The Leper's bell sf-14

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Time went by until the killer could no longer hold his passion in check and he raped Sárait. I think it was then that he probably boasted of what he had done for lust of her — he would, of course, claim it was for love of her, but I would say for lust. Sárait was disgusted. The word is too mild to convey the revulsion she felt. She was revolted when she found she was carrying the result of that rape — a child. She went to Delia, for Delia is known to be wise in these matters. She told Delia what had happened but withheld the name of the man who had done the deed.

  ‘Further, she told Delia that she did not wish to bear a child conceived in rape and lust. She tried many things but the child was born, although no doubt in answer to her prayers and efforts that poor life was snuffed out at birth. When Sárait came to the palace in search of work, I employed her as wet nurse to my son Alchú. Here I must admit an error… I thoughtlessly assumed the child she had been carrying was Callada her husband’s.

  ‘It was Eadulf who first pointed out to me the fact that the time between Callada’s death at Cnoc Áine and the baby’s birth did not add up. She had conceived several months after her husband’s death. It was then that I began to realise the extent of the problem we faced.’ She looked without emotion at Delia. ‘Sárait was not Delia’s only confidant. Gormán also made a confession to her — that he was in love with Sárait.’

  Delia was pale and swayed a little in her seat, still clutching on to Gormán’s hand.

  ‘I saw Gormán leave her house one night, saw him embrace her intimately. Do not actions speak just as clearly as words?’

  Delia drew herself together. ‘Gormán did not kill Sárait. He was in love with her and she told me that she responded to his kindness. He was not the one who raped her.’

  Gobnat was glaring with hatred at Delia.

  ‘The whore should not be present!’ she shouted. ‘Disgusting! She is twice the age Gormán is. I wager she put him up to killing my sister.’

  Fidelma ignored her.

  ‘Indeed, a plot was evolved to kill Sárait. Not a simple plot, because the person who wished to kill her also wished to do it in such a way that they would not be suspected. The motive for the murder lay in hatred of Sárait because she was unwittingly the object of the warrior’s lust and the murderer’s jealousy.’ She glanced quickly at Delia. ‘A woman was behind this plot.’

  Delia stared back, pale to the lips. Gormán groaned again. There was a deathly silence in the hall.

  ‘The idea was to draw Sárait out of the palace one night and kill her. But how to do it without drawing attention to the killer? The woman who concocted this plot placed herself in the shadows near the inn so that she would not be identified. She asked a child to go to the palace with a message saying that Sárait’s sister wanted to see her urgently. Only such a message would draw Sárait from the comfort of the palace at night. But the child could not take the message because his father left the inn at that very moment and, having over-indulged in corma, needed the child’s help to guide him home. Oh yes,’ Fidelma smiled quickly at the assembly, ‘I met and had a word with that child.’

  She paused for a moment, but no sound was heard in the great hall.

  ‘Now the woman had a piece of luck,’ Fidelma continued. ‘A traveller came to the inn. He was a travelling player — a crossan — wanting to check out the aspect of the township for his company. He was a dwarf whose name was Forindain. The woman offered him a screpall to take the message to the palace. Forindain was nothing loath to do it. But the woman knew the guards at the palace well and was aware they might ask questions. So she told the dwarf to act as if he were mute. She took from her marsupium a piece of birch bark on which she had already written the words “I am sent to see Sárait”. Therefore he would be asked no questions. This action, however, caused some light to be shed on the woman and while her hood hid her features Forindain saw that she was wearing a very distinctive cloak. He described it to me.’

  Caol suddenly raised his voice.

  ‘That is not so, Fidelma,’ he protested. ‘The dwarf was killed at Cnoc Loinge before anyone could question him. You cannot put words into the mouth of the dead.’

  Fidelma paused to let the murmurs die down.

  ‘The poor dwarf who was killed at Cnoc Loinge was Forindain’s brother, Iubdán, who just happened to be wearing Forindain’s costume. He was mistaken for his brother and thereby lost his life.’

  Capa was frowning, and glanced to the dwarf sitting nearby.

  ‘Are you saying that this…?’ he began.

