The Shapeshifter's Lair

by Peter Tremayne

  There was a thoughtful look on Fidelma’s face but she now decided to turn the subject back to Garrchú.

  ‘Do you produce much gold and silver here? I mean, are there mine workings around Dún Árd?’

  ‘Not as much these days. In ancient times, the main seams were good but now they are generally worked out. It is further into the high peak areas that most seams are worked these days.’

  ‘So the lord of The Cuala still makes a good profit?’

  ‘A lot of what is discovered is sold to merchants from beyond the seas with the authority of the lord of The Cuala. Gaulish merchants arrive at some of our ports because they seem to like the red gold, which comes from association with the copper seams. They pay good prices. Gold is worth fifteen times more than silver. And a good size bar … thus …’ he described the dimensions with his hands, ‘that would pay the wages of a single craftsman for nine years.’

  ‘So gold and silver from these mountains is purchased by Gaulish merchants,’ Fidelma asked in surprise, ‘but it is already smelted into bars by your kiln and forges?’

  ‘Of course. And with the lord of The Cuala’s mark on them. As I say, the merchants prefer the red gold. The white gold we keep and often sell to the smiths of local nobles from the south of this kingdom.’ He gestured with his head to Enda’s golden torc. ‘The élite warriors often affect such emblems and hence the need for the ore.’

  Enda’s cheeks reddened. ‘We do not affect to wear such emblems,’ he protested. ‘It was back in the days of the High King Muineamhon, son of Cas Clothach, a true descendant of Eibhear Fionn, that it was first decreed that torcs of gold or gold chains should be worn round the necks of the élite warriors of Muman. Only our King can bestow them on us. Hence we are called the Nasc Niadh – warriors of the Golden Collar.’

  Garrchú was amused by the warrior’s defence of his emblem. ‘Such traditions are popularly spoken of,’ he said dismissively. ‘Perhaps they are true, perhaps they are not. Maybe it is just a legend, just as it is said that two centuries ago Eanna Cennsalach, King of Laigin, defeated his enemies and received tribute of gold from Muman.’

  Fidelma shook her head as she saw Enda’s youthful anger rise.

  ‘It is said that the Chief Poet of Ireland, Dubhthach Ó Lughair, penned a verse saying it was only a small derisory sum because it stipulates the tribute was accompanied by insults from the nobles of Muman.’

  ‘But we can agree that the chroniclers admit Eanna Cennsalach, when he was King of Laigin, was an influential king and he did defeat and receive tribute from his enemies,’ Teimel suddenly interrupted with a scowl.

  ‘But this has little to do with the problems we are faced with,’ Fidelma pointed out in pacification. She had not forgotten Teimel had been a warrior of Laigin.

  ‘I suspect the problems remain the same,’ the steward of the mines declared sourly. ‘I have heard that in the days when the Romans ruled in Britain, they used to take much gold and silver from the western parts of that island. There is still a thirst for gold, and that thirst will never die. It was the first metal that men found, the easiest to work into ornaments. In spite of iron and copper, and the discovery of mixing tin and copper to form bronze, which can be sharpened into tools – tools for farmers as well as weapons for warriors – it is still gold that men revere above all things.’

  ‘Have you ever had any trouble before this incident?’ Fidelma asked abruptly. ‘I mean have you had thefts from the mines in this territory? Dicuil Dóna seems to think that thefts from his mines have continued for some time.’

  ‘I have not heard of anything that is significant before the discovery by Brehon Rónchú. Certainly not to my knowledge, apart from small pilfering among the miners, which was soon discouraged by the fines and compensation the thieves were made to pay. However …’ He frowned as if remembering something. ‘Now that you ask, I am reminded that when Brehon Rónchú visited he said that he had heard from some travellers that officials in the seaports were reporting suspicious behaviour from the Gaulish ships that often put into port.’

  ‘Suspicious in what way?’

  ‘I only repeat what was I was told. Brehon Rónchú said that several times during the last months Gaulish ships have been seen putting into an area south of the port we called the place of grey stones. It is very flat land, barely a few metres above the level of the sea, where there are many little waterways big enough to take large boats, but it is a very marshy land and not much covered by trees and growth that would shelter incoming ships from prying eyes.’

