The ferryman pursed his lips in disapproval.
‘The ferry is the means of support for my wife and my son, who helps row people across; otherwise you would be welcome to my hospitality.’
‘Then you shall be rewarded for your hospitality and your time,’ Gormán declared, swinging off his horse and leading it to a wooden hitching-post by the hut. ‘Do you not recognise me, Echna?’
The ferryman stared at him, suddenly noticing the golden torque. ‘Why, it is Gormán of the Nasc Niadh.’ The man seemed well-informed and quick-witted, for he turned to Eadulf and said, ‘Then you must be the Saxon named Eadulf, husband to the Lady Fidelma, the sister of our King?’
Eadulf felt the time was not right to be pedantic and point out that he was an Angle, not a Saxon. He simply acknowledged the fact.
The ferryman was already calling into the cabin for his wife to bring a jug of lind and beakers. He indicated a wooden bench overlooking the jetty by the river.
‘Be seated, Gormán. Brother Eadulf, also. My name is Echna and I run the ferry here,’ he added for Eadulf’s sake.
‘Is this a busy crossing?’ asked Eadulf as he seated himself.
At once Echna shook his head. ‘Were it not for my fields and livestock, we would be starving. We are some way from any settlement. The main track to Durlus Éile passes further to the east of here. Of course, there used to be a chapel, tavern and ferry just to the south of us, but they were destroyed less than a week ago.’
‘What happened?’ asked Gormán. There was no doubt the ferryman meant the place where they had camped for the night and confirmed their estimate of the time it had been burned.
‘A strange raid from the west of the river,’ continued Echna. ‘We were told that a dozen bandits crossed the river, attacked the chapel and set fire to it. The tavern which stood near it, also caught alight.’
Eadulf asked: ‘Was anyone killed?’
‘The chapel was only attended by a visiting priest and he was not there at the time. Unfortunately, the tavern-keeper, who also ran the ferry, was killed and his family have fled to the Abbey of Ros Cré in the land of the Éile. Now the place is derelict; just a pile of ashes.’
‘What was the purpose of the raid?’
‘Do bandits and thieves need a purpose?’ Echna asked, then added cynically, ‘The destruction of that ferry has not helped us by way of business, because merchants now make for safer crossings further north. There are bridges there as well as ferries.’
A homely-looking woman came from the cabin with a pitcher of lind and beakers to drink the ale from. With a quick smile she placed the tray within reach of her husband and disappeared back to the cabin.
‘It’s not often that travellers come to this nook of the river unless they wish to use my ferry. Are you on your way to Cashel?’
‘To Durlus,’ replied Eadulf.
‘I see — in which case you have taken a long route,’ the ferryman pointed out. ‘But surely you know that, Gormán.’
The warrior smiled thinly. ‘We were interested in following the course of the river. Is there much traffic along it these days?’
Echna gave a dry laugh. ‘It is still a main trade route into Durlus Éile. North beyond Durlus it is scarcely navigable for traders.’
‘There do not seem to be many boats on the water today,’ Eadulf observed. They had seen no river traffic since leaving the spot where they had camped.
‘Today?’ The man shook his head. ‘Today there is a feast in Durlus to celebrate the end of a good harvest, and many of the farmers and merchants will be attending. That is why you will not see much traffic along the river.’
‘I suppose that you know the river well?’
‘I know the Suir like the back of my hand, Brother Eadulf. I know the sound of her waters, the way the current gushes over the stones on her bed; I can tell when she is running in flood or when the water is drying upstream. Indeed, I know her very well.’
‘You keep account of the vessels moving up and down?’
The question surprised the ferryman. ‘I take note of them, as most river men are my friends,’ he explained. ‘Often some of the traders will call in at our jetty to rest or take refreshment as they journey downriver.’
‘I was wondering if you had heard any vessels passing at night?’
There was a momentary flicker of suspicion in the man’s eyes. ‘Surely you know that trade vessels do not pass along the river at night,’ he said. ‘They keep to safe anchorage.’
‘In normal circumstances,’ Eadulf agreed with a grim smile. ‘But do you know of such boats passing at night?’
The ferryman glanced from Eadulf to Gormán, but before he could answer, a sharp voice cut in: ‘There was no vessel passing last night!’
They turned at the sound of a new voice. It was the ferryman’s wife who was no longer smiling, but who now stood before them in an aggressive manner. Her hands were placed on her hips and her jaw was thrust out. ‘No vessel passed here last night!’ she repeated angrily. ‘Is that understood, my lords?’
CHAPTER NINE
‘I did not specify last night,’ Eadulf said coolly. ‘I can now assume that there was, indeed, a boat that passed upriver last night.’
The woman’s eyes widened as she realised her mistake. Her husband, Echna, rose and went to her, laying his hand on her arm.
‘These are the King’s men; we must tell them the truth.’
‘Even if we come to harm?’ the woman said with a wail. ‘Even if our boy comes to harm?’
Gormán spoke firmly. ‘You will come to no harm from us, nor from any who is in the service of Colgú of Cashel. Say what you know to be the truth and the truth will protect you.’
Echna turned back to them. ‘Are the people you seek, those in this boat, your enemies?’
‘They are,’ replied Eadulf. ‘Now — what did you mean when you said that you or your boy might come to harm?’
Echna patted his wife’s arm again and told her to return to the cabin. Then he came and sat down with them, pouring himself a large drink from the pitcher of lind.
‘Last night we were all asleep; that is, myself, my wife and my son, Enán. It was well before first light. As you know, it is the duty of the ferryman to keep a lantern burning during the hours of darkness, so that travellers who are late on the river might find the place. The lantern was burning low when I awoke.’
‘Why did you awake?’
‘I heard a noise, the oars scraping in the rowlocks, and a moment later came the sound of a boat knocking gently against the wooden jetty here.’ He paused to lick his lips which had gone dry, and take another swallow of the ale. ‘As I rose, my wife also awoke. I went to the door. As I say, the lantern outside was burning low and, at first, I thought I would be in trouble for not maintaining its brightness. Everywhere was in shadows but I saw a man standing on the jetty. He turned towards me. Alas, I could not see what sort of man he was. Behind him, I saw the dim outline of a boat.’
‘Did you see what type of boat it was or how many were on board?’ asked Gormán.
‘That sort of craft usually takes four rowers but I had the impression there were others in the boat besides the oarsmen. One of the rowers was leaning forward over his oar and moaning softly. I said: “Do you need help?” The man on the jetty asked me if I was the ferryman. When I confirmed it, he said: “Then you must come with us. We need your skill with the oar. Our companion has had a misfortune and cannot row.” I think that he added that I would be well compensated.
‘I asked how far they expected to get upriver in the darkness. I said it would be better for them to wait until daybreak. The man, who seemed to lead those in the boat, said it was not far and it would soon be light in any case. He mentioned that they must reach the area of poor land, which we call Cabragh, on the banks of the Suir. That’s to the north of here.’