The Shapeshifter's Lair

by Peter Tremayne

  Fidelma smiled tightly as he sought to regain his authority.

  ‘Your words are courteous, Dicuil Dóna,’ she smiled. ‘Perhaps more courteous than the adherence to protocol of some of your servants.’

  A flash of annoyance swiftly moulded Dicuil’s features and then was gone as he tried to keep his temper in check.

  ‘I had heard that there was a dálaigh in my territory making enquiries about a murder. I sent the commander of my bodyguard to investigate and I did not know that the person concerned was the sister of the King of Muman until I received word that my man was escorting you here. The commander of my guard was to invite you to accompany him to my fortress. I am sorry that there has been some misunderstanding. But you are most welcome as my guest … as is your husband.’

  Fidelma bowed her head with a grave expression. At least the man was now reduced to making excuses. But she would not allow him off entirely.

  ‘I was wondering, even when your warriors discovered who I was, why they thought it necessary to take us prisoners and threaten us with violence.’

  Dicuil Dona clenched his teeth. It seemed that she had driven him to his limit.

  ‘That was a misunderstanding,’ he repeated, with slow emphasis. ‘You have my apologies. I can offer no more. Perhaps in reciprocation you could inform me what you and your companions are doing in my land. After all, you are the intruders in this Uí Máil territory and are here without invitation or permission.’ He paused and added dryly: ‘I do not think, in view of recent conflicts, there is need for further explanation from me on why your appearance here should arouse some suspicion at least.’

  ‘That sounds logical,’ Fidelma returned amiably, realising that there was a limit to how far she could push the matter. ‘But my legal authority should be enough to ensure me safe passage through any of the Five Kingdoms.’

  ‘Perhaps so. But remember this is the kingdom of Laigin and there is currently much enmity between our kingdoms. As lord of this territory, I must ask you what your business is here.’

  ‘It is my work as a dálaigh,’ Fidelma explained. ‘I am told you are the lord of these northern mountains.’

  ‘I am of the Uí Máil and lord of The Cuala,’ Dicuil Dóna responded, unable to hide his pride.

  ‘That being so, I am told there is little that you do not know about what goes on in these mountains, that there is nothing happens without your knowledge.’

  ‘An exaggeration,’ Dicuil Dóna replied with a dismissive gesture.

  ‘Even allowing for it, I am sure you will have heard word of the finding of a body of a Brehon in the valley of Glasán.’

  ‘Naturally. It was some time ago,’ frowned the man. ‘He was from Osraige. I am told that his party was attacked by brigands.’

  Fidelma took a moment to hide her surprise.

  ‘So you must have some idea what my purpose is, as a dálaigh from Cashel, in these mountains. The dead man was Brehon to Princess Gelgéis and she is now missing.’

  Dicuil Dóna smiled cynically. ‘It is common knowledge that Princess Gelgéis of Durlus Éile is engaged to your brother. Rumour has it that the Princess Gelgéis was travelling with her Brehon. She has vanished, it seems.’

  ‘You know no more?’

  ‘If she was part of that party, I know no more. Perhaps she was not, because who would abduct her? Brigands? If brigands – and I do not deny such wretches exist – why are there no demands for her safe return? Why have we heard nothing during the last two weeks or so? I think this is an excuse.’

  ‘An excuse?’ Fidelma was puzzled. ‘For what?’

  ‘Perhaps an excuse for your brother to invade this kingdom.’

  ‘It is the sort of irresponsible and futile reason that an Uí Máil might consider,’ returned Fidelma angrily. ‘It is the sort of stupidity that brought your nephew, Fianamail, in conflict with the High King after his ineffectual support of the Osraige rebels to invade Muman.’

  Her words were uttered calmly and coldly. Eadulf was not the only one within hearing who gasped at her direct challenge, framed without any degree of diplomacy.

  The lord of The Cuala’s face did not alter for the moment. He sat without expression, almost as if he had not understood. Then he smiled slowly.

  ‘You are not afraid to declare your opinions openly, lady.’

  ‘That is the purpose of a dálaigh, not to hide from possibilities in the pursuit for truth and justice under the law.’

