The Shapeshifter's Lair

by Peter Tremayne

  Brother Lachtna chuckled. ‘It’s just one of a number of similar stories to fill the winter nights. It’s a story to scare children.’

  Brother Gobbán rose to his feet with an expression of extreme annoyance. ‘You believe what you will, I do not mock you for those beliefs. Just have some respect and do not mock others until you know better.’ He began to turn away from the table, then hesitated and then turned back, frowning at Fidelma.

  ‘One thing, lady; you were asking about Dicuil Dóna of the Uí Máil. As you have been told, he is a descendant of Laignich Faelann. Further, it is said that he has inherited the abilities of his shapeshifter ancestor. I would say, if you wanted to know what happened to the Brehon and his companions, then seek answers at the dark fortress of Dicuil Dóna.’

  The smith turned abruptly and made his way out of the feasting hall.

  Brother Lachtna was chuckling. ‘I suppose you hardly imagined finding a senior member of the brethren who has barely moved from the old superstitions.’

  ‘It happens, my friend,’ Brother Eochaí said, in the process of rising. Then he paused. ‘Stories are quickly spread, lady.’

  ‘I am interested in this lord Dicuil Dóna.’ Fidelma turned to the stable master. ‘Perhaps Brother Gobbán has a point that the lord of The Cuala might have knowledge of what happened to Princess Gelgéis? Any person who can engender the sort of respect and fear in the smith, whether it is based on beliefs of evil spirits or not, should be worthy of a visit.’

  Brother Eochaí gazed at her in some surprise.

  ‘Are you saying that you are prepared to cross the mountains to try to see Dicuil Dóna, lord of The Cuala? I would not advise it.’

  ‘Why not? You don’t surely believe that this noble is a werewolf?’

  Brother Eochaí flushed indignantly. ‘Of course not. But he is a man with a bad reputation. They call his fortress Dún Droch Fhola – the fortress of bad blood – for much blood was shed there as the Uí Máil rose to power. It is a place to shun, and the lord of The Cuala is a man that should be shunned.’

  ‘You intrigue me even more,’ Fidelma smiled.

  ‘I have no wish to intrigue you, lady, only to give you warning. Dicuil Dóna is an evil man, wild and profane, caring neither for God nor the Devil. He is a man of dark passions, it is true. No true member of the religious will enter that glen of darkness where his fortress rises.’

  ‘Then it is good that I have left the religious and am not likely to be a saint,’ Fidelma, not disguising her sarcasm.

  ‘I have given warning in good faith,’ Brother Eochaí said indignantly.

  ‘And it was received in good faith, Brother,’ Fidelma replied. She rose, followed by Eadulf. They were conscious of the physician staring after them as they crossed to the doors and left the feasting hall.

  Outside, Eadulf turned to her. ‘Are you really interested in going to meet this Lord Dicuil? Isn’t it dangerous that he is of the Uí Máil and you are of the Eóganacht, families who have long been enemies?’

  ‘I would not have mentioned it if I were not serious,’ Fidelma replied dryly.

  ‘What if he is all the things he is claimed to be?’

  Fidelma chuckled in surprise. ‘You mean a werewolf?’

  ‘You know I don’t mean that.’ Eadulf was piqued. ‘I mean, what if he controls these mountains and the disappearance of Princess Gelgéis is his responsibility? Aren’t we putting ourselves in danger?’

  ‘The sooner we find that out, the better. So far we have had no leads at all. If this lord Dicuil Dóna knows anything at all then we have nothing to lose in going to find him.’

  ‘I’d say we have much to lose. For example, our freedom, on the one hand, and perhaps our lives on the other.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Eadulf. We will not go rushing up to his fortress gates and ask what he has done with Princess Gelgéis. You know me better than that.’

  It was the very fact that Eadulf did know her intemperate moods so well that worried him. She made her way towards the guests’ residence. So he contented himself with a dismissive rise and fall of one shoulder to indicate his compliance and then followed.

