The Shapeshifter's Lair

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Is it also common knowledge that Princess Gelgéis is now the betrothed to Colgú, King of Muman. That the forthcoming union of the families is one desired by Colgú and Gelgéis.’

  The man’s eyelids raised a fraction and then he shrugged.

  ‘That, too, is common knowledge. But I have heard that it is resented by Tuaim Snámha, who now pays more tribute to Muman and has to accept the overlordship of the Eóganacht dynasty as the price of Osraige’s role in that conspiracy.’

  ‘Which does not also please the Uí Máil as well as certain nobles of Osraige. One has to remember that this abbey stands in the middle of Uí Máil territory.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Brother Eochaí asked uncertainly.

  Abbot Daircell stared thoughtfully at his stable master.

  ‘I am saying that Princess Gelgéis is seen as having been central to the defeat of Fianamail’s plan to extend his territory with the help of Tuaim Snámha of Osraige. She was on her way to visit me and has now disappeared, and her Brehon has been found slain. I received a message by carrier pigeon from her only nine days ago telling me to expect her and her party as she had learnt disturbing news.’

  The stable master was thoughtful.

  ‘And you are saying there is a connection between what that news might be and the fact her party has disappeared and one of them, her Brehon, has been killed?’

  ‘Just so. I do not know the details of the news she was bringing but she must have been aware that it was a dangerous journey to make. To ignore the dangers means it was important because her name is reviled by all the Uí Máil, not the least the King of Laigin and his immediate family. Here, in The Cuala, the mountains over which the Uí Máil family hold personal fiefdom, she has vanished. I fear the worst. It also means that it is unlikely that any Brehon linked to these families will attempt to resolve the mystery. Now do you see why I want to entrust a task to someone whose sympathies are neither of this kingdom nor with the ambitions of Osraige?’

  ‘I say again, my sympathies are with the Faith,’ the master of the stables said reprovingly. ‘But I am not indifferent to the suffering of my people in Osraige. I have heard stories from Osraige that Tuaim Snámha has been recently approached about defying Muman once again and, in doing so, asking for the protection of Laigin. That would be disastrous for Osraige.’

  ‘I knew you would be concerned about the welfare of our people,’ exclaimed the abbot, almost in relief. ‘I know you have tended our stables well, Eochaí.’

  ‘I have tended the horses in the stables here for three years and you have sent me no complaints,’ replied the stable master. There was no complacency in his tone; just a statement of fact. ‘That should be recommendation enough.’

  ‘But as a rider? You have been deemed to be excellent?’

  ‘I leave the judgement to others.’

  ‘Then tell me how long it would take, if you had to ride from here to Cashel, in Muman, as a matter of urgency?’

  The master of the stables pursed his lips as he considered.

  ‘I would not like to push a horse to extremes, but allowing for any contingency and rest periods, I would say two days.’

  ‘How would you go? Westward across the mountains?’

  Brother Eochaí ignored the question. ‘Why would I ride to Cashel? If you ask me to take a message, then surely it would be quicker to use the carrier pigeons that you breed and train?’

  Like many other important centres, the abbey trained its own pigeons, in which the abbot took a special interest.

  Abbot Daircell shook his head. ‘This is one message I want to ensure reaches the eyes of Colgú of Cashel and no other. Certain nobles here have devoted time to training their falcons to intercept the pigeons.’

  ‘Then, perhaps, we had better not speak of my route in case someone watches my departure. Not only is the lord of The Cuala known to train peregrine falcons, many others do so, too.’

  Abbot Daircell rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘You are a good man, Brother Eochaí. Then take whatever route you judge is best.’

  ‘What message am I to give when I reach Cashel?’

  ‘Bear my greetings to King Colgú and simply repeat what you have learnt here today: that is his betrothed, Princess Gelgéis of Durlus Éile, was known to have set out for this abbey over a week ago. Of her party, her Brehon was found slaughtered on the route while she and her steward are now missing. Say that I fear for her safety. That is all.’

