‘I presume by this prince that you mean Torcan?’ intervened Beccan.
‘I do,’ Fidelma acknowledged. ‘Torcán, for no othermotive than greed, brought Almu to the abbey. He arranged to meet with her later at the farm of Barr. Innocently, Almu arrived back. What were Síomha and her companion to do when Almu returned? We know what happened to her. Torcán was waiting at the farm. You can imagine his annoyance when she did not return. He probably thought that she had betrayed him. He waited there all night.
‘There was no word the next day and he left. But then he returned. He learned that a corpse had been discovered in the abbey. Torcán paid the farmer to go to the abbey and say his daughter was missing and asked to see the body in case it was her. The farmer had no daughter, missing or otherwise. The farmer returned and gave a description of the corpse. In spite of its decapitation, Torcán recognised the description. Barr will confirm all this, by the way.’
Heads were craning to where the farmer sat shuffling his feet, eyes downcast.
‘Torcán recognised the description of the corpse while we did not?’ sneered Abbess Draigen cynically. ‘It is too much to believe.’
‘But it is the truth. You were all misled by Sister Síomha’s denial that it was her friend. Almu had undoubtedly told Torcan that her friend Síomha was a party to the secret. When he knew that Síomha had failed to identify Almu then he began to suspect that Síomha was involved in obtaining the treasure for herself.’
‘Are you saying that Sister Síomha killed Almu?’ Abbess Draigen was once more on her feet, a tone of querulous amazement in her voice, forgetting the censure of the Brehon.
‘If she did not do the actual deed, then she was a partner to it. I began to suspect Síomha’s involvement because of these facts: firstly, she was a good friend of Almu but said that the body was definitely not that of her friend. It is just possible she did not recognise the corpse but so unlikely as to be discounted. Secondly, Síomha clearly lied when she toldSister Brónach that she had drawn water from the well shortly before they found the corpse. The body of Almu had to have been placed down the well by Síomha and her companion before daylight otherwise the risks would have been too great. A third matter made me realise Síomha’s involvement and that was her miscalculations that night with the water-clock.’
‘Miscalculations?’ queried Draigen sharply.
‘Síomha was said to be very meticulous. On the night of Almu’s murder, she made several miscalculations which Sister Brónach mentioned to me in passing. In other words, at some point, Síomha had to leave the water-clock and the tower to go to the help of her companion in dealing with Almu. You see, Almu went, or was lured, down to the excavated cave for she had red mud under her fingernails. The same mud, I was told, was on her body before it was washed for burial. Sister Síomha had missed the essential time sequences and had to fudge them later. Errors that were picked up by Sister Brónach when she took over the watch early the next morning.’
‘Why didn’t Torcán come to the abbey to search for the gold calf immediately?’ asked Beccan.
‘Torcán had to return to the copper mines for a few days due to his involvement in the conspiracy. When he returned to Adnar’s fortress and contacted Sister Siomha, he thought he was dealing only with her and demanded that she bring him a copy of the book which had the references he needed. He did not know which book it was. Siomha, taking advantage of this, sent him a copy of the annals of Clonmacnoise. In addition, suspecting that Torcán was likely to betray her, she decided to send the book by Sister Lerben. As a further precaution, Síomha cut the two essential pages from the real book, the Teagasg Rí, which was still in the library, and gave them to her companion.
‘By chance I happened to be going to Adnar’s fortress a short time before Torcán was expecting Síomha to travel thatpath through the wood bearing the copy of the book. I was mistaken for Síomha and shot at. I barely escaped the arrow meant for Síomha. When Torcán and his men realised their mistake they tried to cover it up by claiming they were hunting and had mistaken me for a deer. It was a weak story. And my suspicion was confirmed when a short while later, Sister Lerben appeared along that woodland path bearing a book to deliver to Torcan.’
Sister Lerben was sitting with her face almost the colour of snow.
‘I could have been killed!’ she blurted.
Fidelma ignored her and added: ‘It did not take too long for Torcán to realise that he had been duped. He went to find Siomha.’
