The Lair of the White Fox (e-novella) (Kindle Single)

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Where is Lúach?’ she asked, growing irritable at what she saw as a prevarication. ‘Why is she not here to greet me?’

  There was a movement behind her and she swung round. The man who had entered noiselessly was obviously an elderly noble whose dress ostentatiously proclaimed his wealth. His hair was white, the eyes blue, but in spite of the wrinkles of age that marked his features there was something of the quality of Lúach in his face. Perhaps it was the humour lines but which were now moulded with tension and worry. He came forward with a stooping limp. It seemed to Fidelma that he carried the troubles of the world on his rounded shoulders.

  ‘Lúach is not here, Fidelma,’ he said quietly. ‘She has been missing for five days. We have had to accept that she has met with some terrible accident and is dead.’

  II

  There was a silence while Fidelma sought to digest this information. She was unable to absorb the full meaning of what the man was saying. Before she could speak he had moved forward and was holding his hand out to her.

  ‘I am Ossen, Lúach’s father. We heard from Lúach that you were to be expected but you arrived in a rather unexpected way.’

  ‘My own coach smashed a wheel and I did not wish to wait for the days it would have taken to repair it. Therefore a passing merchant gave me transport on his wagon.’ She felt she had to offer the explanation while dealing with the shock of what she had been told and trying to still the flood of questions that arose in her mind.

  The woman, Orla, sniffed in disapproval. ‘Is that how a lady of Cashel behaves, riding with merchants?’

  ‘It is how a friend behaves when she does not want to let down her friend by delaying her arrival,’ Fidelma found herself replying coldly.

  ‘I have told my steward to pay the merchant. You are our guest.’ Ossen waved her to a seat before he awkwardly lowered himself into his chair of office. ‘You are welcome to Dún Dealgan for my daughter’s sake. We had hoped to welcome you in happiness but …’ He ended with a shrug. The Prince then looked to his wife with disapproval. ‘Our guest has not been offered refreshments. Orla, send for refreshments. I trust you will excuse our breach of etiquette, Fidelma?’

  Orla, a red hue on her cheeks showing her displeasure at being embarrassed in front of Fidelma, clapped her hands loudly. Two female servants hurried from a side room anticipating her orders with trays of drinks and freshly baked cakes. They placed these on a nearby table before serving. Fidelma chose a goblet of apple juice sweetened with honey and a flat cake of barley, also sweetened with honey, still warm from the griddle. She took a sip of the apple juice, as the custom of hospitality dictated, but did not feel like drinking or eating at the news that she had just been told.

  ‘When did Lúach go missing?’ Fidelma asked, trying to gather her thoughts, while suppressing the black sensation that caused her to feel that her heart had stopped beating.

  ‘Five days ago, Fidelma,’ sighed the elderly prince.

  ‘Perhaps you could begin by telling me what has happened?’ she suggested.

  ‘My daughter arrived here about a week ago. She told us that she was expecting you to arrive within the week to be her guest for a while. She said that you had become good friends while she was studying with Brehon Morann.’

  ‘That is right,’ Fidelma confirmed. ‘I only came to know her well in this last year. She came to study at Brehon Morann’s law school after me. She was about to attain the degree of Dos, having been studying there for four years.’

  ‘I was so happy that she had achieved so much.’ Ossen was shaking his head in reflection.

  ‘She has a quick and able mind,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘One morning, she disappeared from the fortress. She often went riding first thing in the morning and it was presumed that she had done so. But when she did not return at the end of the day I began to fear the worst. Ibor, my best tracker, went out but could not find any sign of her.’

  ‘How widely did he search?’ Fidelma pressed. ‘It is easy to have an accident while riding and there are many misfortunes that might overcome an injured person.’

  Ossen grimaced and Fidelma saw how he was trying to keep his anxiety in check.

  ‘I know – wolves, wild boar, wildcats, even stags can be dangerous at this time of year. Ibor knows the country well and if he could not find her tracks then no one could.’

