Bloodmoon

by Peter Tremayne

  When they said farewell to Fécho and his crew, they felt – in spite of their suspicions – they had known him for a long time rather than just the crowded few days they had been aboard the Tonn Cliodhna. Anyway, they parted in friendship and went down over the side into the small fishing boat. By the time they were approaching the sandy shore, Fécho’s ship was already out of sight beyond the rocky coastline towards the east. Eadulf had a curious moment of feeling deserted and vulnerable; then he sniffed in contempt at his own emotions.

  The fishing settlement to the west of the sandy beach was hardly more than half a dozen rough dwellings, and all seemed deserted. They presumed that it was because most of the fisherfolk were out on the waters, but it was strange that there were few women about. When Eadulf asked, one of the fishermen on the shore grinned and pointed to the pale sun appearing from behind the white billowing clouds. Eadulf saw that it was near its zenith and needed to ask no more – he understood that most of the fishermen’s wives would be preparing food for the evening. Nevertheless, he had been hoping for a glimpse of Cairenn watching for them. She and others would surely have seen Fécho’s boat come into the bay and transfer its passengers to the smaller vessel to come ashore. With a sinking feeling, Eadulf realised that he could see no sign of any horses grazing in the vicinity. Did that mean that he and Enda had been misled by the girl?

  Fidelma asked the fisherman: ‘Is there an inn or hostel here?’

  The weather-beaten man squinted at her. He seemed amused by the fact that she was dressed in rough boatman’s clothing but didn’t think her worthy of reply. With a frown, Enda stepped forward. He might have changed out of his water-soaked clothing, which would have indicated he was of some rank, but he still wore the golden torc of the Nasc Niadh. As he towered over the disrespectful fisherman, his shirt collar flapped back, revealing the shining metal. The man obviously recognised it for it had an immediate effect on him. He raised a hand to his brow in salutation.

  ‘Just because the lady Fidelma has been immersed in the sea and lost her clothing,’ Enda said harshly, ‘there is no excuse for disres-pect to the sister of your King.’

  ‘Forgive me, lord, I did not know,’ stuttered the man. ‘The … the lady Fidelma, you say?

  ‘Fidelma of Cashel,’ confirmed Enda. ‘Now respond to her question.’

  ‘Lady,’ the man was almost bowing, ‘we boast no inn nor hostel here. Sometimes, when merchants visit, old Mother Báine, in that cabin up there, offers food and beds. I will take you to her, for she is an aunt of mine – she is related to most of us in this community.’

  ‘Very well.’ Fidelma decided to say no more and save her questions for the man’s aunt.

  In fact, ‘old Mother Báine’ seemed to correspond to her relative’s description in only one particular. She was certainly white of hair, as her name suggested. But she was apparently neither a mother nor older than middle age. She met them frowning but on hearing the fisherman’s introduction, as he drew her attention to the golden torc at Enda’s neck, her features spread into a broad smile of welcome.

  ‘Have you had an accident at sea? A shipwreck? There, there,’ she tutted, gazing at their clothing. ‘A nasty experience, no doubt, lady. Nasty, indeed.’

  Fidelma did not expand on the details.

  ‘Needless to say, such a misfortune leaves us impoverished but be assured my brother, Colgú of Cashel, will ensure that you shall not lack for giving hospitality.’

  ‘Think nothing of it, lady. The pleasure is with me and mine to offer the hospitality as it is required by custom and law.’

  Eadulf startled them then, for he had been examining the surroundings carefully.

  ‘It might well be that you do not have to wait for reimbursement of your hospitality, Báine.’

  All eyes turned to him in surprise.

  ‘Tell me,’ he continued, ‘to whom does that curious Gaulish-looking pony belong?’

  The woman frowned. ‘Gaulish? I don’t understand … oh, you mean the grey-white pony? Yes, it is an unusual beast.’

  ‘It is, indeed. I noticed it in the field behind your cabin. To whom does it belong?’ Eadulf repeated.

  ‘Why, a young girl came riding into this settlement only yesterday, with not only that pony but two others also. She said she would be met by her companions. There were bags on all three horses. I have them stored.’

  ‘The other animals were a roan cob, docile of nature, and a spirited black stallion?’ Enda pressed excitedly.

