Fidelma had felt the urge to stop her introduction but it was too late. She had wanted to give more thought to the idea of getting a guide who had been a bodyguard to a powerful local Uí Máil noble. She noticed a swift look of surprise cross the man’s features.
‘What assistance do you seek?’ the hunter asked.
‘She and her companions want to be taken along the river Glasán,’ went on Beccnat.
‘It is an isolated route.’ The hunter was thoughtful, having brought his surprise under control. ‘How far along the river do you wish to go?’
‘Not far, I think,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Perhaps not beyond a mountain called, I am told, Céim an Doire, the oak pass.’
‘It’s quite an isolated route,’ Teimel repeated.
‘I thought the route was often used and called the Path of the Blessed Cáemgen,’ Beccnat pointed out.
Teimel sniffed dismissively. ‘Ah, that route. Cáemgen is welcome to it because there are better paths and tracks across the mountains.’
‘But none that I want to see,’ Fidelma replied irritably.
‘Are you staying in the abbey?’ The question was sudden and direct.
‘They are staying there,’ Beccnat confirmed before Fidelma could reply.
‘So you want to go along the Glasán?’ The hunter eyed them in amusement. To their surprise, he said: ‘I suppose it is coincidence that it is along that route that Cétach found a body and took it to the abbey.’
The blue eyes examined them with their trace of icy humour as he noticed the reaction on Fidelma’s features.
‘How did you know about that?’ she asked.
‘What Cétach knows he will never keep secret,’ the hunter said simply.
‘He will now,’ Fidelma replied coldly. ‘He has been murdered.’
There was a moment’s silence before Teimel spoke. ‘Murdered? Then his past has caught up with him.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Fidelma questioned.
‘For many reasons. Cétach was not a nice person and that fact was widely known. He was the sort of person who thought all the folk in the world were thieves because he was one. That is why most people would have nothing to do with him. Then there was the abuse of his wife. I doubt that you would find one person in this area who would be prepared to step forward in Cétach’s defence if he were attacked.’
‘Including you?’
‘Especially me,’ the hunter confirmed gravely. ‘Cétach once tried to steal from me so I thrashed him within an inch of his life. He never tried to steal from me again.’
The words were said as a matter of fact and not with any tone of self-justification.
‘Well, that’s honest enough,’ Fidelma remarked.
‘You will always find me honest,’ smiled the hunter. ‘I might have thrashed Cétach for theft but I did not kill him. I am one who does not praise honesty and then neglect it. I expect people to be equally honest with me. Therefore, this request for a guide along the valley of Glasán is about the body that Cétach found there. Whose body was it? I presume it was of someone of importance, otherwise we would not be having a lawyer from Cashel asking questions in this township.’
‘If I say the body was a Brehon, will that suffice for my reason in being interested in the place where this body was discovered?’ asked Fidelma.
Teimel smiled broadly. ‘It will do unless it needs amending. It must have been a Brehon of importance to bring you, your husband and a warrior of your brother’s bodyguard here.’ He paused and added with quiet sharpness, ‘I would advise you not to lower your hand to your sword hilt, warrior.’
Fidelma realised that Enda had slid his hand to grasp his sword.
‘It’s all right, Enda. Leave your sword alone.’ She turned thoughtfully back at the hunter. ‘Unless you have second sight we must have encountered one another before as you seem to know who we are, although Beccnat has not introduced us fully. Where did we meet?’
‘We did not meet formally so there is no reason why you should remember me,’ replied the hunter, seemingly pleased that he had caused some reaction among the visitors. ‘It was when your husband, the Saxon there, was about to be executed. I was at Fearna as escort for Fianamail’s uncle, Dicuil Dóna, who is lord of this territory.’
‘It was a long time ago,’ mused Fidelma, remembering the anguish she had gone through at the time, rescuing Eadulf from execution for a crime he had not committed, having fallen captive to an abbess who had converted to the Penitential rules of Rome. Revenge and execution were not part of the native system, just compensation and rehabilitation.
