The Second Death (Sister Fidelma Mysteries)

by Peter Tremayne

  Eadulf gasped.

  Around one wrist was a plaited piece of hemp rope, and attached to it by means of a small hole, through which the hemp was threaded, was a small disc. Eadulf cupped his hand, scooped up some of the marsh water and splashed it over the disc, which revealed itself to be a shiny metal; it looked as if it were brass. Even before he examined it, he knew that there would be the impression of a bird on one side … the image of a raven.

  Eadulf bent down and examined the body, trying to ignore the ravages of the carrion. The clothes were torn and ragged, and there was nothing else to identify the man. He carefully undid the knot of the hemp bracelet, and, as he had no bag to place it in, he carefully tied it around his own wrist.

  He stood up again and almost missed the mud-covered object that was floating on top of the watery slime not far from the corpse. It was the shaft of an arrow, just the feathered flight and a section of broken wood. Eadulf returned to the body and looked for a wound. There was none on the front. Bracing himself for the distasteful task he seized the corpse by the arms and pulled it further onto the path. He was rewarded for his efforts by the sight of two wooden stubs protruding from the back, indicating where two arrows had snapped off when the man fell.

  Eadulf stood up and looked nervously about him. Two things were clear. This had been one of his captors – probably the one who had defied his leader by letting Eadulf live. He had been shot twice in the back with arrows. This was the man’s reward for his defiance.

  Eadulf wondered whether he should try to fish out the broken piece of arrow from the marshwater. He presumed that it had snapped off as the man was turned over on his back and pushed into the mud. There was no sign of the second broken shaft. But why spend an arduous time searching – since it would tell him nothing in any case? Only someone like Aidan or Enda would be able to identify an arrow and know anything about individual flights.

  He gave a final glance at the body. Should he push it back into the marsh? He decided against it. It seemed an improper thing to do even for the body of an enemy, especially when the man had unwittingly spared his life. Eadulf felt he had one duty to perform. He bent over the body and murmured the prayer for the dead.

  ‘Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine: et lux perpetua luceat eis, Requiescant in pace.’

  Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace.

  Feeling that he had done his duty as a religieux, Eadulf rose to his feet and gazed around. If there had been some branches handy, he would have tried to cover the body. But there were none. Accepting that there was not much else he could do, Eadulf limped on his way. He had not gone far when he heard the triumphant ‘kraa, kraa, kraa’ and glancing back, he saw that the crows had once more descended to their feast.

  CHAPTER TEN

  As Aidan led the way out of the woodland to join the great road beyond, Fidelma felt a terrible surge of grief, her emotions overwhelmingly telling her that she must turn back into the marshland in search of Eadulf. She actually halted her horse and looked back, while Aidan and Enda paused too, their expressions anxious.

  ‘We understand, lady,’ Aidan said heavily. ‘It is a bad country to be lost in. However, even if we had whole battalions of your brother’s warriors at our disposal, we might be looking forever in those marshes and never find him. Who is to say that Eadulf is still there? Perhaps his companions have taken him elsewhere, willing or not.’

  Enda felt his comrade had put things a little bluntly and so added more gently: ‘At least we know that Eadulf must have been taken captive. Either his captors made a mistake and he will be released, or it might be that he stumbled onto someone who is part of this mystery.’ He then realised that his interpretation of the situation was as pessimistic as Aidan’s.

  ‘Don’t worry, Enda. I know what you mean.’ Fidelma forced a smile of thanks at her companions’ concerns. ‘We know that Eadulf discovered where the wagon had been overnight before it joined Baodain’s troupe. So there is a good possibility that he encountered those who had some connection with it and has been taken prisoner by them.’

  But what if his captors had killed him? What if they had buried him in the fastness that was the marshland? She tried to push such negative thoughts from her mind.

