Ross immediately helped Fidelma into his boat, with Eadulf following, and they were able to leave before Adnár’s boat arrived at the quay.
They found Sister Comnat in the cabin of Ross’s barc. While her face was a little strained, she appeared in far better health than when Fidelma had last seen the elderly religieuse.
‘Is everything all right?’ Sister Comnat asked almost immediately as Fidelma and Eadulf entered the cabin.
‘Apparently we will not know that for a day or two, sister,’ replied Fidelma. ‘However, Torcán of the Ui Fidgenti can be added to the list of deaths in the abbey.’
‘The son of Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti? Has he been at the abbey?’ There was alarm on the face of the elderly librarian.
Fidelma seated herself on the side of the bunk and gestured to Sister Comnat to resume her seat.
‘You mentioned that you saw him training Gulban’s men when you were captured with Sister Almu?’
‘Yes.’
‘Brother Eadulf has identified him as the young chieftain in charge at the mines.’
‘Yes. He was at the copper mines.’
‘Tell me, Sister Comnat, as you are a good scholar, do you know the meaning of the name Torcán?’
Sister Comnat was perplexed.
‘What has that to do with anything?’
‘Indulge me.’
‘Well, let me see … It would derive from torcc, a wild boar.’
‘You told me that Sister Almu said something to you before she escaped which you did not understand, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. She said …’ Her voice trailed off as she realised the connection. ‘Perhaps I heard the remark wrongly. Almu said something about a wild boar, or so I thought … Are you saying that it was Torcán who helped Almu escape and then slew her? But why? That doesn’t make sense.’
‘You mentioned that Almu was a friend of Síomha, didn’t you?’
Sister Comnat nodded.
‘They were very good friends.’
‘If Almu had reached the abbey safely, it would have been natural for her to seek out Síomha, perhaps, before speaking with, say, even the Abbess Draigen, wouldn’t it?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Let me take you back to the day that the old beggar came to sell you the copy of the work by the High King Cormac the work called Teagasg Ri. Do you remember that?’
Sister Comnat was baffled. She would have demanded to know why Fidelma was leaping from one subject to another but she caught the glint in the young advocate’s eye.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘It was the week before Sister Almu and I set out for Ard Fhearta.’
‘Did the beggar come directly to the library?’
‘No. He went to the abbess and gave her the book. The abbess then sent for me and asked me whether it was worth buying. Abbess Draigen has many talents but librarianship and the knowledge of books is not one of them. I saw that it was a good copy.’
‘There were no pages cut or damaged in the copy?’
‘No. It was in excellent condition for a book so old. It hadan additional value. At the end of the book was added a short biography of the High King. So I agreed that the abbey could well buy it or barter food for it with the old man.’
‘I see. Did the abbess keep the book?’
‘No, I took charge of it and brought it straight to the library. I asked Sister Almu to examine it and catalogue it.’
‘Sister Almu was a competent scholar in spite of her tender years?’
‘Very competent. She wrote a good hand and knew Greek and Latin as well as Hebrew.’
‘Did she know Ogham and the language of the Féine?’
‘Of course. I had tutored her myself. She had a quick mind. With respect to her shade, she was not entirely devoted to the propagation of the Faith but she was particularly enthusiastic in her attitude to books and fond of ancient chronicles.’
‘So Sister Almu examined the book?’
‘She did.’
‘If she had found anything of significance in that book, to whom would she have talked about it?’
Sister Comnat frowned slightly.
‘I am the librarian.’
‘But,’ Fidelma chose her words carefully, ‘if she did not want to bother you, might she, as a friend, confide in Sister Síomha?’
‘It is possible. I do not understand why she should do so.’
Fidelma stood up abruptly and smiled.
‘Do not worry, Sister Comnat. I think I am beginning to understand more completely now.’
