The Shapeshifter's Lair

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘I must have a final word with Dicuil Dóna.’ Fidelma rose from the table. ‘You best find Enda and Teimel and get them ready so we can set off for this place Dún Árd.’

  It was only a short time later that she entered the lord of The Cuala’s chamber. He greeted her with a brief smile that seemed without feeling.

  ‘I understand that you encountered my daughter this morning?’ he opened before she had a chance to speak.

  ‘I am afraid I did,’ Fidelma replied after a pause for she was sure that Aróc must have given him her version of the encounter. However, it appeared that Dicuil Dóna was not entirely blind to his daughter’s behaviour.

  ‘I hope you will understand that she is a headstrong girl. However, she is one who bears the blood of the Uí Máil with justifiable pride and—’

  ‘I understood that she is your daughter,’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘She made a point of impressing that fact upon me. Even so, she must realise that courtesy is a sign of nobility. No one is better than she but, conversely, she is better than no one. I will grant you, Dicuil Dóna, that the Uí Máil are a proud dynasty but dynasties come and go. Pride is only justifiable when examined by the worth of one’s own conduct and achievements.’

  Dicuil Dóna was looking uncomfortable.

  ‘The girl is of my blood and she has a right to her pride in her ancestry,’ he protested.

  ‘One can feel a respect of one’s ancestry but there is no justification in having arrogance about it,’ she admonished.

  ‘Well, I am sure that she did not realise who you were,’ he tried to amend.

  ‘Courtesy is something that you treat everyone with, and not just those whom you select to be courteous to. Without humility in one’s self, you do not possess respect for others.’

  Dicuil Dóna glowered resentfully but made no response.

  Fidelma decided to change the conversation. ‘We shall shortly be off to see the manager of your mines. I will let your steward know of our departure.’

  ‘Ah, my steward … you know he is my son? He has just left the fortress. He has an errand to be fulfilled in Láithreach.’

  ‘He told me he was your son,’ admitted Fidelma. ‘Yet you do not refer to him as your tánaiste, your heir apparent?’

  ‘He has not earnt that right as yet,’ Dicuil Dóna almost snapped in response. Then he caught himself. ‘I am lord of all The Cuala. This is a vast land and the mountains are natural fortifications so that I am compelled to make a circuit of my people. I need to send my son as steward in my place. All he has to do is make lists and receive reports, but that does not require the same talent as my heir apparent.’

  The duties of a noble and the duties of the territory he governed always relied on interaction, and the concept of the traditional ‘circuit’, or visits to the territories under his control, was sacred to nobles. The obligations were laid down in the law text Bretha aithchesa, or the judgments of the neighbourhood.

  ‘Scáth has already left on his journey? He did not mention he was leaving this morning.’ She was surprised.

  ‘He does what he is told when I tell him,’ replied the lord of The Cuala, his brows coming together in an expression of annoyance. ‘My son is barely trained for any suitable office. He has yet to prove worthy of this office as steward. I have to watch and instruct him carefully.’

  ‘I would have thought he is worthy of the same respect that his sister is given,’ Fidelma could not help the remark.

  ‘Respect has to be earned.’

  ‘And Aróc has earned that respect?’ Fidelma observed sharply.

  Dicuil Dóna’s features tightened. ‘Are you a parent? Boys must not be indulged.’

  ‘I have a son,’ replied Fidelma. ‘He is worthy of my respect until he demonstrates otherwise. If I were parent to a daughter, she also would be given respect until she demonstrated otherwise. Respect is due as one fosters and educates your children, helping them in achieving their knowledge and patterns of moral behaviour. But it is not indulgence.’

  ‘Boys have to earn respect, daughters are indulged. How else do you divide the sexes?’ sneered the lord of The Cuala.

  ‘Why would one want to divide the sexes?’ Fidelma replied patiently. ‘You surely know our law system recognises that women have rights, and such rights should apply to the way they are treated as well as their rights to inheritance and property.’

  ‘I have my ways and you have yours,’ was the stony reply.