  ‘Then, tell me, if the lady Gelgéis has gone missing, why is there a silence? Even I have not heard a whisper about her abductors. If brigands, then they would surely have made demands for a ransom.’

  ‘If she was, indeed, abducted by brigands,’ Fidelma replied.

  The lord of The Cuala smiled grimly. ‘My thoughts exactly. But what if conspiracy plays a part? The dark valleys can be a nest of singing birds, each eager to make their songs heard – especially when one has a colbur.’

  For a moment Fidelma thought he was referring to someone’s name but then she realised the man was talking about a pigeon.

  She had already observed that a convenient way of getting information through the inaccessible mountains was by means of pigeons to carry messages. But did the man know more … such as the messages that had passed between Princess Gelgéis and her cousin the abbot?

  ‘I came here to discover what has happened to Princess Gelgéis. You say it is not possible that she has just been abducted by brigands. As no ransom demand has been made, then you are right to consider the alternatives. My brother certainly has no hand in this matter. The cause of the princess’s disappearance is here in these mountains. You are lord of this territory and we should work together to find her.’

  Dicuil Dóna exclaimed with reluctant admiration, ‘You are direct, lady.’

  ‘It is a fault of mine,’ Fidelma admitted without a trace of irony in her voice. ‘So now I would ask you to be direct also. As lord of this mountainous area what do you know or what have you heard relating to the death of the Brehon and the disappearance of Gelgéis?’

  ‘What more would I know?’ protested Dicuil Dóna. ‘You claim your brother has no intention of entering a conspiracy against the Uí Máil of Laigin. I tell you that the Uí Máil has no intention of entering a conspiracy against either Muman or Osraige. If we accept this, where do our paths meet?’

  Dicuil Dóna was silent then. It seemed as if he was weighing up some problem and then he reached a decision. He turned to his young steward, Scáth, who had been witness to the exchanges with increasingly puzzled expressions chasing one another across his face.

  ‘Clear the hall. I now wish to talk to Fidelma and her husband in private,’ the lord of The Cuala declared loudly. After the steward had ushered everyone out and was closing the doors behind them, the lord of The Cuala said sharply: ‘I meant everyone.’

  Scáth seemed to hesitate before following the others from the hall. He then closed the doors perhaps a little more loudly than was necessary.

  Dicuil Dóna glanced round as if to ensure that the hall was empty before returning his attention to Fidelma and Eadulf. He shifted his chair so that he could sit back in a more comfortable position in front of them. He seemed to have changed into a different person; more friendly and confidential.

  ‘In my position one creates many enemies,’ he began hesitantly. ‘I want to be honest with you. Fidelma, your family and mine have long been enemies. I make no excuse, nor do I avoid it. What can I say? You know our history as well as I do. The Uí Máil say we are hard done by the Eóganacht. Oh, yes,’ he said firmly as he saw a smile hover on Fidelma’s lips, ‘we have suffered several times from the imposition of the bórama, the cattle tribute. According to our bards and storytellers we first had to pay it to High King Tuathal Techtmar the Legitimate, to be allowed even to live in this land in peace. Five centuries have passed and still the tribute is demanded of us.’

  ‘According to the chroniclers, it was only imposed when Laigin broke its
treaty obligations,’ Fidelma corrected. ‘When Cummascach, son of the High King Aed mac Ainmerch visited Laigin, your King Brandubh murdered him, which was a stupid act that led to war.’

  ‘Brandubh died a long time ago,’ Dicuil Dóna dismissed uncomfortably.

  ‘Old men still remember him. And his action ensured the tribute would be demanded by subsequent High Kings.’

  ‘Well, it was demanded again last year,’ snapped the lord of The Cuala. ‘How long can we continue paying?’

  Fidelma shrugged. ‘I would say that the bórama will be demanded until Laigin ceases its threats against the other kingdoms. You will recall that your nephew, Fianamail, supported Cronán of Gleann an Ghuail in his attempt to use Osraige as the grounds to overthrow my brother?’

