Gáeth was chuckling at Fidelma’s surprised expression.
‘Do not mind my friend, lady. He has a gift. I presume that you have recently celebrated a birthday?’
Eadulf was staring at the smith and his comrade in astonishment.
The smith glanced at him and his smile broadened.
‘It is no trick, Brother Saxon, merely the ancient knowledge.’ He turned back to Fidelma. ‘You were born when Danu, our mother goddess, was rising in the sky - the constellation of Eridanus. We are forgetting Eridanus, preferring to call it Toxetes as the Greeks do or Sagittarius as do the Latins. Both represent the fiery archer, but did not Danu also have a bow of victory,
the fidbac bua?’
Fidelma, who knew something of the astrologer’s art from old Brother Conchobhar, the apothecary at Cashel, was following what he was saying. It did not surprise her that Gáimredan had fathomed such matters. She had seen it done often. But, interested as she was in the old knowledge, she was growing a little impatient.
‘What has this to do with my question?’ she snapped.
Gáeth and Gáimredan exchanged a look and both burst out laughing.
‘Impulsive, hot-tempered and brusque!’ chortled Gáimredan.
Gáeth controlled his mirth, seeing Fidelma’s brows drawing together, and held up a hand, palm outward.
‘Hold, lady, and we will tell you. You are setting out on an honourable course. My partner and I have such a
naomhóg
as you seek. We use it for fishing. Mostly we fish in the lake here, Loch Gile, the bright lake. Sometimes we will take ourselves out into the seas. And we have fished
in the deep waters around the islands where we can lift crayfish, lobster, flatbacks and pollack.’
She was still frowning so he continued.
‘What I am saying is that we will take you out to the islands in our
naomhóg.’
Fidelma’s frown dissolved into a look of bewilderment.
‘You will do this simply because of the constellation under which I was born?’
Gáeth shook his head.
‘Because of the character that you have revealed to us,’ he replied firmly.
‘And what do you ask in return?’ Eadulf demanded, distrusting the smith and his companion.
‘What are you asking as payment for going to the islands to find out if the hermits are alive and well?’ Gáeth replied quietly.
‘Nothing, of course. We do not do this for payment.’
Gáeth smiled thinly.
‘Then that is what we ask for in return. Nothing.’
For a moment there was silence.
‘It is a very dangerous course that we embark on,’ Fidelma said slowly.
‘Did we not tell you so?’ replied Gáeth. ‘Let us simply say that in doing this we can repay those who have tried to despoil the tranquillity of this land. Now, we have a
naomhóg
that can be rowed by six oarsmen, so it is big enough to accommodate us all. We can use your two warriors there to row with us to compensate for the extra weight in the boat. We can, at least, give them some instruction in the art of
naomhóg
rowing. Is it agreed?’
Fidelma glanced at the warriors for affirmation.
‘Agreed,’ she said.
‘Then I suggest you leave your horses here, in our pen. Our vessel is beached on the shore of Loch Gile, so we will carry it overland from there to the beach in Bréanainn’s bay.’
Eadulf stirred uneasily.
‘Carry it? Surely it is a long way?’
Gáeth shook his head.
‘Even the two of us have been known to carry it. It is very light. It is the oars that are heavy and so we keep spare oars in a hiding spot on the beach itself, as well as at the lake. It will take us but a little while.’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘We have time for a cold meal and to prepare
ourselves for the journey. Then, by the time we have reached the headland and stand out to the islands, it will be growing dark.’
For the first time, Eadulf realised the enormity of what they were doing.
‘Are you sure that you know the waters well enough? When we sailed through those islands a few days ago, I saw so many rocks and tidal currents that I would be unsure of navigating the passage in broad daylight, let alone at night.’
‘My friend,’ Gáeth said reassuringly, ‘all you have to do is be a quiet passenger in the vessel. Leave the navigation to us. But if it reassures you, Gáimredan was born here on this shore and knows these waters so well that he can name each individual rock. The tide and the gods will be with us.’
Gáimredan was already preparing dishes of cold meats, cheeses and bread. A jug of cider was produced.
‘The wind is coming up from the south-east,’ Gáeth was saying, ‘so it will be at our backs and in our favour. It is when there is a westerly blow that we can expect a very rough sea and big swells.’
‘How can we approach Seanach’s Island without being seen?’
Gáeth rubbed his chin.
‘Dark will cover us all the way but there is only one sure place to land in safety. That place is the steep sandy beach on the east side. The landing is easy there and the community have their buildings just south of the landing place.’
‘Is there any other anchorage?’ Conrí asked.
Gáeth shook his head.