  Fidelma was surprised. ‘Did she say anything before she left? I mean, could she have simply gone to visit a relative?’

  ‘My first thought,’ agreed Ossen. ‘The only place she felt comfortable visiting was the fortress of her mother’s brother which is only four kilometres north-west of here.’

  ‘Her mother’s brother?’ To Fidelma it seemed an odd way of describing a relative.

  ‘Mugrón is her uncle. He holds the fortress of Fochard which guards the southern end of Pass of the King, the valley on the road to the northern kingdoms.’

  ‘Was anyone sent to Fochard to see if she had gone there?’

  ‘Of course. Mugrón assured them that she was not there.’

  ‘There is no other person that she would have gone calling on?’ pressed Fidelma.

  ‘You ask too many questions for a young girl,’ Orla suddenly interrupted. She had been sitting, fidgeting in her chair, clearly resenting the fact that her husband was talking with Fidelma on equal terms. Fidelma wondered at the woman’s lack of grace and etiquette.

  Fidelma’s mouth tightened. ‘Asking questions is the path to knowledge,’ she replied coldly.

  ‘We consider questions are best left to my husband’s Brehon. At least he can ask the right questions,’ Orla replied with a sneer.

  Fidelma bridled at the attempt to disparage her. ‘I hold the degree of Cli in law and will soon be taking the degree of Anruth. Even if Lúach were not my friend, therefore entitled to my concern about her well-being, I am already qualified to investigate certain matters on my own behalf.’

  It was actually an unusual speech for her to make for she was by nature taciturn and not given to boasting. But this woman, Orla, seemed to bring out such anger in her that she could not help but respond in kind.

  Orla, her expression twisted in anger, eyes flashing, opened her mouth to respond. However, Prince Ossen intervened quickly. ‘I appreciate your concern for my daughter, Fidelma. I am well acquainted with the rights of a dálaigh of the degrees you hold. But an investigation has been conducted.’

  ‘We have consulted with our own Brehon,’ Orla emphasised firmly.

  ‘This Brehon has investigated Lúach’s disappearance but has not been able to offer any explanation?’

  Prince Ossen sighed. ‘He personally went to see Mugrón together with Ibor, who is also the commander of my warriors. He has also sent out word to see if anyone on the remote farmsteads had seen or heard anything. As I say, no one seems to have any idea of what may have become of her. As time has passed and she has not been in touch with us, we must admit the inevitable.’

  Fidelma was silent for a moment. Five days was a long time to have disappeared without contact. Of course, sometimes it happened that a horse could go lame or some other accident happen but it was not reasonable to think that one was unable to find anyone to pass on a message. She felt the cold blackness again.

  ‘The conclusion of your Brehon being?’ she asked hollowly.

  It was Orla who replied. ‘One does not have to be a lawyer to work it out. The girl has met with a tragic accident and, after five days, injured and undiscovered, what results is inevitable.’

  ‘Who is your Brehon?’ Fidelma queried after some moments, still trying to come to terms with the news.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ Orla countered.

  Fidelma did not bother to answer her but continued to gaze directly at Ossen. The man shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘His name is Dergnat of the Peaked Hill. He has been in my household as my legal advisor for a year or so now.’

  ‘Dergnat?’ Fidelma won
dered if a joke had been made. The name meant a ‘flea’ but then she realised it could be applied to a restless person. ‘I would like to meet with him to discuss his investigation.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that you have some legal authority to question him?’ came the argumentative voice of Orla.

  Fidelma almost lost her temper at the constant irritation she felt at the badgering tone of the woman. It was that peculiar pitch of the voice that seemed to grate against her senses. She managed to turn calmly to the Prince’s wife. ‘I do not suggest anything. My rights and the parameters of what I am allowed to do are clearly defined in law as your Brehon will inform you. I merely express my concern at the disappearance of my friend with whom I came to spend what was to be an enjoyable few days before returning to Tara. Now I find her disappeared and am told that she must be dead. I would like to be assured that all that should have been done has been done.’

