‘A few times.’
‘Were your feelings discussed?’
‘Only once. She made it very clear to me that I was wasting my time thinking about her. She did say that out of the three people declaring their love for her, she was sorry for me the most. That was when I decided to leave here and return to Beannchar.’
Fidelma’s head jerked up sharply in surprise. ‘Three? I presume she included you, Suibhne of the Uí Thuirti, but did she mention who the third person was?’
‘She did not.’
‘She gave you no further clue of who this might be? Was he someone she met in Tara or someone here?’
The young dálaigh shook his head firmly.
‘So as to your investigation of the circumstance of her disappearance, I was told that no one saw her leave the fortress, that she did not take her own horse, nor any other horse, and that the gates remained shut and guarded until first light. I am told someone called Ibor was in command of the guard. So do you have an opinion of how she left?’
‘I can give you no other information nor can I reach a conclusion other than what you heard last night.’ His expression was bitter. ‘She left the fortress. How I do not know. Ibor was actually in command of the guard that night and at no time were the gates opened between sundown and first light. There was a report from a shepherd that someone like her was seen riding eastwards on the road to Fochard. I rode there with Ibor, as you know. Ibor is an excellent tracker. We saw Mugrón. He claimed that he had not seen the lady Lúach the previous morning.’
‘The morning before she vanished?’ When he nodded, she added: ‘Was this so-called sighting discounted because she had not taken a horse from here?’
‘That was a consideration but then I thought that she might have acquired one from somewhere else. That’s why Ibor and I went to Fochard.’
‘Well, at least you were thorough to consider that,’ Fidelma replied with approval. ‘We can now confirm that Lúach went to bed and by morning had disappeared, although no horse was taken, no one saw her leave and the gates remained guarded and closed until daylight. So how did she leave this fortress?’
‘There is one more thought …. I believe she might have left the fortress through her chamber window. But it is five metres above the ground, facing the eastern side of the fortress. It is rather barren wasteland on that side.’
‘So you think those scuff marks on the windowsill were made by a rope and that she climbed down it?’ Fidelma smiled approvingly.
Dergnat’s eyes widened. ‘So you observed those marks too? Did you also search her room?’
‘I did. But a question arises if this is the explanation. If she had secured the rope and climbed down it, who then untied the rope in her room and then hid it? She could not have done so from outside the fortress once on the ground.’
The young man grimaced wryly. ‘She must have had an accomplice who remained within the fortress. That is the problem I have been wrestling with and finding no answer.’
‘You searched her chamber and found no trace of how this could be accomplished?’
‘None.’
‘Did you look for signs of anything to which a rope could have been attached in order to take the weight of the lady Lúach? Certainly five metres is a dangerous climb.’
‘I searched thoroughly. I even questioned Muirenn who had already cleaned the room by the time I searched it.’
‘You questioned her about the state of the room?’
‘She had found nothing unusual.’
‘The bed had been slept in?’
‘It had but she had tidied it. She said the room was a little untidy compared to how the lady Lúach usually left it.’
‘Did you go outside the fortress and examine the ground underneath her window?’
Dergnat hesitated, his lips compressed for a moment and then he shook his head. ‘I did not but I looked down from the window and saw nothing untoward. It is only rocks and boulders below those walls which slope away steeply. I did not think a closer search would be fruitful.’
Fidelma shook her head in admonition. ‘I will go round and examine it and I will need the service of a good tracker. I presume this Ibor is such a man?’
‘He is,’ Dergnat confirmed.
‘Then he can confirm that the main gates were not opened. One thing interests me. Lúach’s chamber and the other chambers along that eastern wall of the fortress… they have windows. That is windows on the outer wall of the fortress. Isn’t that curious?’
‘In what way, lady?’ Dergnat was puzzled.
