‘I also studied at the college of the Blessed Brecain. The druimclí, the head professor, was then Cenn Faelad, the son of Aililla of Baetán.’
Eadulf’s eyes widened. ‘I thought Cenn Faelad died a long time ago?’
Brother Lachtna shook his head. ‘On the contrary, he still lives.’
‘Even in Cashel we have heard of Cenn Faelad,’ Fidelma interrupted impatiently. ‘I am glad he still lives but he must be elderly now. For wasn’t he badly wounded during the battle of Magh Rath, and that was in the year of my birth?’
‘The ageing of the body does not mean the mind ages also,’ said the physician philosophically. ‘Cenn Faelad has been a noble success to those who practise the healing arts and he has inspired many of us. And it should be thus. Let me tell you the story …’
‘I know the story well,’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘Cenn Faelad was wounded in the head at Magh Rath and it was expected he would die. He was taken to the medical school of the Blessed Brecain, where surgery was performed on him. He recovered and so decided to renounce his warrior family and become a teacher. He was descended from kings. He devoted himself to study and over these last years he has produced a great many books of learning – we have some of them in the library of Cashel: works on the law, on our history and a grammar of our language. And he has also written poetry. So there is little I need to know of the son of Aililla of Baetán.’
Brother Lachtna regarded Fidelma thoughtfully during her quick recitation; then he smiled.
‘It is natural that you should know, being wife to a former pupil of Cenn Faelad,’ he said dryly.
‘I was a pupil only briefly,’ Eadulf corrected quickly.
‘Well, he remembers you,’ Brother Lachtna said quickly.
‘Then I am flattered,’ Eadulf acknowledged.
‘Then, as a student of Cenn Faelad,’ Fidelma interposed, ‘we may expect a matching thoroughness of proficiency from you.’
Brother Lachtna examined her to see if there was any sarcasm in her comment but her face was without expression.
‘I will only answer the questions that I know the answer to.’
‘That is good, for we would not wish it otherwise,’ she said as the physician stood aside and beckoned them to enter his domain.
They were immediately assailed by the same pungent smell of herbs, both dry and fresh, and mixtures that they were used to in old Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary in Cashel. Herbs hung in bunches from the low ceiling or were stored in jars along wooden shelves, while in the centre of the room was a long wooden table, large enough for a body to be rested on it. There were stains, which Eadulf knew were made by blood over the passage of time and which no amount of scrubbing would remove. There were some benches and two chairs, and Brother Lachtna waved them to be seated.
‘I am told that you examined the body of Brocc, Brehon to Princess Gelgéis?’
‘I examined a body. It was not I who identified whose body it was,’ replied the physician pedantically, ‘therefore I cannot declare it was that person.’
‘So who did identify it?’ Eadulf asked.
‘Brother Aithrigid, our steward, as I recall. This was confirmed by Abbot Daircell. They are both from Osraige and said the body was that of the Brehon to Princess Gelgéis.’
‘Very well,’ Fidelma conceded. ‘Now, tell us what you observed.’
‘That the corpse was in a state of putrefaction. I was told it had lain on the mountain for about seven days. I could confirm the body was dead for that period because I have had some experience in this matter.’
‘How is that?’ Eadulf queried.
‘As a physician I have followed armies into battle and have walked among bodies that have not been removed from those gory fields for days and sometimes weeks. I have observed the rate of decay of the slain bodies and feel that I am, perhaps, an expert.’
‘So this is a fact we can agree upon? The Brehon had been dead seven days. Very well. What else?’
‘If he had been killed, then he must have spent days away from molestation by scavengers. That means he was placed where Cétach found him on the open mountainside within only hours of being discovered. No longer.’
‘Are you saying that he was hidden for nearly a week after being killed, and purposely placed there?’ Fidelma tried not to sound intrigued.
‘Exactly. The body had not been disturbed by any animals who forage the mountains.’
‘Can you tell us more?’