  The Prince was clearly worried. ‘I think we can assure you of that. I have followed the advice of Dergnat in this tragedy most carefully. However, you will see him at the evening meeting.’

  ‘Then, with your permission, I would like to retire for a bath and rest.’

  Prince Ossen gave a meaningful glance at his wife. ‘I am sure the order for the heating of water and the preparation of your chamber has already been given.’

  Orla’s mouth tightened and she rose. ‘I shall instruct Muirenn to attend her,’ she said, replying to her husband before she left the hall without a further word.

  Prince Ossen tried to give Fidelma a look of reassurance. ‘Muirenn is my daughter’s personal attendant,’ he explained, covering any embarrassment he felt. It was obvious that such matters had not been attended to. ‘I am truly sorry that you don’t find my household at its best but you will appreciate the reasons. Perhaps your young fresh eyes may see something that we have missed. My daughter means the world to me.’

  Fidelma tried to ignore the tears that suddenly streamed into the elderly man’s eyes.

  ‘Then if I can be shown the way …?’ began Fidelma, rising to hide her embarrassment. The action was interrupted by a young, chestnut-brown-haired girl entering the hall. She came forward awkwardly with a smile.

  ‘Ah, Muirenn.’ The elderly prince acknowledged her presence. ‘This is the lady Fidelma, a friend of Lúach. While she remains in our fortress, you will take care of her as you would take care of Lúach.’

  The girl bowed her head quickly to the Ossen.

  ‘It shall be done. Alas, I have only just been told of the lady’s arrival. But I shall give orders for the water to be heated and the chamber prepared.’

  ‘It should have already been done,’ the Prince admonished automatically. Then he seemed to realise that this was not the girl’s fault and half lifted a hand then let it fall as if it was a gesture of apology.

  ‘Go with her, Fidelma. I will see you at the evening meal later.’

  The girl, Muirenn, turned to Fidelma with a quick smile: ‘If you will come with me, lady, I will show you to your chamber while the bath is being prepared.’ She glanced at Fidelma’s bag which still lay where Fidelma had placed it when she had entered the hall. ‘Is that your bag, lady?’

  Fidelma acknowledged her bag, which the girl picked up as she led the way from the hall.

  III

  Muirenn led the way across the courtyard to another large building that seemed to be an intrinsic part of the eastern wall of the fortress. Its tall limestone frontage was now bathed in the light of the afternoon sun that hung in the sky above the west wall. She noticed that the building rose to some seven or eight metres in height which was very impressive. Next to it was a smaller building from which smoke was emerging through chimneys. Through the entrance to this building men and women occasionally passed carrying sacks and trays.

  ‘That’s the cuchtar, the cooking house, lady,’ Muirenn explained, seeing her glance. ‘It’s where all the meals are prepared for the household and those attending them.’ The girl then indicated the taller structure to which they were heading. ‘These serve as quarters not only for attendants but the top storey is where the lady Lúach preferred to have her chamber. Also it’s where special guests such as you are accommodated. The floor underneath that one is where some of the senior members of the Prince’s retinue are accommodated. Will you mind climbing the stairs?’

  Fidelma shook her head in answer. ‘Why aren’t the guests accommodated on the first level of the building?’ she asked.

  ‘The tech-fithraichthe, the bath house, is on that level. I am afraid it will take a short while for the stones to be heated for your bath.’ The girl was apologetic. ‘In truth, the lady Orla had only just mentioned your arrival and given instructions a short time ago.’

  The way of heating the water for the fothrucud, or bath, was often by heating stones which were then carried to the water which was contained in a dabach or big wooden tub.

  ‘It is of no immediate consequence,’ Fidelma assured the anxious attendant. ‘I think the lady Orla had other things on her mind and so forgot to give the necessary orders for my chamber and bath to be prepared when I arrived.’

  ‘I am sure that is so, lady.’ Muirenn grimaced and her voice held a dryness which made Fidelma think that the girl had not liking for the wife of the Prince.