  ‘Am I to say no more than this?’ asked Brother Eochaí, surprised by the terseness of the abbot’s message.

  The abbot shook his head. There seemed a hidden meaning in his words when he replied: ‘I believe that Colgú will know what to do on learning the news.’

  THREE

  ‘Law! I am bored by law!’

  Eadulf’s head jerked up in astonishment as Fidelma suddenly rose to her feet, scattering the papers she had been contemplating and shaking her long red hair from side to side in angry fashion. She glanced belligerently around their private chamber as if expecting someone to leap forward and rebuke her for the statement. Eadulf wisely regained his composure after being startled at the interruption to his own reading. He examined his partner in surprise. They had been sitting quietly studying their respective manuscripts. The fading light of the cold wintery afternoon made necessary the use of candles and oil lamps, and the addition of a crackling log fire to warm them. These conditions did not make reading an ideal occupation. However, some new decisions from the Council of Brehons, which met every three years, had recently arrived and needed to be studied.

  ‘Am I to take that remark seriously?’ Eadulf asked in a solemn tone after a pause. He could not entirely disguise the amusement in his eyes and the laughter lines that he knew must be playing at the corners of his mouth.

  Fidelma turned on him with an exasperated expression.

  ‘Law, law, law … this judgment, that appeal, another new interpretation. All to make sure the text has not been outdated by some obscure decision. Appeals from judges who have forgotten that people make the law and not the law make the people. I am fed up with it all …’

  ‘That’s an interesting statement from one who is the King of Muman’s legal adviser,’ Eadulf interrupted mildly, letting her anger wash over him. ‘But people do change, I am told. What they decide one year, they change the next when more information comes to light. After studying at Brehon Morann’s college of law, you have spent years gaining a reputation where you have even been consulted by the High King of the Five Kingdoms. You have gone to many countries because of your knowledge. You have even won fame in many lands between here and Rome. I suppose law can be boring, but you could have had any legal position that you asked for.’

  He had barely uttered the words when he realised his mistake.

  ‘On the contrary.’ Fidelma’s teeth almost clenched. ‘You know well that I was rejected when I applied to be Chief Brehon of Muman. Yes, rejected by a council of my fellow Brehons, who did not find me worthy enough in spite of that so-called reputation.’ The tone of her voice became a sneer. ‘My own brother felt it necessary to assuage my feelings by appointing me his legal adviser.’

  ‘He did so because he needed a good legal counsel to represent him.’

  ‘He did so for charity’s sake!’ she contradicted.

  Eadulf was saddened by her attitude. ‘Some would think it is a high honour. In spite of what you say, you must realise that your brother, Colgú, would not have appointed you to that role if he did not think you were capable. And you have proved yourself so.’

  Fidelma was not mollified. She pointed to the discarded papers scattered on the door.

  ‘An honour? An honour to have to spend time weeding through all this garbage? Legal claims that any qualified as a Dos could sort out.’ Eadulf knew that a Dos was a fourth-year student at a Bardic school. ‘Anyone who has studied the Bretha Nemed, the Law of Privilege, could sort out the cases that I am supposed to advise on. I am qualif
ied—’

  Eadulf suppressed a groan before interrupting in a heavy tone. ‘Qualified to the level of Anruth, the second highest degree that either the Bardic or the Ecclesiastical colleges can bestow. You don’t have to keep reminding everyone of that.’

  Fidelma swung round in annoyance but then checked herself. ‘But I did have to remind many that I encountered, especially when I was trying to make my way in this world after I left law school. Now it seems that I must do so again.’

  ‘What has brought this on?’ Eadulf asked gently. He paused and indicated the scattered papers. ‘I suppose it is an obscure legal matter that is perplexing you?’

  ‘Perplexing me?’ She sounded threatening. ‘No, it is not obscure; just a paltry argument about rights over a property that could have been dealt with by a junior clerk. No need at all to bring it to the King’s legal adviser.’

  ‘Then why was it passed to you?’

  Fidelma shrugged, reseated herself and picked up one of the papers.

