The Subtle Serpent sf-4

by Peter Tremayne

  Ross came forward with a smile of greeting.

  ‘What news?’ demanded Fidelma breathlessly even before greetings could be exchanged.

  Ross motioned towards his cabin at the stern of the ship.

  ‘Let’s go and talk a while,’ he said, his facial expression changing to one of seriousness.

  Fidelma had to contain her curiosity until they were seated in the cabin and Ross had offered her an earthenware vessel of cuirm, which she declined. He poured himself a measure and sipped slowly.

  ‘What news?’ she prompted again.

  ‘I have found the place where the Gaulish merchant ship was moored three nights ago.’

  ‘Is there any sign of Ead … the crew or the passengers?’ Fidelma demanded.

  ‘I must tell the story in order, sister. But there was no sign of anyone.’

  Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment at the disappointment which she felt.

  ‘Tell me the story then, Ross. How did you discover what you did?’

  ‘As I said, before I left here, judging by the tides and winds, there were two likely places from where the Gaulish ship might have been blown. The first was over to the southeastern headland called the Sheep’s Head. That is where I sailed first. We sailed around but could find nothing out of the ordinary. We encountered some fishermen who said that they had been casting their nets in those waters all week and had seen nothing. So then I decided that we should go on to the second likely spot.’

  ‘Which was where?’

  ‘A place at the end of this very peninsula.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘At the end of the peninsula lies a long island, it is called Dóirse, which as you will know, means “The Gates”, because, in a way, it stands as the south-western gate to this land. We sailed around the island but could not see anything unusual. I have traded with the islanders several times and so I thought that I would put into the harbour there and see what gossip I could pick up. We landed and I asked my men to keep their ears open for any news about the Gaulish ship. We did not have to seek far.’

  He paused and took a sip of his drink.

  ‘What did you learn?’ urged Fidelma.

  ‘The Gaulish ship had been moored in the harbour. But therein lay a curious story. Some strange warriors had sailed it in to the island’s harbour well after dusk on the evening before we encountered the ship on the high seas.’

  ‘Strange warriors? Gauls?’

  Ross shook his head.

  ‘No. Warriors from the clan of the Ui Fidgenti.’

  Fidelma hid her surprise.

  ‘They had with them a Gaulish prisoner, however.’

  ‘A single Gaulish prisoner? There was no sign of a Saxon monk?’ Fidelma felt a pang of disappointment.

  ‘No. The prisoner was apparently a Gaulish seaman. Being hospitable, the islanders invited the warriors ashore as it appeared they had no provisions on board. A single guard was left on board with the prisoner. The next morning, the people found that the ship had gone. It had sailed while the warriors were in a drunken slumber due to the islanders’ hospitality. The warrior who had been left on board the vessel was discovered floating in the harbour — dead.’

  ‘What did they discern from that?’

  ‘That the Gaulish prisoner had somehow escaped, overpowered the guard, thrown him overboard, and sailed the ship out of the harbour.’

  ‘A single man? Sail a big ship like that? Is that possible?’ Ross shrugged.

  ‘It is, if the man was knowledgeable and determined enough.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘The warriors were angry and requisitioned some island ships to take them back across the sound to the mainland.’

  Fidelma thought over the matter.

  ‘It is a strange story. The Gaulish merchant ship is sailed into the harbour of Dóirse by a band of warriors of the Ui Fidgenti with a single Gaulish sailor as their prisoner. The ship ties up. In the morning, it has disappeared with the Gaulish sailor. The warriors then cross back to this peninsula. Later that morning, towards midday, we encounter the ship under full sail and deserted.’

  ‘That is the story, strange or not.’

  ‘Can the information you picked up on the island — Dóirse, you called it — be trusted?’

  ‘The people can,’ confirmed Ross. ‘I have traded with them for years now. They are an independent people who do not regard themselves as under the rule of Gulban the Hawk-Eyed, though technically it is his territory. They hold allegiance to their own bó-aire. So they are not concerned with keeping the secrets of those on the mainland.’

