The Council of the Cursed sf-19

by Peter Tremayne

  Eadulf was strapping something around her leg and drawing it tight. Then she seemed to be falling to the ground. A moment later she was dimly aware that he had lifted her in his arms and was hurrying along the path. She tried to speak, and then all seemed to go black.

  Abbot Ségdae saw Eadulf first as he came around the side of the villa into the main garden, carrying the inert form of Fidelma.

  ‘What has happened?’ he demanded, running forward. Several other Hibernian delegates came crowding round.

  ‘We must get her to an apothecary!’ cried Eadulf. ‘She has been bitten by a poisonous snake. An adder.’

  Bishop Leodegar, followed by Lady Beretrude, came elbowing his way through the throng. He had heard what Eadulf said.

  ‘Bitten by an adder, you say?’

  ‘Take her into my villa, and I will send for my apothecary,’ instructed Lady Beretrude.

  Eadulf shook his head. ‘We’ll take her back to the abbey to Brother Gebicca,’ he said firmly.

  ‘But that will take time,’ protested Lady Beretrude. ‘She’ll be much better off here. I will personally look after her. If the poison isn’t treated quickly it could be dangerous…fatal even.’

  ‘I know that,’ Eadulf snapped. ‘I have some knowledge. Someone guide me back to the abbey. Quickly!’

  At once several of the Hibernian delegation, including Ségdae, volunteered to accompany him. Eadulf managed, with their help, to hoist Fidelma on his back and he, without another word, began to hurry forward in a trot surrounded by the Hibernian clerics; those in front and either side seemed to clear the way. For a moment it looked as though the warriors of Beretrude would halt them at the gates but Lady Beretrude made a signal to indicate they should be allowed to pass. She stood, without emotion, watching their departure with Bishop Leodegar at her side.

  Head down, with the weight of Fidelma on his back, Eadulf gritted his teeth and hurried as fast as his burden would allow him. He was exhausted and sweating by the time they came into the great square before the abbey. One of the clerics had run forward to alert the physician. Brother Chilperic appeared in the anticum.

  ‘Let me take her, Brother,’ he said, observing Eadulf’s panting and fatigued features.

  ‘Just lead me to Brother Gebicca,’ grunted Eadulf.

  He was bent forward now so that he could see only the lower part of Brother Chilperic’s legs, the heels hurrying before him, guiding him through the anticum and out into the main interior courtyard, crossing to the apothecary’s house. He was aware of doors opening and then hands were removing his burden and he straightened to see Fidelma being laid on a bed among the almost suffocating odours of the apothecary’s room.

  ‘What exactly happened?’ asked Brother Gebicca.

  ‘She was bitten on the ankle by an adder. A poisonous snake.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ demanded Brother Gebicca.

  ‘It was a black snake. I’ve seen them before.’

  The apothecary turned back to Fidelma who was breathing rapidly and with a shallow motion. She appeared in a comatose state.

  ‘You did not try to cut the wound and suck out the poison?’

  Eadulf shook his head.

  ‘That is good. The venom is inserted into the blood directly under the skin and so it is useless to try any way of extracting poison after this time. I see you tried to restrict the flow of blood. That is not much good,’ as he spoke he was removing Eadulf’s tourniquet. ‘What is good, however, is that you have kept the limb, where the wound is, at the lowest part of the body. Now go and let me do my work.’ He turned to the clerics crowding in. ‘Go! I will call you if there is a need.’

  Reluctantly, Eadulf allowed himself to be dragged away from the apothecary by Abbot Ségdae and guided to the calefactorium. Someone brought in a jug of good strong corma and mugs were produced.

  ‘How did it happen?’ asked Abbot Ségdae.

  ‘It was in the herb garden,’ Eadulf said shakily. ‘The viper was among the shrubbery and she was bitten by it.’

  ‘Let us pray that Brother Gebicca knows how to treat the poison.’

  At that moment, Bishop Leodegar entered the room, having followed them from Lady Beretrude’s villa.

  ‘How is she?’ he asked.

  ‘We are awaiting word from your apothecary,’ replied Eadulf.