  ‘They were, indeed.’ The woman was astounded.

  ‘And they are safe?’

  ‘Safe in the far field by those trees. How did you know this?’

  ‘We are the companions she was waiting for,’ Fidelma replied, relieved. ‘And the bags that you say you have stored? They are ours.’

  ‘I stored them, just as the young girl asked me to. My, and they belong to you? The girl did say that she would be waiting a few days for some friends who were supposed to join her, and that the horses belonged to them.’

  ‘They are our horses,’ Fidelma confirmed.

  ‘The horses are all well, well looked after?’ intervened Enda, voicing his main concern.

  ‘As far as we have been able. Looking after such fine animals costs much,’ the woman added, with a hint of complaint in her voice.

  ‘If all is as you said, you will be well compensated,’ Enda replied. ‘You said the bags were stored by you with care.’

  ‘Indeed, even a comb bag, which was carelessly slung on the pony,’ Báine affirmed.

  ‘So where is the girl now?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Where is Cairenn? I didn’t see her on the beach or as we came through the settlement.’

  The woman looked awkward for a moment, then said: ‘She left yesterday.’

  ‘Left?’ Eadulf was surprised. ‘Where did she go? How? The three days she was to wait here are not gone.’

  The woman responded immediately. ‘She left on horseback.’

  ‘But you said all three horses are still here.’

  ‘So they are. Yesterday afternoon, the girl, she went to the beach. I heard some noises and went to the door to look down the hill. That was when I saw her leave.’

  ‘What?’ prompted Eadulf. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Half a dozen riders came down the valley to the beach. They were strangers to me, armed men. They saw her and went straight to her and surrounded her. The next thing I heard was the girl scream. Then one of them hoisted her up on his horse and all six went riding back from where they had come. They rode very fast.’

  Eadulf’s jaw was set firmly. ‘Which way did they go? Was it towards Ros Tialláin?’

  ‘Oh no, in the other direction entirely, north-east towards the distant hills.’

  ‘What lies in that direction?’ Fidelma asked slowly, suspecting she already knew the answer.

  ‘There’s little enough by way of habitation these days, since Cluain has been deserted these many years.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘Cluain?’ Eadulf gave a sharp sigh. ‘Always Cluain.’

  ‘There’s nothing there now,’ the woman repeated. ‘The abbey has long since been abandoned.’

  ‘So I have heard,’ Fidelma said heavily. ‘But hasn’t it been newly inhabited? Hasn’t a religious community decided to re-establish it …? They are led by an abbot called Antrí.’

  The woman answered with a cynical laugh.

  ‘You don’t mean Antrí the cousin of Glaisne, our so-called prince?’ She astounded everyone by making as if to spit on the ground. ‘Even the Devil himself would turn him away at the portals of Hell as too evil for the place! He’s no religieux, just a thug with blood on his hands.’

  ‘The girl was taken in that direction yesterday, you say?’ Fidelma pressed.

  ‘It was just after midday,’ affirmed Báine. ‘God help her if they are Antrí’s men.’

  Fidelma glanced at the sky, which was overcast with dark, scudding clouds, trying to assess the time o
f day.

  ‘Lady,’ muttered Enda nervously, watching the expression on her face, ‘we are all tired and need some rest and food – it has been a long night.’

  Fidelma drew her gaze reluctantly back to her companions. Enda had read her thoughts; she had been wondering whether to ride on immediately. ‘Very well, food and rest first.’ She turned to Báine. ‘Will you see to that?’ When she had gone, Fidelma added: ‘Tomorrow we will start after them. I will rely on your tracking ability, Enda.’

  ‘And what of me, lady?’ demanded Áed, whom they had tended to ignore since landed. ‘Cluain would be my destination also for that is on the way to Eochaill, my home.’

  ‘Then you will come with us, especially as you seem to know that area,’ she replied.

  ‘But I have no horse.’

  ‘If there is not another horse to be found, then, Enda, you will have to ride double with our bow-maker friend.’ She turned to the fisherman who had brought them to the cottage and who was still waiting. ‘Do you know anyone who has a spare horse, or even a mule?’

  The man, eager to be helpful, indicated that he knew someone who had a strong ass that he would willingly hire.