  ‘So long as both ways are in keeping with the law,’ replied Fidelma dryly. ‘Anyway, I shall get on with the task we have both agreed, and that so long as it does not interfere with the primary task I have come here to fulfil. I presume that we are all free to leave and that Corbmac has been informed?’

  ‘Of course. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because I observed him leaving the fortress a short time ago. I would not like to encounter him and his warriors as we journey to Dún Árd, only to find we are taken captive again and threatened with our lives because he does not know of our agreement.’

  The lord of The Cuala did not share her irony.

  ‘I can promise you that Corbmac has been informed of the situation. Corbmac left to escort my daughter on a journey.’

  Fidelma drew herself up. ‘Then I shall gather my party and be off. I shall keep you informed of my investigation as it applies to your concerns.’

  For Fidelma and her party departure from the fortress of the lord of The Cuala was at least more relaxed than their arrival. Even Teimel seemed happy to leave the fortress behind him. He took the lead away from its forbidding battlements. In fact, it was Fidelma who commented on his cheerful countenance.

  ‘You told me it was called “the fortress of bad blood”. Personally I would have called it the fortress of badly mannered people.’

  Teimel gave an amused grimace. ‘You are not far wrong. I knew Aróc when she was smaller, and even then she was wilful and spoilt. She has grown even more so. As for young Scáth – he seems a spineless soul. That is to his shame.’

  ‘It is true that he is much put upon and not given a chance to stand up to his dominant father,’ replied Fidelma. ‘But if you had these thoughts why did you serve as a member of the bodyguard of the lord of The Cuala?’

  Teimel exhaled with a derisory sound that resembled a snort. ‘You have already been given the reason, lady. He is lord of The Cuala. I was young and had an ambition to learn the art of arms. I am no longer young; I have survived two battles. From what I have seen, I probably would not survive a third, for my heart was not in the killing of men simply because the lord of The Cuala said that they were my enemies. So I turned to hunting and trapping for those who wanted to employ my skills and thus far I have supported myself and been in peace.’

  They had descended from the fortress into the valley. It was quite broad, with several streams and a river running through it. Several wooden bridges had been constructed so the route was not impeded. A track led from the fortress to a bridge that crossed the main river, which was called An tSláine. It then continued to the foot of a high peak, but skirting it led to north-west. Teimel assured his companions that the track would bring them to Dún Árd. It was fairly straight, with the valley and waterways to the left and rising woodland to the right. Here they crossed another wooden bridge over a torrent running down to join a river in the valley.

  ‘Dún Árd is on the far side of that hill,’ called Teimel, pointing ahead of them. In the distance was a hill that could be no more than three hundred metres high and thus seemed dwarfed by the surrounding high peaks of the area.

  ‘It is strange,’ Eadulf observed, ‘that the least thing you would expect to find in all these verdant hills and valleys would be mines.’

  ‘A lot of workings were soon overgrown by the grasses, bushes and trees of this area,’ Teimel pointed out. ‘It is because we have cool, wet winters, as you have noticed, and in summer the weather is usually damp but mild.’

  ‘You have an eye for the wea
ther?’ Eadulf asked, impressed.

  ‘Anyone who exists by hunting and trapping must know the weather as they know the land and forests that the creatures inhabit,’ rejoined the hunter.

  ‘You say that there are many mines here that have been hidden by growth?’ Fidelma asked.

  Teimel gestured with his arm to encompass the surrounding mountains. ‘Even in the time beyond time there were copper and lead mines here. Iron ore was found in abundance, and other metals. But the man you are going to see will tell you all about that.’

  ‘Lady!’

  A sharp call from Enda made them turn towards the young warrior.

  ‘To the right of us, up on the hill, just beyond the line of those saileóg.’

  Eadulf looked up, confused until he realised that Enda meant not goats, but a line of goat willow bushes. There were two riders making their way along a track not far above them.

  ‘Who is it?’ he asked. ‘I mean, why the concern?’

  ‘Just that our former captor – what was his name? Corbmac – is the second horseman,’ replied Enda.

