‘Droim Ineasclainn? Is it far from here?’ Fidelma frowned.
Mugrón called imperiously to his steward to attend him from the door.
‘You could be there and back with plenty of time to spare within a cadar,’ the steward replied before joining the lord of Fochard.
For a while Fidelma sat in silence in the tiny chapel. There was much to consider. But she was sure that Orla would not have murdered Lúach for her refusal to marry Suibhne. However, thinking of Suibhne, a thought had started to preoccupy her mind. What if, having been rejected with his proposal of marriage, Suibhne had decided on kidnapping Lúach? He could have done so with the aid of Orla. That could account for the fact that no horse from the fortress was missing for Suibhne would have his own horses. Muirenn had said that he had come to the fortress the morning of the day before she disappeared. So he was in the vicinity of the fortress when she disappeared. Of course, there was the problem as to why no one had seen her departure. But it might be an explanation and one she was duty bound to follow.
She tried to recall the laws on abduction. She had not paid much attention to the marriage laws but she did recall there were two important factors – whether the girl eloped and thus was voluntarily abducted or whether the girl was taken against her will. If taken against her will, such cases were so infrequent due to the fact that an abductor had to pay dearly for his enterprise. He would not only have to pay the girl’s honour price but must also pay all her relatives and chief men of her tuath, or clan, their honour prices for his slight against them all. If she died in the process or even subsequently while held against her will, forcibly cohabiting with their captor, the abductor had to pay the body-price as well as the honour price of any children she bore.
Fidelma shook her head as she considered the enormity of such sums of fines involved. Even if the Prince of the Uí Thuirti was as powerfully linked with the Uí Néill and thereby wealthy, would he really lay himself open to the scandal and the fines that would fall on him for abducting Lúach? It seemed impossible. But she realised that even in her short experience and the years she had spent at Brehon Morann’s law school, impossible things did happen. She stood up abruptly. How far had the steward of Mugrón said the place was where Suibhne had his encampment? One could be there and back within a cadar – a cadar was a quarter of a day. There was no decision to make in the circumstances. She should question Suibhne.
She left the chapel and hurriedly made her way back to Dergnat’s chamber. It was some moments before the voice of the young man demanded to know who was outside his door and his opening it to admit her.
‘Do you know Droim Ineasclainn?’ she demanded without preamble.
‘The Ridge of Ineasclann?’ he repeated. ‘You mean the little abbey?’
‘I am told it is south of here,’ she confirmed.
‘Not that far south,’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘I am told the Prince Suibhne is encamped there and I want to see him.’
The young dálaigh stared at her for a moment. ‘Why would you—?’
She cut him short. ‘He is the only person who seems to have a passing interest in Lúach’s disappearance that I have not been able to question. I believe I need to. I am told that it is not a long ride?’
‘A little more than ten kilometres, maybe less. It is near the coast. The community was founded there by Bishop Lughaidh, one of your family,’ he added.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘He was the son of Oengus mac Nadfraoch, the first Eóghanacht King of Muman to convert to the New Faith. His son Lughaidh came north to be a follower of the Blessed Patrick. Patrick advised him to set up his church and community at Droim Ineasclainn.’
Fidelma had not heard the story before and in spite of her interest in her family’s history, she brought her mind quickly back to the more urgent task.
‘We still have enough daylight to ride to Droim Ineasclainn and be back before nightfall,’ she said.
‘If you are intending to go, I should come along.’
‘I did say earlier that you would be welcome. Do you have a horse?’
‘I do.’
‘I don’t. I will have to see the stable master and request his services.’
They found Eochaidh, the echaire, rubbing down one of the horses that Mugrón and his party had arrived on.
Dergnat said: ‘I shall need my horse and the lady Fidelma here requires a mount.’
Eochaidh looked dubious and before he could say anything, Fidelma pointed to Lúach’s white horse, Snechtaidie. ‘I’ll take Lúach’s mount as I presume the poor beast hasn’t had a good exercise for a while.’
