The Leper's Bell (30 page)

Crond’s face was impassive. ‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Because I think you know that I am speaking the truth. Whoever holds my son is going to kill him if you do not do as they have instructed. They will believe that my brother still holds you prisoners. I do not want my son to die.’

Crond shrugged. He leant to the side and took the bowl of stew and a spoon. He held out a spoonful.

‘Cuirgí makes a good point, lady, that if this were genuine, we would have been informed. I can confess to you that we have had messages smuggled in to us before now. It was simple. Your old jailer is easy enough to bribe.’

‘And he will be brought to account for that,’ Fidelma snapped in irritation, forgetting her position for a moment.

Crond smiled in admiration.

‘You have spirit, lady, I’ll say that.’

‘My son’s life is at stake.’

‘Our lives are at stake,’ he pointed out bluntly. ‘We are not going to squander them without cause.’

There was a movement at the door. It was Cuirgí. He stood leaning against the door jamb with folded arms.

‘You seem to be getting along well with the prisoner, Crond,’ he observed coldly.

Crond looked up in amusement.

‘Is it forbidden to talk as I feed our prisoner, then?’

‘That depends on the subject of conversation,’ returned Cuirgí. ‘It is well known that this woman has a tongue of silver. She is a
dálaigh
and is it not said that a good lawyer will turn black into white and white into black? Pay no attention to her words, Crond.’

Crond grimaced cynically. ‘After two years in an Eóghanacht prison, I am not liable to be beguiled by the words of this woman, Cuirgí. However, the sooner we reach our homeland, the better I shall like it.’

Cuirgí nodded thoughtfully, his sharp eyes on Fidelma.

‘Finish feeding her and come down. We need to discuss our route. Cuán knows the lands north of here and has an idea.’

‘When do we leave here? Tomorrow?’

Cuirgí shook his head. ‘If we wait a further day, they will think we have already reached—’ He cut himself short as he glanced at Fidelma. ‘We will talk about this below. Be quick finishing here.’

He stayed for a second or two more and then disappeared. Fidelma heard him going down the stairs. Crond returned to feeding her. He winked at her and whispered softly: ‘So, lady, it looks as if you’ll be spending a little more time in this cramped condition.’

‘My hands and feet are numb, Crond,’ she said. ‘Can’t you loosen these bindings? If I am left like this, I won’t be able to walk or ride when the time comes. Surely you can see that I can’t escape?’

Crond hesitated, and then he realised that she was right. He put down the bowl and bent to her ankles to release the bindings a fraction, so that they were still secure but no longer biting tightly into her flesh. She could feel the blood flowing into her limbs and an almost painful sensation as if pins and needles were coursing through her flesh. Crond turned her over and repeated the exercise with her wrists. She sighed as her cramped arms began to tingle. Setting her back against the bed frame, he finished feeding her the stew and then gave her another drink. Then he stood up.

He looked at the discarded gag for a moment and she saw his glance.

‘Who am I going to call out to?’ she asked sarcastically.

He hesitated and then smiled.

‘It will be a long night, lady. Sleep well.’

Then he was gone. She lay on the bed for a long time listening to the noise of their voices drifting up from below before she started to wriggle her bonds. Although Crond had loosened them, they were still secure. Try as she might, she could make no headway in making them slack enough to enable her to manipulate her hands out of them. It was some time before she gave up and found herself dozing again. The next thing she knew, the grey light of dawn was seeping into the room.

Chapter Fourteen

E
adulf had left his horse tethered loosely to a bush in a copse. He had spent the night at the abbey and at first light had taken the track in the direction of the Tower of Uaman. He had found the crossing point without trouble and decided to leave his horse hidden among the trees and approach on foot. He tethered his horse loosely as he had learnt from Fidelma. If he did not return before the beast started to fret, he was confident that the animal would be able to pull free, but he knew the horse was a patient steed and would only leave the spot when hunger or danger threatened.

Eadulf hid himself behind the trees that overhung the shoreline and gazed out across the bay towards the little island on which the tower rose. Cold restless waters separated it from him. It seemed incredible that there was any prospect of the grey sea’s receding and leaving a land passage for one to walk across to the island. On the island, a grey stone tower rose, its circular walls both dark and menacing. Around them was a high wall encompassing the central tower itself. Eadulf tried to estimate its circumference but gave up, although he guessed the diameter to be a hundred feet across. It was large. The entire atmosphere of the place was one of threatening evil.

Eadulf tried to tell himself that it was merely his imagination. Both the herbalist and his wife as well as the steward at the abbey of Coimán had conjured an image in his mind. Had he not talked to the steward, he asked himself what his attitude might be. In the first place, he thought that he might have ridden directly to the abode of Uaman and stated why he had come there. That the baby had been taken by mistake and was not the property of the travelling herbalist to sell. That was still his ultimate intention. The more he thought about it, the more firmly he believed that this was the only course of action he could adopt. He was being
foolish in giving way to the sinister thoughts implanted by others. He had even imagined, after he had left the abbey, that someone was following him. He could not shake off the feeling and kept looking round for some unseen danger. He gave a sigh of exasperation.

He had ridden over the mountain road, keeping away from any habitation. The way seemed bleak and covered with threatening shadows. At the point where he had moved down to the wooded shore of the bay, he had seen a number of dwellings further up the mountain, and presumed it was a settlement. A settlement so near to this stronghold probably indicated that the inhabitants were supporters of the chieftain or that he could rely on them for service. He bypassed the settlement and led his horse deep within the forest to avoid it.