‘And slew her?’ Beccan demanded.
‘No. Síomha’s companion in this intrigue had now realised that Síomha was a liability.’
‘Ah, the companion,’ breathed Beccan. ‘I was losing sight of this mysterious companion.’
‘Síomha was now Torcan’s open link to that companion. So Síomha had to be killed to prevent Torcán discovering the truth.’
‘And who was this companion?’ demanded Draigen. ‘You have spoken much about this companion but you have not identified who the companion was.’
‘The companion was Síomha’s lover. The person responsible for both the murders of Almu and Siomha.’
The excitement in the chapel was full of tension.
‘In both murders it had been the idea of this person to present the corpses in such a way that a two-fold purpose would be achieved. Some symbolism would be placed on the bodies in order to throw any investigator off the scent and would, at the same time, put fear into the abbey community; perhaps even in the hope that such fear would drive members of the community away from the abbey because they might believe it was under a pagan curse. So the victims weredecapitated and a fé bound on one arm and a crucifix placed in the opposite hand.
‘By now, of course, Torcán was not so much concerned with his father’s insurrection against Cashel. Perhaps he never was. He was concerned with obtaining a personal fortune which would make him rich and with those riches he would have power. His greed overcame his good sense. He knew that I was on the trail of this mystery and he used young Olcan as a decoy, sending him to the abbey and to the Gaulish ship to ask certain questions which would place suspicion on Olcán.
‘Torcán kept a close watch on me. I confess that I did not know how close. He followed Eadulf and me into the cave when we discovered the entrance to the so-called treasure cave. He followed us in and knocked Eadulf momentarily unconscious. I suspect that he thought that we had already discovered the gold calf and was about to attempt frightening me into revealing to him what he thought I knew.’
‘Adnár says Torcán was about to kill you when he intervened to save your life,’ Beccan pointed out.
‘Adnár was wrong. No deaths can be laid at the feet of Torcan in this matter. Only one attempted killing when he thought I was Síomha. Torcán would not have killed me in the cave until he had obtained the information which he believed that I could give him about the gold calf.’
‘You have spoken about Síomha’s mysterious companion as her lover. It seems to be that you are pointing the finger at Adnar.’
‘Síomha’s lover!’ The Abbess Draigen had half-turned angrily to regard her brother with a look of disgust. ‘I might have suspected.’
‘That is not so!’ shouted Adnár. ‘I was never Síomha’s lover.’
‘Yet Síomha spent enough time at your fortress, especially during these last three weeks,’ replied Sister Lerben. ‘I told Sister Fidelma so.’
There was a restless murmur from the community.
‘You are wrong,’ Fidelma said. ‘Adnár was not Síomha’s lover.’
A tense silence fell.
‘You have lost me, Sister Fidelma,’ Beccan said slowly. ‘Of whom, then, are you speaking?’
‘As chance would have it, Sister Berrach actually saw him just after he had killed Síomha. In fact, he was probably in the very act of carrying Síomha’s mutilated head down to the subterraneus. Berrach saw a cowled figure. Consider. There was only one person who had fed Adnár with lies about Draigen; onl
y one person who tried to feed me with those same lies; only one person who has been the subtle serpent whispering here and there and guiding people in this tragedy; only one person who was not of this community yet who could wear a cowl.’
Brother Febal had leapt to his feet and was pushing his way towards the window of the duirthech.
The warrior Mail and his men were there before him, dragging Febal back as he attempted to clamber through it.
There were gasps of astonishment and horror.
Adnár was sitting pale and shaking as he saw them binding Febal.
‘Brother Febal told you that it was Torcán who was behind everything, didn’t he?’ Fidelma asked Adnár. ‘Febal was good at spreading stories. He gave you the two pages which had been removed from the Teagasg Rí …’
‘I thought that you said that you found the two pages on Torcan’s body?’ intervened Beccan.
