‘And before that?’
‘I was on an island in Loch Cuan; it was called the place of the nine ridges, Naoindroim, a little abbey founded by the Blessed Caolán, who was nicknamed Machaoi – our path.’
‘This Loch Cuan, is that north of here?’
‘It is, the loch is just south of Beannchar,’ Dergnat intervened. ‘One side of the loch is a peninsula of the Echach na nArada and on the other is the territory of the Dál Fiatach.’
‘Ah, and Beannchar is where you come from?’
‘I attended the ecclesiastical college there,’ confirmed the young dálaigh.
Fidelma inclined her head and turned back to Brother Máranáin. ‘What made you leave it to come south?’
‘For a while, as I say, I tried to take the word of the Faith to the lawless thieves of Cualigne. A worthless task. So then I moved south and found Prince Ossen in need of a chaplain.’
‘You were saying that Lúach asked about obedience to one’s parents,’ she brought the subject back again. ‘That seems logical if she had just rejected the wishes of her father and stepmother to get married. What did you tell her?’
‘Naturally I told her that throughout the holy scriptures there was an exhortation to honour one’s father and mother.’
‘And what was her reaction to that?’
‘When I told her that, she asked me whether honour was the same as obedience for she argued that one could honour someone but did not have to obey them.’
‘That is a good legal point,’ Fidelma reflected.
‘Not in my eyes nor according to the Faith,’ Brother Máranáin replied sternly. ‘I pointed out that the Blessed Paul, in his letter to Ephesians, used the word “obey” specifically.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She asked me something which I felt was strange. She asked me if I knew the true meaning of the essence of love. Well, I began to expand about the love taught by Christ but she shook her head. She demanded to know what love between a man and a woman meant.’
‘And could you answer her?’
‘What would I know of that? I told her to beware of it. Aeger amore, Livy called it. A sickness. As for myself, I follow the teaching of the eastern aesthetes, believing that the love of the religious is reserved solely for Christ.’
‘Surely the religious concern should be the love for the people that they are supposed to be taking care of?’ Dergnat snapped.
‘Lúach’s conversation with Brother Máranáin is irrelevant to the girl’s disappearance,’ Orla interrupted with a tone of exasperation. ‘The fact is that she left the fortress and has since disappeared without trace and we can only conclude the worst.’
Fidelma sat back and regarded the young Dergnat thoughtfully for a moment.
‘Do you think it irrelevant, dálaigh?’ she asked softly.
The young man glanced up quickly, dropped his eyes and then raised them to look at her again. There was a faint blush on his cheeks as he seemed to struggle to find a comment.
‘I would say that the facts are more relevant,’ he replied flatly. ‘These are simple. That one morning, the Lady Lúach left this fortress. When she had not returned by late afternoon, an alarm was raised. Trackers were sent out but could not find anything, although it was reported that someone who might have been Lúach was seen on the eastward trail earlier that day. As that might have been the route to the fortress of Lúach’s uncle at Fochard, Ibor, the guard commander, and I went there. However, her uncle, Mugrón, had no knowledge of her whereabouts. Five days have now gone by and there is no sign of her.’ He sighed with a shrug. ‘I can only conclude that she has met with some accident and I am afraid that the worst has happened.’
With a muttered exclamation of distress, Ossen suddenly rose from the table and left the room.
Orla was grim faced. ‘My husband finds it hard to accept the reality of the loss of his precious daughter. I must go to him.’ She stood up quickly and followed Ossen from the hall.
‘It is understandable,’ Brother Máranáin shrugged. ‘Lúach was Ossen’s only child and to hear that she must be dead somewhere out in the wilderness beyond this fortress is hard for any parent. Even for many of us, it is hard to accept her death. She was a person that was loved and was loveable, as you must know, Fidelma.’
Was there a scowl on Dergnat’s face as he glanced at Brother Máranáin? Fidelma’s glance swept round the occupants of the room.