  ‘We are doing the right thing, lady,’ Aidan assured her. ‘Eadulf has shown us that the wagon was on the marshland, and by being captured he has also shown us a possible link to whoever poisoned the couple. It is logical that, as you have said, the wagon arrived there from the river-port of Cill Cainnech. It is therefore also logical that Eadulf might have been taken there – because that may be where this mystery started.’

  She smiled gratefully at both the young men. They were doing their best to keep her spirits up.

  ‘Besides,’ Enda pointed out with sudden enthusiasm, ‘friend Eadulf is not a man to be at a loss in any crisis. He has come through many worse situations, as you will recall, and I think he will give a good account of himself.’

  It was so reassuring to have their companionship, Fidelma thought, and to hear their belief in her husband.

  ‘You have persuaded me that we should make for Cill Cainnech,’ she told them gravely. ‘It will be a hard ride if we are to make it before nightfall.’

  ‘The person I am most sorry for is that poor girl,’ Enda remarked unexpectedly. ‘How can she have allowed herself to be married to that brute of a farmer?’

  ‘You mean the girl, Ríonach?’ Indeed, Fidelma also felt sorry for the way the girl had been treated in front of them by Rechtabra. ‘She does seem a poor thing – but it must be of her own choosing.’

  ‘Her own choice?’ queried Enda. ‘She seems intimidated by the man! So how can it be by her own choice?’

  ‘You know the law as well as I do,’ Fidelma replied. ‘The law allows for separation and divorce in unsatisfactory marriages. She could easily make a complaint to the local Brehon. If the girl is threatened by violence or, indeed, has actually received violence, then she could obtain a separation without penalty and the husband must pay costs and fines. That is clear in the Cáin Lánamna, the laws relating to marriage. Therefore, if she has not done so, it surely means that she is content to endure the situation.’

  Enda did not accept her interpretation. ‘Your forgiveness, lady, if I speak my mind? I observed animals on the farm when I was growing up and I see no difference in the behaviour of some human beings. If you place an animal in a field for a long time, and then leave the gate open, it is often so used to the field that it will remain in it rather than go wandering off to the uninviting countryside beyond.’

  Fidelma admitted that the young man had a point but his companion, Aidan, chuckled. ‘It is clear that you are smitten with the lass, Enda. But be warned if you pass this way again … she is married. And the person who entices a woman away from her marriage contract without sufficient cause is judged as a wandering thief, a fugitive from their kindred with no protection in law.’

  Enda grimaced. ‘Yes, “without sufficient cause”. Well, I believe there is sufficient cause, and when this matter we are engaged in is over, I may well come back this way and investigate further.’

  Aidan shook his head pityingly. ‘A few moments’ sight of the girl and you are ready to squander your honour price on her. I have never seen lightning strike so quickly. All I say again, is that she is married.’

  Fidelma cleared her throat. ‘I am afraid there are more urgent matters to attend to, and it is time we recommenced our journey. Let us leave such discussions until later.’

  Eadulf had entered some woodland. He was not sorry to leave the oppressive swamp area behind and enter into the cool of the shrouded forest path. It seemed to be mostly an area of alders, some still with their winter cones, just beginning to green themselves in answer to spring. Indifferent to the alders were great twisted and venerable old yew trees with their poisonous evergreen branches. In such woodland, Eadulf hoped that there would be edible fu
ngi. Apart from a couple of species, most of the plants that appeared so early in the year were either poisonous or inedible. However, he started to look around, now and then seeing stagnant green-covered pools, then clumps of brown plants whose strange brown prongs would soon bloom into enchanter’s nightshade, and nearby, the creeping bare roots which would blossom into marsh valerian. It was still damp enough for marsh horsetail and lumps of moorgrass to form tussocks. Eadulf did not want to wander off the path, which had clearly been frequently used. But he was both thirsty and hungry and he looked from left to right for signs of the edible titbits that such woodlands provided.

  Abruptly, there came the distant sound of a dog barking. It was clearly a domestic dog and not a creature of the wild nor a wolf, as a moment later came a man’s faint answering voice. The sounds were coming from beyond the woodland and he almost broke into a run, stumbling along the path until he burst out into an area of dry land, with some fields containing grazing cattle and – his heart leaped as he saw it – a farmstead, with several outhouses.