  ‘It sounds a dangerous place for seamen,’ Eadulf pointed out.

  ‘That it is.’ The confirmation came from Teimel. ‘I have travelled that way myself in the past. It is a wild and deserted stretch of the shore and certainly no place to try to land or even anchor offshore unless you know it well. I suspect those stories are not exaggerated. Sailors prefer their ports to have deep waters.’

  ‘There is an area where the River Fheartraí empties into the sea. Due south of that is a little seaport called Church of the Toothless One,’ explained Garrchú.

  ‘Cill Mantáin? I know that,’ Eadulf said with some nostalgia. He looked at Fidelma. ‘Don’t you remember it was the port from which we sailed that time when we were cast ashore by a storm in the kingdom of Dyfed?’

  ‘I remember,’ she replied quietly.

  ‘Well,’ continued Garrchú, ‘this area of grey rocks and waterways I refer to is north of that safe little harbour.’

  ‘Why is it called the Church of the Toothless One?’ Enda could not help asking, for Laigin was an unknown country to him.

  ‘It seems that two hundred years ago some of the first Christians landed there and were attacked by the locals. One of them had his teeth knocked out before he was able to make friends with the people. They named him Manntach, toothless one, and he built his church there,’ Teimel replied. ‘I heard the story from Brother Aithrigid at the Abbey of Cáemgen. He apparently spent some of his first years in Laigin, along that coast.’

  ‘What was Brehon Rónchú implying about the sighting of the Gaulish ships in that area?’ Fidelma asked, turning back to Garrchú.

  The steward of the mines made a dismissive gesture. ‘I suppose he suspected the smuggling of gold and silver ore, which is why he suspected the two men with the boxes that were loaded on the river boat at Láithreach.’

  ‘It seems his suspicion was correct,’ Enda observed.

  ‘But while there is all this fuss,’ sighed Garrchú, ‘I should point out the worth of the ore in boxes was not enormous. I would say it would have taken ten times the amount of ore, once broken down and smelted, to maintain a noble in a medium fort for life.’

  ‘But if such transportation of the ore had been going on for some time …?’ queried Fidelma.

  ‘Then it might be a worthwhile exercise,’ concluded Garrchú. ‘However, as I said, tomorrow, when it is light, I shall show you the forge so you can see the process for yourselves.’

  Fidelma became aware that many of the guests at the evening feast had disappeared. There were only a few attendants remaining, for Garrchú’s wife and her attendants and friends had also left.

  ‘It is time for us to get some rest. I fear we have a long day tomorrow,’ she said, rising. Her companions followed.

  Garrchú waved one of the remaining male attendants forward and instructed him to show them to the rooms that had been prepared.

  Once in their room, Eadulf flung himself on to the bed and gave a loud yawn.

  ‘Well, I will have no difficulty in finding sleep tonight.’

  Fidelma was unusually quiet. In fact, the silence caused Eadulf to peer at her as she sat in the flickering light of the candle.

  ‘Something is on your mind?’ he asked with a sinking feeling that he had spoken too soon about sleep.

  ‘There are two things that intrigue me,’ she said.

  ‘Only two?’ Eadulf tried to joke. ‘This whole business intrigues me.’
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  ‘Firstly, why was Corbmac heading with Dicuil Dóna’s daughter up that valley that leads to nowhere? Well, leading nowhere according to Garrchú. Were they part of a party who, then seeing we might have observed them, left someone behind to ambush us?’

  Eadulf stared at her for a moment and then smiled. ‘You are not going to tell me that the young girl, Aróc, came back down the mountain to have another shot at you with her bow?’

  Fidelma ignored him. ‘Then there is the business of the gold and silver ore. Perhaps there is a link somewhere. Garrchú reports Brehon Rónchú as saying Gaulish ships have been seen during the past months anchoring in a place so difficult that Teimel believes no captain would choose to put his ship to anchor there. Then there is the fact that Garrchú does not think the worth of the ore is much unless there is a lot of it.’

  Eadulf remained silent.