‘So I did. How did they get there? Brother Febal gave them to Adnár …’
‘He said that he had found them in Torcan’s saddle bags,’ Adnár admitted.
‘Did he suggest that you should plant them on Torcan’s body?’
Adnár hung his head.
‘I really did think that he was going to kill you. I believed all that Febal had told me. But it was my idea to leave the pages on Torcan. When we went into the larger cave, I thought that you might not have all the evidence you needed to lay the blame on Torcan. Febal said he found the pages in Torcan’s saddle bags and so I decided to place them on his body for you to find.’
‘I know. You made an excuse to return to the body while I was nursing Brother Eadulf in order to place the pages on Torcan.’
Adnár was surprised.
‘How did you know?’
‘It is no mystery. You remember that I bent down to examine Torcán before we removed Brother Eadulf to the other cave. When I returned with Eadulf, after you had returned there, I saw the bulky pages under Torcan’s shirt. I knew that they had not been there when I checked to ensure that he was dead. It was obvious that you had placed them there.’
‘So,’ Beccan interrupted with a sigh, ‘are you saying that Adnár is not guilty of involvement in this matter? That he was misled and manipulated by Brother Febal?’
‘Adnár was not guilty of involvement with the murders of Almu and Síomha nor did he really know about the hunt for the gold calf. He is, however, guilty of complicity in the conspiracy of insurrection against Cashel.’
Adnár rose looking desperately about him.
‘But I warned you about it!’ he protested. ‘I warned you about the insurrection before it became generally known.’
‘This is so,’ whispered Brother Eadulf. ‘He did warn us.’ Fidelma ignored him.
‘Yes, Adnár,’ she said. ‘You warned me of it when it had already failed. Messengers arrived at your fortress in the early hours of that morning, the morning when you decided to arrest Olcán and follow Torcán to the cave. They came to inform you and Torcán that Gulban had been killed and theFrankish mercenaries and their weapons destroyed. I actually saw them arriving while I was making my way to meet with Brother Eadulf. Perhaps that was what compelled Torcán to come into the open and come to the abbey for one last desperate search for the gold calf.’
It was clear from the expression on Adnar’s face that Fidelma had scored a point.
‘You knew you would soon have to clear yourself of the charge of conspiracy. To show your loyalty, you first seized Gulban’s son Olcán, who, in fact, was innocent of any complicity in the plot for the insurrection. Then you followed Torcán here and were so able to warn me about the insurrection knowing that Gulban’s part in it had already failed.’
Beccan had a whispered exchange with his scribe before turning to Fidelma.
‘Let me get this straight, sister. Adnár is not guilty of killing Sisters Almu and Síomha. But what you are implying is that he slew Torcán believing it was justifiable?’
‘It is confusing,’ admitted Fidelma, ‘but the fact is, while he thought Torcán was guilty of murdering Almu and Síomha, he also killed him in premeditation in order to prevent him revealing that he, Adnár, was part of the insurrection. He is, therefore, still guilty of murder.’
There was a moment of silence before Adnár started to protest.
‘You can’t prove that I knew about the plot and what was happening at the copper mines.’
‘I think I can,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘You see, when you entered the cave and slew Torcan, you were able to recognise Brother Eadulf here by name. How would you know who he was if you did not know what was going on at the copper mines and that he had just escaped from them?’
Adnár made to speak but hesitated, his guilt written on his face. He sat down abruptly as if the strength had left him.
Beccan looked satisfied as he addressed Fidelma.
‘This leaves Brother Febal as the murderer of Almu and Siomha?’
‘That is so. He slew Almu and laid the false trail. When Torcan came close to him, he sacrificed Síomha. And Síomha was his lover.’ She looked across to Sister Lerben. ‘Síomha was not visiting Adnár at Dún Boí, as you thought, but Febal.’
Brother Febal had stood, hands bound, between the two warriors. He started to laugh, a slight hysterical note in his voice.
‘All very clever, dálaigh! Didn’t I tell you once that all you women stick together. Well, dálaigh, tell me this; where is the gold calf now? If I have done so much to find it, where is it now?’