  ‘Can you ride an ass, bow-maker?’ Fidelma asked. When he answered in the affirmative, she instructed him to go with the fisherman and make the arrangements. ‘Don’t worry,’ she added to the fisherman. ‘Assure the owner of the ass that he will be compensated by me.’

  ‘Before we do anything further,’ Eadulf said when they were alone, surprising her by sounding quite belligerent, ‘don’t you think it is now time to release yourself from this oath of yours and tell us why we are risking our lives?’

  Fidelma did not reply immediately but took a chair by the fire, indicating to Eadulf and Enda that they should find seats close to her. She glanced towards the door, beyond which they could hear Báine preparing a meal.

  ‘I am renouncing the geis, the sacred oath,’ Fidelma told them quietly, trying to modulate the emotion in her voice. ‘It is not a matter that I take lightly. I have given it much thought because a geis can be more binding than the law itself. But I am resolved that withholding the truth, as I know it, from you both is now more dangerous and obstructive to justice than sharing the secret. If, later, I am judged to be wrong, then I am prepared to accept the consequences.’

  Enda was looking suitably awed. ‘We learn all about the importance of the geis in the story of the High King Conaire Mór, who broke all the nine geisi that were imposed on him and having broken them was himself killed.’

  ‘It is a solemn matter,’ Fidelma went on slowly, ‘but I am persuaded that the law is more important than to uphold this sacred injunction. In this case, justice outweighs everything.’

  There was a silence. Eadulf and Enda waited expectantly.

  ‘The matter began with news of a plot to assassinate Cenn Fáelad –’

  ‘The High King?’ gasped Enda. ‘His brother Sechnussach was only recently assassinated. You and Eadulf were responsible for bringing his murderer to justice.’

  ‘That is why Cenn Fáelad has trusted me and no one else in this. That is why he placed me under a sacred oath not to reveal anything until I could investigate the matter.’

  ‘The High King was responsible for making you swear this sacred oath?’ Eadulf sounded almost relieved that his suspicion had been right.

  ‘I knew it would be difficult to keep a secret from you and from Enda. But I had to undertake it as there was a suspicion that a member of my own family was involved. So who would plan such an assassination and why would it bring me this far south? If those who killed Sechnussach are responsible for an attempt on the life of his brother, then they would surely be Uí Néill. And so what are we doing here, among the Uí Liatháin?’

  The look on Eadulf’s and Enda’s faces was indescribable.

  ‘You mean … you mean that your brother is accused?’ gasped Enda. ‘Impossible! But as King of Cashel, he is the only legitimate claimant in your family. Only a descendant of Eber Fionn could claim the High Kingship, as it was ordained by Amairgin when the Children of the Gael first came to these shores.’

  Eadulf was uninformed about such matters but Fidelma was answering Enda, clearly troubled. ‘I do not believe my brother is involved,’ she said firmly. ‘But, at the moment, I cannot discount anything. That was why the geis was so important.’

  ‘Perhaps you should start your story from the beginning?’ Eadulf suggested. ‘I know nothing of these things so perhaps it would help me understand at the same time as helping you to clear your mind and put things in order. I know you have been suppressing your thoughts, keeping them to yourself these last days.’

  Fidelma paused for a moment, glanced at him appreciatively and then nodded slowly.

  ‘You know that old Brother Conchobhar, the apothecary at Cashel, keeps the rock doves for my brother.’

  Eadulf knew that well – he had always been intrigued by the method of communicating quickly by carrier pigeon.

  ‘Before we left Cashel, Conchobhar came to you with a message,’ he recalled. ‘Was it from Cenn Fáelad?’

  ‘It was from Cenn Fáelad,’ she confirmed. ‘The message was written in the berla file, the ancient tongue that few people know. It first placed me under a geis not to reveal anything. It told me that Grella, his wife, had left Tara to go south to stay with her cousin. Before leaving, she had written a message revealing that there was a plot to assassinate him.’

  Eadulf frowned immediately. ‘Sent her husband a message with this news? Why didn’t she just go to tell him?’

