23- The Seventh Trumpet

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Cathchern was a good warrior,’ the steward grieved. ‘He would never have allowed a stranger to approach and strike him without even attempting to draw his weapon.’

  ‘That is the only explanation,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘Whoever killed him and released the prisoner was known and trusted by him.’

  ‘Then there is a traitor here.’ Gormán’s expression was grim. ‘It could be anyone of the Éile.’

  ‘There are no traitors among the Éile,’ snapped Spealáin.

  ‘You have every right to protest,’ agreed Eadulf calmly, ‘but we must consider logic. The guard was attacked by someone he knew, or whose rank he had to respect.’

  ‘We can discuss this later,’ Fidelma said. ‘It is more urgent to find where Étain of An Dún is hiding and who is hiding her. Now she is free, in her current state of mind, she will doubtless be bent on vengeance.’

  ‘There is one point to consider,’ Eadulf said quietly.

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘You know how her mind was when we saw her … well, the person who released her had the ability to do so without her raving or crying out and alarming anyone. That person was well known to her, able to quieten her.’

  ‘A good point, Eadulf.’ Fidelma turned to Caol. ‘I want you to go to my brother and persuade him to return to the chamber Gelgéis has allotted him and await the outcome of our search for Étain. Do not leave his side, even if he tries to insist. Do not leave him alone until I say otherwise.’

  Caol hurried off while Fidelma turned to the steward.

  ‘Spealáin, you must alert Gelgéis and the guards. There must be a detailed search of the fortress for this woman and anyone else behaving suspiciously.’

  ‘Are you sure you can trust me and the guards of Durlus?’ the man said bitterly.

  Fidelma answered with a thin smile. ‘Trust must be earned, Spealáin,’ she replied. ‘I suggest you set about earning it.’

  He bit his lip and then hastened after Caol.

  ‘Do you think Étain is going to attempt to assassinate the King?’ asked Gormán anxiously.

  ‘She is crazy enough to try,’ Eadulf said heavily. ‘With the way her mind is working, I do not think she would even be able to find her way to the King on her own and do the deed.’

  ‘That’s just it,’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘She is not capable on her own. Someone has released her and may even now be leading her to my brother.’

  ‘Then …’ Gormán was white-faced as he turned to the door.

  ‘Wait! We can leave Colgú’s protection to Caol,’ called Fidelma, halting him. ‘Our task is to find Étain and her companion.’

  Outside in the corridor, ignoring the crumpled body of the warrior, they paused, uncertain of their direction. Then Gormán sucked in his breath and pointed. There were smudge-marks of blood on the stone floor. Someone, either Étain or her rescuer, had trodden in the blood of the guard and moved on, not noticing.

  Gormán eased his sword out and led the way, following the trail. At the end of the passage, the trail turned down another short passage and ended before a stout wooden door. There were no locks on it. The young warrior motioned them back and reached forward. The door pushed open easily. A flight of steps led down into what was obviously a cellar or small vault. They could see a flickering light at the bottom.

  ‘Wait here!’ whispered the warrior. ‘I’ll go down first.’

  They knew better than to object. Gormán moved noiselessly down the stone steps, his sword held ready in front of him. Then he disappeared from their sight. There was a long silence and Eadulf fidgeted uneasily. Fidelma was about to call down when Gormán’s voice came up to them.

  ‘It’s all right, but you had better come and see this.’

  Eadulf went first down the steps and into the cellar, which was lit by an oil lamp. Gormán was standing before what seemed to be a mound of clothing on the floor in front of him.

  ‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf.

  Gormán stood back and gestured to the huddled figure at his feet.

  Fidelma let her breath escape in a long deep sigh. ‘It’s Étain,’ she said softly.

  ‘A single stab wound in the heart,’ confirmed Gormán.

  Eadulf took the oil lamp from its resting-place and held it above the figure so that they could see better.

  ‘Did you …?’ Fidelma looked up at Gormán.

  ‘God forbid, lady. I am no killer of old women,’ protested the warrior. ‘I came down here and saw this bundle of clothing, or so I thought. I discovered it was a body and made a quick search, but there is no one else here.’