‘I take it, then, that all of you share Dergnat’s considered opinion which is that she has met with a terrible accident and is dead?’ she asked slowly.
‘There is no credible alternative to her disappearance,’ Dergnat announced hollowly. ‘Had she survived with any injury that made it impossible for her to contact the fortress then she would be dead now. Had she survived an accident and someone had found her alive, then someone would have let us know. I have even considered that she was taken in some raid by brigands. If so, they would have soon found out who she was and demanded ransom from us.’
Brother Máranáin rose abruptly with a muttered apology. ‘The hour goes late and I have some matters to attend to in my hermitage.’
Sranacháin, the steward, saw Fidelma’s puzzled look and explained. ‘He spends more days out of the fortress than in it. He has a place not far from the fortress down by the river where he pretends to be a religious recluse and retires there in solitude and prayer.’
V
The departure of Brother Máranáin signalled the end of what Fidelma felt was one of the bleakest and most depressing meals she had attended. Fidelma found her way back to her chamber by herself. She was coming to the conclusion that the young dálaigh was right. The facts were simple and there seemed no other interpretation. Lúach had left the fortress, presumably gone for a solitary ride, perhaps to think over the matter of the marriage that her father and stepmother wanted her to make, and had met with some accident. In spite of the best efforts of Ossen’s tracker, Ibor, no sign of her or her horse had been found. A wave of bitter grief overcame Fidelma for the loss of her friend. It was a feeling of suddenly being alone and made more acute for she had been a younger girl who exuded the brightness of living; a joyous attitude to life. Life should not be so short but then life was not just.
She sat on her bed turning matters carefully over in her mind. Even with all the apparent indisputable facts, she found, almost to her bewilderment, that something seemed to prevent her from accepting the conclusion as final. Was it some inner sense? Questions did begin to arise in her mind. As she sat trying to work out why she felt something was wrong, her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door and, at her response, the girl attendant Muirenn entered carrying a lamp. It was only then that Fidelma realised that dusk had passed into night and it had only been the glow of the fire that had lit the room. The girl placed the lamp on the table and gave a quick smile.
‘There are candles in that cupboard and tapers, lady, which could be lit from the fire when you will. But I thought I should bring you this oil lamp.’
Fidelma thanked her and Muirenn asked if she needed anything for the night.
‘Nothing,’ Fidelma replied automatically but as the girl turned for the door she called: ‘No, I do; some answers to a few questions. Listening to the conversation this evening, I wondered if you knew about any tension between Lúach and her parents?’
‘Can I speak freely?’ Muirenn paused and turned back. When Fidelma assented she went on. ‘I have observed some matters which, if I think about them, might make me suggest that Lúach needed to spend time with more sympathetic relatives.’
‘Are you saying that she did not get on with her father and stepmother? I thought her father seemed quite proud of her achievement in law studies. Was he not supportive of her?’
Muirenn grimaced. ‘Proud? Yes. But he would never really stand up for her against the demands of Orla.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I am not saying that he would not try to stan
d up for her but, you will have noticed, Orla is quite domineering. In the end Ossen would surrender to whatever she demanded.’
It was clear the Muirenn did not like Orla but that was no surprise. Fidelma wondered if anyone liked the wife of Ossen.
‘Can you give me some detail of this?’
‘I often heard the arguments between the Prince and Lady Orla.’
‘Arguments about Lúach?’
‘Lúach was frequently driven to distraction by Orla and her demands. She wanted to continue at the law school but Orla pointed out that she was way beyond the age of choice and should have been married years ago.’
‘But, being of the age of choice, she had a right to make her own choice,’ Fidelma pointed out.
‘Not according to Orla. She berated the Prince Ossen often about letting Lúach continue to study law.’
‘It was what Lúach wanted. I did think it interesting that she only ever spoke to me of her father. I did not even know she had a stepmother. What happened to her own mother?’
‘It was a tragedy. It happened at the same time that I came to work at the fortress. That was about four years ago and just before Lúach entered the first year studying law in Tara. There was a riding accident which killed Lúach’s mother. Within six months Orla had moved into the Prince’s affections.’