  ‘There sits the real Forindain,’ Fidelma pointed to where the small crossan sat, ‘who was in Cashel that evening, and who took the message to Sárait. He is the one who described the distinctive cloak to me. It was a description I immediately recognised, having seen the cloak worn by someone I knew. However, it was obvious that Iubdán had been killed in mistake for Forindain in order to still his tongue as a witness.’

  Capa turned, pointing in accusation at Gormán. ‘Gormán was the one who found the dwarf when we were at Cnoc Loinge.’

  ‘I did find the body,’ Gormán muttered, ‘but I immediately sent word to Capa.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Fidelma solemnly. ‘Let us turn to the matter of the cloak.’ She bent to a bundle and extracted the red and green silk garment and held it up. A murmur rippled through the hall.

  ‘That is the whore’s cloak!’ Gobnat suddenly yelled and for a moment everyone was in confusion until the Brehon Baithen brought them all to silence again.

  ‘You recognise it, Gobnat?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘I can attest to having seen that whore wearing it. So they are both in this together. They killed my sister!’

  Fidelma nodded and laid the cloak down. She then picked up two baby shoes.

  ‘When we asked for proof of Alchú’s abduction, we were sent a baby shoe that belonged to him. The other I found with the green and red cloak. Both were buried in Delia’s yard.’

  There were now angry shouts and threatening gestures, directed at Gormán and the former bé-táide. Again the Brehon Baithen called sternly for silence and when the noise died away Fidelma continued once more.

  ‘It was a dog that finally solved this murder,’ Fidelma said evenly, and then turned to Delia and Gormán. ‘Delia, I am sorry to have put you through this ordeal. You also, Gormán. Delia and Gormán were not involved in this affair although several actions of theirs made me suspicious of them, my distrust being compounded by the fact that the real culprits — or one of them at least — did their best to lay a false trail to Delia out of spite and hatred. Delia and Gormán share a love … but it is the love of mother for son and son for mother. Is it not so?’

  There was no need to ask the question. The faces of mother and son affirmed the truth. The silence that descended was almost unearthly. Everyone seemed to be holding their collective breath while awaiting any new revelation Fidelma might make.

  Brehon Baithen leant forward from his chair. ‘Are you going to eventually name the guilty one, Fidelma?’ he asked softly, a faint note of sarcasm in his voice.

  She swung round with raised brows. ‘Is it not obvious? Gobnat killed her own sister because it was her husband, Capa, who was enamoured of Sárait. It was Capa who killed Callada and who raped Sárait. Having then discovered that his wife had killed Sárait, Capa did everything to lead suspicion away from her, even to the point of killing the dwarf Iubdán whom he had mistaken for Forindain.’

  Gobnat began to protest shrilly, calling Fidelma worse than a whore to protect her whoring friend. It needed firmness to restore order, as well as some of the guards, who now took their orders from Caol. Brehon Baithen was looking baffled.

  ‘For those who do not possess the quickness of your mind, Fidelma, perhaps you would share those of its processes that have led you to make this accusation?’

  ‘I am prepared to do so. I said in my opening that there were two sisters, Gobnáit and Sárait. They were very different in character, a
lthough both married warriors. But while Capa was married to Gobnat he lusted after her younger sister. He felt that the only thing that stood in the way of a consummation of that lust was Callada. He killed Callada at Cnoc Áine. Then, having thought that his path was clear, he found Sárait revolted by him. He raped her. The rest of her story I have told you.

  ‘Sárait had not only confided in Delia — without naming Capa, of course — but had made the mistake of confiding in her sister, from whom one might have expected a close sympathy and understanding. Gobnat, to whom Capa had not been able to resist boasting of his subjection of her sister, became enraged. Despising Delia as she did, she decided to strike down Sárait in such a way that guilt and punishment might be laid at Delia’s door. The object of Capa’s jealousy, Gormán, whom Gobnat suspected of being Delia’s lover, would therefore also be implicated.’

  Brehon Baithen rubbed his chin. ‘What made you suspect that Gormán was Delia’s son?’

