The Shapeshifter's Lair

by Peter Tremayne

  Eadulf smiled encouragingly at her to show he understood and stepped forward to stand by her side.

  ‘I am sure we are sorry for some past problem that has caused your mind to dwell in darkness all these years. It has little to do with the matter that brings us to you now,’ he said reasonably to Beccnat. ‘We were simply wondering why young Scáth had come to Láithreach. He must have told you that we were taken prisoner by his father’s warriors and then released on condition we help him with a problem he was trying to resolve.’

  The anger had not left the woman’s face.

  ‘Scáth came to see me. He now loves me and I love him.’ She spoke directly to Fidelma. ‘You will not destroy our love as you seduced Cian from me.’

  ‘There is no reason why I would want to destroy anything, Beccnat,’ Fidelma assured her, keeping calm. ‘As for Cian, he cheated on everyone. When he did not get what he wanted from me, he went to the next conquest.’

  ‘You will not be given the opportunity to hurt me further.’ There was a threat in Beccnat’s voice.

  Fidelma’s jaw hardened. ‘I hope you are not threatening me. As a dálaigh, I have to take notice of it. You must think of the implications. You are qualified enough in law to ponder on the consequence of any actions from such a threat.’

  Beccnat’s jaw came up pugnaciously.

  Fidelma did not give her time to react further. ‘As a dálaigh, and of higher qualification than you, I have to call on you to answer my questions. I hope you will now answer.’

  Beccnat made no reply but stood staring angrily at Fidelma as if ready to defy her.

  Fidelma spoke sharply now. ‘As you know, my rank as a dálaigh and the qualification of Anruth is superior to your rank as a baran, Beccnat, so I urge you to answer.’

  Eadulf had only recently learnt that baran was the lowest rank of a steward judge, which served more or less in the capacity of an assistant judge or lawyer.

  The woman did not seem concerned as she defiantly faced Fidelma.

  ‘Very well,’ Eadulf intervened as a means of breaking the impasse. ‘We are not concerned with your personal relationship to Scáth. All we wanted to know was where we might find your superior, Brehon Rónchú.’

  Eadulf glanced at Fidelma in an effort to say that he shared her suspicion that Scáth’s call on her was not that merely of a lovesick boy: it was not the real reason for his post haste ride to Láithreach.

  Beccnat switched her gaze to Eadulf. The anger had not entirely evaporated but now suspicion had begun to join it. Then she asked Fidelma in a tight voice: ‘Are you going to allow me to be subjected to questions from a foreigner?’

  Eadulf sighed. It was not going to be easy to get the woman to talk.

  ‘Eadulf is a gerefa, that is, an hereditary magistrate of his own culture,’ snapped back Fidelma. ‘In this country, out of respect of his status as my husband, he is allowed to ask questions. Furthermore, he asks under my observation.’

  The woman hesitated and then turned to answer Eadulf.

  ‘He is on Cúairtugad. You have already been informed of that. I am his assistant. Why do you want to speak with Brehon Rónchú?’ she demanded.

  ‘We need to talk to him personally,’ Fidelma said.

  ‘Where is he likely to be?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘He could be anywhere.’ Beccnat glanced disapprovingly at Fidelma. ‘I am not possessed of second sight.’

  ‘We know that a few weeks ago Brehon Rónchú escorted some recovered stolen items to a man called Garrchú at a place called Dún Árd,’ pointed out Eadulf. ‘Can you confirm that?’

  ‘So I am told,’ Beccnat confirmed.

  ‘Did he return here after that?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘He did.’ It was what Teimel had already told them.

  ‘So he returned. For how long was he here before he left again?’

  ‘He went almost immediately.’

  ‘And you don’t know where? Isn’t that unusual, seeing that you are his assistant?’

  Beccnat shrugged but made no other reply.

  ‘Did you have any conversations with Brehon Rónchú about the stolen shipment of ore that he found?’ pressed Eadulf. ‘I presume that you were here when Brehon Rónchú made the discovery of the gold and silver and went downriver to capture the smugglers?’