Now he would wait until the tide was on the ebb and then walk to the island as there seemed no other way to cross. He would simply tell this Uaman the reason for his visit. Logic would prevail. The chieftain was surely not as evil as people made out. No one was that evil. He felt satisfied at this reasoning and felt a sudden surge of excitement. He would bring Alchú home to Cashel. Perhaps, then, he would be able to reason with Fidelma about how to tackle the problems of their life together. He felt a peace spreading within himself at the thought. There would be an answer; a resolution to the problems that had beset them during this last year.

It was an hour or so later when he noticed that the tide had begun to turn. He presumed that it would not be at its flood again until early evening. He stood up and walked down to the shore to examine the sandy link that was being uncovered with a critical eye. The dunes that stood revealed by the receding sea looked firm enough. He saw crabs scuttling over them, following the waters, and here and there a sea bass or pollock caught unawares in a pool, splashing in search of its vanishing environment. He looked from the shore across to the dark island. The sandy way seemed quite wide, but if there were soft patches of quicksand, as the steward had warned him, then it would be best to keep to the highest point of the dunes.

Eadulf hesitated a moment, then left the shore and started to hunt through the trees and bushes until he found what he was looking for. A low branch of a yew tree had been snapped off. He took out his knife and began to strip the bough of its excess growth and twigs until he had a passable staff of six feet in length. Then he returned to the sandy crossing and stepped gingerly forward. The sand sank a little under his
feet and water ran from where it was compacted but his foot only went in to a depth of the first joint of his little finger. The sand seemed firm enough. Ever cautious, however, Eadulf thrust the staff in front of him before each forward step.

It was some time before he had traversed the sand link to the island, and when he looked back he was somewhat reassured by the line of his footsteps stretching away behind him. It would be easier on the return trip, he told himself.

He made his way up some stone-flagged steps to the grassy knoll of the island and across to the forbidding grey stone wall surrounding the round tower. It was deceptively large, as big as many abbeys he had seen. There was no sign of life. Great wooden double doors rose to a height of ten feet but stood shut, the thick oak reinforced by iron. A series of windows was placed round the stone walls at a height just above that of the gates. They appeared to ring the structure.

Eadulf stood for a moment examining the building. There seemed to be no bell for visitors to ring such as usually hung outside an abbey. He walked across to the doors and was about to raise his makeshift staff to bang on them to announce his presence when they suddenly swung inwards. Just inside stood a man draped from poll to toe in grey robes, a cowl hiding his head and features.

‘Welcome, Brother. Welcome to the Tower of Uaman.’ He spoke in a high-pitched, almost sing-song voice.

Eadulf started at the unexpected apparition. The movement was not lost on the grey-robed figure. A thin chuckle issued from behind the robes.

‘Do not be surprised, Brother. I have watched your approach from the shore yonder. I have noticed that you have been cautious in your progress across the dunes.’

‘I was told that the crossing was treacherous.’

‘Yet you have chanced the perils of the sea and sands. There must be some great purpose in your coming here.’

‘I have come to see Uaman … Uaman who is chieftain of this place.’

The figure raised an unusually white hand, almost claw-like in its skeletal structure, and beckoned him to enter.

‘I am Uaman, lord of the passes of Sliabh Mis,’ came the voice. ‘Welcome to my fortress. Come freely in, and may your stay be as pleasing to you as it will doubtless be to me.’

Eadulf hesitated but a moment, trying to rid himself of the fears that
rose again in his mind. Then he entered between the heavy oak gates. He was aware of the great wooden structures swinging shut behind him and he glanced round. They seemed to be closing of themselves and then he realised that the mechanism must be in the thick walls. Iron bolts had appeared from apertures in the stone and snaked directly across to secure the doors in place.

Uaman gave his thin mirthless chuckle as he saw Eadulf start nervously.

There are many beyond my walls who wish me harm, my friend.’ He paused. ‘You bear the tonsure of Rome, not of the brethren of the Church of the Five Kingdoms. What name is given to you?’

‘I am Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

There was a silence. Eadulf knew the name meant something to the bent figure. A long, low hiss of breath came from the folds of the cowl and Eadulf had a feeling that cold eyes were staring at him.

‘Eadulf!’ The voice was suddenly soft and almost threatening in its sibilance. ‘Of course. Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. You are husband to an Eóghanacht of Cashel.’

‘I come here with peaceful intent,’ Eadulf explained hurriedly. ‘I am not interested in your quarrels with Colgú of Cashel.’

‘If you come with peaceful intent, Brother Eadulf, then you are received with peaceful intent. Yet you seem, by implication, to know that I am of the Uí Fidgente. What do you seek from me?’

‘I have come west on a quest in which I think you are unwittingly involved.’

The figure chuckled again. ‘Unwittingly involved?’ he said, as if this was some matter of amusement. ‘Now that is an interesting phrase. Then, Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, come to my chamber where we will talk of this quest and its purpose.’

Eadulf made to move forward towards the figure but the white skeleton hand suddenly drew a small bell out of the folds of the robe and shook it with a warning note.

‘
Salach! Salach!
Unclean!’ came the high-pitched voice. Eadulf halted abruptly. ‘A little distance, if you please, Brother Saxon.’ Uaman’s voice was more controlled now. ‘I suffer the affliction which decays and putrefies the flesh.’

‘A leper?’ gasped Eadulf. Until this moment he had not fully appreciated the enormity of the curse under which Uaman suffered.

The bent figure gave his spine-tingling laugh. Then the leper hobbled forward and Eadulf noticed that he was dragging one foot as if it were useless. Uaman entered a tiny doorway in the wall and climbed a stone-flagged stairway which rose to another level which, Eadulf judged, was at the height of the windows he had seen. The stairway gave on to a walkway that was, indeed, on a level with the windows. Eadulf suddenly realised that there were several dark-clad warriors lurking in the shadows by the windows, obviously keeping a watch. He glimpsed ugly and scarred faces, one man lacking an eye.