The Leper's bell sf-14

by Peter Tremayne

  Eadulf whistled sharply. ‘So the person responsible was in the vicinity of Cashel the whole time?’

  ‘I wonder why Gormán didn’t mention it?’ Fidelma pondered.

  ‘There was a lot going on at the Tower of Uaman,’ Eadulf said, with a grimace of dismissal. ‘But what was the evidence that was presented?’

  ‘One of Alchú’s baby shoes … the ones that my brother gave him for a present. I nearly died when I saw it returned to confirm that the kidnappers held him.’

  Eadulf stared at her for a moment. ‘But I brought back the baby shoes that he was wearing. Muirgen still had all his clothes.’

  Fidelma started to shake her head and then a frown creased her brow. She went to the drawer of her chest and fetched the birch bark note and the shoe that had been sent back.

  ‘Were these not what he was wearing on his feet?’ she said, holding the latter out to Eadulf. He shook his head.

  ‘No. He was wearing little woollen booties. Muirgen will testify to that. They are a bit soiled after all this time but they were the only pair missing from the chest. Don’t you remember that your brother asked me to look through his clothing so that a description of what he was wearing could be given when the men went out to search?’

  Fidelma was staring at him blankly. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Eadulf was patient. ‘Do you recall that Colgú wanted us to check the chest of clothes so that we could identify what clothes and footwear Alchú must have been wearing on the night Sárait took him out?’

  Fidelma pursed her lips. ‘Vaguely.’

  ‘Vaguely would be right, for you were too upset to do it and asked me to check the chest.’

  ‘The chest?’ Fidelma cast a thoughtful glance at it, then gave an impatient gesture. ‘And so? What are you saying?’

  ‘Well, the shoe that you are now holding was in the chest when I looked. I mean the pair of shoes was there.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Eadulf sniffed indignantly. ‘Perfectly sure. I would know them anywhere. Your brother had a cobbler make them especially for the little one.’ He pointed to the shoe that Fidelma was holding. ‘See the rawhide soles which I thought were too advanced for a baby of his age.’

  A curious expression gathered on Fidelma’s face.

  ‘Do you remember when we returned to our chamber after it had been decided to demand proof from Alchú’s so-called abductors? Wasn’t Gormán lurking in the corridor by our chamber? He would have had an opportunity to take the shoes then.’

  Eadulf cast his mind back, recalling the incident. ‘You believe Gormán to be involved?’

  Fidelma’s features began to relax. ‘I think that I am beginning to see a light in this curious business, Eadulf,’ she said quietly. ‘I need to see Delia again.’

  Eadulf shook his head. ‘It is midnight. Not exactly the right time to go visiting.’

  Fidelma hesitated, and then laughed, with a deprecating shrug.

  ‘You are right. It’s been a tiring day, a tiring two weeks. I’ll go tomorrow. I don’t think the quarry we hunt will have fled.’

  It was mid-morning when Fidelma rode down to Delia’s house. With Eadulf’s agreement, she had decided to approach the woman on her own.

  Delia gazed uncertainly at Fidelma when she opened the door to her.

  ‘There is a purpose in your expression, lady. You look like a hunter who has sensed the quarry and is now moving in for the kill.’

  Fidelma remembered her words to Eadulf on the previous night.

  ‘That is a good analogy, Delia. I have sensed the quarry but not yet driven it into the snare.’

  ‘How may I help?’ The former bé-táide stood aside and motioned her inside the warm little house. In the main chamber, where a fire smouldered, Fidelma sat down and indicated that Delia should do likewise.

  ‘Let me return to the conversation I had with you.’

  ‘About the missing cloak?’

  ‘That as well. I presume that you have told no one about it?’

  ‘Of course not. You asked me not to.’

  ‘I would ask you to keep this information quiet also. The dwarf who was sent with a false message to lure Sárait from the palace to her death has arrived in Cashel.’

  Delia frowned. ‘But you told me he could not identify the woman?’

  ‘There may be other ways of identification.’

  Delia compressed her lips for a moment but said nothing.

  ‘You mentioned when we last spoke about Sárait that she had told you that she had been raped?’

