‘Friend Eadulf,’ he said, ‘the Lady Fidelma is fond of a Latin saying: festina lente — hurry slowly. The more we hasten, the more we may miss something important.’
Eadulf was about to utter an irritated retort but realised that was precisely what Fidelma would say in the circumstances.
‘Anyway,’ Gormán continued, ‘wherever they went, they cannot have gone far.’
Eadulf stared at him in surprise. ‘How so?’
For answer, Gormán pointed towards the still-tethered mounts. Eadulf cursed himself for an unobservant fool.
‘Others might have come along on horseback,’ he suggested defensively.
‘Indeed, but had they done so, we would have been roused by their din. They must have come by stealth on foot to have knocked us out as we slept or as we were just awakening.’
‘They might have tethered their horses a distance away,’ said Eadulf.
‘That is true, and if that is so, they will have left their tracks from here to wherever they left the horses. The tracks will not disappear before we are ready to follow. But there is another matter to consider, which is: why leave the Lady Fidelma’s horse behind, if their journey necessitated travel by horse? We were unconscious and could not have prevented them from taking our horses if they needed them.’
The infusion was ready and Eadulf returned to his immediate task, pouring it into a beaker to cool so that they could swallow it.
‘So what do you think has happened?’ asked Gormán as they sipped at the mixture.
‘It is obvious that Fidelma has been abducted and that we were both knocked unconscious to prevent our interfering.’
‘And this poet, Torna?’
‘I think we may conclude that he was involved, otherwise he, too, would have been hit on the head and left.’
‘That’s logical,’ admitted Gormán, rising to his feet and rubbing his forehead once again. ‘But I think we should make sure. They might have killed him and put his body in one of the ruins behind us.’
‘But if they did so — why just leave us unconscious?’
‘Stay there, friend Eadulf. I am better trained, so I will look through the ruins first.’
It was true. Albeit impatient, Eadulf accepted that Gormán’s warrior training made him the better qualified to look for tracks and signs around the area. Curbing his anxiety, he sat waiting, hoping the infusion would work quickly so that he could concentrate on the problem. It seemed an age before Gormán returned, shaking his head as he approached in answer to Eadulf’s unasked question.
‘No sign of any tracks or anything in any of these ruins,’ he stated.
Gormán began circling round the encampment where they had slept. Then he seemed to spot something and moved cautiously along the riverbank. It was not long before he came to a halt on the muddy shoreline of the river and stood staring down.
‘Have you found something?’ called Eadulf.
In answer, Gormán beckoned him forward and, without a word, pointed down to the mud. There was a deep furrow in the bank and footprints nearby.
‘So the abductors came from the river,’ Eadulf said.
‘The deep furrow is where the prow of their vessel ran into the bank,’ Gormán replied. ‘It was a heavy riverboat, by the depth of that indentation. It’s hard to guess how many the boat contained. A vessel with a prow like that might take six or seven men and even carry a sail.’
Eadulf stood gazing out across the river. On the far bank, the land consisted mainly of fields of stubble where crops had been harvested. Beyond that, not far away, was a small hill; its bald rounded top was hardly higher than surrounding trees. Gormán followed his gaze.
‘There is not much across there but grainfields and grasslands for the cattle,’ he said dismissively. ‘They belong to a few isolated farmsteads.’
‘And what of the hill?’
‘It is called Dún Bán, not because it is a fortress or white in colour. It is just a small hill of grey rocks which might produce a light shade when the sun shines on it. But no one lives near there.’
Eadulf returned his thoughtful gaze to the river, saying, ‘So which way did these abductors go?’
‘I suggest they went with the flow of the river. To the south,’ Gormán said.
‘Southwards towards Cashel …’ Eadulf shook his head. ‘I disagree.’
‘Why do you think they went north? That’s against the flow of the river.’ Gormán was sceptical.
‘Because that is where they came from.’ Eadulf’s voice sounded so definite that Gormán was surprised.
‘Tell me your reasoning, friend Eadulf.’
‘If they came from the south, they would have had to fight their way upriver, against the current. Their coming would doubtless have woken us. They would have been struggling with their oars against the prevailing current and the wind. Remember how the wind was blowing from the north last night? So we would have heard the movement of their oars.’
‘They might have muffled them,’ said the warrior.
As answer, Eadulf pointed to the furrow in the mud bank. ‘Perhaps, but this proves my argument. You agree that this indentation was made by the prow of their boat, ramming hard into the bank?’
‘I do.’
‘Then look at the angle of it. The prow struck into the bank from the north, and to make that deep indentation it needed both propulsion and weight. That is what the current and wind gave it. It would not have been so deep, had the rowers been forcing the boat against the tide and wind; nor would it have been able to strike the bank at that precise angle.’
Gormán regarded Eadulf with admiration. ‘No wonder you are considered a worthy partner for the Lady Fidelma, friend Eadulf. I thought that I could read all the signs, but this did not occur to me.’
‘So they allowed the wind and current to carry them here in silence. In silence they were able to render us unconscious and carry away Fidelma. But why? And where? If they were using the river, where would they head for, remembering they are now rowing against the current?’
Gormán glanced up at the sky, especially noting the rustling tree-tops.
‘The north-east wind has dropped. This is a mild breeze from the west, not enough that they could use a sail to good effect, but with a good bank of oars they could progress well. But as you say, where? Not far distant from here, the river swings eastwards and finally it turns again and follows the valley to the north and north-east where it rises in the mountains behind.’
‘Are there any settlements along the river?’ Eadulf asked.
‘The next big fortress and township by the river is the principal seat of the Éile, Durlus Éile.’
‘That was the very town we were making for in our pursuit of Biasta,’ Eadulf said. ‘Do you think these abductors could have come from Durlus?’
Gormán gave an eloquent shrug. ‘I would not put it beyond the realms of possibility. The territory of the Durlus Éile has always been seen as an easy door into Muman. Who controls Durlus Éile controls the ways into the Kingdom of Muman.’
‘But isn’t Durlus Éile part of Muman?’
‘It’s true that they hold allegiance to the King of Cashel. That might not be the same thing.’
‘Are you saying that we might find danger in Durlus Éile?’
‘I am merely saying that we should be on our guard if we do go into that township.’
For a few moments Eadulf was silent, regarding the flowing river as if seeking inspiration from the grey, pushing waters. Then he uttered a sharp exclamation and went to a bush near the indentation that the boat had made.
‘What is it?’ asked Gormán.
‘Blood,’ returned Eadulf. ‘There is blood splattered here on the leaves.’ He rose quickly and glanced around. ‘Whose blood? Victim or abductor?’
Eadulf remained silent for a moment and then he hastened back to the campfire.