‘However, there were still members of the Ui Fidgente who refused to
This time there was an uncomfortable silence in the oratory. Finally the Abbot Erc spoke with a querulous note.
‘You forget, Sister Fidelma, that Eoganan’s son Torcan was slaughtered as well.’
‘I have not forgotten. Eoganan had more than one male offspring.’
‘She means Uaman!’ called Sister Uallann, and her tone showed that it was meant as a jeer.
‘As a dalaigh, you should know that Uaman could not become chief of the Ui Fidgente,’ the librarian Brother Eolas intervened. ‘Even I know enough law to realise that. It was well known that he was a leper and therefore ineligible to claim the office. He would not be recognised as legitimate even if he arrived at Loch Derg with a thousand warriors behind him to place him on the seat of his ancestors.’
Slebene, the chief of the Corco Duibhne, was nodding slowly.
‘What if Uaman still lives?’ he demanded, causing some surprise among them. ‘We have heard many rumours that it is so.’
Sister Uallann turned to him, exhaling sharply.
‘The stories cannot be true,’ she snapped. ‘Wasn’t it said that before the last Nativity he perished in the quicksand of his own island? Several travellers brought the story to the abbey.’
Eadulf was about to stir when he caught Fidelma’s eye and saw the slight shake of her head.
It was Conri who replied.
‘It was so reported. There was an eyewitness.’ He cast a quick look at Eadulf. ‘But we saw that there are burnt-out villages among the passes of Sliabh Mis, there are mothers who weep for the loss of their sons, wives for their husbands, children for their fathers. We met with people who reported seeing Uaman leading a band of warriors through these passes.
‘And Uaman as well?’ called Brother Eolas. ‘Where is he, then, who would be “master of souls”?’
Sister Easdan now rose in her place.
‘While we did not know who the man was, Olcan took orders from a man clad from head to feet in robes and whom he called “the master”. Esumaro will bear me out. Others identified him as the one they call Uaman the Leper.’
The Gaulish seaman nodded in support.
Brother Cillin called out from his seat.
‘You mean that man you imprisoned here, Olcan, was one of Uaman’s men?’
‘Even if it were so,’ smiled the Venerable Mac Faosma sceptically, ‘you have heard that Uaman would have no chance at all of being regarded as ruler. He might force himself upon the Ui Fidgente as their chief by force of arms but then he would split his people — there would be warfare. The Ui Chonaill Gabra would appeal to the Brehons. They would appeal to Cashel. Cashel would intervene with the support of the High King because the law is clear. Blood feuds would rip the Ui Fidgente asunder… parties of avengers would rule the country by fear. We could not have someone unqualified by law force his rule upon us. I freely confess that I was a supporter of Eoganan and all he stood for. I believe that the rule of the Eoghanacht of Cashel is unjust. But I believe in the rule of the law and not of the sword. I would condemn Uaman, if he usurped the power of the Ui Fidgente. Only a ruler qualified by law can take Donennach’s power from him.’
Slebene was smiling cynically.
‘As you all well know, I am chief of the Corco Duibhne and it is against my eastern borders, the valley passes, where Uaman the Leper has been seen. Many times have I sought to confront him and he has outwitted me. Now, there sits Conri, warlord of the Ui Fidgente. I give him this invitation. Bring those men that are loyal to him and his lord, Donennach, and come into the passes of Sliabh Mis and together we will hunt this leper down.’
He sat down and there was a murmur of applause.
Conri was about to rise to accept the challenge when Fidelma motioned him to remain seated. She had been standing with a whimsical smile on her features at Slebene’s suggestion.
‘Well said, Slebene, well said,’ she applauded, but they could hear the cynicism in her voice. ‘But I think you know as well as I do that Uaman the Leper will not be found in the passes of Sliabh Mis. Chasing shadows in the passes of Sliabh Mis would merely take Conri and his men away from the area where the rebellion against Donennach would occur, wouldn’t it?’
Her quiet tone held their attention and for a moment there was total silence.
‘What do you mean, Sister Fidelma?’ Abbot Erc finally demanded.