Outside, on the deck, Fidelma asked Ross if one of his sailors could row them directly to Adnár’s fortress. On the way across, Eadulf confessed his total perplexity even though Fidelma had discussed all the events that had occurred since she had arrived at the abbey of The Salmon of the Three Wells. Eadulf had seen Fidelma’s bland expression before. He knew the meaning of the trite, composed features. Thecloser Fidelma was to her quarry, the more she was loath to reveal what was in her mind.
But she laid a hand on his arm and was reassuring.
‘We will not be able to have the hearing until Beccan is prepared,’ she said. ‘Plenty of time for you to obtain an understanding.’
‘Are you saying that Almu and Síomha shared some secret that Torcán was after? A secret that he killed them for and would have killed us?’
‘You have a quick mind, Eadulf.’ Fidelma smiled briefly. Then the boat had come up alongside the quay of Adnár’s fortress.
A warrior barred their entrance to the fort.
‘Adnár attends at the abbey, sister. He is not here.’
‘It is not Adnár that I wish to see. It is Olcán.’
‘Olcán is a prisoner. I do not have the authority to let you see him.’
Fidelma scowled.
‘I am a dálaigh of the courts. You will accept my authority.’
The warrior hesitated and then, observing the gathering storm on her brow, decided on a hurried retreat.
‘This way, sister,’ he muttered.
Olcán was locked in a cell in the vault below the fortress. He looked dishevelled and angry.
‘Sister! What is happening?’ he demanded, springing up from where he had been laying on a straw palliasse. ‘Why am I being held captive like this?’
Fidelma waited until the warrior had removed himself outside the cell, closing the door behind him, before replying to the young man.
‘Hasn’t Adnár told you?’
The son of Gulban looked from Fidelma to Eadulf and spread his hands helplessly.
‘He accuses me of some conspiracy.’
‘Your father Gulban has conspired with the Ui Fidgenti to overthrow Cashel.’
‘My father?’ Olcán was bitter. ‘My father does not confide his plans in me. Am I to be blamed because I am my father’s son?’
‘Not for that reason but Adnár claims that you were involved in this conspiracy with Torcán. Are you denying that you know anything about this plot? Even though your friend Torcán was involved in it?’
Olcán’s face was an angry mask.
‘Torcán was a guest of my father’s. It was my father’s wish that I accompanied him to hunt and fish. I was asked to keep him company and extend every courtesy to him.’
‘Why did you come to the abbey the other day and question me and then go to see Odar on the Gaulish ship and question him?’
‘Because Torcán asked me to do so.’
The reply surprised Fidelma.
‘Do you obey Torcán without demanding an explanation as to why you should be an errand boy for him?’
‘No, it was not like that. Torcán said that he suspected that you and Ross were plotting something … He thought that you had interfered with Adnar’s right of salvage compensation for the Gaulish ship.’
‘And you believed that?’
‘I knew that there was something strange happening at this place. I knew that you and Ross seemed to be part of it.’
‘Are you saying
that you heard nothing about the insurrection until Adnár had you imprisoned?’
‘Truly. I was asleep in my bed yesterday morning when Adnár had his men wake and bring me here. Then he came by later that day and told me that he had killed Torcán. He told me that my father, Torcán and Eoganán of the Uí Fidgenti had been in some plot together to overthrow Cashel. By the holy cross of Christ, sister, I am not interested in power or principalities. I knew nothing of it.’
Fidelma shook her head wonderingly.
‘Your story is so weak, Olcán, that you might just betelling the truth. A conspirator, indeed, a murderer, would tend to weave some more elaborate tale.’
Eadulf looked at Fidelma with surprise. He had been thinking just how guilty Olcán’s tale had sounded.
‘Fidelma,’ he interrupted, ‘we have heard from Sister Comnat that Gulban’s capital was a military camp where Torcan was training Gulban’s men. How could Olcán not have been aware of this?’
‘I have not seen my father for several months. We do not mix well together. I have already explained that.’
‘How long have you been a guest of Adnár?’ Fidelma asked.
‘I arrived here two days before you. I think I mentioned as much to you previously.’
‘So you were not here when the headless corpse was found at the abbey?’
