The Devil's Seal Read Free

to Brother Siolán’s cabin. He let them in and pointed to the bed, asking, ‘How long ago did this happen?’
    ‘We are not sure, Brother,’ Gormán said breathlessly. ‘But it can’t have been that long ago. Will the man live?’
    Brother Siolán was bending over the young religieux, examining him.
    ‘The only wound seems to be the abrasion on the side of his head. Has he regained consciousness at all?’
    ‘Only momentarily,’ Gormán replied.
    ‘A good sign anyway. It seems that the blow rendered him unconscious, which probably saved his life as the attackers may have thought they had killed him. Let us hope that the blow has caused no internal injuries. However, he will doubtless suffer headaches when he recovers consciousness.’
    He turned to a cupboard. ‘I have a paste of crushed flowers of a plant that grows nearby. That will cleanse and soothe the wound. Then when he comes round, I will try him with an infusion from the bark of the white willow. That should take away the headache. Then you can tell me in detail what has happened.’
    ‘We ought to bury the poor man’s companions before we sit down to recount our story,’ suggested Gormán. ‘The ravens have been following the boat since we discovered it and the corpses.’
    Brother Siolán was apologetic. ‘Of course. But do you have any idea of who these people are?’
    ‘Only that they are two religious and two boatmen. We think the religious are strangers to this country. Maybe they came all the way upriver from Láirge’s harbour.’
    The harbour lay close to the mouth of the River Siúr and was a place where many ocean-going vessels made landfall.
    ‘I see this one has the tonsure of Rome,’ noted Brother Siolán. ‘Well, time enough for speculation. I’ll tend to him. Go, take the corpses to the back of the chapel here, secure the boat and you’ll find an enclosure and fodder for your horses behind this hut.’
    ‘What about your hound?’ asked Enda, with a nervous glance at the dog, which seemed to be suspiciously watching their every move.
    ‘Figleóir? What? Oh, I see.’ Brother Siolán grinned. ‘Don’t worry about him. He won’t bother you now that he sees we are friends.’
    ‘Figleóir, that’s a good name for a watch-dog,’ Enda observed dryly. The name meant ‘a watcher’.
    It was well after dark when all the tasks had been accomplished. The corpses had been buried and the graves marked. The boat had been searched again for any clues of its origin, and now the three warriors had crowded into the cabin of Brother Siolán to relax in front of a warm log fire. The rescued religieux still lay on Brother Siolán’s bed but was now breathing more easily.
    ‘He’s fallen into a natural sleep,’ Brother Siolán explained, as he served a meal to the hungry warriors. He had already provided a jug of home-brewed ale, which they sipped appreciatively.
    ‘Is that a good sign?’ asked Enda. ‘Sleeping so long?’
    ‘It is. So now, what brings members of the Nasc Niadh, the élite bodyguard of our King, along the banks of the Siúr? What is the news from Cashel?’
    Gormán stretched himself before the comforting fire. ‘We can tell you little enough of recent news from Cashel as we have been away over a week, on an errand to investigate some dispute at the Ford of Fire.’
    Áth Thine, Ford of Fire, was a crossing point between the Kingdoms of Muman and neighbouring Laighin – which often proved a cause for skirmishes and conflict.
    ‘Then we came south-west by means of the Mountain of Women and hence to the river. Our plan was to ride to the Field of Honey before turning north back to Cashel.’
    ‘I heard a rumour that Caol is no longer the Commander of the King’s Bodyguard,’ remarked Brother Siolán.
    Gormán hesitated a moment before replying: ‘That is so.’
    Enda was grinning and there was pride in his voice when he said, ‘Gormán is being too modest. He neglects to tell you that he is the newly appointed