  Fidelma was frowning. ‘Our friend is right,’ she confirmed. ‘And the first rider is Aróc.’

  ‘She always seemed friendly with Corbmac,’ Teimel observed darkly.

  ‘I wonder where they would be going. Presumably not in the same direction as we are taking?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘Not exactly,’ replied the hunter. ‘That way would pass by the entrance into a small valley that leads to a mountain called Lúbán, the little bend. That is fairly high, in spite of the name. There is nothing there, as I recall. No towns or settlements of any sort.’

  Enda was continuing to watch the two riders as they passed beyond the willow trees and shrubs and then disappeared.

  ‘Well, they seemed too busy looking forward to glance down and spot us,’ he commented.

  ‘What would they have done if they had?’ Fidelma said dryly. ‘I expect that Dicuil Dóna told his daughter where we are going anyway. Is this place Dún Árd far?’

  ‘Not far, but we will stay there for this night, at least. When the darkness descends among the mountains it is not advisable to be travelling abroad.’

  Fidelma regarded Teimel in surprise. ‘Are you being superstitious, Teimel?’ she observed sarcastically.

  ‘I am not,’ responded the trapper stoically. ‘But I am thinking of wolves, wild cats and the other animals of the night that come out to chase nocturnal prey. I’ve had many an encounter with a wild boar at dusk and they are dangerous, I can tell you.’

  ‘Creatures that we are aware of and take precautions,’ Eadulf responded. ‘However, it is the human creature that can be most unpredictable and therefore they are the most dangerous.’

  ‘That is true, friend Eadulf,’ echoed Enda. ‘I’ll take my stand against a wild boar or a wolf any day. But a human who can ambush you or strike you in the back is not the sort of enemy I like to encounter.’

  ‘The steward of his mines keeps a strict watch on brigands and thieves, or so the lord of The Cuala told me. Do you think they would venture so near his fortress?’ Fidelma mused.

  Her remark was addressed to Teimel, who thought about it and then shook his head.

  ‘I have never heard of brigands chancing their luck so close to the valley of the Uí Máil. I know the geography here abouts. Besides, what travellers would be passing here that would be worth trying to rob? There are dark valleys and remote mountain gorges. It is the more southerly, or more northerly, main routes that lend themselves to bands of brigands preying on travellers. The lord of The Cuala’s warriors are employed to protect travellers and merchants but sometimes incidents happen. Dicuil Dóna is not a person to defy lightly. His vengeance is swift and his reach is long for he can call on his relatives, even to his nephew, Fianamail, the King of Laigin himself, to extend that reach.’

  ‘Yet something is amiss here, for all his vaunted knowledge and power, because he claims he is unable to deal with robberies from his own mines,’ Eadulf said dryly.

  ‘To be accurate, and in his defence,’ Fidelma intervened, ‘it might be gold and silver ore taken from a working that he does not even know of.’

  Eadulf shrugged. ‘If it comes from a mine that he does not know of then how can he rightly claim that it is his? How does your law stand with that?’

  ‘I am not sure what you mean.’

  ‘Simple,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I thought a principle of the law was that land like this was held as the common property of all the members of the tuath or kin-group, and decisions have to be made on disposal or otherwise by the derbfine, the family of the ruler. If this is so, how can Dicuil Dóna talk of his mines being his when it is not even known if they exist?’

  Fidelma was patient. ‘You have a good knowledge of the principles of the laws of the Five Kingdoms, Eadulf, but there are many nuances. There are aspects of the principle of private property that are extended through the law system. But, of course, the chief or prince cannot make arbitrary decisions as he is always answerable to his derbfine, and the same penalties apply if he is not promoting the common welfare of his people. But to answer your question more directly, the texts are specific about the crime of excavating from someone else’s mines without their knowledge. Importantly, for your question, it states that excavating from these mines or from any land owned by the chieftain and his tuath constitutes a theft. This means that Dicuil Dóna and his derbfine are owners of all the land and anything taken from it – anything known or unknown – is theft.’