‘And they were married?’
‘They were.’
‘So how did this proposed marriage arise if Lúach did not want it?’
Muirenn shrugged. ‘Orla felt that Lúach should marry someone of influence to strengthen the bonds between this territory and a more influential one. Orla had great territorial ambitions. She still has; a desire for personal power.’
‘Perhaps you better start by giving me some details about Orla’s background.’
‘She came from Cuailgne, across the river. Frankly, it is a lawless land of cattle thieves. It is whispered that Orla’s own father was one. She actually came here as an attendant when Necht, that is Lúach’s mother, was still alive. After Necht died in the riding accident, Prince Ossen remarried. It was a year after that marriage that Lúach reached the aimsir togú, the age of choice, and received her father’s backing to study law with Brehon Morann. For a while there was no problem. Then a year ago the idea was proposed of marriage to the Prince of the Uí Thuirti.’
‘How did that come about?’
‘Prince Suibhne came here a year ago to attend a feast given by Ossen. Lúach was here at that time and he was attracted to her.’ Muirenn smiled and shrugged. ‘Most men were, as you probably know. Not that she cared. Suibhne proposed but was rejected. He then appealed to Prince Ossen and Orla. Orla was immediately in favour; Prince Ossen said it was Lúach’s right, under law and custom, to make her own choices. That’s what began the arguments between them.’
‘So Lúach refused to obey Orla’s wish for her to marry and insisted on continuing her studies?’
The young girl laughed. ‘I think it was quite easy. Suibhne was twice her age. He was arrogant. In arrogance he and Orla were well matched. Neither was Suibhne blessed with good looks. He had few interests other than hunting and cattle raiding against his neighbours. Lúach confessed to me that she was sure he would treat his women as he treated his animals. Anyway, it did not fit Lúach’s plans to be married. As you know her ambition was the law but it clashed with the ambition of Orla.’
‘So how has it been resolved?’
‘I am not sure it has. Rumour has it that Orla had promised Prince Suibhne that she would ensure that Lúach will wed him one way or the other. So Suibhne has still not abandoned his plans to marry. He was here only a few days ago to continue to press matters.’
‘A few days ago?’ Fidelma was startled. ‘Can you be more precise?’
The girl thought for a moment. ‘Now I come think about it, it was the morning of the very day before she disappeared. He was travelling with his retinue and passed by here.’
‘Did Lúach repeat that she had no desire to marry him?’
‘Lúach was at her uncle’s fortress so did not see him. Ossen and Orla entertained him with food and drink before he continued his journey.’
‘So Lúach returned safely from her uncle later that day?’
‘Oh yes, and she arrived back after Suibhne and his party had left the fortress, so they did not see each other.’
‘Suibhne never returned after she disappeared from the fortress?’
‘Not that I know of. The follow morning, after Suibhne left, Lúach disappeared and that was five days ago.’
‘Do you know where Suibhne and his retinue went after they left here?’
‘I overheard Sranacháin tell Dergnat that they were going to Áth Fhirdia, which is south of here. You might have passed through it on your journey here.’
Fidelma grimaced. ‘Ferdia’s Ford where Ferdia and his friend Cúchulain fought each other for four days,’ she said absently. ‘It was there my coach split its wheel and so I came on here by courtesy of a merchant and his mule wagon. There was no sign of this Prince Suibhne when we passed the ford.’
She sat silently for a while considering these new facts.
‘You don’t think that her disappearance has anything to do with Suibhne?’ prompted the girl.
‘I cannot say. So far as you know, Lúach never mentioned the idea of running away rather than being forced into marriage?’
‘She would have told me,’ Muirenn answered immediately. ‘She was anticipating your arrival. Why should she disappear before you arrived? If she had done so then surely she would have left word for you.’
‘But if she had decided that she must run away, even to think matters over for a while on her own,’ pressed Fidelma, ‘where would she have gone?’