  ‘The wound is still bleeding, the body warm.’ Eadulf had peered closer. ‘And …’ his voice rose sharply, ‘she still lives!’

  He gently thrust Fidelma aside, handing her the lantern, and knelt beside the woman. Even as he did so, he realised that it was too late. The Lady Étain of An Dún was breathing her last but, in that moment, she was conscious and her pale eyes became wide and staring. A strange understanding entered them. She was trying to speak. Eadulf raised her head a little with one hand behind it, and bent his ear to her trembling lips. Words came as a painful breath followed by a long rattling sigh and she was dead.

  Eadulf laid the woman’s head back on the bloody flags, then slowly rose to his feet.

  ‘Did she say anything?’ Fidelma demanded.

  ‘I believe she was thinking of her family in her last moment.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because she said two words – “my daughter” – that’s all.’

  Fidelma stared at him and he saw comprehension dawning in her eyes. Then she quickly addressed Gormán. ‘Find Spealáin and inform him of this matter. He can remove the body. I will let my brother and Gelgéis know.’

  Eadulf followed her as she hurried away.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded as they raced back towards the guest quarters.

  ‘I have just realised that my brother is still in danger,’ she panted.

  They found Caol standing outside the guest chamber which had been assigned to Colgú.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you not to leave my brother’s side?’ Fidelma’s voice was raised in anger.

  Caol was shocked, for he had never heard her sound so angry or upset before. ‘It’s all right, lady,’ he protested. ‘The King is not alone. He told me to wait outside.’

  ‘Did I not make my instructions clear? Not alone? Who is with him?’

  ‘Why, the Lady Dúnliath.’

  To his surprise, Fidelma physically pushed him aside and hurled herself at the door. It was secured from the inside.

  ‘Break it in!’ Her agitation galvanised Caol into action.

  Caol threw himself at the door. The wood around the lock cracked and splintered and gave, precipitating him into the room, followed a moment later by Fidelma.

  Dúnliath had been wrapped in an embrace with Colgú and now she spun away and stared at them with cold fury on her face. Colgú himself stepped back in utter astonishment.

  ‘By the …!’ he roared. ‘What does this mean, sister?’ His voice was low and ominous.

  ‘I am thankful to find you unharmed, brother.’ There was relief in her voice, but she knew that Colgú was possessed of a temper equal to her own.

  ‘Of course I am unharmed!’ he snapped. ‘There are boundaries that even you may not trespass across. What do you mean by this outrageous behaviour?’

  ‘I gave specific instructions to Caol not to leave your side until I said so.’

  ‘That’s not his fault. I ordered him to leave as I was not alone.’

  ‘And I instructed him not to leave your side, no matter who was with you,’ replied Fidelma with equal firmness.

  ‘I was with my betrothed, Fidelma. How dare you …?’

  Dúnliath had controlled her shock and anger now. Her features had resumed their usual benevolent expression.

  ‘Come, beloved,’ she said to Colgú, ‘don’t be angry with your sister. That she is so
concerned with your welfare is much to be praised. She was worried for your safety.’

  ‘Yet your worry was unnecessary,’ Colgú ranted at Fidelma. ‘Caol was outside and Ailill is in the next room. I had but to call, and either of them could have reached us if it were necessary. And why would it be necessary? The only way to surprise me in here would be an attack through this window, and that is a long climb from the courtyard. I doubt anyone would risk it. So now we have a splintered door as the result of your concern, and that must be repaired. You will have to apologise to Gelgéis and to her steward.’

  Fidelma did not reply but stood looking around the chamber. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she examined the features of the fair-haired girl.

  ‘Alas, lady, I have some sad news for you and that precipitated my anxiety for my brother.’ She saw the girl’s face tighten, but she said nothing.

  ‘What sad news, Fidelma?’ Colgú asked curiously.

  ‘Dúnliath’s mother has been found dead.’

  Apart from a further tightening of the girl’s face, she remained silent, immovable.

  ‘Dúnliath’s mother?’ Colgú was puzzled. ‘Found dead? Where? How do you know? I have no understanding of this.’

  ‘In a vault in this fortress,’ replied Fidelma.

