Valley of the Shadow

by Peter Tremayne

  The game started again.

  ‘Why are you so friendly with me when your mother is set against Sister Fidelma and myself?’ Eadulf suddenly asked in the middle of a move.

  Esnad did not look up. She appeared totally disinterested.

  ‘My mother’s quarrels are not mine. Anyway, she is more angered by your companion, Fidelma, than with you. I would not worry about my mother’s attitudes. I don’t.’

  ‘Your father is tanist and your mother is his wife. Their wishes surely count for something?’

  ‘Why should I be concerned?’

  ‘Are you not interested in their affairs?’

  ‘Not at all. I am more interested in enjoying life than the affairs of Gleann Geis.’

  Eadulf paused to consider a particularly dangerous move. It was plain that Esnad did not like his response and she pouted in disapproval as she found that he had countered her attack.

  ‘Perhaps one day you might marry a chieftain, then you might have to be interested in such matters,’ Eadulf suggested as he moved his king piece into a new position.

  The girl laughed dismissively.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she conceded. ‘But if I married a chieftain, then I would ensure that I did not have to take an interest because the affairs of the clan would be his, not mine. I would have other interests.’

  ‘Does your mother or father care that you are not interested in the affairs of Gleann Geis?’

  ‘I never speak about such matters to them.’

  Eadulf glanced sharply at her and decided it was time to press home the pertinent question.

  ‘Why does Rudgal follow you about so jealously?’

  Esnad raised her eyes. Her gaze was one of amusement. She pouted at him.

  ‘You are asking a lot of questions, Saxon. Why don’t you concentrate on this game? There is much to play for.’

  ‘It is just that Rudgal seems to have taken a dislike to me after you came to the hostel the other day. I wondered why?’

  ‘Oh, ignore him,’ sighed the girl. ‘He thinks he is in love with me.’

  Eadulf was surprised at the flippancy with which she dealt with the matter.

  ‘I thought that much was plain,’ Eadulf conceded solemnly. ‘And, of course, you do not love him?’

  ‘No. He is too old and without means to make my life secure. Anyway, his so-called love is the love of a dog for the sheep not the salmon for the river. If I ever marry someone it will be for other reasons. In the meantime, I want to indulge myself before I grow old and settled.’

  ‘But Rudgal is not much older than me,’ Eadulf pointed out.

  Esnad laughed.

  ‘But you are much more interesting than Rudgal, Saxon. Now, let’s get on with this game.’

  Eadulf kept quiet. The girl was certainly hedonistic. Life seemed to mean no more to her than pleasure seeking. There did not seem to be any mystery here. He would have to finish the game and extricate himself from the embarrassing position as best he could.

  In the feasting hall, the musicians were still playing lively tunes, the instruments making a noisy counterpoint to the laughter and conversation of the guests.

  Fidelma had sought out Murgal and seated herself beside him. She could see Orla and Colla on the far side of the hall and among the others she noticed were Rudgal and Ronan. There was no sign of Laisre or anyone else she recognised. Murgal glanced uneasily up at her as she joined him.

  ‘I did not expect you to join these festivities this evening, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he observed.

  ‘It may well be my last night in Gleann Geis,’ she replied gravely.

  ‘Do you really believe that you can clear up everything tomorrow morning?’ Murgal asked dubiously.

  Fidelma refused the offer of mead but did not reply to his question. He was about to say something else when the musicians ceased to play and a quiet descended in the hall. Ronan stood forward and began to sing with a surprisingly good tenor voice for the rough calloused farmer who preferred to spend his time serving Laisre’s bodyguard. He sang a song of warriors and warfare.

  ‘My straight spear is of red yew –

  vanquisher of polished spears –

  it is mine by right and no warrior dare

  affront it.

  ‘My sharp sword is of white polished iron –

  cleaver of the opposing armour –

  it is silent in its sheath of bronze for fear of

  shedding blood.

  ‘My hardened shield is of golden bronze –

  it has never been reproached –

  for it protects me from all aggressors and their

  weapons.’

  He sat down to a resounding applause and Murgal glanced at Fidelma with amusement.