  TWELVE

  It was still dark the next morning when Fidelma, Eadulf and Enda walked their horses through the abbey gates. The oil in the gate lantern was running low but still gave enough illumination to guide them across the bridge. They could also see thin rays of light glimmering over the eastern peaks as they crossed the little stream that surrounded the abbey and the lakes. By the time they reached the main track where they were due to meet Teimel, the morning sky had become speckled with clouds of a pinkish hue turning red here and there with a warning of the weather to come. In fact, the weather had, so far, not been typical for the time of year. It had been mild. Usually they would expect to be passing through boisterous winds and unsettled conditions. Fidelma felt that the turbulence would be starting soon, with short bursts of rain interspersed with sunny spells so that, with rising temperatures, early spring flowers would begin to appear.

  They had reached the main track and halted, peering round for Teimel. Fidelma felt impatient when there was no sign of him, and she was about to make a remark when the hunter emerged unexpectedly from the dark trees that lined the track. He did not greet them but merely pointed northward.

  ‘We will cross through this forest. There is an easy ford across the river of watercress. It is called such as there is a preponderance of cress around it. Then we will join the main track. It runs on the north side of the river all the way along the valley to the spot where Cétach said he found the body.’

  ‘You are the guide,’ acknowledged Fidelma. ‘We will follow your lead.’

  The sky was brighter now, or as bright as the altocumulus clouds, now stretching across the sky, would allow. They reflected the red dappled sunlight as the sun itself had not yet fully risen above the mountain peaks.

  They fell quiet as the hunter led the way along the track that crossed over the shoulder of a tall mountain into the valley of Glasán. Teimel made directly to the river bank, leading to a ford. Once safely across, they turned north-west, following the bank of the fast-flowing river. Teimel occasionally raised his head, almost as if he was sniffing at the air. He seemed sensitive to his surroundings and was not disturbed when a wild boar emerged on the path ahead of them. It turned in their direction, examining them with wicked tiny red eyes and sharp threatening tusks, before tossing its head disdainfully. With a loud grunt, it turned and trotted back into the forest. It was clear that the track was one well used, and Teimel reminded them that it was a straight route through the mountains to the border of Osraige. For this reason Fidelma examined their route carefully.

  The forest now seemed to crowd in around the river, which snaked through the valley bottom, in the shadows of the mountain that the hunter called Céim an Doire on the one side, and the slopes of another peak called ‘mountain of badgers’ on the opposite side of the river. The water, though shallow, flowed roughly, with a lot of white water as the course was over a rocky bed. They were approaching a bend where groups of alders – common in such areas, where their strong fibrous roots helped keep the river bank secure – obscured their forward view.As they were emerging into an open area of grassland, which pushed back on both sides of the river, Teimel halted and signalled that the others do likewise.

  ‘Someone is approaching on horseback along the track,’ he told them quietly. ‘We’ll wait here until they have passed.’

  Whoever the approaching rider was, they were certainly not stealthy. The animal was blowing and dragging its hoofs so that twigs underfoot were scattered noisily. Fidelma’s party waited patiently for the animal and its rider to approach through the trees. When they came into the clear patch Eadulf was the first to recognise a mule, not a horse, with the old woman astride it.

  ‘It’s Iuchra!’

  Teimel turned with a frown. ‘You know her?’

  ‘We have encountered her twice,’ Eadulf expl
ained with a rueful grin. ‘She was in Láithreach just before we met you. I tried to help her on to her mule and was not thanked for my pains.’

  ‘She is a proud woman,’ Teimel replied. ‘What made you go to her assistance?’

  Eadulf quickly related the circumstances. Fidelma suddenly realised that Eadulf had not been there when the abbot mentioned that Iuchra was Teimel’s mother. She decided, out of curiousness, to see if the hunter would acknowledge the fact.

  By this time the old woman had reached them and was staring suspiciously at the group.

  ‘Good day to you, my son,’ she called to Teimel.