  ‘Any matter relating to the finding of silver ore in the kingdom has to be reported to the King. I have to consider this and I saw some recent restrictions made by the Brehon Council. Having read them twice, there is still little sense to be made of them.’

  Eadulf was interested at the mention of triun airgit, silver ore.

  ‘It sounds important,’ he ventured, finally setting aside the manuscript that he had been trying to read.

  ‘But not important enough to waste my time over disputes in such matters,’ she replied. ‘The matter could have been reported directly to my brother, Colgú, and the argument settled by a local Brehon without me having to double-check this reference.’

  ‘But it wasn’t. So how long will it take you?’

  Fidelma made a cutting gesture with her hand. ‘Long enough to waste my time. I could have spent the time playing with little Alchú and giving old Muirgen some time to rest. Since you now take him out for his morning ride, I barely see him at all.’

  Eadulf smiled thinly. ‘I am quite willing to forgo the morning horse ride,’ he said. Eadulf did not consider himself a good horseman and, indeed, preferred any other means of travel than lengthy journeys on horseback. ‘It’s just that I thought you wanted …’

  Fidelma’s brows creased in frustration. ‘I’ll tell you what I want and then you won’t have to waste time thinking it,’ she replied waspishly. ‘I don’t want to waste time with mundane matters like this.’

  ‘Well, I am sure Muirgen will be happy to allow you to have more time to play with our son.’ Eadulf became unusually sarcastic. ‘Don’t forget that she is getting old now. We’ve been absent from Cashel enough times over the last years to the point where I am sure that our son does not think of us as his parents at all. He sees more of Muirgen and her husband, Nessan. Let them rest. Give up the law.’

  Since Alchú had been a baby, Fidelma had employed Muirgen as nurse to the child while her husband, Nessan, was employed looking after the King’s livestock. During the long periods that Fidelma and Eadulf had been away in pursuit of legal missions, Muirgen had been almost a foster parent to the boy. This had been a bone of contention for Eadulf, not because he disliked Muirgen, but because he felt isolated as a parent and, perhaps, somewhat resentful. His son was nephew to the King of Muman, and Eadulf, being an Angle from the kingdom of the East Angles, felt unable to pass on any of his own cultural traditions.

  ‘Give up law? Don’t be ridiculous!’ Fidelma replied acidly.

  ‘But …’ Eadulf protested at her change of logic.

  ‘It’s better than this litigant’s choice.’ She held up the paper that she was consulting. ‘He spends his life wasting time, digging a well to find silver.’

  Eadulf hesitated as he had not recognised the word that she had used.

  ‘Did you say “mining” a well?’

  Fidelma failed to understand for a moment and then she actually smiled.

  ‘You mean claide – it’s basically an act of “digging out” so we can use it as claide mianna for mining. Fear cladhaich – a miner. Or for digging or excavating water wells.’

  ‘Meaning, in this instance?’ Eadulf pressed, for he was always anxious to improve his knowledge of the language.

  ‘You are acquainted with the mountains to the north of here – Sliabh Eibhlinne? They are full of minerals. But some of the farmers on those slopes have argued the water that used to drain from the mountains has changed course because of the mines. A local farmer agreed with his neighbour to dig a well for water. It was on the borders of their properties. This was because it was in the best location to find water. In the course of excavation of the well, the first farmer found pieces of silver ore among the lead and copper that he dug up. So the well is on the first farmer’s land. But the second farmer demands shared ownership of the proceeds.’

  ‘The well is on the first man’s land? But they both agreed to sinking the well to find water?’

  ‘The agreement was that the water was to be divided between the two farmers. So does the second one have any right to the silver?’

  ‘There was no conflict while the subject of the division was water?’

  ‘None, only when silver was found has a conflict arisen.’

  ‘Then I think that the same division should apply.’

  Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘You have gained a good understanding of the principles of our law system, Eadulf.’