‘I don’t know …’ began the man, looking nervous. ‘No one else is allowed to ride him but the lady Lúach. He is a nervous beast and …’
‘I do not want to remind you that I am a dálaigh and now requiring the service of this horse in the pursuit of law.’ Without another word she turned and entered the stall of the animal that stood looking at her with wide patient eyes. Fidelma had begun to ride almost before she had begun to walk. She was an expert horsewoman and could see that this white pony was a thoroughbred and highly strung. She stood before it talking softly and stroking its muzzle and then she leaned forward and blew softly into one nostril and then the other. The horse made a soft sound and seemed to nod his great head up and down. She turned to gather the tack for it and there was no dissent from the tolerant animal.
X
It was a bright afternoon with no clouds in the sky, although the sea breeze seemed to cool the summer sunshine. It was good to both smell and feel the tang of salt sea on her cheeks. Unlike the rocky cliffs and jagged coastline to which she was accustomed in her native Muman, the coastline here was a vista of gentle gradients and mudflats. She could see a variety of wading birds, like dunlins, with the summer rufous plumage and black bellies. She was aware of swallows, sand martins, terns and even plovers. For a while she was content to bathe in the sunlight and just enjoy the environment and the mood it produced. She suddenly realised how oppressive the fortress of Ossen must have been. Perhaps it was merely the atmosphere that had been so dark and gloomy rather than the physical reality.
For most of the journey she and Dergnat exchanged no word. She found to her surprise that she was beginning to understand Muirenn’s feelings of sympathy for the awkward youth. She could not help but regard him as a youth although he was scarcely much younger than she was. Mentally, she reckoned that if he had entered the great ecclesiastical school of Beannchar after he was at the age of choice, which was seventeen for a boy, then he would be about twenty-two or –three now. Yet he still looked like a forlorn teenager.
As had been predicted the journey south along the coastline did not take them long before they came to a cluster of buildings some way back from the shoreline. It was obvious from their structures that this was a religious community, the huts spread round a stone-built chapel and surrounded by a wooden wall.
There was a series of tents pitched in orderly fashion to the western side of the buildings which clearly gave them protection from the winds of the sea. There were sentinels surrounding the encampment and from its appearance it was easily recognisable as that of some important warload. Outside one tent, more dominant than the others, more of a pupall or pavilion, was a pole from which a white silk banner was displayed. Fidelma had no difficulty in recognising the emblem of the severed red hand on it. It was the emblem of the Uí Néill family.
It was a symbol that had given Fidelma a nightmare as a child when it had first been shown to her. An elderly storyteller had told her, when the children of Golamh decided to invade the land of the goddess Éire, one of Golamh’s sons, Eremon, boasted that he would be the first to land and claim the kingship of the island for himself and his progeny. But as the invasion ships were reaching the shore, Eremon saw that his brother, Eber Fionn, had manoeuvred his ship so that it would land first. Eremon was so angry that he took his sword, cut off his hand and threw it
onto the shore, claiming that it was his flesh that reached the island first and it was his right to be king.
Out of the argument that arose it was finally decided that Eremon would rule the northern half of the island while Eber Fionn would rule the southern half. Fidelma’s family, the Eóghanacht, claimed their lineage from Eber Fionn. The Uí Néill boasted their descent from Eremon. Yet every time Fidelma saw the Uí Néill banner it still caused her to shiver as she remembered her nightmare.
Anyway, this was surely the encampment of Suibhne, Prince of the Uí Thuirti. Fidelma made immediately towards the pavilion. She and Dergnat were not challenged although the warriors that milled about regarded them with curiosity. When they reached the front of the entrance of the pavilion they found two warriors standing guard with spear and shield. As they drew rein one of the warriors called – ‘Who are you who comes unbidden to the tent of the Prince of the Ui Thuirti?’
‘Tell your lord that Fidelma of Cashel wishes to speak to him.’