‘Then that might be a problem,’ went on the warlord. ‘If the warship were already anchored at the island, that would be its natural harbour. It would dominate the landing place.’
‘I understand what you mean,’ agreed the smith. ‘However, it will be dark when we come round the headland and stand into the sandy beach. Unless a watch is being kept on ship and shore we have a good chance of not being seen.’
‘Are you sure that there is no other place to land?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘The rest of the island is protected by fairly steep rocks and to attempt to scramble up them in the darkness is simply to court disaster.’
Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.
‘I wonder how the old man managed to flee in his little boat without being pursued across the sea?’
Conrí shrugged.
‘Whoever shot him with that arrow probably thought that he was already dead. He was as good as dead anyway.’
‘We will have to keep our wits about us,’ Gáeth advised. ‘It will be no journey for the faint-hearted.’
Conrí smiled and glanced knowingly at Eadulf, who had seemed oblivious of the conversation. His features were drawn into deep contemplation.
Fidelma followed Conri’s meaningful gaze.
‘Eadulf has been in more dangerous situations than this one,’ she said stoutly in his defence.
Eadulf glanced up at his name and frowned.
‘Sorry, I was thinking of something else. What is it?’
Conrí grimaced with amusement.
‘I think that Gáeth may be concerned in case you are over-anxious about the forthcoming trip.’
Realising Conrí was doubting his courage, Eadulf’s brows came together in an annoyed expression.
‘It is said that there are only two sorts of people who are fearless—the drunkard and the fool. I am neither.’
‘Fear is worse than fighting,’ replied Conrí in a mocking tone.
‘Knowledge is better than ignorance,’ replied Eadulf spiritedly. ‘Ignorance is the real cause of fear. It is better to think out the possibilities before running into a dangerous situation when knowledge might save a life.’
Conrí made a barking noise as if containing a laugh.
‘That is the timidity of a mouse.’
Eadulf kept his temper.
‘Mus uni non fidit antro,’
he said softly.
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
‘A wise person named Plautius pointed out that even a mouse does not rely on one hole.’
Gáeth slapped his knee appreciatively at the intensity of the argument.
Even Gáimredan nodded in appreciation. He peered closely at Eadulf and smiled.
‘This one is silent, almost passive but receptive. Intuitive, just and kind. Reliable but worrying, at one with the spirit of the two natures of man.’
Gáeth looked directly at Conrí.
‘Do not concern yourself, warrior. A man who goes into danger without fearing it is a man who is himself to be feared. A man who knows fear and still confronts it is a man to be relied upon who will stand steady.’
Conrí flushed in irritation.
‘I have no time for homespun philosophy. Is it not time to set out on this venture?’ he said sharply.
Gáeth’s glance encompassed them all.
‘If you are all ready … ? Then we will collect our
naomhóg
and commence this undertaking. May all our gods go with us.’
Eadulf was doing his best to prevent himself from giving way to seasickness. While he had an horizon to look at he could control it, but as dusk gave way to darkness there was little to focus on. The up and down motion of the
naomhóg
was difficult to gauge. He found himself desperately clinging to the side of the vessel for support as the frail craft began the slow climb up the waves before falling with a suddenness that left his stomach in the air behind him.
In front of him, backs to the bow, sat Socht and his companion, each with the curious bladeless oar which was traditionally used with these vessels. Behind them were Gáeth and Gáimredan, also with an oar apiece. The four men bent their backs, using great reaching strokes to send the craft through the dark waters. Fidelma and Eadulf sat facing the bows, directly in front of the two warriors, while Conrí. sat behind in the stern, ready to grasp a fifth oar to use it as a tiller if it was needed.
Gáeth had told Eadulf to place his feet carefully in case he inadvertently stuck his foot through the hide covering of the canoe. Eadulf had to place them on the wooden framework to which the hide was tightly sewn. He hoped those in front of him were unable to see his white face, his panic-stricken features, as the boat heaved in the waves, and, now and again, when the sea threw its salt waters over him.
He shivered slightly and hoped no one could see him in the darkness. Then he hoped, if his companions had seen him, that they might take it as a reaction to the penetrating cold of the winter’s evening. Even though everyone had furs and sheepskins wrapped round them, the icy winter fingers permeated their clothing.
Since the boat had been launched from the broad sandy beach of Bréanainn’s bay no one had been able to speak. The noise of the waters
around them, at the low level they were in the boat, drowned out any sound except the strongest of shouts. Eadulf was glad of that. It stopped him having to engage in conversation and thereby betray his fear. The vessel had moved rapidly, helped by the receding tides, northward out of the bay. They reached the northern headland and turned towards Machaire Islands although no one could see them, relying on the expertise of Gáeth and his companion to navigate in the darkness.