  ‘The Lady Beretrude has offered to send healing herbs to our physician should he need them,’ the bishop continued. ‘She feels responsible, for she was showing the garden to Sister Fidelma just before it happened.’

  ‘It is thoughtful of Lady Beretrude,’ Abbot Ségdae acknowledged when Eadulf made no response.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ asked the bishop.

  ‘Until Brother Gebicca informs us of the situation, there is nothing,’ Eadulf replied.

  An age passed by in which no one spoke, but the corma was handed silently around as they sat waiting. Then Brother Gebicca entered and peered around in search of Eadulf. The latter sprang to his feet and moved towards him.

  ‘What news?’

  ‘She has a strong heart and a good constitution. Her pulse is normal. She will have a painful swelling on the leg for a day or two but, after a good night’s rest, she will start to mend.’

  ‘The venom has dispersed?’ demanded Eadulf, scarcely believing the news.

  Brother Gebicca nodded affirmatively. ‘I have seen worse cases. The effect in her case has been like a powerful bee-sting; painful and causing irritation. But in a strong adult, with a good constitution, the body recovers.’

  ‘Can I see her?’ Eadulf asked.

  Brother Gebicca shook his head. ‘She is sleeping now. Sleep is always a good curative in such matters. Let her rest and we will see how she is in the morning. I will sit up with her to ensure there are no complications during the night.’

  He left with a nod that encompassed everyone in the room.

  There were murmurs of congratulation from many while Abbot Ségdae clapped Eadulf wordlessly on the shoulder. Eadulf paused for a few moments before, as the abbey bell tolled, following the example of the others as they moved to the refectory for the evening meal.

  The next day, after morning prayers and the ritual breaking of the fast, Eadulf went directly to Brother Gebicca’s apothecary.

  Fidelma was sitting up and sipping at a hot broth that Brother Gebicca had prepared from various herbs. That it was unpleasant in its taste was obvious from her expression. She looked up in relief as Eadulf entered.

  Brother Gebicca turned to him with a look of satisfaction.

  ‘All is as I said, Brother. She has a painful swelling on the leg but nothing worse.’ He turned back to Fidelma. ‘I was asking, how it was that you did not recognise the poisonous serpent to avoid it? They do not attack unless they feel threatened.’

  ‘We do not have such serpents in Hibernia,’ Fidelma answered simply. ‘I have not seen such a poisonous reptile before.’

  ‘It is true,’ Eadulf confirmed, seeing Brother Gebicca’s look of disbelief. ‘There are no reptiles of that sort in the five kingdoms.’

  ‘Yet I have heard that they exist in the island of Britain, so why not in Hibernia? Are they not in close proximity? Is the warning of hidden danger not international-latet anguis in herba-a snake lies concealed in the grass? How can it be a warning if there is a country without snakes?’

  ‘That is a mystery,’ Fidelma replied firmly. ‘Yet it was told long ago that our people were destined to live in a land without snakes.’

  Brother Gebicca sniffed cynically and it was clear that he did not believe it so Fidelma decided to explain.

  ‘The progenitor of our race, Goidel Glas, son of Niul, in far-off times, served in the army of the Pharaoh Cingris in Egypt. A poisonous snake bit him but an Egyptian healer and holy man, who had been befriended by his father Niul, healed the boy. But the wound left a green mark on his skin. That is why he was called glas, which means green in our tongue. The healer then prophesied that he would eventuall
y lead his people to an island at the edge of the world where no poisonous snakes would dwell. It was Goidel’s descendants who brought our people to the island that you called Hibernia.’

  ‘A pagan belief,’ dismissed Brother Gebicca. ‘Superstition.’

  ‘Pagan or not,’ Eadulf put in, ‘it is now being said that this miracle was wrought by Patrick when he came to convert the island. It was he, we are told, who drove out all the poisonous serpents.’

  Fidelma stirred restlessly. ‘How long before the swelling disperses and the wound heals?’ she asked.

  The physician began to bind the wound again.

  ‘There is no infection now. The wound is healing well and the swelling will go down in a day or two. I would advise rest, lest unnecessary movement causes the blood to circulate any residual venom through your body. Are you sure that you feel no ill-effects?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘The application of yellow snowdrop and vervain seems to have worked well. However, for a few days, drink a cup of the infusion of vervain and that will finish the attack of the poison.’

