Penance of the Damned (Sister Fidelma)

by Peter Tremayne

  Eadulf stirred uncomfortably. ‘I had forgotten that with everything that has been happening. You do well to remind me.’

  ‘So you see, not all is as cut and dried as we have been led to believe. There are still contradictory matters.’

  ‘Even Gormán and Aibell’s story does not come from a first-hand account but from Ciarnat.’ Eadulf was beginning to sound excited. ‘Didn’t you find it strange that she was waiting for us along the road to tell us her account of events before we reached this place? Could she have gone to that spot in answer to the signal fires? When Conrí and his warriors came to meet us, why did she not wait but was on her horse and away into the woods so that she would not be seen?’

  In the gloom of the bedchamber, Fidelma crossed to a small table, picked up a beaker of water and took a swallow.

  ‘In retrospect, I wish I had gone to see Gormán immediately, and Aibell also, but the value of the well is often not realised until after it has dried up.’

  ‘Then what can we do? We have examined all the witnesses.’

  ‘There are still a few people that I would like to talk with. We will start tomorrow.’

  ‘Who, for instance?’

  ‘With the only member of the guest-hostel that we have not yet spoken to – Brother Máel Anfaid.’

  ‘But he was not there at the time of the killing,’ Eadulf objected.

  ‘Neither was Brother Mac Raith, but the information he gave us was useful.’

  As Eadulf gave a low puzzled sigh, she crossed to the bed. ‘Now we must try to sleep for I am thinking we will have a long day tomorrow.’

  The sun was already bright and the day promised to be very warm when Fidelma and Eadulf, having had the morning ablutions, went to the feasting hall. To their surprise only Prince Donennach and Brehon Faolchair were finishing their breakfast. Attendants approached but there was no need for them as the guests could help themselves. A jug of apple juice stood on the table. There was a choice of hard-boiled goose eggs, a hard cheese known as tanag, and a sausage that Eadulf had not encountered before.

  ‘It is called longin bóshaille,’ offered Brehon Faolchair when Eadulf hesitated, examining it. ‘It’s finely cut ox meat, stuffed in an ox gullet, spiced with wild garlic and thyme and cooked as a sausage. Often the meat is salted.’

  Besides these dishes was eorna, the barley bread, and gruiten, salt butter. To finish was logg di shubuip, a bowl of wild strawberries and a pile of apples. They chose their food and took their seats. After some time had passed in silence, Prince Donennach glanced moodily at Fidelma and spoke.

  ‘How are things proceeding in the resolution of my dilemma, lady?’

  ‘I have been thinking of little else,’ she replied.

  ‘If you suspect an attempted plot against you,’ chimed in Eadulf bluntly, ‘I cannot see why you do not act first and move against those you suspect?’

  Prince Donennach smiled grimly. ‘Who do I suspect? You mean, make Abbot Nannid my prisoner?’

  Brehon Faolchair was shaking his head. ‘For what reason would one do that, friend Eadulf? The only grounds for suspicion are because he demands church law for a churchman’s murder.’

  ‘Abbot Nannid has considerable authority among my people, Brother Eadulf,’ Prince Donennach added gently. ‘There is nothing overt in his behaviour other than that. He kept a neutral stance when previous members of my family tried to seize power, as well you know.’

  ‘It seems your family has more than their fair share of conspiracies and plots to wrest power,’ returned Eadulf.

  Brehon Faolchair frowned in disapproval but Prince Donennach replied only, ‘That is fairly said, Brother Eadulf. I have devoted years of my life to attempting to put an end to it and arguing that we follow the law of inheritance, which is an estimable law, instead of wrestling in the mud for power. My own grandfather, Óengus mac Nechtain, was killed in a conspiracy just before I was born and that led to the rule of Eóganán and a time of turmoil. So it has continued.’

  ‘We have managed to keep stability since Colgú defeated Eóganán at Cnoc Áine four years ago,’ added Brehon Faolchair.

  ‘And since you became ruler of your people, your efforts to maintain the peace have not gone unnoticed,’ Fidelma confirmed.