Once or twice, through the darkness, Eadulf saw the white of pounding surf and realised that they must be passing some rocks or small islets. It only increased his fear, not knowing whether they might strike a rock any moment and be precipitated into the waters. In the darkness, so far from land, it would be an agonising death. He tried to concentrate his mind on the prayers that he had been taught and realised that the words that came into his mind were not the prayers of the New Faith but the prayers of his childhood to the ancient sea gods and goddesses of the Saxons.
He glanced at the shadows of the oarsmen before him. In spite of the gyrations of the craft, their dark figures seemed to sit relaxed, moving back and forth in unison, all swaying in an easy, flowing motion, as if they were part of one another, the oars slipping easily into the sea in spite of the waves. Down went the four oars together, never missing a stroke. Eadulf envied them. Envied their ability at the oars; envied their apparent calm.
He glanced to his side. Fidelma was a still shadow in the darkness. He wondered what she was thinking as she sat there so relaxed. Did she share any of his fears? No, not Fidelma. She seemed fearless. Fearless as usual. Quiet, determined and logical.
He became aware of a slightly different sound above the noise of the wind and waves and glanced up, narrowing his eyes and trying to focus in the shadows. Ahead of them was a line of white water showing in the darkness. They seemed to be rowing straight forward. A panic seized him. He was about to shout a warning when Gáeth gave a bellow and the oars ceased their stroke. The craft was left bobbing up and down on the waters.
Eadulf peered round. The turbulent seas had stilled a little and he realised, to his amazement, that they were standing near the shore of a large island, almost sheltered from the wind and the brisk larger waves.
Fidelma leant close to his ear and shouted, pointing to the white breakers.
‘This is Seanach’s Island!’
Eadulf realised he had been so buried in his thoughts that the time had passed quickly and he had almost forgotten his nausea.
It seemed that Gáeth had given an order and the two warriors had shipped their oars, leaving it to the smith and his companion to guide the boat along the rocky shoreline. Eadulf could make out nothing on the island. It was just a dark mass rising a little way above them. The craft moved quickly along. Judging by the blackness of the shape he guessed they had come to a headland of sorts where the south-east corner of the island met its eastern shore. This was where Gáeth claimed that there was a sandy beach where a safe landing might be made.
The sound of the heavy seas and wind had died away now as they reached the shelter of the island and Eadulf heaved a sigh of relief.
As they swung round the rocky outcrop, Conrí gave a sharp warning cry.
They had almost collided with the dark outline of a large ship at anchor. Eadulf recognised its lines. It was the warship that had chased them. It appeared to be in darkness except for one lantern bobbing at its stern.
Gáeth and his companion brought their craft almost under the bows of the vessel. Luckily the craft was so light that it made not a sound as it came into the shadow of the warship. Gáeth and one of the warriors put out their hands to minimise the impact of the craft against the wooden timbers of the larger vessel.
They heard a harsh voice calling from the stern.
‘Did you hear something?’
A sleepy voice replied from nearby.
‘Are you joking? Oystercatchers, terns and gulls - isn’t that enough noise for you?’
‘I thought I heard a cry.’
‘You are lucky to hear anything after a few weeks on this bird-infested island.’
‘We are supposed to be on watch,’ snapped the other voice.
‘Watch for what? The old man was killed, wasn’t he? Didn’t Olcán say as much?’
‘He was, but no one has recovered the body.’
‘We saw the
naomhóg
floating away with the old man slumped in it. You could see the arrow sticking out of his back. Do you think he was going to recover, spring up and row that craft all the way to the mainland? You have a great sense of humour.’
‘Well, what of the woman and her companion? I suppose we don’t have to worry about them?’
‘We’ll collect them tomorrow morning. If they made it to that other island safely, that is. They took the last of the hermits’ canoes and it was a leaky one at that. That’s why Olcán didn’t bother to destroy it. No sane person would have attempted to put to sea in that. They are probably drowned anyway. I don’t think we have to bother looking for them.’
There was silence for a moment.
‘Well, Olcán wants us to look over the island anyway.’
‘Why does Olcán think that they have gone there? There are plenty of nearer islands to the north and east.’
The other voice laughed harshly.
‘When it was found they had escaped, a search was made, and Olcán spotted their canoe heading to the north-west. It’s the only island of any size in that direction.’
‘They will have probably missed the island altogether in the darkness … if they didn’t sink first,’ the other responded.
‘When Olcán comes aboard at first light we’ll go and have a look. He doesn’t want to fall into disfavour with the Master.’