  ‘You offer no comment?’ she prompted.

  ‘Except that we seem to be questioning all Garrchú’s statements. To use your very oft-repeated teaching – no speculation without information.’ Eadulf yawned. ‘I am not sure we have any facts to reach a conclusion but my brain is not working well without sleep.’

  Fidelma allowed herself a tired expression. ‘You are probably right. I can’t help thinking that in trying to sort this information, I am overlooking something.’

  Eadulf shrugged. ‘I am afraid you are.’

  She turned in amazement. ‘You know? What am I overlooking?’

  ‘The disappearance of Princess Gelgéis. That is the important reason that we have come to this gloomy mountain country in the first place.’

  Fidelma stared at him for some moments. Then she smiled softly. ‘You are right, Eadulf. But I do feel that some pattern is emerging, a framework that I can use. Of course, the finding of Princess Gelgéis is the principal concern. I have taken an oath to my brother on finding her. So do not be concerned. But all these things – the murder of Brehon Brocc, the disappearance of Gelgéis and her steward, Spealáin, the murder of Cétach, the mystery of the precious ore business and the attack on us … well, they are all connected. That’s what I feel.’

  ‘So what should we do?’

  ‘Firstly, I would like a ride up the valley to see this mountain called Lúbán, the little bend. Something puzzles me. It’s like an irritant at the back of my neck, especially with the involvement of Dicuil Dóna’s daughter and her relationship with Corbmac. Why would they be going in that direction?’

  ‘Teimel said that they could have taken other routes,’ Eadulf pointed out.

  Fidelma was determined. ‘Tomorrow we ride to Lúbán and then we shall head back to Láithreach to have words with Brehon Rónchú. I suspect he knows more, or suspects more, than we do.’

  Eadulf sighed. ‘You forget, I am lacking a horse.’

  ‘No. I know the poor beast will take a long time healing but I am sure that Garrchú will be able to find you a suitable replacement.’

  ‘What about the possibility of being ambushed again?’

  ‘I think it is highly likely, so we must take precautions,’ she replied, not giving him comfort in the matter. ‘Now,’ she said brightly, ‘we should get some sleep before our travels in the morning.’

  As Eadulf had suspected, sleep was now banished from his mind. He was aware of the pre-dawn early birdsong, the blackbird, skylarks, thrushes and robins joining in that unique early chorus, before he finally dozed.

  SEVENTEEN

  During the first meal of the day, the next morning, Fidelma informed Enda and Teimel that her plan was to visit the isolated valley under the shadow of Lúbán. She asked Garrchú whether he or his smithy would continue to care for the wounded cob until they could return, and if he would provide a similar mount in the meantime. Garrchú was willing to fall in with her plans. While he gave instructions to one of his men to see to the arrangements with the horses he reminded Fidelma that he wanted to show her some of his methods of smelting metal ore. She had hoped he had forgotten, but he had already asked one of his men to rekindle the fires and the kiln in readiness.

  He led his guests towards the series of outbuildings. The central kiln, and another fire in a brazier over which a crucible was smoking, were already giving off a glowing heat. There were several men there clad in the familiar leathers of smiths and metal workers. Garrchú drew the visitors to a bench to one side of the kiln, at which a single man was working.

  Some lumps of metal had been placed on the bench. Or rather they appeared to be what Fidelma and Eadulf presumed were twisted irregular lumps of some metal ore. Next to them were pieces of worked metal, flattened and ready to be made into tools or other items. They were dark grey with now and then a bright flash as the light caught on the edge.

  Garrchú picked up one of the twisted lumps and held it out to them.

  ‘This is a sample of the gold ore that Brehon Rónchú brought here. Why can I identify it was belonging to this area? Simple; because most of our gold is found with a strong mixture of copper and this creates a red gold. Natural gold is generally basically mixtures influenced by the deposit of metals that they are found with.’ He paused and picked up another piece, holding it out to them. ‘This example has a green hue and indicates a silver alloy. That is not usual here but it is found in the mountains of the Mughdhorma, further north.’ He put it down and picked up another piece. ‘This piece here is a mixture of silver and tin, which we call óirchédh. Each area is individual. So you see, the gold is especially easy to identify as coming from a certain area. For those who have studied the various metal ores it is second nature to see the quality – whether there is more of certain metals along with the gold – to identify its origin.’