  Prince Donennach sighed. ‘I made it my aim to prevent the internecine conflict among the Uí Fidgente as well as to end the conflict between us and the Eóghanacht. As I have said, we have a good law of inheritance. We cannot better the meeting of the derbhfine, the three generations of the family, to discuss and appoint the person who is the most worthy to succeed as the head of the family. Unfortunately, it is a failing of our kin that we seem to breed jealous, ambitious malcontents who will exploit and manipulate – and even murder – to achieve their ends. I would hate to see all my years of toil unravel.’

  ‘You suspect that is the aim of all this?’ Eadulf said. ‘If so, I ask again, why not make Abbot Nannid a prisoner, since you seem to suggest he is behind it?’

  ‘If I did so without plain evidence, under the very laws we aim to protect, the peace among the Uí Fidgente would unravel faster than a horseman can ride around this fortress at full gallop, my friend.’

  ‘Let me put a direct question to you, Prince Donennach,’ Fidelma said, regarding him thoughtfully. ‘And you may answer as well, Brehon Faolchair. Do you think that the commander of my brother’s bodyguard really went mad and killed Abbot Ségdae? Because madness would appear to be the only means of explaining what has happened.’

  Prince Donennach gave a tired smile. ‘If it was madness, then it was a convenient madness – convenient for Abbot Nannid, that is.’

  Brehon Faolchair nodded slowly in agreement. ‘I did what I could to postpone the inevitable. But Gormán was alone in the room with Abbot Ségdae. There were witnesses to his going in and the chamber being locked and secure without anyone else in it. Even Gormán admits to being in the chamber with the abbot and says the latter had a full view of what was behind him. So if Gormán was hit from behind, why didn’t the abbot raise any warning?’

  ‘So we are faced with a blank wall,’ Prince Donennach summed up.

  ‘Until we find a weak point whereby it crumbles,’ Fidelma replied with optimism.

  Brehon Faolchair stared at her. ‘You think there is such a weakness? Unfortunately, Gormán seems to have already admitted his guilt by running away with Aibell.’

  ‘I am sure we will find that weakness,’ she told him. ‘Meanwhile, there are some matters on which I should like clarification.’

  Prince Donennach sat back and gestured for her to continue.

  ‘I am told that the reason why Gormán and his wife came here was to give you a warning that Gláed of Sliabh Luachra had killed his brother. That he had declared himself chief of the Luachair Deaghaidh and might be a threat to you. As you know, he killed his own father before, and he was placed in the custody of his brother for trial.’

  ‘Gormán came to give warning,’ affirmed the prince.

  ‘How did you react to it?’

  Prince Donennach looked at her in surprise. ‘Sliabh Luachra is not far from here. Gláed could raise a substantial raiding party. How would you expect me to react?’

  ‘Tell me,’ pressed Fidelma.

  ‘I think you already know that a messenger was sent to Conrí, the commander of my battalions. He was at his own fortress downriver, at the Ford of Oaks. I asked him to come here straight away.’

  ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘To take command of a band of warriors to Sliabh Luachra to find out whether the report was true and what support Gláed could count on.’

  ‘And what was your intention?’

  ‘To pre-empt any attack on the Uí Fidgente. I know what these robber chieftains are like and Gláed, without the restraint of his father or brother, will be a formidable enemy.’

  ‘But why is Conrí still here?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘He and his men arrived the morning after the murder of Abbot
Ségdae. Frankly, I was not sure what to do. I felt it better to keep him and his men here until we could sort matters out. We posted sentinels in the countryside to give us warning of any threat.’

  ‘So there was no question that you did not take Gormán’s warnings about Gláed seriously?’

  Prince Donennach was baffled. ‘Why would I discount his warning? He knew enough about the war bands of Sliabh Luachra from your last visit here. I took the warning about them very seriously indeed.’

  ‘One of the stories I heard is that you had treated the warning lightly and he had gone to Abbot Ségdae in an angry mood. I think it was offered as some way of proving a motivation … incriminating him by implying that he had an uncontrollable anger.’

  ‘That was not so,’ the prince declared.

  ‘When Gormán came to see you about the matter of Gláed, were you alone?’

  Prince Donennach thought back. ‘As a matter of fact, Brehon Faolchair was with me as was Abbot Nannid and his steward, Brother Cuineáin.’