‘Who would?’ said the other one and the words were uttered with a note of fear in them.
In the darkness, Gáeth was indicating towards the headland around which they had come. He and Gaimredán laid into their oars, quietly sculling the boat back around the rocky outcrop and finding a stretch of quiet water. Then they shipped their oars.
‘Did you hear that, lady?’ Gáeth called in a low voice.
Fidelma leaned forward. ‘I did.’
‘It seems as if someone called Olcán is in charge,’ Eadulf observed, feeling he should contribute something.
‘The point is, lady,’ the smith continued, ignoring him, ‘that the religious are prisoners here and well guarded. From what was said, when the old man tried to escape, these people had no scruples but simply shot him. That was the old hermit you found dying, wasn’t it?’
‘It was.’
‘It sounded as if someone else has escaped from these people and fled to one of the other islands,’ Eadulf pointed out.
‘Well, no use worrying about them.’ From behind them, Conrí entered
the council. ‘They said their boat was leaking. They would not last long on these seas.’
Gáeth was rubbing his chin.
‘From what they said, they were heading to the large island to the north-west. I know it. But that’s uninhabited. If they made it, then our friends in the warship will doubtless recapture them tomorrow.’
Fidelma looked at him with interest.
‘What are you suggesting?’
The smith was reflective for a moment or two.
‘That it is pointless landing on this island. It is well guarded and we know now that the religious are prisoners there. It needs more men than we have to effect any rescue. We might also put ourselves in danger of capture and then we would be unable to summon help.’ He paused.
‘Go on,’ Fidelma urged. ‘Your arguments are logical so far.’
‘If the two who escaped have made it to the other island, we might be able to rescue them and find out from them what is happening and who is behind it.’
Conrí was sceptical.
‘You heard what the two men said. The boat probably sank and they are drowned.’
‘On the other hand, the boat might just have made it to the island,’ replied Gáeth. ‘The choice is yours, lady.’
Fidelma hesitated, then asked: ‘Do you think you can navigate to this other island?’
‘It is a place where Gaimredán and I have often lifted crayfish. I know it well.’
‘Then the sooner that we start out, the sooner we shall arrive.’ Without a further word, Gáeth and his company pushed out and manoeuvred the craft back to the open seas. At once the winds rose and the waters became choppy.
Eadulf’s fears came back again as he clung to the side of the pitching boat and once more all four oars were used to propel it across the black sea. Eadulf hoped there were no hidden rocks in the black waters. To his eyes, the seas appeared petulant and heavy, although a seasoned sailor would have observed that the waters were fairly calm.
He eventually became aware of a dark shape looming, just discernible against the western horizon where the sky touched the sea. He was surprised by the height of the cliffs that rose up before them, but then
realised it was simply an optical illusion. From sea level the rocks appeared enormous even though they were only four or five metres high. He wanted to ask Gáeth whether it was feasible that they could ever land in such a place but it was impossible to ask questions. He merely hung on and hoped for the best.
Gáeth and his companion began to manoeuvre the boat towards the north end of the island. Sheltered from the south-westerly winds, the water grew calmer but was black and fearsome. Eadulf could see the white edges of rocks here and there. Suddenly he saw that they were heading for a black hole in the cliffs, and as it grew closer realised that they were heading for a small cave entrance. He thought a landing impossible. But there were large boulders forming a storm beach at the cave and Gáeth manoeuvred the boat up into a small natural harbour. He was out first, taking the bow rope and holding it while gesturing for the others to climb carefully for’ard and out of the vessel. Once everyone was out, the smith and his companion heaved the boat upwards and on to the smooth boulders above the sea so that it would not be harmed by any rebellious waves.
The air was more peaceful now. While the whispering of the sea continued, a soft breath of a night breeze filled the air. Eadulf realised that he could hear a curious croaking sound. Gáeth, when asked, told him it was merely the male natterjack toads that made the island their home. Now and then came the angry sound of a disturbed tern or gull. He followed the example of the others by stamping his feet to restore the circulation, having been so long in the boat in one position and chilled by the cold of the winter night.
It was then that Eadulf realised just how resourceful Gáeth was, for the smith had removed a leather bag from the boat. From this he took an object which a few moments later revealed itself to be a storm lantern, which the smith lit with the expert deployment of flint and tinder.
He held it up and the others gathered by its light.
‘It looks a large island,’ Fidelma commented, peering into the darkness around them.
‘Not very large. There are only two places where a landing could be effected,’ Gáeth replied. ‘You have seen one. The other is midway down the eastern side where there is another cave. There is no sign of a boat here so if they have managed to make it ashore, the only place they will be is in the other cave.’