  ‘I was adjudicating a case elsewhere when the two men’s bodies were brought here. It was Brehon Rónchú’s case.’

  ‘But he must have told you about it. He must have had some views about the case.’

  ‘What was there to tell? The two men involved in the theft were dead. Brehon Rónchú took the boxes of ore to the steward of the mines at Dún Árd. That was all I know. After that he came back and then went on his circuit.’

  ‘I gather he was on horseback but the ore was in a wagon? Who drove the wagon?’

  Beccnat looked suddenly nervous. ‘He hired a man and a wagon to transport them.’

  An idea suddenly struck Eadulf. ‘This is the sort of job Cétach might have undertaken. Was the driver Cétach? Did he transport the boxes?’

  Beccnat hesitated. The answer to the question was clearly affirmative. ‘I suppose it was Cétach,’ she admitted. ‘I had forgotten. I had other matters to see to, another investigation, so that I forgot.’

  ‘And this was some time ago? I presume Cétach did not return with Brehon Rónchú?’ pressed Eadulf.

  ‘Why presume that?’ Beccnat seemed more nervous as she countered the question with her own.

  ‘Because shortly thereafter, Cétach was in Durlus Éile and witnessed the departure of Brehon Brocc and his party. He was a few days in that town before starting back here when he found the body in the valley of …’

  Beccnat reluctantly acknowledged his logic. But Eadulf was smiling broadly as he faced Fidelma with his conclusion.

  ‘We were told Cétach left Rónchú after he had delivered the ore to Garrchú’s place. He went from Dún Árd to Durlus Éile and thence returned through the mountains to the Abbey of Cáemgen, during which journey he found the body of Brehon Brocc. Then he arrived at the abbey.’

  ‘And then he returned here, where he was murdered.’ Fidelma was frowning. She stared at Beccnat. ‘Do you not think that it was unusual for Brehon Rónchú not to confide in you about the cases he was involved with, as you are his assistant?’

  ‘He never said much about his cases or maybe I was not listening,’ shrugged Beccnat.

  ‘I would urge you to try to remember what exactly happened.’ Fidelma was exasperated.

  The woman shrugged unhelpfully yet again. ‘He was a reticent man, even about the cases he was working on. I have told you all he knew.’

  ‘What about the boatman who undertook the transportation?’

  ‘The boatman?’ she frowned. ‘I told you I had nothing to do with this matter. I was told that when Brehon Rónchú became suspicious and opened the crates, after the two men had left, he decided to accompany the boatmen and take them prisoner when they picked up the boxes at its destination. He was accompanied by two warriors of a small company that the lord of The Cuala maintains here.’

  ‘Did you know these warriors? Are they here now?’

  ‘Dicuil Dóna has the company changed every few weeks. They are no longer serving here. If their names are known it would be Corbmac, the commander of the warriors, to ask.’

  ‘Not even the steward, Scáth?’ Eadulf could not help asking.

  Beccnat glared at him for a moment and shook her head.

  ‘Well, what of the boatman himself? Where can we find him, as he must surely know more of this matter? What is his name?’

  Beccnat sniffed dismissively. ‘Murchad.’

  ‘Murchad was the boatman? Then we will question him.’

  ‘It is no use seeking information from him.’

  ‘Why so?’ demanded Eadulf with a frown.

  ‘He had an accident with his boat. He fell overboard during a manoeuvre to bring his boat against the wharf, fell betw
een the boat and the wharf and was crushed. He died a short time later.’

  Eadulf saw Fidelma’s sudden apprehensive expression. ‘Too many people involved in this matter seem to be losing their lives,’ he said dryly, interpreting her thoughts.

  ‘Then I think we already know where Brehon Rónchú is,’ Fidelma agreed in a flat voice.

  TWENTY

  Eadulf had an instinct that Fidelma was thinking about the grave in the deserted valley of Lúbán.

