XI
Later that evening she had to endure the evening meal. ‘Endure’ was the only word she could think of to describe the sensation. It was only the company that spoiled the meal for it was an excellent meal of fish dishes, mainly of brown trout which the servant told her was from the river. The fish was baked with herbs, served with samphire which was always her favourite with its salt taste and aromatic flesh. This, she was told, was harvested from the mudflats around the river and coast. However, rather than being allowed to enjoy her food in peace, she was aware Ossen and Orla sat in tight-lipped disapproval. Sranacháin started his interminable stories about pig rearing and Dergnat was picking disconsolately at his food while staring absently at his plate. Only Brother Máranáin seemed oblivious to the atmosphere.
‘I heard that you went to see Prince Suibhne,’ he suddenly said loudly.
‘That is so,’ she replied shortly. She would have preferred to have been left alone with her thoughts.
For a few moments there was a complete silence before Orla turned with a look of dislike. Her voice cracked like a whip.
‘Prince Suibhne is our friend and a powerful noble. How dare you seek him out without our permission?’
‘I did not need your permission to question a possible witness in this matter,’ she replied softly.
Dergnat cleared his throat. ‘I was with the lady Fidelma,’ he murmured, as if there was need to defend her.
‘Then you should have known better,’ replied the woman, scowling. ‘I will not have my friends such as the lord of the Uí Thuirtri insulted. Do you know how close he is to the High King?’
‘Are you saying that law must take a second place to kingship, lady?’ Fidelma’s voice was scarcely above a whisper. It was a dangerous sign.
Brother Máranáin actually smiled in spite of the rage on Orla’s face.
‘I would consider well before you answer, lady.’ He spoke to Orla in an amused tone. ‘Even a High King is subject to the law. The one person who is allowed to speak at the assembly before the High King is his Chief Brehon. That is symbolic of the status of a lawyer.’
Ossen raised his head tiredly.
‘I think we may safely rely on the discretion of the lady Fidelma to pursue her questions as a dálaigh,’ he said to his wife. ‘I presume that you have almost come to an end of them?’ The latter question was addressed to Fidelma.
‘There is no one else left to question,’ Dergnat asserted abruptly, answering before she replied. ‘I think that my conclusion still stands. Lúach has met with an accident. We must all accept that tragic fact.’
Orla seemed to nod agreement. ‘It is certainly the only answer to the mystery.’ She glared at Fidelma as if expecting a denial. ‘Therefore when will you return to Tara?’ she asked pointedly.
‘I will stay no longer than necessary.’ Fidelma’s tone was mild. ‘Perhaps I should see Mugrón again before I leave.’
‘That evil old man!’ Orla sneered. ‘What evil accusations I have had to endure from him!’
‘Are you still determined to leave us?’ Brother Máranáin asked Dergnat, obviously trying to change the conversation.
The young man shrugged. ‘I have not proved to be of much help here. I shall return to Beannchar. The merchant who came yesterday confirmed that the ship should be arriving in the next day or so.’
Fidelma glanced at him. ‘I had nearly forgotten that you were leaving. What made you decide to make your journey to Beannchar by merchant ship?’
‘I can tell you that,’ interposed the steward Sranacháin. ‘To reach Beannchar you would have to travel through Cualigne and many other lawless territories before reaching it. One man travelling alone on horseback would not go far without encountering trouble. A ship is a much safer way to travel. Am I not right, Dergnat?’
The young man seemed to be embarrassed but nodded silently.
Brother Máranáin turned to one of the attendants. ‘I hope you have some of the samit left from this morning? I hear that Artrí has surpassed himself again.’ When the dish was brought, he turned to Fidelma. ‘Have you tried some, lady?’
Fidelma assured him that she had sampled the dish but that evening preferred to finish her meal with some fruit.
After that, the conversation was sporadic and finally died. Fidelma took the first opportunity to excuse herself and return to her chamber.
Muirenn was waiting to see if she needed anything for the night.
‘I need your help later on.’ Fidelma’s answer surprised her. ‘What time do those who work in the cook house and stores finish?’