‘The stories that you heard in the month before the Nativity were true. Uaman, son of Eoganan, was dragged into the quicksand surrounding his own island fortress. Eadulf here was a witness to his death.’
The silence continued as Abbot Erc remained staring at her with a puzzled frown.
‘Then what are we discussing? With Uaman dead as well as his elder brother Torcan, there is no one else of the Ui Choirpre Aedba to claim the chieftainship.’
‘If Uaman is dead,’ called Esumaro, ‘who is this “master” who gave orders to Olcan?’
Fidelma glanced towards the Venerable Mac Faosma.
‘Perhaps you could enlighten us?’ she invited.
As they all turned towards him, the Venerable Mac Faosma leant back and stared at her with growing astonishment.
‘Of course! That is why you were examining the genealogy. Eoganan had three children. But surely that doesn’t help us because the third name was removed from the genealogy?’
The librarian had picked up the train of the argument.
‘You told us so yourself,’ Brother Eolas said. ‘Something had been cut from the page of the genealogy. Was it the name of the third son of Eoganan?’
‘It was the name of Eoganan’s third child. The one who now means to overthrow Donennach and claim the rulership of the Ui Fidgente.’
A whisper of surprise spread like a tide around the oratory with people looking at one another in surprise.
‘I said,’ Fidelma told them, ‘that there were many strands that had to be unravelled. I have given you the motive for the events that have happened here. I have told you who was behind it but have not yet identified that person. So let us now turn to this strand of identity, bearing in
‘One thing, lady,’ Esumaro called out. ‘Was my ship wrecked by accident or design?’
‘It was wrecked by opportunity. Olcan and his men seized the chance to wreck your ship when they saw it trying to weather the island. They were there awaiting the arrival of Abbess Faife and her companions. They saw a rich merchantman and decided, on the spur of the moment, to gather some extra booty. Olcan, as many of you may know
…’ she let her glance linger slightly on the white immobile features of Sister Sinnchene, ‘was one of Uaman’s commanders when he was alive. Now Olcan changed his allegiance to Eoganan’s other child. He had received instructions to go to the island and wait by the ruins of Uaman’s fortress. He knew that his new master badly needed money to pay mercenaries to help them overthrow Donennach. He had been told that Abbess Faife and her companions would be passing by on a certain day at a certain time. Olcan’s orders were to capture the sisters unharmed. However, it did not matter about the abbess. It was her companions who were needed for they had important skills.’
Sister Easdan was animated.
‘The precious stones. Olcan and his people were mining the crystals but needed experts to cut and polish them so they could sell them to raise money for their cause. That is why they were not bothered about killing poor Abbess Faife. That’s why they took us to Seanach’s Island where the hermits were forced to dig the crystal and we were forced to polish it.’
‘Exactly so,’ confirmed Fidelma approvingly.
‘But what of my crew, my ship?’ demanded Esumaro angrily. ‘What had they to do with anything?’
‘As I have said, you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Olcan must have seen your ship being driven into the bay in the bad weather. He thought it was a godsend to his master. Who knows what goods m
ight be aboard? Olcan was a perverse and evil man. He strung up the light to misdirect you on to the rocks and…’ She shrugged. ‘He stored the goods in the ruined fortress to await a more suitable time to bring his warship around the coast from Seanach’s Island to pick it up. But you survived, Esumaro. You were the only survivor. You brought us a particular piece of important information that helped me reconstruct the story.’
‘What was that?’ demanded the seaman.
‘You heard Olcan telling his men about the rendezvous with the abbess and her companions, showing that he had been informed precisely when they would be passing along that road. In trying to escape from Olcan and his robbers in the early hours after the wreck, you fell in with Abbess Faife and nearly shared her fate. Thanks to Sister Easdan there, and more than a little luck, you survived.’
She had their complete attention now. They were leaning forward in their seats, hanging on her every word. Even the Venerable Mac Faosma was sitting attentive and quiet.
‘The precious stones were going to be the real key for raising money to pay an army of mercenaries, warriors from the north, the Ui Maine and Ui Briuin Ai, the sort of scum that Olcan was leading, to help overthrow Donennach.’