‘Fidelma of Cashel?’ a gruff voice came from the shadows of the tent and a man emerged. He was elderly, with features that could hardly be described as good looking. Heavy brows, a full beard and straggling hair that was grey and dirty. ‘You are a long way from your home, princess of the Eóghanacht.’
The man’s dark eyes suddenly settled on the horse she was riding.
‘If that is not Snechtaide, the horse of the lady Lúach of Dún Dealgan, then I am no judge of horseflesh.’ His eyes now took in her companion. ‘I also recognise you, young whelp of the law. So what brings you here?’ Then his eyes closed for a moment. ‘Ah, you bring some news from Lúach?’
‘No news, Suibhne.’ Fidelma accepted that the man was none other than the Uí Néill warlord.
‘Some merchants came by my camp and told me that she had disappeared and was thought to have met some accident and is dead.’ Suibhne seemed unemotional. ‘Do you bring word to confirm this?’
‘I cannot confirm or deny it for I have no knowledge. But there are some questions I would put to you.’
‘Questions? Why would I be interested in answering questions from an Eóghanacht while I am in Uí Néill territory?’
‘Because I am a dálaigh just as Dergnat is, who is in the service of Dún Dealgan. I am qualified to the level of Cli and about to take the degree of Anruth at Brehon Morann’s school. Lúach was my friend and these things give me the right to ask questions of you.’
Suibhne stared blankly, and then his mouth broadened in amusement. He made a half bow.
‘Dismount and come and share my poor hospitality,’ the warlord invited.
Once they had dismounted and entered his tent, he waved them to some chairs and a servant appeared with drinks. Fidelma took a sip of the cold water she had chosen in respect of the laws on hospitality but she did not want to take the mead or ale that was also offered.
‘I have heard the story of Lúach’s disappearance,’ Suibhne began. ‘In fact the whole population of the countryside is talking of little else. I suspect it is old Mugrón who is at the heart of spreading the news. Well, no blame on him for he was very fond of his niece.’
‘And you?’ Fidelma said quietly, ‘The word is that you want to marry her.’
Suibhne inclined his head in agreement. ‘It is better to put that desire in the past tense, lady. Lúach is a young girl whom it is easy to desire and especially so for a man of my age. For some time I clung to the infatuation. My desire was fuelled by Orla. When I made my proposal, she claimed she was fully supportive of it and there would be no difficulty. Lúach however made clear that it was not her intention to marry, especially with me. However, during these last months I received many gifts and promises from Orla who entreated me to patience. I am not a patient man so I called at Dún Dealgan a week ago on my way here.’
‘That was the morning of the day before Lúach disappeared,’ put in Dergnat meaningfully.
Suibhne glanced absently at him. ‘I did not see her. She was visiting Mugrón.’
‘But you saw Orla?’
‘I am no lovelorn youth content to wait forever for a glance or a soft word. I told Orla that all her gifts would be returned. There are plenty of other girls who would be pleased to share the bed of a Prince of the Uí Thuirti.’
‘So what happened?’
‘After I had seen Orla? I paid my respects to poor Prince Ossen and departed.’
‘Why “poor”?’ asked Fidelma.
Suibhne laughed aloud. ‘If you have spent any time in the company of Orla and Ossen you would know why he must be adjudged to be poor.’
‘So after you left Dún Dealgan, what then?’
‘We went to the Ford of Ferdia where I had business to conduct and then we came here where I had further business.’
‘And it was here that you learned that Lúach had disappeared and might be dead?’
‘Some merchants passed through about two or three days after we arrived here and told me the news.’
‘Were you not concerned when you heard?’ Fidelma demanded, perplexed. ‘You wanted to marry her and therefore had some feeling for her.’
‘Concerned?’ The warlord shook his head indifferently. ‘Not particularly so. The girl had rejected me and so I had passed on. I doubt that she would have any concern for me if the situation was reversed.’
Dergnat seated at her side was red in the face and seemed to have difficulty keeping still.
‘You never cared about her!’ he suddenly muttered angrily.