  ‘Do you know whether the warriors of Ui Fidgenti gave any explanations to the local bó-aire about what they were doing with the Gaulish ship?’

  ‘There was some talk that it was trading with the mines on the mainland.’

  Fidelma raised her head sharply.

  ‘Mines? Would those be copper mines?’

  Ross glanced searchingly at her before nodding agreement.

  ‘Across from Dóirse, on the mainland, and in the next bay, there are several copper mines which are worked. They do a trade not only along the coast but with Gaul.’

  Fidelma drummed her fingers on the table, frowning as she considered matters.

  ‘Remember the red clay-like mud in the hold of the Gaulish ship?’ she asked.

  Ross inclined his head in an affirmative gesture.

  ‘I think that they were deposits from a copper mine or somewhere where copper is stored. I think the answer to this mystery might lie at the site of those copper mines. Yet I cannot understand why men of the Ui Fidgenti would be sailing the ship. Their clan territory is a long way to the north of here. Where were the men of Beara, of Gulban’s sept?’

  ‘I could sail back and make further efforts to gain information,’ offered Ross. ‘Or I could sail to the mines, pretending to trade, and see what can be found.’

  Fidelma shook her head.

  ‘Too dangerous. There is some mystery here which is compounded by the fact that Torcán, the son of the prince of the Ui Fidgenti, is a guest at Adnár’s fortress.’

  Ross’s eyes widened.

  ‘There is surely a connection?’

  ‘But a connection with what? I believe that this mystery may be fraught with dangers. If you sail back again then you might arouse suspicion. There is no need to put people on guard if we can avoid it. We must know what we aredealing with first. How far are these copper mines from here?’

  ‘About two or three hours’ sailing if you keep close to the coastline.’

  ‘What if you simply crossed the peninsula? How many miles?’

  ‘As the crow flies? Five miles. By a navigable route across the mountains, perhaps ten miles or less.’

  Fidelma was silent as she considered the matter.

  ‘What should we do?’ prompted Ross.

  Fidelma raised her head, having come to the conclusion that she must investigate the matter herself.

  ‘Tonight, under cover of darkness, we shall ride across this peninsula to the spot where these copper mines are situated. I have a feeling that we might find an answer there.’

  ‘Why not ride now? I could easily buy horses from one of the farmsteads further down the coast.’

  ‘No, we will wait until midnight and for two reasons. Firstly, because we do not want anyone to know we have gone to these mines. If Torcán, or Adnár are involved in some illegal matter then we do not want to warn them of our intentions. Secondly, this evening, I have accepted to attend a feast at Dun Boí with Adnár and his guests, Torcán and Olcán. Perhaps this will turn out to our advantage for I may be able to pick up some news.’

  Ross was far from happy.

  ‘The matter of the Ui Fidgenti worries me, sister. For some weeks now there have been many rumours along the coast. It is said that the Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti has his eyes on Cashel.’

  Fidelma smiled wanly.

  ‘Is that all? The Ui Fidgenti have always aspired
to the kingship of Cashel. Did they not rise up against Cashel twenty-five years ago when Aed Slane was High King?’

  The Ui Fidgenti were a large clan in the west of the kingdom of Mumam whose princes and chieftains preferredto call themselves kings and claimed that they were the true descendants of the first kings of Cashel. They argued that they had a prior claim to Cashel over that of Fidelma’s own family. Fidelma’s father had been king at Cashel at the time of her birth and now her brother, Colgú, had succeeded his cousin to occupy the seat of the provincial kings of Mumam. Fidelma’s brother was answerable to no man except the High King. Fidelma had grown up with tales about the claims of the Ui Fidgenti who sought to depose her family’s right to the kingship of Cashel. None had been more vociferous in such claims than the current prince, Eoganán.

  Ross was frowning in disapproval.

  ‘What you say is so, sister. But your brother, Colgú, has only sat on the throne these last few months. He is young and untried. It is obvious that, if Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti wanted to make a move to overthrow Colgú, he would make his move now, while Colgú was still unsure of himself.’