‘About midnight, lady, although there is usually a boy or someone who remains awake to keep an eye on the fires in the cook house. It is the custom not to extinguish the embers so that reigniting them the next morning is less of a hardship.’
‘Does the boy remain in the cook house during this time? Does he enter the storehouse?’
‘Not often.’ The girl was clearly puzzled by the question. ‘He has an easy task just sitting by the cook house fires.’
‘That is good.’ Fidelma paused and then said dramatically: ‘Do you want to see Lúach alive?’
The girl stared open mouthed before mumbling: ‘Of course, lady.’
‘Then some time after midnight I want you to join me and I think we will be able to resolve this mystery. After I saw Suibhne and satisfied myself that I had covered all possibilities, I was left with what remained feasible. Tonight we shall see if I am right.’
Muirenn opened her mouth to question her but something in Fidelma’s face made her close her mouth firmly and simply nod.
The fortress was deathly quiet. Only in a few places did the flickering light of flames from burning brands or oil lamps cause shadows to dance here and there. They wavered uncertainly and now and then a stifled cough or exclamation showed the presence of the few guards that patrolled the walls. Fidelma already had her lantern alight when Muirenn tapped softly on her door. She, too, held a lantern and Fidelma smiled approval.
‘Where are we going, lady?’ whispered the girl as they made their way down the passage to the circular stairs and began to descend.
‘To the storeroom,’ replied Fidelma.
Thankfully, the girl asked no more until they passed by the bath house and into the large store room. Only at this moment did Fidelma instruct Muirenn to shield her lantern in case the light could be seen by any patrolling watchman through the high slits that served as air passage. Fidelma made her way directly to the area where she had met Artrí the cheesemaker. She paused only to take up a large, thick-bladed knife from a shelf before going to the corner where Artrí had shown her the trapdoor. She put down her lantern near the pulley rope.
‘That’s the entrance to the talam, lady,’ the girl whispered nervously.
‘I know,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Give me a hand with this.’
The two girls began to pull on the rope. It was well greased being often used and because of this the pulley made no sound. Muirenn knew how to secure it so they could enter the stairway. Fidelma took her lantern and began to descend into the blackness. She went directly to the area behind the shelves that were stacked with cheeses. The red oak panels seemed to reflect against her torchlight.
‘I think it was around here,’ she said softly, gazing at the floor.
‘There’s nothing there but some dried mud,’ pointed out Muirenn. ‘The cook should have a word with the servants because this place is supposed to be kept clean.’
‘Thankfully, it has not been swept,’ Fidelma commented and, to the girl’s astonishment, went down on her knees, placing the lantern beside her. Then she began to tap softly on the wooden panel. After a short while she gave a grunt of satisfaction and then began to feel the panelling itself, before inserting the blade of the knife. Part of the panel suddenly gave and a section of a small entrance through the earth was revealed. It was scarcely a metre high and much less wide. The stale odour of earth wafted to her nostrils. Fidelma gave
a grunt of satisfaction and then held up her lantern to examine the aperture.
‘How did you know it was there?’ Muirenn gasped in surprise.
‘This earth has been recently moved and whoever was doing so clearly missed that it was dislodged on to the floor of the cellar here. It remained after the panel was put in place. That’s why I noticed it earlier and I realised that this part is against the eastern wall of the fortress. I heard the story of the last raid of someone called Gunnat who was frustrated in his attacks on the fortress and finally tried to dig a tunnel into the fortress.’
‘But that was three generations ago and you told me everyone knows it was then filled up after the attack failed.’
‘Everyone?’ Fidelma grimaced cynically. ‘I am going to explore.’
‘Lady,’ protested the girl as Fidelma pushed her lantern before her and began to enter the dark tunnel.
‘You stay there,’ she called back. ‘Be ready to call for help if there is a collapse or I do not return or contact you by first light.’