‘A long time ago?’ Eadulf said, raising a hand to massage his neck and remembering how the evil Abbess Fainder and Bishop Forbassach had conspired to have him executed. ‘Not long enough for me.’
‘Very well, Teimel, as you know who we are, tell me, what are your intentions?’
Teimel chuckled. ‘Intentions? You have asked me for help. At least that is what our good friend Beccnat says. You want to be shown along the glen of the Glasán where Cétach found a body. You have told me that the body was that of a Brehon and I have to presume he was a person of importance for you to be involved. Well, I see no difficulties in showing you the place. Cétach was quite loquacious about his discovery, so I can take you to the actual spot, if that is what you need.’
Fidelma examined the man carefully. There was something about him that she did not entirely trust. It was not merely what he said but the way he said it. There was also some expression around those cold blue eyes. They did not reflect his humour. She finally reached a decision.
‘For that we would be most grateful. You may consider yourself hired as our guide. I should also tell you that the body of the Brehon was—’
‘… Brehon to Princess Gelgéis,’ ended Teimel. ‘Don’t be surprised,’ he went on quickly. ‘Cétach found out when he delivered the body to the abbey. Did I not tell you that Cétach could never keep his mouth shut?’
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed. ‘So how many people know this?’
The hunter shrugged. ‘Outside the abbey? As many as the pedlar tried to sell his story to, as I have no doubt he would exchange the information for money.’ Teimel looked satisfied. ‘I am glad we can now be honest. Cétach told me that he had found the body of the Brehon and knew it to be Brocc. He even said that he had seen him in the company of the Princess Gelgéis leaving Durlus Éile some days before he found the body.’
‘Might Cétach have passed on this information to others?’ Eadulf asked.
‘So that was why you were concerned – this is not some simple murder of a man of no consequence?’ Beccnat asked.
‘I am afraid that is correct,’ Fidelma said. ‘Until I have investigated this, I hope it will remain a secret between us.’
Beccnat shrugged. ‘So long as it does not interfere with my duties as assistant to the local Brehon.’
‘We go back a long way, Beccnat,’ Fidelma reminded her. ‘We were young students at Brehon Morann’s law school in Tara, so you will know I am not in a position of betraying my legal trust. I shall not interfere in the domestic duties you have.’
‘I must report matters to Brehon Rónchú when he returns. For the time being I will continue with the investigation of Cétach’s murder and keep you informed, but will say nothing to anyone else. What do you intend to do now?’ she asked.
‘If Teimel is still agreeable, we will follow the valley of the Glasán and see if we can discover anything about the place where Cétach found the body.’
‘When do you want to start?’ the hunter enquired.
‘At first light tomorrow.’
‘I can meet you outside the gates of the abbey.’
‘That will be fine. We shall be ready.’
Fidelma, Eadulf and Enda left Beccnat and Teimel conversing together and set off for the abbey.
Fidelma was reflective on the journey back. Only once did Eadulf attempt to intervene in her thoughts.
‘How did you know the phy
sician was not from this area?’ he asked. ‘I’ve been puzzling that.’
‘It was his curious name,’ Fidelma replied shortly.
‘His name?’
‘It means a spectre.’
As they followed the path to the abbey, Eadulf kept silent, respecting the privacy of his wife’s thoughts. Meeting an old friend of her student days should have brought some joy but it had not. She seemed depressed by it. Enda, too, had nothing to say. So they rode on in the silence, coming to the abbey as twilight was descending. Brother Dorchú, the gatekeeper, was preparing to shut the gates for the approaching evening and paused to acknowledge them as they rode by. At the stable entrance they were met by the stable master, Brother Eochaí, who greeted them with his familiar lopsided grin and took charge of their horses.
Eadulf and Enda went to their respective accommodations to wash before the evening meal while Fidelma went to find Abbot Daircell. The abbot was just leaving his herb garden and greeted her with an anxious look.
‘Have you discovered anything?’ he asked before she had a chance to greet him.