  ‘What sort of move? My brother’s right to office has been endorsed by the great assembly at Cashel. The High King has approved of the decision from Tara.’

  ‘Who knows what Eoganán is planning? But the gossip along the coast is that some evil is being concocted.’

  Fidelma considered the matter carefully.

  ‘All the more reason why I should attend the feast this evening for perhaps Torcán may reveal something of his father’s plans.’

  ‘You could only put yourself in danger,’ Ross pointed out. ‘Torcán will doubtless find out who you are …’

  ‘That I am sister to Colgú? We met in the forest yesterday. He already knows that.’

  She paused and frowned a moment thinking about the arrow that nearly ended her life. Could Torcán have fired that arrow deliberately knowing her to be Colgú’s sister? But then why would he attempt her life? She was nothing to do with the succession at Cashel. No. That would not be logical. Besides, Torcán and his men were equally surprised todiscover her identity and sought to cover their mistake. If the arrow had been aimed deliberately by Torcán, it was not at her. They could have easily killed her in the forest.

  Ross was watching her expression carefully.

  ‘Has something happened already?’ he guessed.

  ‘No,’ she lied quickly. ‘At least,’ she corrected herself after a pang of guilt, ‘nothing to change our plan. At midnight, after the feasting at Dun Boí I will meet you and one of your men in the woods behind the abbey. Secure three horses but do so without arousing any suspicion.’

  ‘Very well. I will take Odar, for he is a good man to have with us. But if Torcán is at this feast, I would rather that you were not attending.’

  ‘No harm will come to an official of the law courts of the five kingdoms. It would be more than king or citizen would dare,’ declared Fidelma. She wished, as she uttered the words, that she truly believed them.

  She rose to her feet and Ross followed her from his cabin to the side of the barc. It was clear that she did not have his full approval for her plan. But, in the light of nothing better, he accepted it.

  She was about to descend down the ship’s side when he asked: ‘How is the matter that brought you here?’ He gestured with a jerk of his thumb towards the abbey. He had almost forgotten the original reason why he had brought Fidelma to this spot. ‘Has the problem been resolved?’

  Fidelma felt a little guilty that the mystery of the headless corpse and the matter of Sister Síomha’s death had almost been driven out of her thoughts by the arrival of Ross and his news.

  ‘Not yet. In fact,’ she grimaced awkwardly, ‘there has been another death in the abbey. The rechtaire, Sister Síomha, has been found slain in the same manner as the unknown corpse. However, I believe that the clouds of mystery have begun to clear. But there is much that I find evil in the abbey.’

  ‘If there is danger …’ Ross hesitated awkwardly. ‘You have but to call on me and on any of my men. It might be best to have a bodyguard from now on.’

  ‘And alert my quarry that I feel the hunt is nearing its lair?’ She shook her head.

  Sister Fidelma reached forward and laid a hand on the worried sailor’s arm and smiled.

  ‘Just be in the woods at midnight with Odar and the three horses and ensure that you are not seen.’

  Fidelma was told that Sister Brónach was to be found in Sister Berrach’s cell. She was walking across the courtyard to the building when the mournful-faced Brónach emerged from the doorway. She hesitated and seemed as if she wanted to avoid Fidelma but Fidelma stopped her with a greeting.

  ‘How is Sister Berrach, sister?’

  Sister Brónach hesitated.

  ‘She sleeps at the moment, sister. She has had a trying night and an unpleasant morning.’

  ‘That she has,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘She is lucky to have a friend in you. Will you walk a way with me, sister?’

  Reluctantly, Sister Brónach fell in step with Fidelma, moving slowly across the flagged courtyard towards the guests’ hostel.

  ‘What do you wish of me, sister?’

  ‘The answers to a few questions.’

  ‘I am always at your service. I did not have the chance to thank you for what you have done for Sister Berrach.’

  ‘Why should you thank me?’