In fact, once through a short area of earth tunnel, it opened into a natural fault in the rock which, in parts, was much wider and often higher than the entrance. The talam had been built into a natural cave and the builders had not realised that the surrounding area might hold such cave-like crevices as well. She could actually stand up in parts but she had to be careful for the rocks were jagged and once she tore her dress. Holding the lantern with one hand she held the other to feel any further sharp obstacles. It was moments later that her hand closed on something soft which made her jerk back, thinking she might be touching an animal. Holding the lantern near it she realised it was a piece of ragged cloth; no, not a cloth but a strip of torn woollen material. Thoughtfully, she took it and tucked it into her criss, her belt of leather.
It did not seem long before the tunnel narrowed again so that she was on her stomach again pushing forward with the lantern before her. At one point she paused because it seemed that the darkness was becoming lighter. There seemed to be a piece of wood blocking the way but there were gaps in it and the light seemed to come through it. She saw a little alcove to one side of her and in this she placed the lantern before, bracing her feet against the sides of the tunnel and using both hands, palms against the boards, she began to push. It wasn’t earth that was piled on the boards but an assortment of small rocks. With a final push, she felt them rolling off the boards which fell away from the entrance. Then she was staring at the night sky with a bright gibbous moon. Slowly she crawled out and stared around her. Behind her the fortress walls rose only ten metres away.
The entrance to the tunnel had been well disguised within an area of rocky land with some gorse and other brambles. She stood up and stretched her limbs. To the north and north-east she could see moonlight reflecting on the river that separated the territory from Cuailgne with its wide mudflats. She saw the few dark shadows rising up and realised these were the long deserted watchtowers. To the east was the great sea and she felt the salt breeze caressing her face and above the eastern rim of the sea she felt, rather than saw, the first indications of the coming of a summer’s dawn.
She smiled with self-satisfaction and glanced at the opening of the hole and then grimaced distastefully.
‘I’d rather go and knock on the gates but back through that tunnel I have to go otherwise it might spoil the surprise,’ she told herself softly.
The return seemed quicker however and Muirenn was still waiting nervously for her.
‘What is it, lady? What did you find?’
‘The way out,’ she replied ‘And this.’ She held out the piece of woollen material.
Muirenn peered at it. ‘It is difficult to discern the colour under lantern light. I’d have to wait until daylight to see it properly. Do you think it is part of the missing wool robe from Lúach’s chamber?’
‘I would make a wager on it,’ Fidelma confirmed. ‘Let us refit this panel and return to our chambers for some rest. At first light I shall have a task for you and Ibor…’
‘Me and Ibor?’
‘I shall reveal where Lúach is and who kidnapped her.’
XII
The tension among those gathered in the great hall created almost a physical obstruction. Fidelma felt it from the moment she entered and almost had to catch her breath against it.
‘How dare you give orders in the Prince’s fortress?’ Orla was shouting immediately Fidelma entered. ‘Your cousin, the King of Muman, shall hear of this. I shall send to Brehon Morann. I shall …’
Ossen tried to quieten her. ‘There is no need to lose your temper, my dear,’ he pointed out. He sat almost huddled in his chair, shoulders hunched and looking pale and exhausted. ‘I am sure the girl is acting without malice but,’ he turned to Fidelma, ‘this is not right. You have no authority here…’
There was a muttering of agreement from Sranacháin and Brother Maranáin. Only Dergnat stood silent, eyes downcast, standing slightly apart.
‘I am afraid I do have such authority.’ She swung round to the young dálaigh. ‘Dergnat, as you are still employed as legal advisor to Ossen, remind the lord of Muirthemne what the rank of a Clí is entitled to do.’
The young man was awkward. ‘It is the equivalent of a Saí, a professor in the ecclesiastical colleges. It means the pillar of the communities; a lawyer who is considered elevated to protect and who is likewise protected; a lawyer whose judgments are powerful and must be respected.’
There was a silence for a moment and then Ossen gestured helplessly. The lines on his face deepened. ‘You are the dálaigh, Fidelma of Cashel. I acknowledge that. So now tell us why you have called us here and …’ he nodded to three warriors who had taken up position in the hall, ‘tell us by what right have you ordered Ibor to place three of his warriors in my hall while sending him away from the fortress on some errand? Have you taken control of my own guards?’