‘There were two wounds to the body. He had been shot in the back at fairly close range by an arrow, but that was not the cause of death. The second wound was where his throat had been cut with a sharp blade. He would have been dead in moments.’
Eadulf was frowning. ‘How would such a wound have been inflicted?’
The physician hesitated before seeing the purpose of Eadulf’s question.
‘The man was held from behind and the killer would have reached round with the blade and made a cut that appeared to be from right to left across the throat.’
‘Right to left?’ pressed Eadulf. ‘And made from behind?’
‘That is what I said.’
‘That might indicate that the killer was left handed, unless he was ambidextrous.’
The physician grimaced. ‘For a right-handed man to make such a cut while holding the man from behind would be extremely difficult. I would say the odds on the man being left handed are favourable. But it cannot be declared as proof positive.’
‘So Brocc was first debilitated by an arrow. Were there any signs that he fell from his horse after being shot?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Did the killer have to lift him from the ground and cut his throat?’
‘I can only tell you what I know,’ Brother Lachtna replied. ‘Whether the man fell and was on the ground, or whether he was standing upright, the fatal wound was in the neck. It is not for me to speculate further.’
‘We are told that the clothing has been washed and dispensed with. Is that so?’
‘It is. The clothes were washed and sent to the leper colony across the mountains.’
‘You saw nothing unusual about them? There is nothing to add to what you have told us already?’
‘What could be told from clothes?’ the physician asked.
‘Many things,’ Eadulf replied. ‘Tears in the cloth might indicate a fight. Perhaps evidence of other attempts to wound the man are on the clothing but not the body.’
Brother Lachtna shook his head. ‘There was nothing else apart from bloodstains and, of course, the tear where the arrow went through the clothing.’
‘And the arrow itself?’ pressed Eadulf. ‘Was it ever found?’
Brother Lachtna raised his brows with surprise. ‘Found? It was still in the body when it was found.’
SIX
‘We were not told,’ Fidelma exclaimed in annoyance. ‘I don’t suppose the arrow has been kept?’
The physician seemed surprised at the question. He glanced around the apothecary shop as if searching for something before he went to some debris in a corner. ‘I threw it somewhere. It was a vicious weapon and so shaped that if it had penetrated living flesh then I would have had to dig it out and that would have doubtless killed the man anyway. The arrowhead was bronze, and hollow where the wooden shaft was inserted. The depth of the wound showed the arrow was fired from a very close range.’ He continued to peer through a pile of debris in a corner and then uttered a loud ‘Ah!’ while bending down and extracting something from a pile of wooden sticks. He turned, holding an arrow with a bronze head towards Eadulf. Eadulf took the arrow and examined it. It was as Brother Lachtna had described it. It had a bronze head, winged, for maximum damage to the flesh, if flesh was its target. The wood appeared to be of seasoned ash and it was fletched with feathers from a bird, but dyed brightly in a curious blue and white pattern.
Eadulf handed it to Fidelma. ‘All I know is that a bow and arrows is not the weapon of choice among the warriors of your people. They prefer battle with swords
and shields.’
‘I don’t think we can deduce anything from that,’ she said, taking the arrow in her hands and peering at it.
The physician watched them, derision in his expression. ‘Certainly this is often a hunting weapon. I know warriors prefer to fight at close quarter with sword and shield and often javelins. However, that does not mean the bow is not used when the princes call their warriors to battle.’
‘So this arrow is a type anyone can use?’ Eadulf asked, disappointed.
‘I have witnessed more than a few battles before I decided to follow the way of peace. I have talked with fletchers about their work, since arrows have often caused me much labour, trying to heal the damage they cause. Where there are such weapons, there are often accidents. The arrow will tell you nothing about who fired it, if that is what you are hoping.’
‘Did all Brocc’s belongings go to aid the lepers?’ Fidelma asked.
‘All except his leather belt and shoes, which were of good quality and more valuable. I think Brother Gobbán, our smith, claimed the leather sandals as he was in need of a good pair.’