  Colgú remained bewildered. Then he looked at the girl. ‘Who is your mother, Dúnliath?’

  The girl did not reply. She had become as rigid as a statue. It was left to Fidelma to supply the answer. ‘Étain of An Dún,’ she said quietly.

  Colgú’s gasp of astonishment was louder than that of Eadulf and either Caol or Gormán.

  ‘I thought your mother had died a long while ago,’ he said to Dúnliath.

  Fidelma did not take her eyes from the girl.

  ‘Dúnliath told me some time ago in Cashel that her mother’s name was Étain. Drón of Gabrán married twice. His second wife was the mother of Dúnliath, who left him. Dúnliath was then raised by his dormun, a concubine.’

  There was a growing noise along the corridor and Spealáin and his guards were crowding at the door. Fidelma turned to Eadulf, who was the only one unmoved by the revelation, and asked him to assure them that Colgú was well and to wait at the end of the corridor. When he had done so, she found Colgú was staring incredulously at Dúnliath.

  ‘Is it true?’ he finally asked. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  She spread her arms as if in surrender. ‘I cannot be blamed for who my mother was,’ she replied. ‘In truth, I had little knowledge of her except her name. She left when I was a baby.’

  ‘Did your father ever divorce Étain?’ pressed Colgú.

  ‘As your sister says, I was brought up by his dormun, my father’s concubine,’ the girl said defensively. ‘For many years I even thought she was my blood mother.’

  ‘But Étain had been married before she married your father, hadn’t she?’ Fidelma pointed out.

  The girl nodded. ‘It was only a few days ago that I was told that my real mother had originally married a noble of the Déisi Muman, by whom she had two sons. When he died, my mother married Drón. Then, when she deserted my father, she left me behind and I understood she returned to the Déisi fortress at An Dún where she raised her sons. She never acknowledged me.’

  ‘When did you last see your mother?’ Colgú asked.

  ‘I saw her once some years ago when she passed through Osraige on her way to Gleann an Ghuail.’

  ‘You had not heard that she was condemned to incarceration in the Glen of Lunatics earlier this year after she had murdered one of her sons?’

  ‘I did not.’ Fidelma found there was little to learn from the fixed expression on the girl’s features.

  ‘You did not know that she had escaped and was leading a band of rebels in the west?’

  ‘As I did not know she was there in the first place, then I could not have known that she had escaped,’ replied Dúnliath flatly.

  ‘You did not know that she had been brought here, to Durlus, as a prisoner this very day?’

  ‘I did not.’

  ‘This is all hard to believe,’ sighed Colgú, having exhausted himself with his rapid questioning.

  The girl’s chin came up defiantly. ‘I can only tell you the truth.’

  Colgú suddenly remembered what Fidelma had said first of all. ‘You say that Étain is dead?’ he asked his sister. ‘How? Did she refuse to surrender?’

  ‘She was murdered.’

  The King’s eyes widened a little. ‘Murdered? I don’t understand. She escaped from her confinement and …?’

  ‘She did not escape: she was released. I suspect that whoever released her tried to persuade her to come here and murder you. They failed because Étain had become hopelessly deranged. She was impossible to control and more of a hindrance than a help to the conspirator, and so they had no choice but to kill her. I will speculate, although it is not in my nature to do so, that they hoped that her body would remain undiscovered until they could come to your chamber and kill you.’

  All eyes had turned on to Dúnliath. The girl was trembling.

  ‘It is not so. I did not … it is all a fabrication!’

  Eadulf spoke quietly. ‘You will be interested to know that when we found your mother, she was not quite dead. She said two words before she expired.’

  ‘She identified her killer?’ Colgú asked.

  Eadulf regarded Dúnliath sadly. ‘Your mother had two sons by her first marriage. That we know. How many daughters did she have?’

  ‘As far as I know, I was her only daughter,’ the girl replied, puzzled.

  ‘The two words that she spoke were – my daughter.’

  Dúnliath staggered and would have fallen, had not Colgú caught her and lowered her to a chair.

  ‘Get water quickly,’ he ordered as he tried to massage her hands.