  ‘But surely your bath house does not take up the entire length of the lower level?’ she asked, looking at the size of the building.

  ‘Between the bath house and the cook house is where the food stores are found. It takes up much space as the Prince allows Sranacháin to conduct trade which gives much profit to Dún Dealgan. As well as storage, there is an area for preparation, cutting the meat, for example. We even have a talam there.’

  Fidelma knew that larger houses and fortresses usually had a talam or an underground chamber, often lined with wood, in which foodstuffs were stored to keep fresh for as long as possible.

  She followed the girl up the circular, stone-flagged stairs, rising as if in a tower, to the upper floor. This finally gave entrance to a long corridor with several doors on either side. The chamber she was shown to was small but with a window to one side. There was also a stone hearth built into one of the outer walls in which a small fire had been lit. There was a window east facing but the room was light and comfortable. The chamber contained a good-sized bed, chairs and a table and hooks for hanging clothes. Muirenn placed Fidelma’s bag on a chair.

  ‘Do you have all you need for your toiletry in your cíorbholg?’ she asked, indicating Fidelma’s comb bag. The comb bag was not only where combs were kept but all manner of scents and aids to one’s cleanliness and beauty, even a scathan or mirror and often sleic or soap. When Fidelma acknowledged that she had these things, Muirenn added: ‘We do have such items should you require them when you go down for your bath.’ Then she paused and added: ‘The next chamber to this is the one used by Lady Lúach. When she told me you were coming, she was much excited and looking forward to your visit.’

  She suddenly turned, embarrassed, and busied herself checking the bedding as if to hide it.

  ‘I am told that you attended Lúach?’ observed Fidelma in a kindly tone.

  The girl hesitated and turned back. ‘I did and we were more like friends, for my mother once served in this fortress and so I grew up with her.’

  ‘Do you agree with the opinion that I have heard – some accident has befallen her?’

  ‘It is hard to believe it. She was an excellent horsewoman,’ replied the girl, not really addressing the question.

  ‘What do you know about her disappearance?’

  The girl paused as she was placing a pillow on the bed. Then she set it down and regarded Fidelma with a troubled expression.

  ‘If truth were known, I am perplexed, lady. I found it curious that if she were going for a morning ride, she would not have informed me. Two days ago I was sure that I saw the stable master exercising Lúach’s horse, the one she always rode when she was here so she must h
ave been on a strange horse.’

  ‘Are you saying that you did not see her on the morning that she disappeared?’

  ‘I had gone to my mother’s bothán the previous evening. Her cabin is a short walk south from here. I had left Lúach late in the afternoon when she returned from her uncle’s fortress. She said that she would not require my services that evening. She told me that she had promised to attend a meal with her father and the lady Orla. They had something they wanted to discuss alone with her. She was a little pensive because she never really enjoyed the company of her stepmother. She said that she would not need me until the next morning.’

  ‘So the next morning you arrived back here and found her missing? When was that?’

  ‘It was not long after first light. I had waited until the sun was rising before I left my mother’s bothán. I walked straight back. The gates were just being opened as was the custom. I went directly to Lúach’s chamber. I found it empty. When I asked where she was, no one said that they had seen her that morning. Brother Máranáin, that’s the chaplain here, said she had retired to her chamber after the evening meal but no one had seen her after that.’

  ‘You are saying, if she had left that morning, then she must have left early?’

  ‘It was certainly very early because of the time I arrived here. ’

  ‘Well, someone must have seen her leave.’

  ‘Prince Ossen’s dálaigh was appointed to make such an investigation and he must have asked that question.’

  ‘You said that Lúach spoke happily about my impending visit. It does seem worrying that, having invited me to come and spend time with her, she rides off and disappears unless she did, indeed, meet with an accident in the way it is feared. If there was another explanation, and she had a reason to disappear, then you, above all people, would surely know about it. I suppose that she did not leave any message for me?’

  ‘There was nothing so far as I could see.’

  ‘So what do you think has happened?