  ‘From the first Gormán told Eadulf and me that he was the son of a prostitute. When I went to see Delia, she mentioned that she was a mother. The connection became easy to work out. In fact, Gormán told us that he thought Capa disliked him because his mother was a prostitute. That was only partially true. Capa also knew that Sárait had become fond of Gormán while she rejected his own attentions. So he tried to implicate Gormán in the killing of the dwarf. Capa felt he had to kill Forindain, by the way, because he thought the dwarf might have been able to identify his wife. He could not be sure that the dwarf had not seen her face in the lantern light of the inn.’

  ‘What I can’t understand is why did Gobnat go to the trouble that you have described when she must have had countless opportunities to kill her sister without evolving such an ingenious plot?’ Baithen pondered.

  ‘As I say, she wanted to absolve herself of any implication in it, and to implicate Delia. To that end, she stole Delia’s cloak, a distinctive garment. Then came the charade of sending the message to the palace. If anyone saw her, she could be sure that it was not Gobnat who would be described. Someone in rich silk, indeed, when Gobnat dressed so austerely.’

  ‘This is madness!’ cried Gobnat.

  ‘We will see,’ replied Brehon Baithen.

  Old Brehon Dathal coughed and stood up.

  ‘I have listened to these accusations. In my opinion, were I still Chief Brehon, I would stop you now, Fidelma, and dismiss the case at once. There are too many suppositions, and questions pile up for you to answer.’

  It was clear that Brehon Baithen was irritated by this intervention, but before he could remonstrate Fidelma replied: ‘Then let me continue and I will answer them.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Brehon Baithen said quickly. ‘We will hear what the learned dálaigh has to say, as is custom in my court, Dathal.’

  ‘Like all plans,’ Fidelma went on, ‘Gobnat’s plan went awry. First, Sárait came to her sister’s dwelling with Alchú. She thought that while she carried the child with her, Capa would not attack her again. She knew that even in his perverted lust he would never endanger an Eóghanacht baby. He was, strangely, a loyal servant of my family. Gobnat had no such loyalty — only hatred.

  ‘Although Gobnat planned to kill her sister in cold blood, the murder was done in a fit of rage. The number of knife wounds demonstrates that. How she must have hated Sárait. She struck her again and again in her fury. The head wound occurred when Sárait fell, striking her head against a small cauldron by the fireplace that I noticed had been dented. At least that is my guess. The murder, I believe, was done in Gobnat’s house. Where else would Sárait go in response to an urgent message from her sister but to her sister’s house? Gobnat’s aim was to hide the body at Delia’s house so that it would be found with the cloak. But before she could do so, Capa, her husband, came home. Capa was no angel and he knew what would happen to him if Gobnat was caught and told her reasons. He now had to get rid of Sárait’s body and little Alchú.

  ‘Something prevented him from taking the body to Delia’s house, and hence the first flaw in the plot. The other thing was that by some strange morality he could not bring himself to kill the baby. Sárait had been right. He could not do it directly, but he left the child in the woods to die.’

  Capa was standing up to protest. His face was pale and the muscles were twitching around his mouth.

  ‘This is a fantasy! Where is your proof?’

  ‘When we first start on the path of deceit we have to weave through many side paths. We keep having to cover the original lie by more lies. And more actions. You took the body of Sárait into the woods where Conchoille, the woodsman, later found her. When you simply left the baby elsewhere for the beasts to devour, you did not realise that Corb and Corbnait were nearby. They took the child away with them, believing it to be simply abandoned.

  ‘You had probably not long returned to your home when Conchoille, who knew Sárait, came running to say he had found her body. You then went through the motions of being an outraged brother-in-law. Gobnat, meanwhile, had to bury the cloak in her own yard for the time being because the discovery of the murder and Alchú’s being missing made it difficult to do anything else.

  ‘This is where Capa began to act on his own to cover up this terrible affair. He feared the dwarf Forindain could identify Gobnat, and while we were searching for the dwarf in Cnoc Loinge he came across the person he thought was Forindain and killed him. That was a mistake.