‘If there was an attack on this fortress, it would be a weak point for defence? Most fortresses I have seen are surrounded by high walls giving the attackers the choice of penetrating through the gates or scaling the walls. That living quarters are placed on a defensive wall itself seems a curious perversion of the forgnem, the builder, to allow such weakness.’
‘I see what you mean,’ acknowledged the young man. ‘But it is a rough, rocky and sloping terrain to make an assault from. However, the steward, Sranacháin, was always boasting that the last time any serious attack was made on this fortress was three generations ago. I presume that the windows were constructed after that time.’
Fidelma suddenly rose. ‘Well, I think it will be worthwhile going to inspect the ground beneath Lúach’s window.’
The young man rose awkwardly and nervously asked: ‘May I come with you?’
Fidelma felt almost sorry for him. She realised the young man’s presence might fend off any criticism from Orla and agreed.
When they reached the courtyard the bell was ringing for the etar-shod, the middle meal and Sranacháin advised that he would not be able to send Ibor to help until after it. Fidelma arranged to meet the tracker and Dergnat at the gates after the meal. However, she was not feeling hungry and decided to go back to her chamber to rest. As she entered the building a sudden whim took her. She made her way past the bath-house door and along the corridor to what had been identified as the storerooms.
She stood for a moment trying to adjust to the gloom of the storehouse with its grains and cured meats, jars and amphorae, which she had seen imported from Gaulish ships landing at the ports of the five kingdoms; shelves of herbs and spices that were not only native but also imported. There came a clatter further along the building and pushing her way along she came to an area where the aroma told her, even before she saw it, that this was where the cheeses were made.
She halted and peered through the shelving into an area where a short, muscular man with hair tied back under a piece of linen was stirring something in one of the large vessels. The man straightened from his task. He must have caught a glimpse of her shadow behind the shelves of goods for he suddenly whirled round, grasping the big stirring stick like a weapon.
‘Who is it? Come out of that now if you want to live!’
VII
Surprised at the vehemence of his tone, Fidelma moved from the cover of the shelves. As she did so, the man seemed to relax and lower the stick. A good-humoured smile spread over his face. He was quite elderly, rotund and almost the stereotype of a well-nourished cook.
‘I am sorry, lady. I thought you might be the thief.’
‘The thief?’ she asked with emphasis.
The man was serious for a moment. ‘There is some light-fingered soul in the fortress in recent days. We have been missing pies, bannocks, cheese and things like that. Nothing big, mind you. However, the lady Orla likes a tight accounting of all that comes in and goes out of our cook house. We have to answer to her if anything goes missing. Forgive me, therefore, if I startled you.’
‘I presume you are Artrí the cheesemaker. I am the lady Fidelma. I wanted to congratulate you on that dish I was served this morning…’
‘The samit?’
‘That’s it. I have never tasted it before. It was delicious.’ She paused and peered round. ‘I was told that you make a lot of different cheeses here.’
‘Too many for
this household to eat,’ agreed the man. ‘But it brings an income for Prince Ossen and it is a passion with me,’ admitted the man, his smile broadening. ‘Thankfully, we have a large talam and are able to store it so that we can trade with merchants.’
‘Are you the only cheesemaker?’
‘I am, lady. I am not a general cook but a specialist cheesemaker. Although that young fellow offers his services from time to time.’
‘Young fellow? Oh, you mean Dergnat, the dálaigh?’
‘Well, to be honest, I hope he is a better dálaigh than cheesemaker. He likes to think he is good but, at least, he has a young pair of strong arms and often helps take goods down to the talam.’
Fidelma looked round. ‘I have heard of this cellar of yours? I can’t see an entrance.’
Artrí glanced at the mixture he was stirring, dipped a finger in it and tasted it before nodding in satisfaction.
‘It can be left for a few moments,’ he decided. ‘Let me show you our store.’
He led her across the room behind a pile of boxes and by means of a rope and pulley hoisted a thick oak wood trapdoor. Then he turned and took a lantern which he ignited from a taper from the coals of one of the cooking fires.