  ‘But can I get up now, for there is much I must do.’

  Brother Gebicca showed his disapproval.

  ‘You must do as you think best,’ he shrugged. ‘I have done my best and you are healed of the immediate effects of the poison. My advice is that you go to your room and rest for at least today.’

  Eadulf was in agreement. ‘The apothecary is right, Fidelma. If there is anything that needs to be done, I can do it.’

  ‘At the moment, you may help me to our chamber,’ Fidelma replied grimly. It was clear that, in spite of her question, she was not able to move without help.

  Supported by Eadulf, with her arm around his shoulder, Fidelma thanked the apothecary and, limping a little, made her way to the main building of the abbey. One or two of the delegates greeted her and asked after her health. Abbot Ségdae also met them and pressed his profound relief at seeing her in a better state than on the previous night. Finally, they reached their chamber and Fidelma collapsed on the bed, exhausted by the effort.

  Eadulf went to get her some water and she sipped at it gratefully.

  ‘I rather think the apothecary is right,’ she admitted, after handing the mug back to Eadulf. ‘I need more rest than I thought. That walk was quite tiring.’ She noticed the basket of fruit and another of various herbs in the room. ‘The abbey, at least, seems to be concerned for my health,’ she said.

  Eadulf glanced at the baskets.

  ‘Bishop Leodegar brought those in. Apparently, the Lady Beretrude sent them, fruit and healing herbs, and with all good wishes for your recovery.’

  Fidelma frowned suddenly. ‘Lady Beretrude?’ She remembered the moments in the garden with Beretrude encouraging her to look more closely at the shrubbery…at what was it-the oleander?

  Eadulf saw her frown. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I just wondered if Beretrude knew there was a poisonous snake in the shrubbery.’

  Eadulf was surprised at the question. ‘Why would she know that?’ he demanded.

  ‘She was encouraging me to go near the shrubbery just before you came.’

  ‘She could not have known a poisonous snake would be there.’

  ‘There was a wooden border around those shrubs. It was of such a height that a snake would not be able to move over it. Perhaps the creature had been purposely placed there.’

  Eadulf was dubious. ‘Are you saying that she deliberately tried to kill you?’ He looked unconvinced. ‘The bite of a viper does not necessarily mean death. Even Brother Gebicca likened it to a bee-sting, affecting only the young and those with weak constitutions.’

  ‘It is debilitating nonetheless for that,’ replied Fidelma in annoyance at his argument. ‘It might have been an attempt to prevent me from pursuing the investigation.’

  It was then that Eadulf remembered what he had been about to tell her at the moment that the snake had bitten her.

  ‘I think we were right to suspect that Beretrude might have some connection with the women from the Domus Femini,’ he said slowly. ‘Last night I saw something at the villa that shocked me, and that was when I came to find you in the garden.’

  Fidelma turned an enquiring look at him.

  ‘After we had agreed to part and look round,’ Eadulf told her, ‘I went along the eastern side of the villa. I had some idea of finding a back entrance and having a look inside.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said, when he paused.

  ‘I came to an area where stone stairs led downwards into a cellar. At the foot of these stairs was a door-a solid wooden one with no grille in it and no handle or lock, so it seemed. I presumed it could only be opened from the inside.’

  ‘And so?’

  ‘I was about to go down the steps to examine it further when I heard the cry of a child.’

  Fidelma’s eyes widened a little. ‘A child? This came from behind the door?’

  ‘No, it came from beyond an iron gate in the wall. I heard a man’s harsh commands so I hid behind some barrels. The gate opened and a child and two women were pushed through by a warrior. The women were clad in the robes of religieuses. They had their hands bound in front of them, even the child. As well as the warrior, who had his weapon drawn, there was someone else…’

  Fidelma was irritated by Eadulf’s dramatic pause. ‘And who was this someone else?’ she prompted. ‘An old friend of ours.’ ‘Old friend? Stop speaking in riddles, Eadulf. Just tell me who it was.’ ‘Verbas of Peqini.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fidelma had lapsed into a thoughtful silence at the news of the presence of Verbas of Peqini at Lady Beretrude’s villa. Eadulf sat and waited, not wishing to interrupt her thoughts as she considered the ramifications of his news. But it was not long before she told him, ‘The fact that Verbas is here does not alter the basic mystery around the murder of Dabhóc, although it puts an interesting slant on matters.’