  ‘Gobnat also made a mistake. She had succumbed to Capa’s insistence that they lay another false trail. He had her write a ransom note that would point to Uí Fidgente involvement. The three Uí Fidgente chiefs were to be released in return for Alchú. It was a good idea to do it while Capa was away at Imleach and Cnoc Loinge. But Capa had not realised that we would demand evidence that the person who wrote the note held Alchú. After the meeting when we decided to ask for evidence, he was sent to get a herald’s standard from a room near our chamber and took the opportunity to snatch a pair of baby shoes from our chest. When the shoe was presented as evidence I did not realise that Eadulf had seen it in the chest of clothes well after the abduction. Alchú had not been wearing them. They had been taken long afterwards.

  ‘I was confused at first by the fact that we found Gormán outside our chamber door at that time. So when Eadulf pointed out that Gormán could not have had the opportunity to take the baby shoes, I asked him how could he be sure.’ She glanced at Eadulf, who took up the story.

  ‘A servant was inside our chamber preparing it for the evening. If Gormán had just emerged from the chamber she would have seen him. But there had been time for Capa to slip inside and grab the shoes before she entered the room. He did so hurriedly, leaving a piece of clothing trailing out under the lid. Which we wrongly blamed the servant for doing. That was another mistake.’

  ‘It is still all surmise,’ Brehon Baithen pointed out.

  ‘Yet this surmise fell into place when Gobnat made a major slip,’ replied Fidelma. She turned towards Capa’s wife with a soft smile of triumph.

  Gobnat was concentrating with a frown, trying to remember what she had said.

  ‘I was in your house the other night looking for Conchoille. You and Capa seemed worried by your dog’s digging in the yard.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t we be annoyed at the dog?’

  ‘No one had mentioned or described the cloak worn by the woman who sent the message to the palace that night. Only Forindain, whom you thought dead, had seen it and described it. Only Delia and myself knew the description of the cloak, and only we two knew that it was missing from her trunk … and, of course, one other person — the person who stole it and was wearing it when she gave the false message to Forindain.

  ‘Thinking that Forindain had been killed, you turned to me and said: “Perhaps some other person will be able to identify the woman who pretended to be me. It should be easy to find someone who wears such a distinctive cloak.” Those were your exact words.’

  Gobnat shrugged. ‘So what?
Forindain, as you say, was not killed. He described to you the cloak that the woman who sent him to the palace had been wearing and it was a cloak belonging to that whore…’ She was indicating Delia when she stopped. She blinked as she realised what she had said.

  Fidelma continued calmly. ‘No one, at that time, had mentioned anything about a woman in a distinctive cloak. How could Gobnat know, unless…?’ She left the question hanging in the air.

  There was a moment’s silence and then Capa rose. His voice came out in a scream of rage.

  ‘It was her … her…’ he yelled, pointing to his wife. ‘She did it and what could I do but protect her? I am not responsible for the deed. I am innocent of it. My role was to protect her…’

  Gobnat collapsed as the realisation of her situation dawned on her.

  When some order had been restored, Brehon Baithen turned to Fidelma.

  ‘You said, however, that a dog had solved the puzzle. How was this?’

  ‘It was Capa’s hound that brought it all together,’ Fidelma agreed solemnly.

  Brehon Baithen raised his eyebrows in query. ‘I do not see…’

  ‘First, when Forindain was called by the woman standing in the shadows, a hound had leapt, probably in play, at him. But the woman called it away. That of itself was nothing. Then, what woke Corb and Corbnait in the wood and led them to find Alchú abandoned there? It was the howling of a hound and the sound of someone calling it away. When I saw Capa’s hound digging in the yard, I was surprised that it seemed to upset both Capa and Gobnat. I suspect that it was where Gobnat initially hid the cloak and the remaining baby shoe. That night, Gobnat dug them up and did what she had initially intended — she waited until dark and reburied them in Delia’s yard. She could not have planned it better, for I was there when the hound came along and dug them up again. But why would a hound dig up these particular clothes? The answer was that Gobnat had worn them and her scent, which the hound recognised, was on them. That is what attracted the dog to them.’