For a moment Fidelma thought he was going to reach forward and seize the warlord. Suibhne glanced sadly at the young dálaigh.
‘So the desire gripped you, too, young man? It is harder for youth to handle such emotions than men of mature years.’
‘I thought you said that you loved her?’ Fidelma said hurriedly, in case Dergnat lost his temper.
‘I said that I desired her to the point where I would have been willing to offer her a marriage bed,’ replied Suibhne. ‘But perhaps that is not the same thing as love? It is only from those years two people spend together that love replaces desire; love is knowing someone, sharing emotions, ideals, accepting their faults as well as having physical desire. You can share a bed without loving someone; you have even love someone without sharing a bed.’
Fidelma stared at him in surprise. ‘You appear to be something of a philosopher, Suibhne of the Uí Thuirti. I would not have expected such words from a warlord.’
The man chuckled. ‘I was fostered among the fellsamh, the philosophers and mystics of the Uí Mac Uais. Do not concern yourself with me, lady. I am fully aware of my faults.’
‘Then I shall leave you to reflect on them,’ she said dryly, rising to her feet. She glanced at Dergnat who, after a moment of two, followed her example with anger still on his face.
‘I wish you a swift journey back to Dún Dealgan,’ Suibhne called, following them to the door of the pavilion. ‘I hope you are able to resolve this mystery for poor Ossen’s sake and for the sake of Mugrón. They are the ones who loved Lúach in the real sense of the word.’
‘For that, I thank you, Suibhne,’ replied Fidelma. ‘For all that you make light of the term “desire”, I think you could have the capacity for real love when you find the right person.’
The Prince of the Uí Thuirti looked at her for a moment and then grimaced wryly. ‘I suspect that you are perceptive, Fidelma of Cashel. God help those who try to outwit the law when you are dealing with them.’
As she and Dergnat rode away from the encampment of Suibhne, the young dálaigh was still bitter.
‘There was hardly much point in this journey,’ he finally said.
‘You think so?’ Fidelma asked softly. ‘I found it edifying.’
‘You mean all that insulting drivel about desire and love? I wish I had been a warrior for he would not have lived long after his offensive remarks about Lúach. He was unfit to serve her, even to clean out her horse’s stable.’
Fidelma hid
her sadness at the young man’s inflexible attitude.
‘Our task was to learn something, not to make moral judgements,’ she rebuked.
‘Learn something? What was there to learn?’
‘I learned quite a lot,’ replied Fidelma but she made no attempt to elucidate. In fact, for the rest of the journey they continued in silence with Fidelma going over everything that she had been told. They arrived back at the fortress at the time Muirenn had the evening’s hot bath ready. It was custom for the upper classes of society, such as the flaith, the middle classes, the professionals and the nobles, to have a full body wash in the evenings before the main meal. The morning wash was usually just of the hands and face. For Fidelma it was relaxing to luxuriate in the soft scented waters of the dabach although it seemed that Muirenn was in the mood for gossip.
‘I heard that you went to see Prince Suibhne, lady, and that you took Dergnat with you. Why take him?’
‘Dergnat is still Ossen’s dálaigh and conducted the initial investigation into Lúach’s death,’ Fidelma explained. ‘He has a right to be consulted.’
‘I suppose so. Was the Prince of much help?’
‘I found him so. You can gather information from negatives as well as positives.’
‘I don’t understand, lady,’ frowned the girl.
‘I learned that Suibhne could not have abducted Lúach.’
Muirenn gasped as she realised what had been said. ‘Do you think Lúach had been abducted?’
‘I examined the possibility. I have come to that conclusion as the only logical course,’ she replied.
‘But Suibhne did not do it? Who then? No one saw her leave the fortress, far less someone forcibly removing her.’
‘The answer to that question is the key to this entire mystery. But at least I am beginning to have hope that we shall find Lúach still very much alive.’
The Lair of the White Fox (e-novella) (Kindle Single) Page 8