‘Eadulf shot the attacker with an arrow?’
Old Gadra was gazing at Eadulf in unconcealed amazement. Then he began to chuckle.
Eadulf sniffed in annoyance.
‘Sometimes I rely on other means apart from the clothes I wear to defend myself,’ he said dryly.
Gadra clapped him on the shoulder.
‘I think I shall like you, brother Saxon. Sometimes I forget the need for the pragmatic. You cannot row across a river unless you have oars to do so.’
Eadulf was not quite sure how to interpret the old man’s remark but decided it was meant as something complimentary.
Dubán was still looking serious.
‘Are you sure that these are the men who attacked Bressal’s hostel?’
Fidelma nodded affirmatively.
‘We were witnesses to it.’
‘I think we must get back to the rath of Araglin as quickly as possible.’
‘What of Menma?’ Eadulf began, only to be silenced by Fidelma with a look of anger that made him blink.
Dubán turned to him with a frown, missing her warning glance.
‘What about Menma?’ he asked.
‘Eadulf was thinking of the need to protect the rath if these bandits attacked,’ Fidelma explained hastily.
Dubán shook his head.
‘Menma will not be of much help. But there is young Crítán and other of my warriors there. However, those outlaws are riding away from the direction of the rath so I would have no concern for the safety of it, brother.’
Eadulf shrugged, realising that for some reason or other Fidelma wanted to keep to herself her belief that Menma had been one of the raiding party at Bressal’s hostel. Fidelma gave him a withering look and began to lead her horse after Dubán.
Eadulf realised that Gadra was examining him with a knowing expression.
He turned irritably and began to lead his horse after Dubán and Fidelma, back to the track.
This time Dubán led them at a much faster pace than before, breaking into a canter whenever the path through the narrow defilesand under the low, overhanging branches allowed an easy passage.
It was after some minutes that Gadra, hanging on behind Eadulf, moved his mouth close to his ear.
‘Be comforted, my Saxon brother,’ the old man called so that only he could hear. ‘If you think twice before you speak, you will speak twice the better.’
Eadulf’s mouth closed in a tight line and he silently cursed the old man’s prescience.
Chapter Twelve
Crítán brought Móen into the guests’ hostel which Fidelma had deemed as the most appropriate place to question him, away from the environment of his imprisonment in the stables. Apart from Fidelma and Eadulf only Gadra was there. Dubán was discussing the matter of the cattle raiders with Crón.
There was a silence as the young warrior, still displaying his surly arrogance, led, almost dragged and propelled, the unfortunate Móen into the room. Fidelma noted with satisfaction that at least Crítán had continued with his attempts to keep Móen clean and with a semblance of human dignity. She could feel sympathy for the poor creature as he was pushed into the room for his face showed abject fear, not knowing, not understanding, what was happening around him.
Crítán forced him to be seated and he half-sprawled in the chair, head to one side. Crítán glanced at them with a smirk.
‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘What now? What tricks are you going to make him perform?’
Gadra moved forward, his breath an angry hiss. For a moment, Fidelma thought the old man was going to physically strike the arrogant youth.
Then a curious thing happened.
Móen began to sniff, raising his head and scenting the air. For the first time, Fidelma saw an expression of hope form on his features and he started to make a soft whimpering sound.
Gadra went straight to his side, seated himself on an adjacent chair and gripped his hand.
Fidelma could not believe that the creature’s face could becomeso altered. It lit up in recognition and joyful pleasure. She saw Gadra grasped the young man’s left hand. It seemed, at first, a ritual, for Móen held his hand palm outward, straight and upright. She watched with surprise as Gadra began to trace motions of his hand on the young man’s palm. Then, with equal surprise, the young man gripped the hand of Gadra and began to make the same motions back. Fidelma realised that this was what the young man had tried to do with her hand in the stables. There was little doubt in her mind that an entire conversation was now taking place. The finger gestures flew fast and furious.
Suddenly, Móen began to groan as if in physical anguish, rocking back and forth on his seat as if in pain. Gadra put his arms around the creature’s shoulders. He looked up sadly at Fidelma.
‘I have just told Móen of the death of Teafa. He regarded her as his mother.’
‘How did he take the news of the death of Eber?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Without surprise,’ replied Gadra. ‘I think he knew of that. I have told him what has happened and what he is suspected of.’
‘Told him?’ It was Crítán who spoke, his voice a bark of cynical laughter. ‘Come now, old one. A joke is a joke but …’
‘Quiet!’ Fidelma’s voice was icy. ‘You will leave us now. You may remain outside until we send for you.’
‘I have been placed in charge of the prisoner.’The young warrior flushed angrily. ‘It is my duty to …’
‘It is your duty to do as you are told.’ Fidelma’s voice was testy. ‘Go and tell Dubán, your commander, that I do not want you near this prisoner again. Go now!’
‘You cannot …’ began Crítán indignantly.
It was Eadulf who rose and, with studied gentleness, took the young warrior by the arm. Only the sudden gasp of pain and tightened jaw showed them just how much pressure Eadulf exerted.
‘Yes, we can,’ Eadulf said pleasantly. ‘You are no longer required here.’
He propelled him to the door almost in the same way that Crítán had brought his prisoner in. When Eadulf closed the door behind the young warrior he found Gadra grinning at him.
‘Pragmatic, indeed. I am sure that I like you, brother Saxon!’
Fidelma had taken no further notice but was gazing thoughtfully at Móen. She turned to Gadra.
‘While he is composing himself, I would like to know what method you are using to communicate with him. I must know whether this communication is genuine.’
Gadra grunted in annoyance.
‘Do you think I have invented all this, child?’
Fidelma gave a swift shake of her head.
‘No, I did not mean that. But I must rightly seek an assurance that this is a genuine communication from the boy for if I have to present it before a court of law then I must have a full understanding of it.’
Gadra regarded her for a moment or two and shrugged indifferently.
‘As an advocate you probably know something of the ancient Ogam alphabet.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened.
‘You use the Ogam alphabet to communicate?’
Ogam was the earliest form of writing among the people of the five kingdoms and consisted of short lines drawn to, or crossing, a base line representing the twenty characters of the alphabet. The ancients claimed that the god Ogma, patron of literacy and learning, had come to the south-west of Muman, the place of all primal beginnings, and instructed the wise ones in the use of the characters, so that they could journey through the land and even across the seas to show people how they might write. The alphabet was often inscribed on wands of hazel or aspen and many grave markers of stone were inscribed in Ogam. It hadfallen into disuse with the introduction of the new Latin learning and alphabet into the kingdoms. Fidelma had studied the old system and alphabet as part of her education for many texts were still to be found written in the archaic form.