  ‘You sang a good song the other night. Will you sing something else to entertain us?’

  Fidelma declined gravely.

  ‘A song must swell out of the soul for the moment and not be summoned from a tired mind merely for entertainment’s sake, to while away the passing of the hour. Perhaps you have another song about Cashel to set the diversion?’

  Murgal chuckled disarmingly at her gentle taunt.

  ‘Not this time,’ he admitted. He hesitated and then he asked: ‘Do you feel the apprehension in this hall tonight?’

  ‘Apprehension?’ she asked.

  ‘The news that you will name the killer of Solin and the others tomorrow morning has spread through the ráth. Many people wonder who you will name. There is much tension here.’

  ‘Only the guilty need feel anxiety,’ replied Fidelma.

  ‘There are many who feel that you will name the innocent merely to escape the guilt yourself. They remember that you only cleared your name on a technicality of law and not by revealing who actually murdered Solin. Many think you still killed Solin because you were rivals in your Faith. Many have not forgiven you for trying to put the blame on Orla, for she is popular among our people.’

  ‘I suppose that I also killed Brother Dianach and made Artgal disappear? Or, indeed, perhaps I slaughtered those thirty-three young men myself?’

  Murgal was not perturbed.

  ‘Anything is considered possible about a person in minds that are antagonistic to that person.’

  ‘To your mind?’

  ‘Fidelma, I am a Druid and a Brehon. At first I was prepared to dismiss you as I have most of your Faith. Small, bigoted people, intolerant of the beliefs of others. They will not bear anyone who does not think as they do. I found you unlike those others of your Faith that I have encountered. I trust you. I believe that you are free from any guilt. Perhaps you will trust me to help you?’

  For a wild moment Fidelma found herself about to tell him all she knew. She had even opened her mouth to respond when she realised the danger. She shut her mouth with a snap. Murgal had suddenly become too friendly. Perhaps there was another motive for his change of attitude?

  At that moment she realised that Laisre had entered the chamber. He had a cloak around him for it was a chill evening outside. He had walked across to the fire where his chair had been placed, just before a carved wooden screen. The screen stood at shoulder height, providing a barrier to the draughts. He went behind the screen for there was a small table beyond it where cloaks and weapons were placed during the feasting.

  Fidelma let her eyes follow him quizzically across the room and watched his head atop the screen as he discarded his cloak. He turned. Then she realised that Laisre was looking directly at her across the top of the wooden screen. She could not see his lower face. Only his eyes and the top of his head so that she was unsure of the expression on his face. But for a moment their eyes met. She felt the malignancy of his expression. A cold shudder went through her. Then she inhaled softly and calmly. She turned back to Murgal.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said, ‘what were you saying?’

  ‘I was saying that you should trust me, Fidelma of Cashel, for I might be able to help you. Tomorrow you must explain your suspicions or finish your busine
ss with Laisre and be gone back to Cashel. If you return to Cashel without offering an explanation for what has transpired here then there will be many suspicious minds left behind. You will still be blamed for Solin’s death.’

  Fidelma studied Murgal thoughtfully for a moment.

  ‘You and the people of Gleann Geis will have the resolution of this matter tomorrow morning. That I swear.’

  She caught sight of Eadulf entering the hall and noticed that his face was flushed and he looked anxious. She made her excuses to Murgal, rose and went across to him.

  ‘What’s wrong, Eadulf?’ she asked curiously. ‘You have a melancholy expression.’

  ‘Wrong?’ He asked indignantly. He seemed to have difficulty keeping control of his ire. ‘That girl Esnad is wrong. Even Nemon, the prostitute, is more honest than she is.’

  Fidelma laid a pacifying hand on his arm.

  ‘Walk with me back to the hostel and tell me about it.’

  ‘Do you know that the girl tried to lure me into her bed?’

  Fidelma shot him an amused glance.

  ‘She is youthful and attractive,’ she pointed out.

  Eadulf made an inarticulate sound.

  ‘I presume that you were not attracted by the offer?’ Fidelma added with a mischievous grin.