She paused and looked towards Sister Easdan.
‘Now, one thing especially interested me. This abbey was certainly known for producing polished stones and jewellery. For having expert lec-garaid or stone polishers. But Abbot Erc did not like individuals to be named. He wanted the abbey to have the reputation but did not want to encourage individuals to share it because of vanity. So who identified the six workers who went off with Abbess Faife on the annual pilgrimage to Breanainn’s? I found that the pilgrims comprised different groups each year. So who told the so-called “master”, and thereby Olcan, who they were and that they would be passing along that road on that particular day?’
She paused as she studied their upturned expectant faces.
‘Only someone from inside the abbey could have had such information.’
It was the steward Brother Cu Mara who articulated the conclusion. ‘Are you saying that someone here connived in the murder of their own abbess and the abduction of six of our members?’ he demanded.
‘Who?’ demanded Abbot Erc. His features had grown less aggressive.
‘Who else but Eoganan’s third child, the so-called “master” who, having been fostered by Slebene of the Corco Duibhne, then came to dwell in this abbey. When Uaman was killed they realised they might legitimately claim the chiefship of the Ui Fidgente but it needed an army, and an army needed money.’
Slebene had turned pale, his eyes flashing with anger.
Conri was on his feet, slowly moving towards him.
‘Name the man, Fidelma,’ he instructed, hand on the hilt of his sword.
‘Did I say that this “master” was a man?’ Fidelma let her eyes roam the upturned faces before her. Then she said: ‘Stand forth, Uallach, daughter of Eoganan.’
‘Uallach!’ Conri suddenly swung his gaze on Sister Uallann, the abbey physician. He thought that the name was familiar. She was fiercely supportive of the deposed Ui Fidgente chieftain, against the peace with Cashel, and admitted that she had been raised among the Corco Duibhne. Of course, it made sense. The physician did not move, her pale eyes fixed on Fidelma.
‘Not Uallann,’ Fidelma said softly. ‘Someone trying to hide their true name would not choose another so close to it.’
It was then that Conr realised that Fidelma was looking directly at Sister Buan.
‘Stand up, Uallach. You do not have to deny it,’ she instructed quietly. Sister Buan rose slowly to her feet. Her face was contorted with a mixture of emotions.
‘You consider that you are very clever, Fidelma of Cashel. My regret is that I failed in both my attempts to kill you. That was remiss of me.’
There was a gasp from the assembly.
‘For my part, Uallach, I am grateful that you did not succeed,’ Fidelma replied calmly.
Abbot Erc was regarding them both with utter bewilderment on his features.
‘I think we deserve some explanation, Sister Fidelma. I have no idea of how you can make this accusation. We have known Sister Buan for many years. She has been trusted with trading for this abbey. She was… she was the Venerable Cinaed’s companion and he would hardly support the aspirations of a child of Eoganan!’
‘I shall show that the person you knew as Sister Buan was, in reality, Uallach, daughter of the late ruler of the Ui Fidgente, sister to Uaman the Leper. It was Buan who arranged for the abduction of the six gem polishers from this abbey. Buan was one of the few people in the abbey who had the freedom to move about the country in her position of trader. Olcan and his men worked for her. Because she was in many ways like Uaman, her brother, she donned a robe and people thought she was Uaman still alive. She was responsible for the death of the Abbess Faife and what
‘Only Olcan knew that Uaman was not the “master”. He told me so on the night before Buan, whom he trusted, murdered him…’
The murmur erupted into a chorus of angry voices.
Abbot Erc had to raise his voice to make himself heard.
‘You will have to prove these accusations,’ he said, still filled with doubt.
‘Oh, indeed, I shall. I shall take you through it with each piece of evidence.’
Conr had nearly reached Slebene but the chief of the Corco Duibhne was on his feet.
He drew a short sword, which he had hidden under his cloak.
‘Time for a strategic withdrawal, Uallach,’ he called.
‘Don’t be stupid, Slebene!’ Conri cried, his own sword drawn. ‘You have no chance of leaving here.’