  Brehon Faolchair agreed. ‘That is true, Fidelma. I recall Gormán reporting that he had heard from some merchants that Gláed had deposed his brother and was rousing the robber bands of the Luachair Deaghaidh to join him to raid the countryside. On hearing this, Prince Donennach immediately instructed a messenger to ride to Conrí and request his presence to discuss a defensive plan.’

  ‘Was Gormán content with this action?’

  ‘Why would he not be content?’

  ‘How did Abbot Nannid respond?’

  Prince Donennach frowned and rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. ‘I cannot recall any notable response from Nannid.’

  ‘I would have expected some response,’ Fidelma said. ‘It was while we were uncovering the plot at the Abbey of Mungairit that Gláed was handed into the custody of his brother, Artgal. His brother was to take him back to Sliabh Luachra to answer to his own people for murdering their father.’

  ‘Neither of us can recall any response,’ replied the prince after exchanging a look with Brehon Faolchair, who shook his head.

  Fidelma was rising when Ceit, the commander of the Prince’s fortress guard came hurrying in. His features looked grim.

  ‘What is it now?’ Prince Donennach sighed wearily. ‘Have you come with another tale of woe?’

  Ceit was certainly nervous. ‘I have to report, lord.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I have to report that the guard – the one who took the bribe to allow Gormán to escape – he has been released from his cell.’

  There was a brief silence and then Fidelma repeated incredulously, ‘He was released from his cell?’

  ‘There was no sign that he broke out,’ muttered Ceit. ‘The door was simply unlocked.’

  ‘He was a guard,’ Prince Donennach pointed out sarcastically. ‘Did he have a key when he was put into the cell?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Ceit retorted, and then, recalling who he was speaking to, added more politely, ‘He was searched thoroughly before being locked up.’

  ‘So you are saying that someone released him? And there is no sign of him?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘I have already sent men to track him down.’

  Prince Donennach scowled. ‘It seems that this fortress has become an easy place to escape from. Let us hope it is far harder to break into if we are to be attacked by Gláed’s marauders.’

  ‘At least we now know one thing,’ Fidelma told them. ‘There is definitely some conspiracy at work here. I was going to question the guard this morning. Having taken a bribe once, it seems that he was not going to be trusted to endure our interrogation.’

  ‘Trusted by whom?’ Brehon Faolchair demanded.

  ‘That is for us to find out, as soon as possible. I’ll be surprised if you have more luck in finding this man than you have had finding Gormán.’

  She left the hall with a thoughtful-looking Eadulf in her wake. Outside, they paused in the warmth of the sunlight. Eadulf spoke first. ‘If the guard was allowed to escape simply to stop him from talking to us, why not make sure he would never speak to us? He could have been killed in the cell. Why just allow him to escape and risk recapture?’

  ‘Unless he could be more useful as a messenger,’ she replied.

  Eadulf was perplexed and said so but Fidelma did not answer him directly.

  ‘Any other thoughts?’ she asked.

  ‘Only that Prince Donennach has now confirmed what Conrí already told us – that he did take Gormán’s warning seriously. So who spread the false story that Gormán went to see Abbot Ségdae in an angry mood?’

  ‘Don’t you think we should talk to Ciarnat?’ Fidelma asked in a mild tone.

  Eadulf was annoyed with himself. ‘Of course! It was Ciarnat who told us the story.’

  Enda was crossing the courtyard towards them. ‘Have you heard the news?’ he greeted them morosely.

  ‘About the escaped guard?’

  ‘Yes, him. I have been speaking to the warriors in the barracks this morning,’ Enda said. ‘It seems the man had only recently joined their company and there was not much love lost between them. Nobody liked him. They said he was from Sliabh Luachra …’

  Fidelma nodded on hearing this, and they made their way to the physician’s house in silence. They were greeted at the door by Airmid. The little grey terrier came bounding out, sniffed at them and then went off to examine more interesting scents.

  ‘There is certainly a threatening atmosphere hanging over this place, lady,’ Airmid said as she greeted them.

  ‘Wherever there is death, there is gloom,’ Fidelma replied. ‘But surely, as an apothecary, you are used to that?’