  ‘We must start immediately.’

  Beccnat was staring at them defiantly. ‘I remind you, Fidelma of Cashel, that I am the appointed Brehon of this area in the absence of Brehon Rónchú. I will take charge of any such matters. Dicuil Dóna shall hear of your impertinence in his territory.’

  Fidelma regarded her with an almost sad expression. Then she sighed.

  ‘I am taking over, Beccnat.’ She reached into her marsupium and brought forth the wand of office given to her by Dicuil Dóna. ‘Here is my authority. There are, in fact, two authorities that I have. One you already know, if you have learnt anything about status in law. The second … I am sure you recognise it.’

  Beccnat stared unbelievingly at the wand of office and then her mouth pressed into a thin line.

  ‘Look for no more help from me then. I have told you what I know.’

  ‘Very well.’ Fidelma glanced at Eadulf and they turned back to their horses and mounted without another word. Fidelma was aware of Beccnat standing at the door, glowering after them.

  They were silent until they reached the river bridge, at which point Eadulf asked: ‘Do you think the person we found in that grave in the deserted valley was the Brehon?’

  Fidelma smiled at him thoughtfully. ‘I believe so. It being so, then it means that Teimel plays a role in this business – conspiracy or theft. I am not surprised. Like Enda, I found Teimel’s manner curious.’

  There was a silence and then Eadulf seemed to make up his mind about another matter he had been brooding on.

  ‘It seems Beccnat has been nursing a grudge against you for many years,’ he began nervously. ‘Do you think that has impaired her truthfulness in these matters?’

  ‘I thought that I knew her, albeit that was a long time ago.’ Fidelma was genuinely sad as she reflected on the woman’s admitted hatred of her. ‘We were students together, as you heard, but I did not know what thoughts she has harboured about me after all these years. I regarded her as just one of my friends at college. I had no idea that she had a relationship with Cian, or, at least, thought she did. I have told you the truth about him, Eadulf. I did think I was really in love with Cian when I was young. It did hurt me when he left with another. It took me until I saw him again on that pilgrim ship to know what he really meant to me. It was a bad experience but one of many in life that we hopefully learn from.’

  Eadulf leaned forward, placed a hand on her arm and applied a little pressure.

  ‘You were young and that is when we are all prone to make mistakes.’

  ‘I learnt from my mistake,’ she agreed. ‘Obviously, Beccnat has not done so.’

  ‘You should be careful of her,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘To be harbouring some sort of jealousy and revenge all these years is dangerous.’

  ‘I think there is a saying that jealousy is always born with love but does not always die with it,’ Fidelma sighed. ‘Her jealousy has grown old with her. Let us hope that this relationship with young Scáth is one based on reality and nothing else.’

  She changed the subject. ‘Beccnat told us that the boatman who found the ore is dead. A pity as he could have provided some information.’

  ‘If his boat was large enough to have carried the Brehon and the warriors downriver, he would probably have had crew. They might answer your questions.’

  ‘Well done, Eadulf,’ Fidelma exclaimed. ‘Sometimes when I am looking at the forest I neglect the important tree. I think Beccnat said the boatman was named Murchad.’

  Fidelma glanced along the wharfs as they passed. Several people were working with the boats that were moored there.

  ‘I’ll ask,’ she said, guiding her horse along the banks of the river. There was one man who was instructing a couple of young men rigging a sail on one of the moored vessels. He was dark of hair, barrel chested and slightly bowed in the legs, almost typically like a man who earnt his living on the waterways. He watched her with a suspicious frown as she rode up.

  ‘Did you know Murchad, a boatman along here?’ she opened after she had greeted him.

  ‘Why?’ came the terse unpromising answer.

  ‘I am a dálaigh and wish to know,’ she replied equally tersely.

  The man grimaced as if dismissing the subject. ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘I understand that. He ran a boat here. Did he have a crew?’

  ‘You can’t prosecute the crew for what happened,’ replied the man, defensively.