  Sister Brónach grimaced defensively.

  ‘Is it wrong to thank someone for saving the life of a friend?’

  ‘I only did what was right and what all members of the Faith should do. Though some sisters here appear to be easily swayed by emotion.’

  ‘By Abbess Draigen, you mean?’

  ‘I did not say that.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ went on Sister Brónach confidently, ‘that is what you meant. You may have noticed that all the sisters here are young? Sister Comnat, our librarian, and I are the oldest among them. There is no one else, except the abbess, over the age of twenty-one.’

  ‘Yes, I have noticed the youth of the acolytes of this abbey,’ Fidelma acknowledged. ‘That I have found most strange for the idea of a community is that the young may learn from the experience and knowledge of the old.’

  Sister Brónach’s voice held a bitter tone.

  ‘There is a reason for it. The abbess dislikes to be with anyone who does not accept her total authority. She can manipulate young people but often older people can see her errors and are frequently more knowledgeable than she is. She can never forget that she was a poor farmer’s daughter with no education before she came here.’

  ‘Do you censure the abbess, then?’

  Sister Brónach halted outside the hostel door and anxiously looked round as if to check that they were unobserved. Then she pointed inside.

  ‘It will be easier to talk in here.’

  She led the way in and along a corridor to a small cell which she used in the manner of an office, where she conducted the business of doorkeeper and attendant of the hostel.

  ‘Be seated, sister,’ she said, seating herself in one of the two wooden chairs that were in the tiny room. ‘Now what was it that you were asking?’

  Fidelma seated herself.

  ‘I was asking whether you censured Abbess Draigen in gathering such a young, inexperienced community around her? It was obvious that she used the youth and inexperience of Sister Lerben to threaten Sister Berrach. Do you censure her attitude towards Berrach?’

  Sister Brónach pulled a face to demonstrate her disgust.

  ‘Any rational person would censure such action as proposed by the abbess, although I am willing to concede that it was not entirely Draigen’s fault.’

  ‘Not her fault?’

  ‘I would imagine that Sister Lerben has something to do with the matter.’

  Fidelma was perplexed.

  ‘My understanding is that Sister Lerben was entirely under the influence of Draigen.
She is too young to be anything but a pawn in this game. Someone has told me that there is a close relationship between the abbess and Lerben and that, you’ll forgive my candour, sister, Lerben sometimes shares the bed of the abbess. That same person told me that you could vouch for this.’

  The doleful religieuse started to chuckle. It was an expression of genuine mirth. Fidelma had never seen mirth on Brónach’s solemn features before.

  ‘Of course Sister Lerben has been known to share the bed of the abbess! You have been in this abbey for two days and yet you do not know that Lerben is the daughter of the abbess?’

  Fidelma was thunderstruck.

  ‘I thought that Lerben …’ Fidelma blurted in surprise and then snapped her mouth shut.

  Sister Brónach continued to smile with amusement. It transformed the usually sad face of the doirseór so that she became almost youthful.

  ‘You thought that Lerben was her lover? Ah, you have been listening to evil stories.’

  Fidelma leant towards the elder woman, trying to work out the new information.

  ‘Was Sister Síomha never the lover of Draigen?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. And to my knowledge Draigen is not the sort of woman who would choose such carnal relationships. Draigen is a moody woman. Capricious, is abetter word. She is a misanthrope, one who distrusts men and avoids them. She surrounds herself with young women, in order to intellectually dominate them, but that does not mean there is any sexual connotation to it.’

  Fidelma was thinking rapidly. If this were so, then the motive put forward by Adnár and Brother Febal, which had seemed so plausible, was now invalid. It changed her thoughts about the situation entirely.

  ‘I have heard much gossip and speculation about Draigen. Are you saying that all those stories are untrue?’

  ‘I have no cause to love the abbess. But I would have to say that I have no experience or knowledge in this field. Abbess Draigen simply likes to surround herself with young girls because they will not question her knowledge or her authority. There is no other reason.’