  Airmid was not amused by the levity. ‘Well, this gloom seems to permeate the very countryside and our people. It seems to threaten our very existence.’

  ‘So far as I feel it, the gloom emanates from Abbot Nannid,’ muttered Eadulf.

  ‘He is like a brooding storm cloud,’ Airmid agreed. ‘When he approaches, there is darkness. Everyone waits for the storm to erupt and only when he passes does the brightness reappear. My brother has been sunk in the darkness for many days – and I hear that you have been able to offer no solution.’ She suddenly drew herself up. ‘I suppose you have come to question young Ciarnat?’

  ‘We have,’ Fidelma acknowledged. ‘Has there been any problem about submitting her to your charge?’

  Airmid shook her head. ‘She has been upset, of course. I have known the girl since her mother, Étromma, brought her here when she worked as a cook in the palace. I remember that Ciarnat used to play with that girl, Aibell, when they were little. So she was pleased to meet her again when Aibell arrived here with the warrior, Gormán. Ciarnat grew up to be an attendant here. She started in the days of Eóganán. I have found her level-headed and trustworthy, so I was glad when my brother suggested that she should be placed in my care instead of being incarcerated as Nannid thought she should.’

  Airmid led the way through the apothecary to her living quarters where they found Ciarnat sitting sewing a garment at a table. She paused and stood slowly as they entered, looking fearfully from one to another.

  ‘Just a few questions,’ Fidelma reassured her, then paused and glanced at Airmid.

  ‘I will leave you then,’ the physician said, withdrawing.

  Eadulf and Enda stood by the door while Fidelma sat down and motioned Ciarnat to reseat herself. The girl spoke first.

  ‘You must believe me, lady. What I said was true. I did not know that Aibell and Gormán would attempt to escape. I really was with my mother. She is elderly and I often call and stay with her.’

  ‘There are many matters that need sorting out, Ciarnat,’ Fidelma told her gently. ‘But it is not that which I have come to see you about.’

  ‘What then?’ The girl’s chin came up a little defiantly.

  ‘When you waited for us on the road as we were coming here, you told us how you met up with Aibell and Gormán and what they said to you.’

  Ciarnat frowned. ‘Th
at is so.’

  ‘It is a matter of clarification about something you mentioned. You told us that Gormán was disappointed because Prince Donennach did not take his warning about Gláed of Sliabh Luachra seriously?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Then you were present when Gormán spoke to Prince Donennach? You clearly heard the prince dismiss Gormán’s concerns?’

  Ciarnat said, ‘No, I was not present, but was told about it afterwards.’

  ‘Then Gormán told you?’

  ‘I didn’t see Gormán after he met with Donennach. In fact, I do not think I saw him again until the hearing before Brehon Faolchair.’

  ‘Then who told you about Gormán’s disappointment? Was it Aibell?’

  Again the girl said, ‘No. When Gormán went to the prince’s chamber to speak with him, I remained chatting to Aibell for a while. Then I had to leave the fortress and go to the township to see my mother. I did not come back until the next morning and it was then I heard about the killing. Aibell was held until midday.’

  ‘I must then ask you again how you heard that Gormán was disappointed with Donennach’s response to his warning,’ Fidelma repeated. ‘If neither Gormán nor Aibell told you, then who was it?’

  Ciarnat shrugged. ‘It is no secret. When Gormán went to see Donennach, there were several people with him.’

  ‘So we have heard,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘Are you saying that one of them told you?’

  ‘Apparently someone told a member of Abbot Ségdae’s party – one of the scribes who attended him. Everyone was talking about Gormán and the news of the killing. It was said that when Gormán had left Prince Donennach, he was annoyed that his warning had been cast aside.’

  Fidelma breathed out long and slow. ‘I do not like this. Someone told someone who told someone else.’ She turned back to the girl in irritation. ‘Answer a straight question, Cairnat. Who told you?’

  ‘As I said, it was one of Abbot Ségdae’s scribes – Brother Máel Anfaid.’

  There was a pause while Fidelma examined the girl thoughtfully. ‘Brother Máel Anfaid? And he was told by whom?’

  ‘He did not say.’