  ‘Why would I prosecute his crew?’ she asked, mystified. ‘Anyway, do you say that he did have a crew?’

  ‘Do you mean that there might be some compensation due to the crew?’ The boatman’s attitude changed. He was suddenly alert and eager.

  ‘That depends,’ Fidelma replied, interested. ‘Why do you think the crew need compensation? Were you one of them?’

  The man shook his head. ‘I say it because it is thought that the death of Murchad was no accident. If it was no accident then compensation should be payable.’

  ‘If no accident, are you implying it was murder?’

  ‘I did not witness it, but I have heard that the circumstances were suspicious.’

  ‘What are the details?’

  ‘I cannot give you the details as I did not witness them. If you are a dálaigh you should know that.’

  ‘I presume the crewmen would know this, if there was compensation to be paid?’

  ‘That is so,’ the man replied keenly.

  ‘So who are these crewmen and where might they be found?’ Fidelma struggled to hide her impatience.

  The man swung round and pointed to some cabins clustered along the far side of the river bank.

  ‘There was only one in the crew. Muirgel, wife to Murchad. She lives in that second cabin. Speak to her.’

  ‘His wife was the crewman?’ It was not unusual for a wife and husband to run a river boat together.

  ‘She was a true adept at handling boats. She and Murchad had been together for many years. They both came from our township.’

  ‘So she was a witness to what happened to her husband?’

  ‘As she tells it,’ agreed the man. ‘And it is in the telling that she is deserving compensation. See that broad-beamed barca across the river?’ He pointed to one of the river boats. ‘That was their boat … it belonged to Murchad and Muirgel. They could sail it in safety along the broadest of rivers and around the storm-swept coast in the worst conditions. That is why it was unjust … I mean, what happened to Murchad. It has destroyed her life, anyway.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘She can’t get anyone to crew the boat with her now, let alone find cargoes to take up or downriver.’

  ‘If she thought there was something suspicious about her husband’s death, she should have pursued the matter with the local Brehon.’

  ‘Brehon Rónchú? He had left to go to Gleann Uí Máil at that time. I think she reported it to his assistant.’

  ‘Beccnat?’

  ‘It was. Muirgel was not happy with the way her claim was received.’

  Fidelma kept her face impassive. ‘So this event happened after Brehon Rónchú had left the township?’

  ‘I remember it well because it was when that drunken pedlar, Cétach, arrived back. There was some talk that he had found a body, which he had taken to the abbey.’

  ‘Why was that significant?’

  ‘Because we thought, at first, the body was that of Brehon Rónchú. He had actually hired Cétach and his wagon to take some boxes to the mining steward. We heard they were the boxes
of gold or silver that Murchad had been transporting on the river. I would not trust Cétach. But, of course, we later heard it was the body of a stranger that had been found.’

  ‘Why would you think it was the body of Brehon Rónchú? Did he not return here after taking the boxes to the mining steward?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’ The boatman shook his head quickly. ‘No, he did not return. I know when Cétach returned. That is why I think Murchad’s death was as suspicious as was Cétach’s death. Everyone is talking about that. That is why you will find sprigs of furze over the doors of all the houses. Evil is at work here.’

  The man had confirmed Fidelma’s suspicion that Beccnat had not told the entire truth. The question was, why had she lied, or had she been deliberately trying to mislead her out of her declared spite over an ancient love-affair?

  The man’s eyes suddenly widened as if a new thought occurred. ‘Are you a dálaigh who has been sent to sort out this matter?’

  ‘You might say that,’ Fidelma replied without explaining the truth of the matter. ‘You have been of more help than you know. You said that Muirgel dwells in the second cabin on the far side of the river?’

  ‘In that cottage there,’ he confirmed, pointing.

  At the man’s verification, she raised a hand in a gesture of thanks, and returned to Eadulf. She gave a brief summary of the conversation before leading the way across the bridge towards the row of cabins. It was one of several where sprigs of furze, with their yellowing flowers, were tied in bunches above the doors.