‘No. I told you so.’
‘Where were you before that?’
‘I was a guest of the chieftain of the clan of Duibhne.’
‘For how long?’
‘For three months.’
‘We have only to send to the chieftain of the Duibhne to verify this.’
‘By all means do so. I have nothing to hide.’
‘So when did you return to the Beara?’
‘A few days before I came to Adnár. I came more or less straight here knowing my welcome by Adnár would be better than any welcome my father would give me. He has already adopted a cousin of mine as tánaiste, his heir-elect. I have no ambitions among my father’s clan.’
‘Then how was Gulban able to ask you to play host to Torcán?’ Eadulf demanded.
‘It was the morning after Fidelma arrived here that Torcán arrived bringing a written message from my father requesting me to accompany him while he was hunting in the area. My father knew my preference lay in hunting rather than anyother pursuit. I probably still have the message in my baggage.’
‘And you heard no talk or rumours of conspiracy or insurrection?’
‘None, I swear it!’
‘How did Adnár come to learn of the plot against Cashel?’ pressed Eadulf.
‘I presume he heard it from Torcán or one of his men. I don’t know.’
‘But, he said …’ began Eadulf.
There was a sound at the cell door and Brother Febal stood in the entrance. There was anger on his handsome features.
‘What is the meaning of this? What right have you to be here, sister?’ he demanded, recognising Fidelma. ‘This young man is a prisoner of Adnár. He is accused of plotting against Cashel.’
‘I have the right to question him by reason of my rank and authority,’ Fidelma replied calmly. ‘You should know that, Febal.’
‘I can’t allow it without approval of Adnár.’
‘You do not have to.’ Fidelma gazed thoughtfully for a moment at Olcán. ‘I have finished with you, Olcán. Soon this matter will be heard before the chief Brehon of the Loigde. Until then you will have to put up with this new accommodation.’
‘But I am innocent!’ protested Olcán.
‘Then look on this passing misfortune as a test,’ Fidelma smiled. ‘Seneca, in De Providentia, warns us: ignis aurum probat, miseria fortes viros. Fire tests gold; adversity strong men. May you prove to be strong.’
She left the cell, followed by Eadulf.
Brother Febal followed them, motioning the guard to shut the door again.
‘I will have to report this to Adnár.’
‘Everyone in this fortress is now answerable to the Loigde warship anchored in the inlet and to Beccan, the chief judgeof the Loigde, acting as the voice of Bran Finn, your chieftain. Then it will not be up to Adnár to approve or disapprove. At the hearing we will discover the truth of these tragedies.’
Brother Febal regarded her resentfully.
‘There is no one more anxious than I am for that time. Then everything that I have said about Draigen will be brought into the open.’
Before he could say anything further, Fidelma had led Eadulf back in the direction of the small jetty outside the fortress. She surprised Eadulf by asking the waiting boatmen to row them back to the Gaulish merchant ship and once there asking Odar to join them.
‘I want you to take me to see that farmer from whom you obtained the horses,’ she told him.
‘Barr?’
‘Yes, that is the man. Is it far from here?’
‘A moderate walk across the mountain but easily done if we take it steadily,’ answered the sailor.
Barr was a stocky little man with a bushy brown beard and gave the impression of never washing. His clothes were as dirty as his face. He was hoeing a small patch of ground when they arrived. He regarded them with small dark eyes in a round face that caused Fidelma to think that a pig was handsome by comparison.
‘Odar,’ the farmer greeted in a gruff voice, ‘if you have come to trade for horses again, I have sold them. Cuirm is better comfort to me than horses during this cold winter.’
‘It is not for horses that we have come, Barr,’ Fidelma said.
The man waited, a questioning look on his face.
‘Have you found your daughter yet?’
The man gave a bark of laughter.
‘I have no daughter. What …’
His eyes went wide and a flush of guilt spread across his cheeks. Clearly Barr was not a good liar.
‘Why did you tell the abbess that your daughter was missing?’
Barr stood confused.