  ‘I was guided by that bee judgment that you taught me. What do you call it – the Bechbretha? That the bee-keeper must give a portion of the honey to his neighbours because his bees gather the nectar from their plants just as much as from his own. Doesn’t the same principle apply: that items found on another’s land, which affect his neighbour, must be shared? If so, I cannot see why you are frustrated or that there is a problem. It is a simple decision.’

  Fidelma’s smile broadened but without humour. ‘In fact, the bee law affirms that any discovery on land, especially the finding of glith or ore of various metals, should be notified to the King, or the local lord or abbot. No division is required to the King unless he or the local lord of the territory is also a neighbour.’

  ‘Then, again, I cannot see why you are so frustrated? The judgment is easy.’

  ‘It is not the principle of division. You know that any judgment must be accompanied by precedent so that it is seen to be fairly based on previous authority. For example, citing the bee law that you mention, we have two different judgments. That, as you say, the bee-keeper has to divide a portion of the honey with his four nearest neighbours or, according to another interpretation, that every four or five years, the bee-keeper must present a swarm to his neighbours so that they also become bee-keepers. The two judgments are based on different interpretations as to whether the bee-keeper is the owner and responsible for the bees or whether the bees cannot be owned, as they are not able to be confined, and so are responsible for themselves.’

  Eadulf thought for a moment. ‘I did not think there was such philosophy behind the laws.’

  Fidelma shrugged. ‘Law does not come without thought and precedence, therefore much consideration is shown with even the simplest of judgments. In this case I also have to reacquaint myself with the laws on mining, which I have not seen since I was a student at Brehon Morann’s school. What I was complaining about was that I have to ensure that I am up to date with the Council of Brehons’ latest rulings.’

  She knelt on the floor and began to pick up the scattered papers. As she was settling back again to sort them into order there was a sharp knock at the door. It opened in answer to Eadulf’s call to enter. The newcomer was Enda, the young warrior of the Golden Collar, the élite bodyguard to the King of Muman. Enda had been their companion in many adventures. However, Enda’s usual expression of amusement was now replaced by one of serious concern. Fidelma was the first to spot this as he entered.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she demanded.

  Enda stood hesitantly. ‘The King, your brothe
r, requests the presence of you and friend Eadulf.’

  Many in the King’s household tended to use Comthach Eadulf as a term of respect. As the husband of Fidelma, rather than a religious mode of address, they felt it more appropriate. It meant a ‘friend’ and ‘comrade’, whereas King Colgú used the term Cáem Eadulf, indicating that he was a precious and noble friend.

  ‘Is something wrong with my brother?’ queried Fidelma, immediately concerned.

  ‘Not exactly, but the King does not appear in the best of moods. He required you both to come at once.’

  ‘Something must have happened to cause this change of mood,’ Eadulf muttered. ‘This very morning he seemed as cheerful as ever I have seen him.’

  ‘It is not for me to say,’ Enda admitted uneasily, ‘but a rider arrived at Cashel a short time ago and spent some time with the King. I was then summoned and told to request your presence.’

  ‘We’ll come,’ Fidelma said, casting her papers aside once more.

  ‘Do you have any idea where this mysterious rider came from?’ pressed Eadulf as they left the chamber.

  ‘Oh, there is no mystery in that, friend Eadulf. He had to give that information to the guards before being allowed into the King’s presence. He identified himself as Brother Eochaí and said he carried a personal message from Abbot Daircell of the Abbey of the Blessed Cáemgen.’

  ‘Cáemgen’s abbey? That’s in the Valley of the Two Lakes,’ Fidelma reflected.

  ‘Where is that?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘It is an abbey that lies within The Cuala mountains. I have heard about it but never been there. I know only that it is in a small valley a long way from any major township.’

  ‘The Cuala? That is the mountain range in the northern part of the kingdom of Laigin. I have met people who told me about those mountains.’ Eadulf’s features assumed an expression of distaste, remembering when he had been taken prisoner and nearly executed when travelling through Laigin. ‘Laigin is not the friendliest of places.’

  Had it not been for Fidelma, and indeed young Enda and some of his comrades, he would have met his death in Laigin.