‘Now follow me,’ he instructed, ‘but be careful, for there is no rail on the steps to protect you.’
She followed him down a wooden stairway into an amazingly large chamber that was some way below ground. Part of it seemed to be a natural cave for a lot of the roof appeared to be jagged rock. The walls, from what she could see of them, were mainly panelled with thick polished oak. Most of this half natural cave and half man-made storage chamber was filled with shelving on which various foods, meats and vegetables were placed. There were more amphorae of wine, large jugs of oils and cider and ales, but stacked along one wall were shelf upon shelf of several types of cheeses. She moved forward to examine them with interest. The shelving was constructed in such a way that it stood slightly away from the wall. She peered around them and felt something crunch beneath her foot. She glanced down in case she had trodden on a piece of fallen cheese but it was only some loose earth on the floor. She stood back and examined the cheeses in appreciation. She had not seen so large a cellar before.
‘You could stand off a siege from a whole army for years,’ she told the cheesemaker.
Artrí laughed at the idea. ‘Thankfully, lady, those days are hopefully long gone. There has been no attempt to besiege this place in at least two or three generations.’
‘It is strongly built,’ she observed, gazing up at the cave-like roof. ‘Is there no danger of collapse?’
‘As you see, most of it is a natural rock cave that was dug out when this side of the fortress was built. The fortress was built over it so that it could be used as a natural cellar. My family worked here for generations, lady, and there has been no subsidence or rock falls since we can remember.’
After assuring Artrí that she meant to take some of his cheese with her when she returned to Tara, and almost reluctantly accepting a large sample of the cheese and a freshly baked bannock for ‘a snack’, she returned to her chamber and lay down for a while thinking things over. If she could resolve the mystery of how Lúach had left the fortress without anyone seeing her, it would be a step in the right direction. Frustrated, she found herself eating some of the cheese and the bannock in spite of her resolve not to.
Returning to the courtyard she found Sranacháin with a warrior standing at the gates.
‘This is Ibor, our best tracker.’ The dark-haired man was short, muscular and had a face without emotion, almost as if carved from a mask.
‘So you were the warrior who was watching the gates on the night the lady Lúach disappeared?’ Fidelma asked after pleasantries were exchanged.
‘As I told Dergnat, there is no way the lady Lúach could have left through the gates. They were closed and locked from nightfall until sunup.’
‘There are no other means by which she could leave the fortress?’
‘None unless the poor girl was able to transform herself into a swan like the children of Lir and fly away,’ the warrior assured her. ‘Nor have I found any tracks that I could trace her by.’
At that moment Dergnat came up a little breathlessly.
‘I would like you to accompany me and Dergnat to inspect some ground,’ Fidelma told the warrior. ‘I would like your opinion.’
She set off through the open gates. She led the way around the walls of the fortress to the eastern side, glancing up occasionally to observe the high windows in the walls above. Then she halted and pointed to an area.
‘Observe the ground there, Ibor, and tell me if you can spot anything that might tell you if there has been any activity there.’
Frowning, the man went forward and stood staring down with a puzzled shake of his head. ‘Signs of builders working, hauling stone blocks to repair the walls but they are old. Was there anything specific?’
‘If someone had exited from that window,’ she indicated the one she knew to be Lúach’s chamber, ‘and climbed down a rope before walking away, or indeed meeting someone here, perhaps on horseback waiting for them, is there any indication?’
Ibor bent to his task again and then moved in a widening semicircle from the spot before finally returning with a shake of his head.
‘There is nothing that tells me anything more than there has been some work repairing the wall, lady. I think I know what you have in mind,’ he added.
‘What do I have in mind?’
‘How the lady Lúach managed to leave the fortress before sunup with the gates closed, not on horseback and no one observing her departure.’
‘Do you have an answer, Ibor?’