‘I have no news of your cousin, Princess Gelgéis. However, Cétach, the pedlar, has been murdered.’
The abbot stared at her, momentarily shocked, and then crossed himself. ‘God between us and all evil. Murdered, you say? Is this death connected to the Brehon’s?’
Fidelma lowered herself to the wooden bench. ‘I believe it is. He was killed in exactly the same way as Brehon Brocc. That makes a connection. But while we made enquiries in the township we have not been able to discover anything other than he was not a liked person.’
The abbot exhaled slowly. ‘We have occasionally bought goods from him at this abbey but more from charity than liking him or his goods. Perhaps it is best not to say anything to the brethren, although I suspect the news will not be long spreading. It seems strange that Cétach was killed over a week after bringing the body of Brocc to this abbey. If that was cause of his being murdered, why not before?’
‘Perhaps the killer knew that we had arrived here and were about to make enquiries. If the motive was just that he had found the body then I cannot understand it. I think he knew something else more dangerous, in addition to merely finding the body.’
‘But it’s a possibility that the killer did not realise that Cétach had brought the body here,’ suggested the abbot.
Fidelma shook her head. ‘Cétach probably told many people. I understand he had a loose tongue.’
‘What do you plan to do now?’
‘I have enlisted the aid of a local hunter and trapper, Teimel, to guide us along the valley to where Cétach apparently told him that he had found the body.’
‘So Cétach told Teimel where he had found the body?’ he demanded in surprise.
‘As I said, I am told that Cétach was a person who could not keep secrets.’
‘True enough,’ muttered the abbot, but he was clearly worried.
‘You seem dismayed that Teimel was told. Is something wrong with Teimel?’ Fidelma asked.
‘Not with Teimel himself, but his mother is a cause of trouble. She will make much of this matter.’
‘Why?’
‘She is an evil woman. It is best to shun her company.’
‘Why is that?’
‘She is an ammait and forbidden to enter any sanctified land in my keeping. I thought you had encountered her. His mother is Iuchra, a woman of supernatural powers; a woman in league with the Devil. Frequently local folk claim to have seen her among the mountains, appearing in many guises.’
Fidelma grinned in amusement. ‘It seems shapeshifters are common in this country.’
‘You should not make so light of it, lady. If you had heard the tales that I have heard …’ the abbot protested.
Once again Fidelma was reminded of the importance that the abbot had placed on the beliefs held by local people in the solitary dark mountains of the area. It was all very well to talk generally but to accuse one specifically of being a shapeshifter was another matter.
‘Yes, we have already encountered her,’ she confirmed. ‘She was warning about the devils that dwelt among the high peaks. Is there any reason for the accusation of her being in league with the Devil? I mean a specific reason in law as our native system does not recognise the concept of consorting with the folk of the Otherworld as a crime? If we make a law against the Old Religion then we would have to include the priests of the New Religion for consorting with their saints and martyrs in their Otherworld.’
The abbot hesitated a moment. ‘It is the testimony of several people,’ he said simply. ‘People go to her to hear prophesies. That cannot be condoned. They testify she is in league with the powers of darkness.’
‘Testimony from credible witnesses who saw specific instances?’ Fidelma asked coldly.
‘If you mean witnesses who actually saw a change with their own eyes, then I would have to say – no. But there are honest folk who heard from someone who—’
Fidelma exhaled angrily. ‘You should know that a lawyer and a judge do not accept gossip without consideration of the actual facts. Even the very word for a witness means “one who sees” not “one who hears”. The law states that a person can only give evidence about what he has seen. What does not take place before a witness’s eyes is regarded as “dead”.’
The abbot coloured. ‘The law of the Roman Church does not agree with that.’
‘Thankfully we are not yet ruled entirely by the law of the Romans, which I know has been adopted by some ecclesiastics and is the basis for these Penitentials. I did not think that they were in usage here.’
The abbot was annoyed. ‘This abbey is governed by the laws of this land,’ he snapped. ‘But many are turning to the new ways.’