  Delia nodded. ‘But she never told me who it was.’

  ‘I remember. Although I think we could deduce from what she said that the man was a warrior who had been at Cnoc Áine. Was it Gormán? Did he rape her?’

  Delia flushed. ‘Never Gormán!’ she snapped. ‘He was in love with her.’

  ‘And he told you that?’ Fidelma said swiftly.

  Delia opened her mouth and realised she had said more than she had meant to.

  ‘You might as well tell me everything,’ Fidelma said. ‘A warrior raped her. Did Sárait ever mention Gormán to you?’

  At once spots of colour rose on Delia’s cheeks. ‘It could not have been Gormán.’

  ‘Are you in love with Gormán?’

  To Fidelma’s surprise Delia started to laugh. ‘Of course I love Gormán,’ she said in amusement. ‘Is that forbidden?’

  Fidelma was taken aback. She had not been prepared for the honesty of the reply. There was a long silence.

  ‘Let us move forward to something that is not in contention,’ she said at last. ‘Sárait had a stillborn child. It was born so long after Cnoc Áine that it could not have been the child of her husband Callada.’

  Delia sat back, watching Fidelma carefully, but said nothing.

  ‘Clearly, the baby was conceived after her husband met his death. Was the child born of the rape?’

  Delia hesitated.

  ‘It is important, Delia,’ Fidelma pressed. ‘I do not ask with frivolous intent. I believe that the father of her child was her killer.’

  Delia stared in horror. ‘What about the Uí Fidgente and the ransom?’

  ‘A cunning ruse to set people on the wrong track. Linked with an accident of fate by which wandering strangers found the baby when it had been left to die in the woods, it did indeed lead me down the wrong path for a while.’

  Delia was quiet for a few moments and then she shrugged.

  ‘You have presumed correctly, lady. The stillborn child was the result of the rape and Sárait was thankful that it died.’

  Fidelma exhaled slowly. ‘It is sad that one gives thanks for the extinguishing of life. But I can understand her feelings. When did you know about this?’

  ‘I told you that Sárait first came to me within days of the rape to seek my advice — or rather she needed to talk to someone who would understand and not condemn her.’

  ‘Why not discuss this with her sister, Gobnat?’

  ‘Gobnat, as I have already said, was prudish. She would not have been the best of people to confide in. Sárait felt easier speaking to me. It was two months later that she came to me and said she was with child.’

  ‘And she told you her condition resulted from the rape? But she did not tell you who the father was?’

  Delia nodded. ‘She could not stand it. She wanted to know how she might get rid of it before it was born.’

  ‘And you advised her?’

  ‘Do you mean that I, as a bé-táide, would naturally know of these things?’ There was some bitterness in Delia’s voice.

  ‘I do not mean that,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘I have looked at the Pharmacopoeia of Dioscorides and could probably name the eight herbs that he maintains induce a state whereby the unwanted pregnancy is aborted. I am simply asking whether you advised her.’

  Delia blinked. ‘I advised her and I gave her some of the plants that I have used, those which are diuretics and laxatives. I used to buy rue from the m
erchants of Gaul and take it as an infusion, mixing it with water.’

  ‘But these remedies did not work.’

  ‘Obviously. And I advised Sárait against going to the physicians who would butcher her body. So she had the child.’

  Fidelma was frowning. ‘Yet surely someone at Cashel would have known, would have suspected.’

  Delia shook her head quickly. ‘She did not look pregnant. And when she realised that soon she would not be able to disguise it, I sent her to a cousin of mine who lived up in the mountains at Araglin. She stayed there some months.’

  Fidelma raised her head slightly. ‘Araglin? I know that place.’

  ‘Well, she stayed there for a while, had the child and, as you know, it was stillborn. It was buried there in the mountains, and when she was well Sárait returned to Cashel. She was still lactating for her child. I heard that you were in search of a wet nurse and sent her to you.’

  ‘She never told me that you had sent her.’

  ‘I did not want to embarrass you, lady. I told her to present herself to you as the widow of Callada the warrior, which I considered was recommendation enough.’