  ‘My nephew, Fianamail, didn’t even cross the border. The conflict was internal and Laigin’s army stood by only at the border to defend our interests.’

  Fidelma snorted indignantly. ‘Our versions of that event do not agree. Had Cronán adhered to his role just as Abbot of Liath Mór, then a lot of bloodshed would have been avoided. But his conspiracy was to allow Osraige as a passage for Fianamail to cross into my brother’s kingdom and attempt to overthrow him. That was why the Chief Brehon judged the tribute of the bórama should be paid once more.’

  ‘That is not so!’ snapped the lord of The Cuala, reverting to his former temper. ‘We pay tribute only because we lost. History is a story told only by the victors. It is not reality.’

  ‘I say it is so because I was involved in it. Therefore I know it is so. Even further, it was only because Cronán was defeated by my brother that Tuaim Snámha, the ruler of Osraige, declared his allegiance to Cashel. Tuaim Snámha had delayed his involvement only to see who was the victor. His sleight-of-hand politics is why he remains King of Osraige. Fianamail also awaited the outcome before marching over the border. Had he marched earlier, there might be a different King of Laigin now.’

  Dicuil Dóna flushed and was silent. Then he forced a smile and stretched back in his chair.

  ‘We are sensible people, you and I,’ he began, adopting a new jocular tone. ‘We should not quarrel; especially as the injustices inflicted on Laigin are beyond our resolution at the moment. They have no bearing on today’s problem.’

  ‘Neither have I any wish to dwell on matters that are past unless they impinge on the present,’ agreed Fidelma firmly. ‘Do they?’

  Dicuil Dóna looked uncomfortable. ‘I do not know. I merely make a preamble because I recognise our two families have had conflicts in the past and therefore you will agree that there is cause for suspicion between us. What I am saying is that you cannot blame me if I am suspicious of your actions when you come into my territory without a formal announcement.’

  ‘That much is logical,’ Fidelma affirmed with a small gesture of one hand to indicate she was waiting with controlled patience. ‘I am here to find out what happened to Princess Gelgéis. So we are both suspicious of one another. How do we progress?’

  Dicuil Dóna sat back, brow furrowed in thought.

  ‘On my part, I suspect some conspiracy. You know, of course, that these mountains, The Cuala, are rich in minerals and, most particularly, there are very rich gold and silver seams among the granite. Other metals found here have made our smiths famous throughout all the kingdoms for their ability to fashion them into many tools and ornaments.’

  Fidelma waited patiently while he paused before continuing.

  ‘I have come to believe that these precious metals are being stolen regularly from our mines. I believe the theft is for a purpose and that is to fund a conspiracy against this kingdom that involves Osraige. This is why we must be vigilant. When I heard word that someone of Muman was wandering the countryside asking questions I sent my men scouring the hills and valleys in search. I suspect there are some who would deprive us of what is rightfully ours. My agents have reported many major disappearances and thefts, most particular are thefts of gold and silver.’

  ‘Stealing metals for what purpose? You think that people are stealing the metals to fund a conspiracy by Muman?’ Eadulf asked, trying to see where the man was leading them.

  ‘Certainly it involves Osraige,’ replied Dicuil Dóna.

  ‘You claim that it involves the Eóganacht …?’ began Fidelma. She halted abruptly and shook her head. ‘What need do we in Muman have of your metals? There are enough metals in Muman for us. We have the biggest range of mines of the Five Kingdoms.’

  ‘I am no enemy to peace, Fidelma,’ the lord of The Cuala said. ‘True, there are some who would like to drag this territory back into war. I have to be suspicious of all people outside this territory who come wandering unannounced into these mountains.’

  ‘Such as Princess Gelgéis from Osraige?’ Eadulf pointed out sarcastically. ‘Did you think she and her party were coming to steal your gold and silver?’

  ‘I certainly did not attack them,’ the lord of The Cuala answered fiercely. ‘I am not so deaf that I do not hear whispered accusations.’

  ‘We have not said you are responsible for whatever has happened to Princess Gelgéis,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Nor would we make a claim without reasonable proof. The fact is that a Brehon from Osraige was murdered. The arrow in him with which he was shot before the killer cut his throat was similar to those used by your warriors.’