  ‘She had me play a game of Brandub and demanded a wager be set. If she won she was going to demand I go to bed with her. If I won she expected me to make the same demand of her.’

  ‘Did you?’

  Eadulf looked aghast.

  ‘Did I go to her bed?’ he asked in horror.

  ‘No, did you win the game?’

  Eadulf shook his head vehemently.

  ‘I saw where this matter was leading and was able to win but did not fulfil her expectations. Anyway, that did not stop her trying to persuade me. I barely escaped her seduction.’

  ‘More importantly,’ Fidelma said, as they entered the guests’ hostel, ‘did you find out whether she was involved with her parents’ politics? What is her connection with Rudgal?’

  ‘All she cares about is carnal pleasure.’ Eadulf sniffed in disgust. ‘She knows little about anything else. As for Rudgal, I think he is smitten with a passion which comes close to unquestioning adoration of the little wanton. I feel sorry for the man.’

  Fidelma lit the lamp.

  ‘Well, an early night is called for. We have done all we can for now. Hopefully, Ibor will be here before dawn.’

  Eadulf’s expression changed to one of anxiety.

  ‘We play a dangerous game here, Fidelma. It is one thing to secure this ráth but we must be able to solve the mystery.’

  Fidelma seemed happy enough.

  ‘I think I can … now,’ she added with emphasis. ‘But the main danger is tonight. If someone is to take action against me, it will be tonight. We have to be vigilant.’

  Eadulf was worried.

  ‘I will not sleep tonight,’ he vowed. ‘Have no fear.’

  It was still dark when Eadulf was roused from the slumber into which he had fallen almost as soon as he clambered between the blankets.

  He struggled up in bed his heart beating fast, aware of a figure bending over him.

  He recognised Fidelma’s scent in the shadows. She bent forward and whispered: ‘There is someone outside the hostel. I heard them trying the door. They are downstairs. Stand ready. I think they are going to come up here.’

  As Fidelma moved silently back to her room, Eadulf swung out of his bed, hurriedly hauling on his robe.

  He could hear the footsteps quietly ascending but betrayed by a creaking on the stair.

  He moved behind the door and seized one of the heavy iron candlesticks, resolving that as soon as the intruder had passed his door towards Fidelma’s chamber he would hurry out and come on them from behind. He had hardly determined this strategy when he heard the steps falter in the passage outside and then – then the latch of his own door was lifting.

  He pressed back against the wall with a pounding heart, automatically raising the candlestick defensively.

  The door creaked open.

  A shadow entered the room. It was burly and that of a man. There was a sword in his hand.

  Eadulf waited for no more. He swung the candlestick. It contacted with the figure’s head with a sickening thud. There was a soft grunt. The figure collapsed and fell to the floor, the sword clattering out of its hand.

  Eadulf stood trembling for a moment.

  He heard Fidelma exclaim in alarm and come hurrying from her room.

  ‘Where are you, Eadulf?’ she demanded anxiously.

  ‘Here,’ mumbled Eadulf, retrieving the candle and stick and reaching for flint and tinder to light it. It was a difficult task in the gloom and took a time. For he had to find the metal box of rotten beech wood, the wood almost powdered by the action of fungus, and then hold his flint over it and strike at it with a sharp piece of metal to cause the spark. Once the spark caused the wood to smoulder, he could light the wick of the candle.

  Once it was burning they could examine the figure on the floor.

  ‘Rudgal!’ whispered Fidelma.

  ‘I gave him a hefty blow,’ confessed Eadulf. ‘His skull looks as though it is bleeding profusely. I’d better dress his wound.’

  ‘But not before you bind his hands together,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘He did not come here, sword in hand, in the middle of the night out of friendship’s sake.’

  Eadulf went in search of a stout piece of cord, finding it in the kitchen of the hostel and returned to bind the warrior’s hands. As he did so Rudgal began to moan as consciousness started to return. Eadulf heaved him on to the bed and then found water and a bowl and started to bathe the bloody area of his skull.

  Rudgal’s eyes flickered and opened. They glanced round quickly and he flexed his arms.