  ‘I presume you have been delivering food to mountain folk, Mother,’ Teimel greeted her with a smile. ‘How are they?’

  The old woman made an inarticulate grunting sound in the back her throat. Then she wiped her mouth and nose with the back of her shawl and coughed disdainfully.

  ‘They still live, my son.’ Her tone was one of amusement. ‘Did you think otherwise?’

  ‘That is good to hear, Mother,’ returned the hunter. ‘Folk like that deserve all the support we of the mountain community can give them. It would be a great shame if ill befell them.’

  ‘I do my best to look after them,’ the old woman said with a tired shrug.

  ‘Indeed you do, and you are thanked for it,’ agreed Teimel. ‘I am sure that your charity will be met with a full reward.’ He hesitated and then added: ‘But I am glad to hear your charges want for nothing. They are all well, you say?’

  ‘They are well,’ the old woman agreed.

  ‘That is good. Safe home, Mother.’

  The old woman negotiated her tired-looking beast through the group and continued on down the valley towards the settlement.

  Eadulf was puzzled. ‘You addressed her as “Mother” and she addressed you as “son”. That wasn’t just a polite term because of age,’ he said to Teimel.

  ‘Iuchra is his mother,’ explained Fidelma.

  The tall hunter grimaced. ‘I do not boast of it. I have disowned her stories of shapeshifters and supernatural beings. I have no wish to be associated with such things, so I greet her formally but wish for no other contact.’

  ‘One is not always responsible for one’s relatives,’ Enda contributed.

  ‘I know how lawyers’ minds work,’ Teimel said stiffly. ‘So I will tell you this: I was born and raised here in The Cuala. My mother is from the Osraige side of the mountains. She is wise in the ways of healing herbs but she is also a believer in the Old Faith. For all three differences she is whispered about, even by people who use her to frighten their children into obedience.’

  ‘It should be a matter of no concern where people are from but who they are,’ replied Fidelma easily. ‘Eadulf, my husband, came as a stranger to this land. He studied at Tuaim Brecain and is also wise in the way of healing herbs. He wears the tonsure of the Blessed Peter of Rome and not that of the Blessed John, which the religious use in these kingdoms. So all that you say about your mother could equally be said about Eadulf. There is no need to defend yourself.’

  At this, Teimel unbent a little. ‘Well, I can see why you are a lawyer, Fidelma of Cashel. You can certainly counter any arguments with logic.’

  ‘Only when logic and justice dictate. The New Faith came to us only two centuries ago. Once, everyone believed in the Old Faith. That was a faith that was here in the time beyond time. It seemed many decided that the faith of the people in countries to the east was more appealing. It is often foreign to us. But who can truly say which is the right path to follow?’

  Eadulf frowned slightly. He was always uncomfortable with Fidelma’s liberal attitude to the New Faith. He had been raised, as a hereditary gerefa, or magistrate of his people, and followed the old gods and goddesses of the Angles – Tyr, the one-handed hero; Woden; Thunor, god of thunder; Freya, goddess of death, and others. His father had frightened him into obedience as a child by threats of the ravening moon hound, Garn. But he had been converted by missionaries of the New Faith from the Five Kingdoms led by Fursa and his brothers. He had then attended Tuaim Brecain, the famous school of medicine in the kingdom of Connacht. Eadulf had finally decided to make a pilgrimage to Rome, been impressed, and opted to follow the Roman interpretation of the New Faith. So it was, at the Council in Hilda’s Abbey, as one of the delegates from the Roman faction of the Faith led by Wilfrid, that he had met Fidelma. She had been advising on law to the advocates of native churches of the Faith. Now and then, he worried about Fidelma’s tolerance to the old ways. Perhaps this was because he was a convert himself and often found himself uncomfortable with thoughts of the old gods and goddesses.

  ‘But you are uncomfortable with your mother’s talk of the old gods?’ Eadulf asked Teimel.