‘I am a tracker, lady. I served in the Fianna before taking service with Prince Ossen. I deal with practicalities although some of the men are uneasy.’
‘In what way?’
‘They talk about the lady Lúach being taken by shape shifters,’ muttered the warrior.
‘What?’ Fidelma snapped irritably.
‘It is not my talk but there has been talk among the men,’ he said defensively.
‘We are dealing with the real world, Ibor, not that of myth and magic,’ she snapped. ‘Are you positive there are no tracks in this area?’
Ibor drew himself up stiffly at the rebuke. ‘I am sure, lady. There is no sign of anyone leaving the fortress in the manner that you suggest. Nor any way she could have left the fortress through the gates.’
‘No other way? Sometimes these old fortresses have secret passages.’
‘I have served here for twenty years and can assure you there are no such things as hidden passages.’
She saw a slight hesitation as he said it, as if he remembered something. ‘What were you thinking about?’ she pressed.
‘I just remember my father telling me a story about the last time an attack was made on the fortress. It was in the time of his father. There was a great war between the High King Colmán Rimid and some rebellious nobles of the north. Dún Dealgan was attacked by one of the rebellious tribes. They tried to attack twice from the west against the great gates but were driven back. They then tried to attack from the rocky eastern side. Their leader, a warrior called Gunnat, probed for weaknesses and finally attempted to dig a tunnel under the walls somewhere on this side of the fortress.’
‘Why on this side?’ Fidelma asked with interest.
‘There is little protection for attackers from other parts. As a warrior I am the first to say that it is wrong to think that defenders on a hilltop have an advantage. To repel an attack they have to expose themselves. Those creeping stealthily up a hill have cover. Gunnat was a good warrior and soon had his men digging into the hill.’
‘I presume they did not succeed?’
‘No. The battle of Sliabh Mis was won by the High King Colmán Rimid, causing Gunnat to call off the attack and scurry back to defend their territory from his retribution. I presume that Brother Máranáin might
know more details.’
‘Brother Máranáin? Why would that be?’
‘Like Dergnat here, Brother Máranáin is of the Eochach na nArada and would know their stories. Gunnat was the chieftain of those people at that time.’
‘I have not heard this story before,’ Dergnat interposed.
‘Do you know what happened to the tunnel after the raiders left?’ Fidelma pressed Ibor.
‘It was obviously filled in,’ Ibor declared.
‘Are you sure it was filled in?’
‘Sranacháin probably has the details, lady. But I am sure. There are no secret tunnels in or out of the fortress because, as commander of the guards, I would know.’
Disappointed, Fidelma and her companions returned to the main gates. Ibor, dismissed, returned to his duties while Dergnat stood hesitantly by Fidelma as she stood deep in thought.
‘Can I do anything further, lady?’ he finally asked timidly.
She glanced at him distractedly. ‘Not at this moment.’
‘What shall you do now?’ he pressed. ‘Have you come to the same conclusion that I did?’
She was about to make a comment but thought better of it. ‘It is still too early for conclusions,’ she said instead.
The young dálaigh nodded, turned and walked back across the courtyard to his quarters.
Instead of going to her room immediately she went in search of Sranacháin. She found him at the smith’s in a corner of the fortress complex.
‘Did you find what you wanted?’ he greeted her.
‘Not exactly. Tell me, this fortress is old, isn’t it.’
‘Old?’ he chuckled. ‘They tell me great chieftains lived here in the time before time itself. It was old even before the gods drove the evil Fomorii to their dwelling places under the mighty oceans; even before the great Sétanta, the Hound of Culann, became master of this fortress.’
‘It has been built and rebuilt over many centuries then?’
‘That is true.’
‘Are there are existing plans of it?’
The steward looked bemused. ‘What sort of plans?’
‘Did the builders make any … for example. I am told they were doing some building work in the last year or less on the east walls.’
The Lair of the White Fox (e-novella) (Kindle Single) Page 6