The Subtle Serpent Read Free Page B

on board. The sails filled and deflated as each unpredictable wind caught them with no one on board seeming to correct the ship’s heading.
    ‘The way she is heading, captain,’ muttered Odar, ‘she’ll be piling up on the rocks soon.’
    Ross did not reply for he had already made the same deduction. He knew that a mile or so ahead were some semi-submerged rocks, their black granite rising among streams of sea foam which poured down the sides as the seas broke over them with a noise of thunder. Moreover, Ross knew that around the granite bastions was a line of reefs under water over which a small draught vessel such as his barc could easily pass but that the sea-going ship to his port had no chance.
    Ross gave a low sigh.
    ‘Stand by to turn towards her, Odar,’ he grunted to the steersman and then he yelled to his crew. ‘Ready to loose the main sail!’
    With deft precision, the Foracha swung from its course to a new tack with the wind full at her back so that it fairly flew across the waves towards the large ship. It cut the distance with great rapidity until the barc was but a cable’s distance away and then Ross moved forward to the rail, cupping his hands to his mouth.
    ‘Hóigh!’ he yelled. ‘Hóigh!’
    There was no responding cry from the now towering, dark vessel.
    Suddenly, without warning, the fickle wind changed
direction. The tall, dark bow of the sea-going ship was turned directly towards them, the sails filled and it was bearing down on them like an infuriated sea monster.
    Ross yelled to the steersman: ‘Hard to starboard!’
    It was all he could do as he helplessly watched the larger vessel bearing remorselessly down.
    With agonising slowness the bows of the Foracha dragged unwillingly over and the great ship went scraping along the portside of the vessel, banging against the little ship so that she heeled and wallowed and was left bobbing in the wake of the passing vessel.
    Ross stood shaking angrily as he gazed at the stem of the vessel. The wind had suddenly died away and the larger ship’s sails had deflated as it slid slowly to a halt.
    ‘May the captain of that vessel never see the cuckoo nor the corncrake again! May the sea-cat get him! May he die roaring! May he fester in his grave!’
    The curses poured out of Ross as he stood enraged, shaking a fist at the ship.
    ‘A death without a priest to him in a town without clergy …’
    ‘Captain!’ The voice that interrupted him in full flow was feminine, quiet but authoritative. ‘I think God has heard enough curses for the moment and knows you to be upset. What is the cause of this profanity?’
    Ross wheeled round. He had forgotten all about his passenger who had, until this moment, been resting below in the Foracha’s main cabin.
    A tall religieuse now stood on the stern deck by Odar, the steersman, regarding him with a slight frown of disapproval. She was a young woman, tall but with a well-proportioned figure, a fact not concealed even by the sombreness of her dress nor even the beaver-fur edged woollen cloak that almost enshrouded her. Rebellious strands of red hair streaked from beneath her headdress, whipping in the sea-breeze. Her pale-skinned features were attractive and her
eyes were bright but it was difficult to discern whether they were blue or green, so changeable with emotion were they.
    Ross gestured defensively towards the other ship.
    ‘I regret that I have offended you, Sister Fidelma,’ he muttered. ‘But that ship nearly sank us.’
    Ross knew that his passenger was not simply a religieuse but was sister to Colgú, king of Muman. She was, as he knew from past experience, a dálaigh, an advocate of the law courts of the five kingdoms of Éireann, whose degree was that of anruth only one grade below the highest qualification which the universities and ecclesiastical colleges could bestow.
    ‘You have not offended me, Ross,’ replied Fidelma with a grim little smile. ‘Though your cursing might have offended