  ‘He could not have known that we were here, surely?’

  ‘I agree-it must be a bizarre coincidence although, as I have said before, I have never really believed in coincidences. However, he could not have known we were here before arriving. He must have arranged to trade with Lady Beretrude some time ago.’

  ‘But to trade in what?’ wondered Eadulf.

  ‘You say that there were two religieuse and the child and they seemed to be prisoners?’

  ‘Verbas and a warrior were taking them into an underground room at Beretrude’s villa,’ confirmed Eadulf.

  ‘Then I fear this has something to do with the disappearance of the religieuse at the Domus Femini.’

  ‘And the cries that Gillucán heard? Could they have been the cries of children?’

  ‘Let us not leap too far ahead.’ Fidelma swung off the bed and tried to stand but immediately sank back with a word that was unusual for her to utter.

  ‘Brother Gebicca said that you should rest,’ Eadulf admonished.

  ‘I know what he said,’ she replied coldly. ‘The point is that the time is passing swiftly. There is much to be done, especially in view of this information. I want to have a further word with Abbess Audofleda.’

  ‘I can do that,’ offered Eadulf. ‘I know what it is that I must look for.’

  Fidelma was not persuaded.

  ‘Oh, come,’ protested Eadulf. ‘I know enough about your methods and this matter. True, I am not as well versed in the law of the Brehons but I am an hereditary gerefa of my own people-and are not my people closely related to these Franks or Burgunds-closely enough that I might understand their way of thinking?’

  Fidelma was slightly surprised at the vehemence in his tone. The thought occurred that perhaps she was being selfish. Eadulf had his pride as well. She knew that if she had a fault it was the belief that only she could gather the evidence and resolve a mystery. And even as that thought came to her, she remembered the many times that Eadulf had almost single-handedly resolved a case. There was the time in Gleann Geis, when
he had had to argue on her behalf in front of Murgal the Brehon when Fidelma herself was charged with murder. It was Eadulf’s arguments that had secured her release. Then, of course, there was the time they had arrived at Aldred’s Abbey where she had fallen ill and was confined to her bed while Eadulf had done all the investigation so that together they had solved the mystery of Abbot Botulf’s murder. She had, indeed, to remind herself that Eadulf was an hereditary gerefa or magistrate of his own people. His mind was just as sharp and penetrating as her own. Indeed, was that not part of the mutual attraction that had brought them together?

  She sighed deeply and held out a hand to him.

  ‘Eadulf, Eadulf,’ she said softly, ‘you have great patience with me. I tend to be a little selfish in these matters.’

  Eadulf felt awkward. He was unused to Fidelma apologising.

  ‘It’s just that I can save time in this matter,’ he said gruffly. ‘It is best that you spend a day recovering and come to the matter fit and well tomorrow.’

  ‘You are right. Just remember not to say anything to the abbess or to Sister Radegund that might compromise Sister Inginde. Let us keep her information to ourselves-and beware in your dealings with Sister Radegund.’

  A frown started to gather on Eadulf’s face. ‘Why her particularly?’

  ‘You saw Beretrude. Compare her features with Sister Radegund’s. If there is not a likeness there, and a relationship, then I am no judge of such matters. Also, remember that we followed her to Beretrude’s villa in the first place.’

  Eadulf realised that Fidelma might be right. He had not thought about it before. There was a strong likeness between the older and the younger woman. He was about to comment when there was a tap on the door; in answer to Eadulf’s response it opened and Brother Chilperic entered.

  ‘I came to see if there is anything you require, Sister,’ he said, with a nod of acknowledgement to Eadulf. ‘We were all alarmed to hear the news of your accident.’

  ‘I am told that I need to rest here today so that the swelling on my leg has time to disperse and heal.’

  Brother Chilperic expressed his sympathy. ‘Bishop Leodegar asks whether he can have a word with you if you are able.’