‘Also Brocc’s leather belt?’ queried Eadulf. ‘I don’t suppose he had anything attached to it?’
‘Oh, yes,’ replied Brother Lachtna, again to their surprise. ‘There was also a bossán, a small leather purse.’
‘Where is the purse now?’ Fidelma sighed, presuming the answer. ‘Was that given to the lepers?’
The physician shook his head. ‘I think Brother Dorchú, the gatekeeper, asked for that. He joined us only during the last year, and one of our rules is that all personal possessions attached to one’s life before joining the brethren are given away. The less one is reminded of the previous life, the better. The old things are discarded. The gatekeeper said he was in need of a purse, so from the charity of the abbey it was given.’
‘So it was accepted that the belonging of the dead man was a gift of charity?’ Eadulf asked.
‘Just so.’
‘I don’t suppose there was anything in the purse?’ Eadulf enquired hopefully.
The physician laughed sourly. ‘If the man was a Brehon then he was a frugal one. Of course, he was probably searched and robbed after he was killed. There was nothing there …’ He hesitated and then smiled at the memory. ‘Oh, except a pebble.’
‘A Brehon with only a pebble in his purse?’ Eadulf asked.
‘It is true enough. I found it. In fact, it was more of a small piece of rock than a pebble. It might even have been a piece of metal. It was very round and its surface rough.’
Fidelma frowned. ‘Surely it was an odd thing for a Brehon to be carrying in his purse?’
‘There is no accounting for what people carry about with them: sometimes things that have sentimental value to them, which to others would seem just useless,’ Brother Lachtna said.
‘A pebble with sentimental value?’ Eadulf laughed.
‘Who knows? Of course, maybe the man picked it up to defend himself by throwing it at his assailant.’
‘Then changed his mind and put it in his purse just before he was shot by a bowman in the back at close quarters?’ Fidelma queried dryly.
Brother Lachtna shrugged. ‘I am no investigator of such things, just a physician.’
‘I suppose the pebble was thrown away?’
‘Why keep it?’ Then the physician paused. ‘Come to think of it, I handed it to the abbot before I took charge of the corpse. Now, I believe I have told you all I know of the matter and I have many other matters to attend to—’
‘Then there is only one thing more,’ Fidelma interrupted as they rose. ‘I trust you have no objection if I keep this arrow for a while?’
‘Keep it for eternity,’ the little physician replied. ‘I don’t see what help it will be. I should think that plenty of fletchers produce arrows like this in these parts.’
Outside Brother Lachtna’s apothecary, Fidelma and Eadulf immediately encountered Enda. The young warrior, now without the guise of the religious robes, was not looking cheerful.
‘I was searching for you to see if I could assist you,’ he greeted them, his features relaxing in relief.
‘You didn’t look happy. Didn’t the steward provide you with a good bed and food last night?’
‘I am treated well enough, lady,’ Enda replied, pursing his lips reflectively. ‘But, to be honest, the brethren here behave as if it were more like a military camp. I am used to military camps, as you know, but I did not expect to find lewd jokes common among religious brethren.’
Fidelma was not surprised. It was not the first time she had encountered a male community fixated on such matters as women and sex, especially among more youthful members. ‘I have to say we are all fallible, in spite of religious calling,’ she told Enda.
‘It seems that some of them often go to the township, although the abbot forbids it,’ went on Enda moodily. ‘One of them actually said that the steward turns a blind eye to visits to a certain part of the township. Some of the brethren behave like sniggering boys.’
‘Perhaps that is what they are,’ Fidelma observed dryly. ‘I suppose I am surprised that the steward turns a blind eye. I thought he was more inflexible about the rules. This is a male-only community pledged to celibacy, or so he gave us to believe.’
‘They were talking about the fact that when he was young he was supposed to be one of the worst offenders. It nearly landed him in trouble.’