  ‘But I still don’t understand …’

  Eadulf’s usually placid cob suddenly reared, waving his forelegs, screaming in painful shock. Eadulf was propelled backwards off the beast. The event happened very quickly. Fidelma caught sight of an arrow embedded in the flank of the cob, saw it rearing, almost leaning backwards on its hind quarters, then saw Eadulf tumbling backwards. In fact, it was the very act of being thrown that saved his life, for the next arrow flew straight across the position where Eadulf would have been sitting had he remained seated.

  SIXTEEN

  Eadulf landed on his back with a sickening thump and lay still. Checking on his condition was not their first priority. Fidelma and the others acted almost in unison as they cast themselves to the ground from their horses, using the animals as protective shields.

  Enda glanced at Teimel and signalled towards a group of trees to their right a short way ahead of them. The hunter frowned as if not understanding. Enda signalled again to the trees before pointing to himself and then to Teimel and making a circling motion with his hand. It was clear he was indicating the presence of the assailant and his intention to encircle him. He again pointed to Teimel and motioned in the other direction. Teimel grimaced to show he now understood the idea was to outflank the attacker by approaching from either side. They had hardly begun to undertake their objective when they heard hurried movements. It was clear that the attacker himself was already moving. Throwing caution to the wind, Enda stood up and began to run forward with the cry of a warrior going into battle. He quickly vanished into the trees. After a pause Teimel followed his example, running off to the side Enda had previously indicated.

  Fidelma waited a moment and then turned to crawl over to Eadulf, who was still lying on his back, his eyes closed.

  ‘Eadulf!’ she whispered urgently as she knelt beside him.

  He made no response. She knew he had not been hit by the arrows so that his condition was the result of his fall. She felt for his heart. The beat was regular although the breath was a little stertorous. Confident now that the assailant would be more concerned with Enda and Teimel, she rose. Eadulf’s cob was also in need of attention, for the arrow was still sticking into his flank and blood was trickling from it. She went to her horse to take her lessan, a leather water bag, and dropped some of its contents over Eadulf’s face.

  His eyes fluttered and he groaned.

  ‘Eadulf, can you hear me?’

  He blinked and tried
to focus on her. ‘What happened?’ Then, as if realising it was a superfluous question as memory returned, he gave a groan. ‘This seems to be getting repetitive. Arrows and ambushes.’ He tried to sit up but she held him firmly back.

  ‘You fell off your horse and landed on your back. Be careful. Can you feel any bones broken?’

  He lay for a moment as if checking his limbs. ‘I think everything is where it should be,’ he replied grimly. ‘I can be thankful this track is very muddy and soft. Where did the arrow shots come from?’

  ‘Enda and Teimel are chasing the attacker,’ she replied grimly. ‘Are you sure that you are all right?’

  Eadulf, having assured Fidelma he was not seriously injured, eased himself into a sitting position and looked around.

  ‘No one else is hurt, are they?’ he asked.

  ‘Your horse is badly hit.’

  ‘I’m not too knowledgeable about horses. Is it very bad?’

  ‘I am not sure. Remain here and I’ll take a look.’

  He eased himself to his feet and watched Fidelma walk towards the cob. The animal was clearly feeling discomfort and shied a little at her approach but she spoke to it in a quiet, soothing tone, reaching out a hand to stroke it. She peered closely at the point where the arrow had struck, then turned back to Eadulf.

  ‘I don’t think it has entered a muscle, but it is in the fatty tissues at the point of the hip. I am not an expert so I will not pull it out before I know.’

  A noise caught her ear and she turned, her brow furrowed, head to one side, listening. Enda’s voice gave a loud ‘halloo’ from a short distance away to ensure Fidelma knew that friends were approaching. She acknowledged.

  ‘Is friend Eadulf badly wounded?’ Enda demanded as he emerged to join them.

  ‘I was not hit by the arrow,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I was thrown off the horse and just feeling a sore posterior and a headache.’

  A moment later, Teimel returned. ‘The attacker has vanished,’ he announced. He glanced at Enda in disapproval. ‘That was a thoughtless act to rush forward shouting. Had we sneaked around the man’s position quietly we might have caught him.’