‘I do not think it likely.’
‘But where might she go?’ Fidelma insisted.
‘The only place would have been to her uncle, Mugrón of Fochard. She had no other close relative.’
Fidelma was quiet for a moment. ‘I am told that Mugrón’s fortress at Fochard is only a short ride away. About four kilometres?’
‘About that, lady,’ agreed the girl.
‘You said that he was fond of Lúach and supported her. Might he have been so fond of her that, if urged by Lúach, he would deny her presence to protect his niece at her request? Tell me something of Fochard as it seems familiar to me. Why would that be?’
‘Perhaps,’ Muirenn replied, ‘it is because the Blessed Brigid was born and raised there?’
‘Brigid of Cill Dara, the church of the oaks?’ Fidelma was surprised. It was the very religious house that her cousin, Abbot Laisran of Darú, had just been trying to persuade her to join for security’s sake once she left Brehon Morann’s school. It was clear that Fidelma’s cousin Máenach, who had eventually succeeded her father as the King of Muman, was not going to support her until she made her reputation as a dálaigh.
‘The same Brigid,’ Muirenn confirmed. ‘Her father, Dubhthach, was the chieftain at Fochard. He married a woman of the Cruithin, a lady called Brocca, who had converted to the New Faith. The story that I have heard is that Dubhthach clung to the Old Faith and even tried to sell Brigid to a loveless marriage when she became involved in teaching the New Faith. But Brigid escaped southward to the kingdom of Laigin and established her own religious community there. As you say, it is called the church of the oaks.’
‘It does not sound promising if Lúach’s uncle is a descendant of this Dubhthach,’ Fidelma remarked.
‘I have been to Fochard to attend Lúach when she visited there. I have seen her uncle Mugrón who bears no resemblance to Dubhthach. He is a kindly man. A scholar rather than a warrior, although the fortress is regarded as the first line of defence against any attack from the northerners, like the Dál na Araide, the Uí Echach Cobo and the clans of the Airgialla. That’s why the valley it guards is said to be the Gap of the North through which the northern armies have to march in order to raid into our territory.’
/> ‘But, surely, that hasn’t happened in many an age?’
‘Not in my lifetime, lady,’ agreed the girl. ‘Ibor, the commander of our warriors here, will tell you that the last time this fortress of Dún Dealgan was attacked was by the Uí Echach na nArada from the north. It was in his grandfather’s day. But that was because they bypassed Fochard and crossed the river.’
‘Did Lúach like her uncle?’ Fidelma returned to the subject.
‘She did, very much. He was her mother’s only brother and I think Mugrón was more supportive of Lúach than her father since Orla appeared, trying to take her mother’s place.’
‘So Lúach disliked Orla?’
‘Orla is not a likeable person,’ Muirenn pointed out with a grim smile.
Fidelma thought for a moment. ‘I would like to see Lúach’s room tomorrow. Is it locked?’
‘It is not but Dergnat examined it and found nothing.’
‘Nevertheless I would like to examine it before I go to the first meal,’ Fidelma said decisively.
VI
The following morning Fidelma rose early and found Muirenn ready to attend any wishes she had. There was little she needed and after she had washed her hands and face, as was customary, and dressed, she followed the girl to Lúach’s chamber. It was hardly any larger than her own guest room. It was furnished with a bed, table, chair and a cupboard, all of deep oak wood of good quality carpentry. It was a light room, with a window facing eastwards just as her own had. She moved to it and peered out. The land stretched away towards the sea with an almost uninterrupted view. The rising sun was almost directly facing her and she had to shield her eyes. Her lowered eyes rested for a moment on the stone window ledge.
‘What’s that?’ she asked of Muirenn who had been standing patiently by the door. ‘It looks like a scuff mark – actually there are several such marks there but most of them seem old.’ Fidelma leaned forward, peering down out of the window. ‘It’s about five metres to the ground here.’
The girl joined her and looked at the marks.
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