  ‘Stay still!’ snapped Eadulf. ‘Your hands are tied.’

  Rudgal immediately relaxed.

  Fidelma stood, hands folded before her, examining the warrior carefully.

  ‘You have some explaining to do, Rudgal,’ she observed. ‘Were you sent here to kill me or was it your own idea?’

  Rudgal stared at her in bewilderment.

  ‘Kill you, Sister?’ he gasped. ‘I do not understand.’

  Fidelma was patient.

  ‘I presume that it was not for my health that you came to seek me in the darkness of the night with a naked blade.’

  Rudgal blinked and then shook his head slowly.

  ‘You, Sister? It was not you that I sought but …’ he jerked his head towards Eadulf, ‘but that foreigner. Him I meant to kill.’

  Eadulf was shocked.

  ‘Why would you want to kill Brother Eadulf?’ asked Fidelma.

  Rudgal glowered.

  ‘He knows,’ he replied tightly.

  ‘I do not,’ averred Eadulf. ‘What have I done?’ Then he groaned. ‘Do not tell me that it is to do with that silly little girl?’

  ‘You have tried to take Esnad from me!’ cried Rudgal, trying to struggle forward. ‘She told me that you were with her last evening. I will kill you.’

  Eadulf easily pushed him back on the bed.

  ‘You must be mad,’ the Saxon said slowly. ‘I am not interested in that child.’

  ‘Rudgal, listen to me,’ Fidelma said, interrupting the fair-haired man’s sobs of torment. ‘Eadulf has no interest in Esnad. Whatever your relationship with her is a matter for you to sort out.’

  ‘But he was with her last night.’

  ‘At my instructions,’ replied Fidelma, realising the logic in his madness.

  Rudgal flushed.

  ‘Why would you tell him to go to flirt with Esnad?’

  ‘In Christ’s Truth!’ snapped Eadulf. ‘If any flirting was done, it was that young girl who was doing it. You must know, man, what she is like.’

  ‘I love her!’

  ‘But is the girl in love with you?’ Eadulf snapped.

  It was clear from Rudgal’
s features that he was not confident to answer this question.

  ‘Rudgal,’ Fidelma said, ‘there is no need for anyone to shed blood over a capricious girl.’

  The warrior was reluctant to be persuaded.

  ‘Esnad told me that he was in her apartment. She made fun of me saying …’

  Fidelma held up her hand to quiet him.

  ‘Aegra amans!’ she muttered. Only Eadulf understood. Indeed Virgil had spoken of possessive love as a disease.

  Eadulf looked towards her sourly.

  ‘Amantes sunt amentes,’ he responded, pointing out that lovers were lunatics.

  Rudgal was scowling at them both, not understanding.

  ‘There is nothing between Esnad and I,’ Eadulf repeated. ‘Now why don’t you sort out your problems with Esnad?’

  Rudgal glowered.

  ‘It is sound advice, Rudgal,’ Fidelma added. ‘If you feel so much in love with Esnad then you should speak with her. Surely her opinion is more important to you than anyone else’s opinion?’

  The man was still angry.

  ‘Can it be that you know she does not love you in return and so it is easier for you to blame other people, saying that they are taking her from you?’ Fidelma continued. ‘Was she ever yours to take?’

  Her words struck home. The warrior and wagon-maker flinched as if she had struck him.

  ‘It is not our business what you do, Rudgal,’ Fidelma went on, ‘but I would be wise and consider matters more calmly. You would do well to see if you actually loved Esnad apart from being in love. These are two different things. And if you loved Esnad you would care for her opinion and her happiness.’

  ‘What do you mean to do with me?’ growled Rudgal, ignoring her advice.

  ‘You have broken the law by launching a murderous attack on Eadulf,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘What if you had killed him? What do you think we should do with you?’

  ‘I claim justification on my side,’ the man said stubbornly.

  ‘There is no justification at all.’ Eadulf was outraged by the man’s persistent attitude.

  Fidelma laid a hand on Eadulf’s arm and motioned for him to follow her into the corridor.