  ‘Uncomfortable?’ The hunter was stony faced. ‘I am a member of the True Faith. The local people are even more pagan than she is, for all their piousness about the New Faith. They pay to hear her prophecies – the fools!’

  ‘Is that how she is able to buy food to take up the mountain to poorer folk?’ Fidelma asked with abrupt curiosity. ‘It is an act of generosity.’

  There was a moment’s hesitation before the hunter replied, ‘Local people, relatives in the township, contribute and she takes it up the mountain. Now we must push on.’

  They moved on through the encroaching trees, skirting the bank of the river just below on their left. The day was growing warmer although the sunshine above the trees was still pale. There was movement in a clearing by the river. Fidelma was the first to spot a group of red hinds drinking at the water’s edge, watched over by a magnificent red-brown stag.

  Teimel immediately raised his hand to stop his companions, recognising the great muscular stag was guarding his harem. The beast was giving curious snorts, which the hunter knew were both warning and challenge. The stag raised his head up and slightly back, the nostrils flaring as he tried to identify the danger. With a quick snort, the hinds were warned and turned, dashing into the forest as the stag gave a disdainful look around and bellowed a couple of times before chasing after his harem.

  Fidelma and her companions seemed to wait a long time before Teimel indicated it was safe for them to proceed. Fidelma knew that it was never a wise thing to ride near where a stag was watching over the hinds while they were watering and nursing their young.

  As the travellers emerged into the small open grassland vacated by the small deer herd they could see the trackway was some short distance from the river bank, where generations of users had cut across the open stretches.

  ‘This is the bend described to me by Cétach,’ Teimel said, pointing. ‘The body, as far as I can judge from his description, was lying on that far bank.’

  Enda had been examining the area and now grimaced wryly.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll have much luck finding anything of significance here, lady. Look at the way the deer herd has almost ploughed the entire area as they gathered to drink at the river. It has been many days since the body was found. I’d say this point was used as a waterhole for many animals.’ He looked at Teimel as if for confirmation.

  ‘You have that right,’ Teimel agreed. ‘This has always been a good place for animals to water as the lack of trees dispenses with the steeper banks and makes it easier for them to reach the river.’

  Fidelma suggested that they spread themselves around the area to see what they could find, but the search proved useless. They found nothing of interest that would help them about the death of Brehon Brocc. Fidelma soon realised that it would be time wasting to continue and so she asked Teimel to lead them back across the shallow river and continue north-westward on the main path, which, a little way on, rose to form a higher path.

  ‘As this is where the body was found,’ Teimel pointed out, ‘is there any point to searching further on?’

  Fidelma had already admitted to herself that it was probably a fruitless task, but she could not help thinking that there was a logic in widening the search.
If Princess Gelgéis’s party had been ambushed at the point they had searched, then surely there would be something for the sharp eye of Enda to spot. Perhaps simple tracks showing which way a small body of horse riders had been taken away from the scene. She said as much to Eadulf before telling Enda and Teimel to keep a sharp look out for anything they could not make sense of that might be relevant.

  She allowed them to continue to search for a short while before voicing the inevitable conclusion: ‘It doesn’t look as if there’s anything to help us in our quest.’ Then her eye caught something. ‘What is that on the far side, further up the hill, among the trees? It looks like a cave entrance and some huts.’

  ‘It’s an old working of the lucht a cladhi – one of the mines of these mountains,’ Teimel replied. ‘They have long since been abandoned. There are plenty of them around here.’

  ‘Mines? What type of mines?’ she asked, remembering the ‘pebble’ of metal that Brother Lachtna had said had been carried by Brocc.

  Teimel grinned. ‘If you think that is one of the old gold or silver workings, you are going to be disappointed. It produced nothing but lúaide – lead.’

  ‘I wasn’t after gold or silver,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Perhaps we should explore the mine as, even when deserted, such places often reveal something.’

  Teimel was not enthusiastic. ‘There are many such workings.’