When he put down the mug she licked her lips and regarded the Uí Fidgente with speculation, wondering if she could persuade him to help her.
‘I think you are more intelligent than your companions, Crond,’ she began.
The man raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.
‘I think so too, lady. But what makes you say so?’
‘I heard you arguing with Cuirgí. Truly, my brother made no plot to lure you out of Cashel to kill you. My nurse Sárait was murdered and my child stolen. We did received a ransom note demanding your release and saying that once you crossed the border then my son would be returned.’
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
Eadulf 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.