  ‘It was. And that was why I assumed that her dead child was his. I had not realised what time had passed … Ah! Well, too late to dwell on past mistakes. Things become clearer.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You may have to come to the palace, Delia, and give your evidence before the Brehon. Will you do that?’

  ‘If it helps to identify who killed Sárait and who was behind your baby’s going missing all this time.’

  Fidelma rose and smiled. ‘If my suspicions are correct, we will soon identify that person. The question will be whether we can convict them.’

  She suddenly frowned, holding her head to one side. There was a snuffling outside, and the whimpering of a dog. Both she and Delia went to the door. A brown wire-haired hound was digging away in a corner. Fidelma had seen it before.

  Delia opened her mouth to shout to scare it away but Fidelma stayed her. The hound was throwing up earth in a feverish attempt to dig something up. Then with a yelp of triumph its muzzle went down and it drew something from the hole. It described a crazy circle and then, as if in a gesture of victory, it threw the object up in the air and caught it again.

  Fidelma went into a crouching position and called in coaxing fashion to the dog, stretching out her hands. The animal bounded over and dropped the item at her feet, then backed away, head down, paws splayed, obviously expecting her to throw it for it to retrieve again. Instead, she rose to her feet and turned the earth-soiled object over in her hands.

  It was a baby’s shoe, the companion of the one that had been brought to her by Gormán. It was Alchú’s missing shoe.

  Fidelma had seen something else in the hole and she walked over to it, accompanied by the yapping dog, and stared down. Then she bent and began to pull some material out of the earth. It was green and red silk and was obviously a cloak with hood attached. She glanced back to where Delia stood.

  Delia was staring at it, her facing seeming to drain of blood.

  Fidelma stared at her long and hard.

  ‘I think that you had better walk back with me to the palace, Delia. We have much to talk over.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  The great hall of the palace of Cashel was thronged with people. The Brehon Baithen had arrived from Lios Mhór and Colgú, in agreement with Fidelma, had announced that a special court would be held which would clarify the abduction of Alchú and the murder of Sárait. It seemed that the whole of Cashel and the surrounding countryside had come to hear the new Chief Brehon of Muman give judgement in the matter.

  The witnesses had been gathered and seated. Forindain the dwarf, Corb and Corbnait, Nessán and Muirgen, Conchoille the woodsman; everyone who had been connected with the events was packed into the great hall. Delia was there, sitting grim-faced, and next to her, looking equally grim, was Gormán. Gobnat, Sárait’s sister, was also there, glowering at Delia. Her husband Capa, as guard commander, was in charge of the warriors, with Caol at his side. Even the old apothecary, Conchobar, who never attended such hearings unless absolutely necessary, had come to see the proceedings.

  The guards had also led in Fiachrae of Cnoc Loinge, now a prisoner, who would later have to answer charges of betraying the Eóghanacht and working with the Uí Fidgente to overthrow Colgú. Enough witnesses had now come forward to make the case against him certain.

  By special invitation of the king, Conrí was there with his Uí Fidgente warriors, towards whom many dirty looks were cast and muttering threats made. Even the old Brehon Dathal had entered the hall and made for the seat of the Chief Brehon before an embarrassed rechtaire or steward had guided him to a side chair.

  Fidelma and Eadulf had already taken their seats just to the left of the chairs of office that the king, the tanist and the Chief Brehon would occupy. Cerball the bard, and Bishop Ségdae, had taken their seats. Then the rechtaire banged his staff of office and everyone rose as Colgú, Finguine and Brehon Baithen entered and seated themselves.

  A ripple of expectation ran through the hall before Colgú raised his hand for silence. He waited until the hush descended.

  ‘There is no need for me to explain why we are gathered nor what has happened these last two weeks. It is my duty to welcome the Brehon Baithen to my court and proclaim his office as the new Chief Brehon of the kingdom. Brehon Dathal, who has held that office since my father’s day, has decided that it is now time to give way to a new and younger judge, having served us long and well in that position. We wish him prosperity in his new life and assure him that we will call upon him when appropriate to share with us his wisdom and advise us in our future affairs.’

