago. You must have passed him on the way. Said he was going to meet Shelagh and the children in the marketplace."
I thanked him and retraced my steps through the fort to the rear gate, still going over in my mind the changes and the difficulties we faced now that we would have no base in Britain. As the crow flies, there was little difference in the distances from Camulod to Cumbria or to Athol's kingdom in Eire. But the Eirish distance was across the high seas, and thus fraught with hazards that did not pertain to the Cumbrian passage. Travel between Eire and Camulod could not be lightly undertaken. But that was not my main concern. The foreignness of Eire depressed me more. Arthur's future prospects, I was convinced, would suffer were he removed from Britain, from his home.
As I approached the double portal in the rear wall of the fort, I was roused from my musings when a man emerged from the shadowed entrance and then stopped and turned away abruptly, hurrying back the way he had come. Had he not done so I would have passed him by without noticing, but the speed with which he whirled and made off caught my eye, and the sight of his retreating yellow tunic reminded me of the man who had stopped to watch me from the tavern doorway earlier in the day.
Curious, I lengthened my stride slightly and passed through the portal, looking idly for him as I broke into the sunlight of the marketplace beyond, but he was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled now, I grasped a pole supporting the awning of a stall and stepped up onto an empty wooden crate, peering over the heads of the crowd until I saw the fellow scuttling hurriedly off to my right, about four stalls away. As I saw him, he looked back over his shoulder at me, and his alarm was instantaneous. He broke into a lurching run, dodging to his left out of my sight beyond the corner of another stall, and suddenly I found myself giving chase, thrusting people aside as I ran after him, fully aware now of the absent weight of my swordbelt at my waist.
As I swung around the corner he came into sight again, still running, and I lengthened my stride again to close on him. Once more he swung out of sight and again I plunged around a corner after him, nearly sprawling over a pile of empty poultry baskets. Now I heard voices raised in angry protest, but all at once I was beyond the confining stalls and into an open, widening space where a well-trodden path led between tall banks of grass towards a stand of trees. There my quarry vanished. Running flat out now, I passed between the first two trees and had to leap immediately to avoid a narrow, steep-sided ditch that traversed the path. I landed safely on rising ground and several steps later found myself at the top of a shallow incline that sloped down to where I could hear the sound of hard- running feet. Pausing only to collect myself and make sure there was only one way down, I launched myself after him again, completely unconcerned by now that I knew not who the fellow was or why he was fleeing from me. His flight alone was reason for pursuit. I dashed headlong downhill, swerved around a tree and was sent sprawling by a foot that hooked my ankle as I passed.
I landed hard, the impact driving all the air from my body so that I writhed helplessly on the ground, blinded by pain and gasping as I fought to draw a breath. Above me, to my right I thought, someone laughed quietly and the sound chilled me. I tried to tense myself against further violence, but nothing happened and the sound was not repeated.
When I began to breathe again, I sucked air into my outraged chest with great, painful whoops. I already knew from the ripping, lesser pains in my face and hands that I had landed among brambles, and I kept my eyes squeezed shut as I waited for strength to come back to me. Somehow, I managed to struggle to my knees, my head bowed and my arms clutched protectively about my ribs, my ears straining to hear any sound of movement around me. Silence.
Soon I straightened up, uncrossing my arms and opening my eyes, and as I did so, someone kicked me violently in the midriff, knocking me backwards into the thorns again. I found myself seated this time, my back and shoulders supported by the thickness and springy strength of the weave of stems behind me.
The man who had kicked me loomed over me, moving closer, and I saw two others behind him, one on each side. All of them were grinning at the prospect of what they would do to me now, three against one. But I was already moving again, thrusting myself up into a kneeling posture, ignoring the ferocious barbs that cut against my hands as I hauled and pushed myself upright. I saw surprise on my assailant's face as he noted the speed of my recovery, and then he moved more quickly, taking a long step closer and aiming another kick, this time at my head.
He was too slow, despite his advantages, and I managed to avoid his flailing foot. I twisted my head forward and to his right and threw up my arms to cross my wrists above his ankle, pulling his heel down hard against my right shoulder and throwing myself to my left and down towards him. Off balance and caught unawares, he fell heavily beside me on his back. I heard the breath whooshing from his lungs and a satisfying grunt of pain. Releasing my hold on him immediately, I swung my left fist over, driving it hard against his nose, and felt the gristle flatten beneath the overarm swipe. Then I stretched and stiffened my hand, chopping its rigid edge against his stretched throat. It was clumsy, and my strength was hampered by the position I lay in, but the blow had its effect. I rolled away from him as quickly as I could then to deal with his companions, who had been slow to adjust to my surprise.
As I came upright again on one knee, my left foot finally firm beneath me, one of the two caught me high on the left cheekbone with a long, raking swing. I heard the distinctive sound of bone snapping as I went asprawl again, my eyes shut tight against the stunning ferocity of the impact. I rolled quickly, expecting at least another kick from the third man, but instead I heard a keening howl and the sound of other blows, none of them close to me.
Scrambling to my knees again and shaking my head to clear my vision, I saw a sight that would have made me laugh at any other time. The second man, the one who had punched me, was the source of the howling. He was hopping wildly around in a circle, his face screwed up ludicrously in pain, his left wrist clamped tightly beneath his armpit and the first finger of his left hand tilted grotesquely backward. The bone I had heard breaking was his. Beside him, flat on his back, legs scissoring weakly while his hands clutched at his throat, lay my first assailant. Beyond both of them, the third man was being systematically punished by Donuil Mac Athol, who towered above him, maintaining a judicious distance from his victim as he pounded him deliberately with his hands and feet. I watched, unable to make a sound, as the man's knees finally gave way and he toppled slowly to lie face down.
Donuil turned away from him to the second man who was still prancing about, clutching his injured hand. He walked towards the man, seized him by the hair and jerked the fellow's head backward to smite him with an awesome, straight-armed blow to the forehead with his clenched fist, swung overhead from his full height. The man fell like a slaughtered bullock. Donuil then turned to where I stood swaying, watching him.
"Dia!" he said, conversationally. "Look at you, then. Flayed alive and like to drown in your own blood! Lucky for you I saw you running by. Who are these?"