‘Well, this is all gossip,’ Fidelma declared. ‘We should get on with our main task. At least we do not have to disguise who we are. Do you sense any problem now that you are known as a warrior of the Golden Collar?’
Enda shook his head. ‘The chamber I share has a good bed and the fare is excellent. Yes, there is good food and drink. I only find some of the conversation irritating, not just the lewdness, either.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Everyone here seems to talk constantly about the darkness and evils of this place or, rather, of the mountains and valleys around. Brother Dorchú, the gatekeeper, seems to indulge in the telling of strange tales of ghosts and apparitions that haunt the mines in these parts. It seems that he used to be a guard at some mines near here.’
‘Are there mines near here?’ Eadulf asked, interested.
‘Apparently there are several,’ confirmed the warrior. ‘The gatekeeper was a member of the local noble’s warriors. Then he turned to religion and joined the brethren here.’
‘That’s an interesting contrast to life in an abbey,’ said Eadulf.
Enda nodded. ‘Apparently there are mines in this valley, further to the west, where silver and even gold have been dug. Brother Dorchú has countless stories of strange monsters that lurk in the caves of these mountains or high up in the peaks. He is not the sort of companion I would want with me on a dark winter’s night if I was camping in the mountains.’
Fidelma smiled broadly. ‘He doesn’t seem to be the only person who likes telling these stories of the supernatural. Even the abbot was trying to tell such tales. They seem very superstitious folk here, but you must not be disturbed by such tales.’
Enda grimaced defensively. ‘I am not scared, lady. I am not afraid of anything of this world. You know that.’
‘I know it well enough, my friend,’ Fidelma assured him.
‘Show me enemies of flesh and blood and I will draw my sword against an entire army, but against the creatures of the Aos Sí … I cannot defy a force that is incorporeal and fills me with apprehension.’
Fidelma shook her head in mild disapproval. ‘Then let me tell you that you are defeated before you begin. The only enemy that you are faced with is of this world and entirely human. Anyway, Enda, I need your assistance this morning. We intend to ride to this nearby township. Our next step is to question the pedlar who found the body of Brocc. If possible, I want him to take us to the spot where he found it.’
‘Then I shall get our horses.’ The young warrior seemed to brighten and headed of
f to the stables to fulfil his task.
Fidelma turned to find Eadulf giving her a disapproving look.
‘You are a little too harsh upon young Enda and his concerns about these supernatural beings. It’s a basic fear in all of us. Enda’s a good man, as well you know, when we have been in need of protection.’
‘I know,’ she confessed. ‘But I am irritated to see a good warrior disturbed by the superstitions among these mountain folk, Eadulf. This place is replete with ancient tales and superstitions. Remember we are here for a specific purpose. We don’t want to be dissuaded from that purpose or led down different paths from the ones dictated by our own logic.’
‘You mean being misled purposely so?’ queried Eadulf, as a thought struck him.
‘I did not think that people here would really tell such tales to put off our search for Princess Gelgéis purposely … nevertheless, they do seem enthusiastic in ensuring these tales are passed on.’
Eadulf was not sure whether there was irony in her voice. He shrugged in dismissal of the subject.
‘So we are going to find this pedlar, Cétach?’
‘Cétach the pedlar seems to be the closest we have to a first-hand witness,’ Fidelma confirmed. ‘At least, he discovered the body. We should be able to persuade him to take us to where he found it. Enda might be able to find something else in the surrounding tracks to help us. He is a first-class tracker.’
At that moment they were hailed. The tall figure of the abbey’s steward, Brother Aithrigid, came towards them, moving with a gliding motion. His features were still morose but he seemed straining to exude good fellowship.
‘I have neglected you,’ he greeted them. ‘I hope you obtained all that you wanted?’
‘As far as we are able,’ responded Fidelma, uncertain.
‘Excellent.’ Brother Aithrigid seemed to ignore the nuance. ‘I see you have decided to abandon your religious disguise.’
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