‘You were told to go to the abbey, weren’t you?’
‘There was nothing wrong in it,’ protested the farmer. ‘The young man told me to go and ask to see a corpse, pretending that my daughter had gone missing and that I was anxious to identify whether it was her or not.’
‘Of course. He offered you money?’
‘Enough to buy three good horses.’ The farmer pulled a face. ‘You see, I bargained with him. He was most anxious for my services.’
‘And exactly what were you supposed to do?’
‘Just look at the corpse, very carefully, mind you, and report back to the young man with a description.’
‘A description?’ Fidelma pressed. ‘And that is all?’
‘Yes. It was easy money.’
‘Achieved by lying to the abbess and her community,’ pointed out Fidelma. ‘Had you seen this young man before?’
‘No. Only when he stayed the night waiting for the woman.’
‘He stayed a night? Waiting for what woman?’
‘Some woman was supposed to meet him at my farm. She didn’t turn up. The next morning he went off but returned on the following morning and that is when we made our bargain.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘Better still. He had servants with him, I heard one of his men call him by name. It was the lord Torcán.
It was two days later, just as the community of the abbey of The Salmon of the Three Wells were emerging from the refectory having had the first meal of the day, that another warship came sailing into the inlet and took its station between Ross’s barc, the Gaulish merchant ship and theLoigde warship. It, too, bore the banners of the Loigde and of Cashel streaming from its masts.
Fidelma and Eadulf followed on the heels of Abbess Draigen, Beccan and Ross down to the quay to watch a small boat being launched from the newcomer. They could see a muscular young sailor taking the oars while a becloaked religieux sat incongruously next to a lean-looking warrior in the stern. As the boat came alongside the wooden quay, the agile
warrior jumped ashore first while the religieux had to be helped out by the sailor.
The warrior came up to Beccan, whom he clearly recognised, and saluted him.
‘This is Mail of the Loigde,’ introduced Beccan. But he stood uncertainly while the warrior’s companion, a cherub-faced young man clad as a brother of the faith, came up and saluted them with a general gesture. The young monk was pleasant looking. In spite of his ruddy cheeks, and soft baby-like features, there was something which gave him an aura of command.
‘I am Brother Cillín of Mullach,’ he announced.
Mail, the warrior, obviously decided that a further introduction was needed.
‘Brother Cillín has recently served at Ros Ailithir. He was sent by Abbot Brocc and Bran Finn to this place after they heard of the sad state of affairs.’
Brother Cillín regarded them solemnly.
‘I have effectively been given charge of all the religious on this peninsula.’
There was an audible gasp from Abbess Draigen. Cillín heard it and smiled as he let his eyes flicker in her direction.
‘I am given the task by Abbot Brocc to reorganise the religious and try to return them to the ways of the Faith and obedience to their lawful rulers. I will be here but a day or so before starting north for Gulban’s capital.’
Fidelma caught sight of the expression on the abbess’s features. Clearly she would not greet Cillín in friendship.
‘Brother Cillín,’ Fidelma stepped forward and greeted the monk, performing the introductions. ‘Do you bring any news from Ros Ailithir?’
‘I do, indeed, sister. I do indeed. Eoganán and his rebels have made their move. Have you not heard the news of this?’
Anxiety immediately tugged at Fidelma’s heart.
‘You mean Eoganán has actually risen against Cashel? What news of my brother, Colgú?’ She tried to keep anxiety out of her voice.
‘Have no fear,’ Mail, the warrior, replied quickly. ‘Colgú is safe in Cashel. The insurrection is over. Indeed, it was over almost before it had begun.’
‘Do you have details?’ asked Beccan. Fidelma was too relieved to speak.
‘It appears that Colgú ordered his warriors to strike against Eoganán and the Ui Fidgenti before they were prepared. The insurrection was planned for spring when the ground would have been harder and they could move their Frankish engines of destruction which Gulban had acquired. The Arada clan led the attack directly into the territory of the Ui Fidgenti.’
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