  ‘Let me tell the story first and we will consider these matters later,’ Fidelma replied. ‘As the High King explained, Grella said she had received the news also by pigeon directly from old Abbot Nessán of Finnbarr’s Abbey …’

  ‘Nessán himself is a member of your own family,’ pointed out Enda, ignoring Fidelma’s request. ‘He is of the Eóganacht Raithlind; a distant branch, but Eóganacht nevertheless.’

  Quickly she described how, according to her information, Grella had been instructed to come to Uí Liatháin territory, to stay with a cousin called Antrí, who was supposed to be abbot at Cluain. How she was told to send her companion, Cairenn, to see Nessán, who would then give her the details. And how Nessán had denied sending the message before he had been murdered. She outlined what Cairenn had told her.

  ‘Already I am finding this story curious,’ Eadulf muttered. ‘It is not logical.’

  ‘Cenn Fáelad sent a message to me asking me to see Abbot Nessán, for he trusted me to learn the truth. He excused his wife’s actions, believing Grella was being manipulated by her fear for his life. He felt it might be a ruse to draw her out of Tara.’

  ‘So that’s how you recognised the importance of Cairenn in this matter?’ Eadulf observed. ‘That’s how you knew that we must follow her?’

  ‘So why didn’t Grella go to see Nessán herself? Why send Cairenn?’ Enda asked.

  ‘Grella told him that the presence of the wife of the High King would alert the conspirators but Cairenn’s visit would be considered normal. Nessán was her uncle.’

  ‘So Cairenn is also of a distant branch of the Eóganacht?’ Eadulf frowned.

  ‘And if there was an Eóganacht conspiracy …?’ Enda said excitedly, leaving the question incomplete.

  Fidelma said, ‘I think you are coming to the conclusion that I drew. Cairenn was used as a cat’s paw –’

  ‘A what?’ Eadulf had not come across the term cait o crobh before.

  ‘A cat’s paw, a person used unwittingly or unwillingly by another to accomplish the other’s purpose,’ explained Fidelma. ‘She was sent there so that she would be suspected when Abbot Nessán was murdered. But Cairenn escaped immediately, knowing every moment in the abbey was dangerous after the old abbot had been killed. Even after she escaped, the killer or killers thought that it would be easy to track her down and eliminate her. We were ambushed by mistake on the road south. Cairenn ba
rely escaped another ambush when crossing to the Great Island, Ard Nemed.’

  Eadulf was shaking his head. ‘This is quite a conspiracy, if your theories work out. Abbot Nessán was killed to prevent him talking?’

  ‘I’ll make things even more complicated for you.’ Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘Do you remember the tall religieux at the abbey who left early the next morning?’

  ‘The one in black robes who kept his face covered by his cowl?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘He was on Aescwine’s ship and seemed to have a position of authority. Áed heard him speak and he sounded as someone from the north … someone from Uí Néill territory.’

  Her words caused Eadulf to gasp in his astonishment.

  ‘But what would a northern religieux be doing on a Gewisse raiding ship? And why would he murder the abbot if …’

  Fidelma raised her hand to silence the questions to which she had no answers. ‘It is pointless to speculate. There are too many questions and not enough answers. There are only a few other pieces of information. What is the involvement of the Saxon, Aescwine, who was seeking Grella? Áed Caille said his ship had landed at Eochaill. Just before that, Áed saw Grella, in the company of a local prince called Glaisne, a cousin of the mysterious Antrí, flee from the fortress there and head westward … to Cluain.’

  There was a silence. ‘Now you have totally lost me,’ confessed Eadulf. ‘I thought Cairenn had already left Grella at Cluain before she went to see Abbot Nessán. So what was Grella doing in Eochaill, having to flee from the Saxon ship? And how did the religieux, whom we saw at Finnbarr’s Abbey before the old abbot was murdered, suddenly appear on the Saxon’s ship?’

  ‘All good questions,’ Fidelma agreed grimly. ‘One thing more … Cairenn, when we were prisoners together, said that Tialláin had told her that Grella had been abducted and the rest of her party killed.’

  A silence fell as they tried to make some sense of what they knew. Finally, Eadulf stirred. ‘Do you have any idea who, among the Eóganacht, would contemplate an assassination of the High King, or the kidnapping of his wife? I thought the High Kingdom was confined to the Uí Néills of the north?’