‘I can assure you, Ossen, that it is only temporary. The same authority I have as a Clí in the ranks of the law, is that by which I can demand their assistance.’
‘Assistance to do what?’ Sranacháin demanded. The steward looked nervously towards the impassive faces of the warriors.
‘To resolve the mystery that confronted me when I came here,’ Fidelma returned. Then she drew forth a purse and gave it to the bewildered, fleshy-faced steward. ‘You will hold this until I have done. It is the aitire, my pledge, which according to the laws of the Berrad Arechta is a surety of my judgment of this matter. You may hold it as steward and administrator of this household.’
She held their attention now. The faces regarding her were filled with suspicion and anger.
‘Let us begin by saying that I hope, indeed I pray, that Lúach is still alive.’
‘Alive?’ Orla’s tone was scornful. ‘We have all accepted that after six days without word, she must have perished from injuries in some accident. That was the decision of my Breh … the dálaigh.’ She indicated Dergnat.
‘I was not one of those who agreed with that finding,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Too many questions remained unanswered for me to subscribe to that idea. Lúach was abducted and I will now tell you why and how and then we will come to the who.’
‘That is nonsense!’ exploded Orla. ‘How dare a young girl, a stranger, come into my household and tell me—’
Sranacháin cleared his throat making a loud noise which interrupted her tirade. ‘We have already heard the authority of Fidelma’s position, lady. I must also remind you that this is the household of Prince Ossen and it is for him to accept or reject the plea that Fidelma of Cashel will put forward.’
‘It is interesting that the lady Orla protests so vehemently if she seeks the truth in this matter,’ Fidelma went on calmly as if she had not been interrupted.
Ossen leaned forward, his face troubled. ‘Remember, Orla is my wife.’
‘It is that evil man Mugrón!’ Orla’s face was a mask of hatred. ‘He has been spreading malicious tales about me.
I will not have it!’
‘Mugrón is Lúach’s uncle and seems to love her dearly,’ Fidelma replied. ‘He was worried for her happiness and now is worried for her life. Mugrón was distracted by his worry. As you know, his sister was Ossen’s first wife and was reported to have died in a riding accident—’
‘So she did! So she did!’ Orla’s cheeks now were like parchment. ‘Are you trying—?’
‘I am not trying to do anything. I am not here to resurrect the past but to deal with the present. I am saying that Mugrón was coloured by what happened to his sister, Lúach’s mother. So much did this pervade his thoughts that when it started to be claimed that Lúach had left the fortress and might have had an accident and perished before she could be found, it sounded so much like the fate of his sister, Necht, that Mugrón’s fears turned into suspicions.’
‘I will not stand here and suffer these insults,’ cried the woman.
‘You are not being insulted when a dálaigh is assessing evidence,’ replied Fidelma sharply. ‘So you will remain there and be quiet until I have finished.’
There was a sudden silence in the hall. It seemed that this young girl with her fiery red hair exuded some hypnotic power over them. No one moved nor said anything in the moments that followed.
‘It seemed that Lúach did not get on well with her stepmother,’ Fidelma continued after a pause. ‘I could not accept Mugrón’s suspicions as evidence. They were based entirely on his mistrust and loathing of Orla. Moreover, I could not see what the motive would be for Orla to harm Lúach.
‘Orla is ambitious. She wanted more power and one way of getting it was through obtaining links with some of the powerful families in this kingdom. What could be more powerful than a family that was an offshoot of the northern Uí Néill, a link to the High Kings of Éireann? So in Lúach, Orla saw a tool to fulfil an ambition. An ambitious person does not destroy the means of fulfilling it.’
‘But Lúach wanted to continue studying law,’ Brother Máranáin pointed out. ‘In the last year there have emerged arguments to that effect. Wasn’t Lúach almost ordered to give up law school and marry Suibhne, Prince of the Uí Thuirtri? Lúach refused on the basis she did not love Suibhne and wanted to continue with law. She not only received pressure from Orla but even Ossen was persuaded to demand that Lúach marry.’
The Lair of the White Fox (e-novella) (Kindle Single) Page 9