‘I will not accept hearsay in my judgment from any faction without corroborative evidence.’
The abbot’s mouth pressed for a moment and then he shrugged. ‘There is no disagreement between us, Fidelma. But one cannot help but listen to the opinions of many good townsfolk.’
‘The next time they air their options, they should be asked for their evidence and be prepared to take an oath of its validity, for there are forms of vicarious oath taking, of perjury, or purgatory …’
The abbot held up his hand as he realised he might be on dangerous legal ground. ‘I know, I know … I mentioned only about Iuchra as a means of telling you what is thought about her locally. She is to be avoided and not taken into your confidence. I meant nothing else.’
Fidelma eyed the man cynically. She was about to tell the abbot that his exclusion of Iuchra from the churches under his authority was unlawful, though she did not want to push the man into admitting what he had no means of escaping with some dignity. He would probably cite the new Penitential laws from Rome. However, it was Eadulf, arriving just then, who interrupted.
‘As you are an expert on local folklore and customs, I wonder if you could explain a small matter. I have seen many habitations in the town and most of them, if not all, have a small sprig of furze above the main door, with yellow flowers. I wonder what it signifies. Is there some festival that we do not know of?’
The abbot paled slightly. ‘You do not know?’
‘That is why I ask,’ replied Eadulf.
‘An old custom of these parts. It’s supposed to ward off bad spirits.’
‘It does?’ queried Fidelma.
‘It is particularly meant as a protection against shapeshifters,’ the abbot said sharply as if the words were reluctantly dragged from him.
He looked at her moodily, deciding to change the subject. ‘So you are going to look at the spot where the Brehon’s body was found. It is some time since the event occurred. Do you really think that there is anything that would be left now?’
‘We won’t know until we look. There was one thing I meant to ask. Your physician told me that the purse on the body was empty except for a pebble. It is curious that a Brehon had nothing in his purse but a pebble. T
he Brother Lachtna said he gave it to you. I do not imagine that you kept it.’
Abbot Daircell frowned. ‘I had forgotten that.’ He thought for a moment or two. ‘It was just a pebble. I threw it away.’ Fidelma was about to express her disappointment when his face lightened. ‘No; I was sitting here with it when I sent for Brother Eochaí. When I spoke to him, I put it into my bossán.’ He thrust his hand into the deep purse and felt about, finally emerging with what certainly looked like a small pebble.
Fidelma took it and examined it thoughtfully.
‘It’s certainly heavy. Not made of rock, although it looks like it.’
‘It’s probably a piece of metal,’ the abbot dismissed.
‘Metal?’
The abbot was not interested. ‘So you are going to go wandering in the mountains and hoping to find … what?’
‘Something. I know there is a slim hope. But we stand some chance because Cétach told Teimel where he found the body. And I’m hoping Teimel is a good tracker. Between him and my comrade Enda, they might be able to see much that we would not be able to.’
‘I hope that Gelgéis has only been abducted and not suffered the same fate as her Brehon.’ The abbot shuddered at the thought.
Fidelma did not comment. Instead she rose to her feet, still holding the heavy pebble. ‘May I keep this for a while?’ she asked.
The abbot shrugged indifferently.
She inclined her head in thanks. ‘Then we shall depart for the mountains just before first light.’
ELEVEN
The clang of the abbey bell to signal the time of the evening meal had begun its summons when Fidelma and Eadulf emerged from the guest quarters and joined the groups of brethren making their way to the praintech or refectory. They were greeted at the door by Brother Aithrigid, the steward. To one side, behind him, was a small stone area, raised from the main floor of the refectory, which gave entrance to a doorway that was obviously the abbey bell tower, where one of the brethren was pulling on the rope. The gaunt steward beckoned them to follow him to the far end of the hall. There was a raised wooden platform, immediately recognisable as where senior members of the brethren were seated. The length of the hall was filled with long tables at which members of the community were sitting. Apparently the rules did not extend to excluding female guests from dining with the brethren.
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