  Dicuil Dóna made a gesture of dismissal. ‘And because my warriors use a similar type of arrow do you claim that he was killed by my men? I am lord of The Cuala,’ Dicuil Dóna sighed. ‘I heard that you have made enquiries of the fletcher in Láithreach and you were told such an arrow was widely used in this area, not necessarily by my warriors only.’

  ‘So you have informants everywhere who can communicate with you over long distances and in a short space of time? But you say that you know nothing of the fate of Princess Gelgéis?’

  Dicuil Dóna shrugged. ‘I am not infallible and sometimes my informants can fail to get their messages through. But that of which I have been informed indicates that there is a connection with what you seek and what I seek.’

  ‘You are talking about the rock pigeons that are used to send messages and communicate to each other?’ Fidelma asked. ‘I would have thought they were unreliable in this terrain with peregrines and merlins seeking prey?’

  ‘My household company of warriors breed them to good effect.’ The lord of The Cuala smiled. ‘But as good as the intelligence is that comes to me, sometimes it is not complete.’

  ‘We do not appear to be proceeding very far,’ Fidelma observed with a heavy sigh. ‘You were saying that you think the Osraige’s Brehon was murdered by some conspirators who are stealing precious metals from your mines? The purpose being to create some sort of war. But with whom? What purpose would Princess Gelgéis play if she was abducted by these conspirators?’

  The lord of The Cuala was thoughtful. ‘What I am actually saying is that while the Brehon may have been killed by conspirators or brigands – for I do not deny brigands exist here, robbing the mines – if she was taken by brigands they would have demanded a ransom for her. Of course, it has occurred to me that such brigands might be so ignorant that they did not recognise the worth of the princess as a hostage. They might have simply killed her, as they did her Brehon, and we have not yet discovered the body. I do not think so. I think she has become involved in this conspiracy.’

  ‘I presume that those that work these mines are keeping you informed of the activities of mine robbers?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Why have your men not caught them?’

  ‘Some were. The local Brehon in Láithreach caught two men smuggling gold and silver on a river boat.’

  ‘Brehon Rónchú?’ asked Eadulf.

  ‘He found gold and silver ore in boxes that had been loaded for transportation to An Inbhear Mór, the Great Estuary. The boatman, whose name was Murchad, said the crates had been delivered to his vessel by two men who claimed they contained only some schist or quartz for a sculptor at their destina
tion. The arrangement was that the boatman would be met at the harbour and paid handsomely for their delivery. The boatman was suspicious. He contacted Brehon Rónchú after the men had left. Brehon Rónchú opened one of the boxes and took pieces of the contents to the local smith, a trustworthy man, who was qualified as a cerd, a silversmith.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘The smith confirmed it was precious ore, prohibited from leaving this territory. Brehon Rónchú called on the services of my two warriors who were in Láithreach. The three went on board the boatman’s vessel and sailed with him to the Great Estuary to see who appeared to claim the metals.’

  ‘A good strategy.’ Fidelma nodded in approval. ‘That is exactly what I would have done. And then what happened?’

  ‘The two boxes were unloaded at their destination on the wharf and Brehon Rónchú and my two warriors waited. A wagon drew up with the same two men who had consigned the boxes to the boat. They must have ridden across country and certainly not in a wagon but on fast horses.’

  ‘Extraordinary. If they were going to Inbhear Mór why not take the metals with them?’ Eadulf asked without thinking.

  ‘Heaving metal ore about on horseback is an exhausting process,’ Fidelma explained patiently.

  ‘And perhaps they thought it was safer to put the ore in a boat,’ pointed out Dicuil Dóna. ‘Anyway, Brehon Rónchú challenged them. In spite of the attendance of the warriors, they drew their swords.’

  Fidelma groaned. ‘And both were killed, so no one is the wiser as to whom they were or where they came from?’

  ‘They attacked the warriors with such ferocity that there was only one way to end the conflict. So we don’t know their origin or where the ore came from.’