  Eadulf handed him a goblet from the side table, but Fidelma suddenly struck it from his hand. She smiled apologetically.

  ‘Let us take all precautions,’ she advised and then asked Gorman to go for fresh water.

  The girl was moaning and coming back to consciousness by the time Gorman returned.

  ‘Are you charging her with being part of this conspiracy, Fidelma?’ asked Colgú in a hollow tone.

  To everyone’s surprise she replied, ‘Not yet. It is late now. I suggest that we ask Áedo, as Chief Brehon of Muman, and Brocc, as Gelgéis’s Brehon, to convene a court in the Great Hall tomorrow so that they may judge my explanation of these events.’

  ‘Very well,’ Colgú agreed, almost in relief.

  ‘Tonight, my brother,’ Fidelma said softly, ‘you must heed my advice and be very well-guarded.’

  The morning heralded a bright, crisp and clear early-autumn day. There were no clouds in the azure sky but the sun was weak and high and there was a chill in the air. That morning, the news arrived that Fidelma had been waiting for. It came in the persons of Enda and Tormeid. Spealáin conducted them directly to Gelgéis’s personal reception chamber where she and Colgú were breaking their fast with Fidelma and Eadulf. It was clear both newly arrived warriors were excited.

  ‘Well, it seems that you have good news for us,’ Fidelma observed as she welcomed them.

  ‘Good news, indeed, lady,’ Enda confirmed with a smile. ‘Cronán is dead and Spillán is among the prisoners, and all the Uí Duach that were forced to serve Cronán have been released.’

  ‘Including Ségnat?’ Fidelma asked immediately, and then relaxed with a smile at Tormeid’s affirmative.

  ‘Were there many casualties?’ Colgú asked after the murmurs of satisfaction subsided.

  ‘Very few, considering. A company of us entered the fortress—’ began Tormeid.

  Enda interrupted immediately. ‘We followed Tormeid’s plan. We were to sneak into the fortress through the underground tunnels and then open the gates for Dego’s men.’

  ‘I merely showed the way through the tunnel that led into the bowels of the fortress,�
�� Tormeid said modestly.

  Enda interrupted again: ‘No – Tormeid commanded us. We were joined by some of those Uí Duach whom Cronán had kept as daer-fuidir. We surprised the defenders. They were watching from the walls, observing Dego’s main force, who had lit fires and taken up positions to act as a distraction while they waited for our signal. We came up into the courtyard and a group, led by Tormeid here, fought their way to the gates and opened them. Then Dego and his men rushed in.’

  Tormeid was looking embarrassed. ‘It was almost too easy,’ he said. ‘Surprise was on our side.’

  ‘Tormeid came upon Cronán and bested him in a single combat,’ added Enda.

  ‘I gave him the opportunity to surrender, but when he saw all was lost he ran on my sword and even with his dying strength tried to take me with him to the Otherworld. I would have liked to have captured him alive,’ Tormeid added ruefully. ‘As soon as they saw that their leader was dead, the others began to lay down their arms. Sillán among them preferred surrender to death. Once he surrendered, the fortress was ours.’

  Colgú rose smiling and held out his hand to Tormeid. ‘Then this was well done, my friend. You have saved the lives of many of my warriors and, I hope, have restored peace to this kingdom.’

  ‘There are other matters to be resolved before peace can be declared,’ Gelgéis reminded them.

  ‘Oh … you mean the Laigin army gathered on our border?’ Colgú asked.

  ‘I do not think that we need fear them,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘As I said before, I doubt they will attack now that both Étain and Cronán have been defeated. Laigin has no excuse to invade us now. But Gelgéis is right: there are other matters to be resolved.’

  ‘We know that Étain was in league with Cronán to create disturbances in this kingdom and that the King of Laigin was awaiting his chance to interfere. What more do we need to know?’ demanded Colgú.

  Fidelma knew that Colgú was not usually so obtuse. She guessed that he was trying to protect Dúnliath. It had been a shock for him to learn that she was actually the daughter of Étain of An Dún.

  ‘We need to know who killed Drón and who killed Étain,’ she returned. ‘We also need to know who killed Bran Finn of the Déisi – and why. It is the enemy within that we must identify.’