  Rumours about Brehon Dathal’s retirement had already spread and the announcement was not new to those present.

  The king then deferred to his new Chief Brehon.

  While Baithen was of middle age, he had an almost ageless face. His skin was fresh and unblemished and his hair was of a golden corn colour. He was a fleshy, jocular-looking man, whose bright eyes twinkled as if he found the proceedings humorous.

  This hearing is a legal one and I will tolerate no demonstrations. Nor will I tolerate disrespect for the law, its officers or the solemnity of the occasion.’ His features seemed to belie that very solemnity. ‘So let us to the business of the day. Fidelma of Cashel will be our guide.’

  Fidelma rose quickly and with a quick bow of her head towards the Brehon and her brother, in acknowledgement of their office, she turned to the gathering in the great hall.

  ‘You all know that my nurse Sárait was murdered and that my baby son Alchú vanished for nearly two weeks. It was thought that he had been abducted and Sárait had been killed during the course of his abduction. Rumours circulated that it was a plot of the Uí Fidgente. This was not so. You all know Brother Eadulf, my dear companion and father of my child. He will now tell you the first part of the story, to demonstrate that our child was not abducted, but taken by accident. He will, I know, be modest, but he put his own life at risk in following our child to the Tower of Uaman and bringing him safely back to Cashel. Should proof of his adventures be demanded, witnesses sit in this very hall to confirm the facts.’

  She turned to Eadulf who rose with some embarrassment and swiftly explained how he had discovered Alchú and brought the child back to Cashel. Fidelma smiled faintly in satisfaction as murmurs of approval echoed round the hall. When he reseated himself, she rose again.

  ‘Should any point of the story be challenged, we have gathered witnesses to confirm it,’ she said to Brehon Baithen. ‘Gormán sits there, as does Brother Basil Nestorios, who needs must give his statements in Latin; also the itinerant herbalist Corb and his wife, and the shepherd Nessán and his wife. All will confirm Eadulf’s tale.’

  Brehon Baithen asked if anyone would challenge the story but no one did, and so the judge urged Fidelma to continue.

  ‘Now,
those among you who have followed the proceedings may realise that this leaves a mystery. If Alchú was not abducted, if his intended abduction was not the cause of Sárait’s being enticed out of the palace, then she was the victim. It was her death that was the object of the plot. Why and who plotted it, those are the questions we must answer today.’

  She paused, sweeping her gaze across the expectant faces before her.

  ‘It will be simplest if I take everyone through a sad story from the beginning. There were two sisters. I shall name them — Gobnat and Sárait. Sárait was the younger of the two. Both had married warriors of the élite bodyguard of the kings of Cashel. As you will know, one married Capa, our current commander of the guard who stands there. One married Callada who was killed at Cnoc Áine. Someone looked upon Sárait’s marriage to Callada with jealousy for they were filled with lust for her. She rejected his advances, for she was happy with Callada.’

  Gormán groaned in his seat and hunched forward. Delia reached to lay her hand on his.

  ‘I loved her,’ the young warrior muttered, his voice audible to the hall.

  Fidelma glanced at him without expression. ‘As you made clear to me when we first met, and later repeated to Eadulf.’ She paused, and then went on addressing the hall. ‘The warrior who lusted after Sárait began to hate Callada to the extent that his hatred knew no bounds. Then came the day when in the heat of the battle of Cnoc Áine he found and took the opportunity to kill his rival. Rumours went round, as rumours do. Rumours that Callada had been slain by one of his own side. I do not have to bring forward such famous warriors as Cathalán to attest to the story, nor Capa, who was commanding the troop in which Callada served that day. Gormán, too, was in that troop. So was Caol. Many among you were at Cnoc Áine, like Ferloga there, and Conchoille. No one will deny the rumours …’ she paused, ‘and they were true.’

  There was a silence as people digested her words.

  ‘Some time later,’ she went on, ‘the killer of Callada began to pay attention to Sárait once more. Sárait had begun to suspect and distrust the man. She had turned for solace to another and that infuriated the killer almost to the point of madness.