The Brehon Beccan looked across to Fidelma.
‘Though we seem to have enough evidence and confession, Febal has raised an interesting point. Where is this fabulous gold calf that has cost so much blood?’
Fidelma shrugged eloquently.
‘Alas, that is a mystery that may never be solved.’
There were gasps of astonishment.
‘You mean my sacrifice was for nothing?’ Febal’s voice rose to a high pitch.
‘Your sacrifice?’ thundered Beccan. ‘You killed two members of this community and your scheming caused the death of Torcán.’ He gestured to the warriors. ‘Remove him from this place and take him aboard my vessel. Adnár also. They will be taken to Cashel.’
Adnár and Febal were hustled from the duirthech by Mail and his warriors.
Beccan gazed quizzically at Fidelma.
‘Are you saying that this gold calf never really existed?’ he asked.
Fidelma gave a wry grimace.
‘I think it probably did. Who are we to doubt the words of the ancient chronicles? But it is certainly no longer in thecave. It may be that it was removed from that cave many long years ago. And perhaps that may be the reason as to why the entrance had been blocked up. Perhaps, years ago, one could enter that cave complex from the inlet and that was how people originally went in and out.’
‘What makes you say this?’
‘Because of the casks. The two wooden casks floating on the underground pool, knocking into each other.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘Simple enough. How had the casks come into the cave? How could the statue have been placed in that cave or have been removed? The entrance through which Febal and Síomha gained their access was, as I and Eadulf know, only two feet wide. The logic is that the casks came by another entrance and through that same entrance the statue had been placed or removed. One thing more; the casks were less than a century old by the look of them. They were certainly no older for they were not rotten. They were still fairly dry inside and firm enough to create the hollow knocking when they banged together. I’d hazard a guess that when those casks were taken into the cave, the gold calf was taken out.’
‘So we may never know who removed the gold calf or its whereabouts now?’
Fidelma’s lips twitched slightly. Before answering she let her gaze wander slowly around from the large gold altar cross and the other gold icons hanging on the walls of the duirthech. Then she returned her mocking blue eyes to the figu
re of the Brehon.
‘I think, perhaps, when Necht the Pure drove the pagan Dedelchú and his people away from here and purified this place in the new Faith, the gold calf vanished with them.’
There was a pause and then the Brehon rose from his seat.
‘This hearing is now ended. We have seen here today much wisdom from you, Fidelma of Kildare,’ Beccan said approvingly.
Fidelma shrugged diffidently.
‘Vitam regit fortuna non sapientia,’ she responded in deprecation.
‘If chance, not wisdom, governs human life,’ retorted the Brehon dryly, ‘then you are truly possessed of a great deal of luck.’
Epilogue
Fidelma met Brother Cillín at the door of the chapel.
‘Congratulations, sister. It was a complicated case well presented.’
‘Febal is not the only one here who seems to have fallen from the path of the Faith,’ Fidelma said pointedly.
Brother Cillín glanced in the direction in which she had been looking and saw Abbess Draigen talking intently to Sister Lerben.
‘Ah yes. The arrogance of the abbess. Vanitas vanitatum, omnis vanitas. I have the authority from Abbot Brocc to request that the abbess go on a pilgrimage in order that she may discover true humility again. Sister Brónach will be placed in charge of the abbey here under my direction.’
‘I understood that you were going to Gulban’s capital across the mountains?’
‘I am. I intend to raise a new religious house there and this abbey, once cleansed of the sin of pride, will take instruction from it. Let us pray that Abbess Draigen may accept the lesson and learn from it.’
‘Was it Syrus who said vincit qui se vincit — they conquer who conquer themselves?’
Brother Cillín chuckled.
‘Who knows themselves and overcomes their problems can go on to achieve many things in life. It is a fine thought. I hope that it is not too late and that Draigen is not as arrogant as to misunderstand the sentiment.’
‘Will you be able to insist that she obeys? She is not someone who meekly accepts instruction?’
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