  Fidelma was impressed. She knew there were parts of her brother’s kingdom that produced gold and silver but she had no idea that those who dug out the ore were able to be specific about the area of origin.

  It was when Garrchú was explaining about some other examples that an idea suddenly occurred. She reached into her marsupium and dug around before emerging with the heavy pebble that Brother Lachtna had taken from the purse of the murdered Brehon Brocc. She handed it to the steward of the mines.

  ‘Can you tell me what that is?’ she asked.

  Garrchú took it and turned it over between thumb and fingers.

  ‘It’s not valuable,’ was his first comment.

  ‘I just want to know what sort of ore it is,’ she explained.

  ‘That’s easy. It’s lead. Looks like a piece of discarded ore as there is not much use to it. It’s not even lead-silver but it could be zinc lead.’

  ‘And lead is common here?’

  To her disappointment, the steward of the mines nodded.

  ‘Common enough.’

  ‘So it could have come from anywhere? But nowhere in particular?’

  ‘Probably towards the north of here. There is a zinc and lead working there. There used to be a good demand for lead but not one that made it a valuable metal. As you know, zinc is a good addition to make the alloy brass. The Romans had a good technique for that and, of course, Roman merchants were always looking for lead for making their water and bathing systems.’

  Much of what Garrchú told them was repetition of what he had said the previous evening but Fidelma and Eadulf both listened attentively about identification and how the lord of The Cuala jealously guarded the mining rights of his territory.

  It was more than mid-morning when they finally managed to extricate themselves from the almost suffocating hospitality of the mining steward. True to his word, he had found a small cob that, apart from its colour, was similar to Eadulf’s previous mount. It would be a straightforward exchange, which Eadulf, not being a horseman, did not mind. He had no emotional attachment to horses, unlike Fidelma. So, with provisions and promises of support from Garrchú, if ever it were needed, Teimel led the way out of Dún Árd, the misnamed ‘High Fort’, and Fidelma’s party began to climb up into the hills to follow the route she had planne
d.

  In spite of the promise of a pleasant early spring day a sombre atmosphere seemed to settle on Fidelma as they crossed the hills and descended into the tree-filled valley where they had seen Corbmac with the daughter of the lord of The Cuala. It was as though a dark cloud had descended on her as she acknowledged that she was nowhere near to a solution to the disappearance of Princess Gelgéis. She wondered if she had been side-tracked over the idea of some connection with the metal theft. Was that purposely done by Dicuil Dóna? Next to her, Eadulf rode with shoulders slightly hunched, glancing at her from time to time, as though trying to read her thoughts.

  No one spoke as they rode on in the direction of the hill that Teimel had identified as Lúbán, ‘the little bend’. Riding ahead, only the hunter seemed undisturbed by the silence. At the rear, young Enda sat well back on his stallion as if relaxed, but a closer look would have shown the tightness of his neck muscles. The lack of movement of his head was deceptive: his eyes continued to dart hither and thither, searching the surrounding terrain for any signs of danger as well as scanning for any tracks to show the passing of Corbmac and Aróc. He had blamed himself for allowing his companions to walk into two ambushes without warning – the ambush led by Corbmac and the second one in which Eadulf’s horse had been injured.

  He was sensitive of his position as a warrior of the Golden Collar. His honour had been slighted and he resolved that he should offer his resignation as soon as they were safely back within the walls of Cashel. There was no way to ameliorate his loss of honour other than resignation. Fidelma was too considerate a person to have mentioned his unforgiveable failing as a warrior to whom her life had been entrusted. He had failed; failed miserably. Bitterly, he wondered how his fellows among the warriors of the Golden Collar would now regard him.

  The silence was interrupted when Fidelma called to Teimel: ‘Any sign of anyone passing this way?’

  The hunter twisted slightly to face her. ‘Nothing I can see, lady. I reckon they took one of the other paths. Mind you, I have not been this way since I was a youth.’