‘Do I not?’ sneered Slebene. ‘Then look to the windows, my friend. There are arrows aimed at Fidelma of Cashel and at the abbot. If anyone moves against us to prevent us leaving here, then they will be the first to die. Conri, put down your sword now and tell you warriors to stand aside from the door and do the same. Do it now or Fidelma dies!’
Eyes had flitted to the windows on either side of the oratory. Through the slits two of Slebene’s warriors with drawn bows, arrows steadily pointed at their targets, could be seen. One of them was the red-haired champion. The chief of the Corco Duibhne had not told lies. The arrows were well aimed.
Conri, with a hiss of anger, dropped his weapon and stood back.
‘Now tell your man to move away from the door!’
Conr did so and Socht and his companions reluctantly discarded their weapons and stood aside.
Sister Buan, the woman Fidelma had identified as Uallach, was staring at her with features contorted with hate. She did not seem in a hurry to leave.
‘Come, Uallach!’ cried Slebene. ‘There is no time-’
‘Kill them!’ the woman suddenly screamed. ‘Kill them all!’
The abbot flinched and closed his eyes waiting for the impact of the arrow but Fidelma stood firmly returning Sister Buan’s malignant gaze.
Luckily it was Slebene who was in command of his warriors and they waited for his orders. He realised that if his men loosed their arrows, Fidelma and Abbot Erc might die but he would have no chance of escape from the oratory. The threat that his own death would almost certainly result prevented him from giving the order.
The chief came forward and gripped Sister Buan’s arm tightly. ‘Think, Uallach! Think! If we kill them, we will never get out of this abbey. We must leave, get to An Daingean and raise our army. It is the only way. Come quickly while my archers can cover us. These others can be dealt with later.’
Reluctantly, Sister Buan, or Uallach, allowed herself to be drawn back along the aisle to the door of the oratory.
‘Tell your man to open the door,’ yelled Slebene as they backed towards it.
Conri signalled to Socht to do so.
The warrior turned in disgust and opened the door. While he was still bending to swing the door back, Slebene brought the pommel of his short sword down on the man’s un
protected head and he fell with hardly a sound.
Slebene and Uallach were gone through the door. Outside, Slebene drew it shut behind them. Those inside heard the door slam shut and something placed against it. Then the two archers at the windows withdrew without releasing their arrows. With the threat that confined his actions now gone, Conr sprang forward, grabbing his fallen sword, and shouting to someone to attend to Socht who was trying to staunch the blood on his head. Conr tried the door. Socht’s two companions joined him but their assault on the door was useless. It had been well jammed from the outside.
There was a general hubbub in the oratory and Fidelma called in a loud and clear tone for order and quiet. They heard the sound of horses from outside. She and Eadulf hastened to Conr’s side.
‘They’ll be heading for their warship,’ she told Conri. ‘Will Tadcan be able to deal with them? Is there a way to warn him?’
Conr grinned and took from his belt a small horn, which had been hanging by its thongs. He went to the window and raised it to his lips. The blast was long and shrill and he sounded it three times. By this time, other members of the community had come to the oratory to see what the commotion was and removed the obstacle, which turned out to be a couple of poles, that had held the door fast.
Conr seized a red-faced and bewildered brother. The warlord demanded to know where Slebene and his companions had gone.
‘Lord, they left by the main gate. They all went on horseback and seem to be taking the road to the coast.’
‘Then it is up to Tadcan,’ muttered Fidelma.
Conr once more raised his horn and blew the three sharp notes into the still winter air. He paused and then, faintly in the distance, they heard three answering blasts.
The warlord turned to Fidelma and Eadulf with a smile of triumph. ‘Tadcan has heard, lady. He will be waiting for them.’
Fidelma peered round and caught sight of Brother Cu Mara.
‘Get our horses, quickly!’ she called.
The steward was looking confused. However, Socht, having partially recovered from the blow, was coming out of the oratory with his two fellow warriors helping him. Hearing Fidelma’s order, they ran towards the stables. While Fidelma and Conri fretted impatiently, moments passed, and then the warriors returned leading their horses.
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