  He moved rapidly down the small incline to stop at the stone wall which surrounded the buildings. There was no sign of the dog now. It had ceased to bark and all was quiet.

  He was about to shout to announce his presence when he heard the sound of a crack. He could not quite describe it. It reminded him of the crack of a drover’s whip. There was a faint feminine cry and then a sobbing sound from somewhere in the building.

  He hesitated before raising his voice. ‘Is anyone there?’

  Immediately, a series of short, sharp barks broke the air and a small but muscular terrier came bounding around the side of the house. Although it was small, Eadulf gripped his staff ready to protect himself, for he knew the type of woolly-haired dog which could face a full-grown adult badger, tearing into its sett and dragging it out in the fierce grip of its jaws. He was thankful that the wall was between them as the dog leaped up, barking and baring its fangs.

  The door of the farmhouse opened and a man appeared, calling curtly to the dog to shut up. In response to his tone, the terrier drew back and actually gave a sound like a whimper, its tail going between its hind legs. The man moved a pace or two forward and grabbed the animal by its collar, almost lifting it from the ground before throwing it into the house and slamming the door. Then he turned to Eadulf and examined him for the first time.

  Eadulf was aware that the farmer was staring in surprise at him. He gave the man a brief smile.

  ‘I confess that I must not look a pleasant sight but I have been wandering through the marshland, having been assaulted and robbed. Could you tell me where I am, and then, perhaps, I could use your spring to clean up—?’

  The farmer looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You are in the Land of the People of the Deer, on the edge of the Great Marsh,’ he replied. ‘I am Rechtabra, a farmer here. You wear the tonsure of the Roman faction. It is unusual for one such as you to be wandering the marsh. That is why I am surprised.’

  Eadulf nodded uncertainly. ‘I cannot argue with you on that. The Land of the People of the Deer? That’s Osraige, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. You are in the territory of Tuaim Snámh, Prince of Osraige, and this is my farmstead. What happened to you that you are in such a pitiful condition?’

  ‘I was mistaken for someone else; knocked on the head, left for dead in some shepherd’s hut in the marsh, my horse and belongings stolen. I managed to free myself but am lost.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘It is, indeed. Are we anywhere near a church or abbey or a settlement that might give me shelter until I am able to sort matters out? There will be people looking for me, for I am husband to the sister of the King of Muman.’

  The farmer’s eyes narrowed but he did not seem surprised. ‘Is that so?’ he repeated. ‘And there will be people looking for you?’

  ‘That is so,’ Eadulf assured him, echoing the farmer’s expression. ‘I need to alert my people of my whereabouts – the sooner the better.’

  Rechtabra pointed behind the farmhouse. ‘There is a stream and pool by those trees that we use for washing. It is unconnected with our well, which we conserve for drinking. I suggest that you first clean off the slime of the marsh and then come beside my hearth while my wife will fetch you food and a drink more worthy than the water from my well.’

  ‘That would be most appreciated and I thank you for it,’ Eadulf smiled. ‘However, it is water that I immediately crave. I have almost forgotten what fresh water tastes like, having traversed this inhospitable place with scarcely anything to slake my thirst.’

  The farmer hesitated a moment and then said: ‘Go to the stream and I will bring you fresh water.’ With that, he disappeared into the farmhouse. Eadulf could hear the sound of his raised voice behind the door and then, guiltily, he moved in the direction indicated. He had just reached the bank of a small gushing stream when the farmer rejoined him with a jug of water, which Eadulf drained almost in one continuous motion.

  ‘So which way have you come to this spot, my friend?’ Rechtabra asked easily when Eadulf handed him the empty jug. ‘Not along that track there, surely?’ He pointed to the track from which Fidelma and her companions had emerged.

  Eadulf turned and pointed to the north. ‘I came along a path from that direction. It was a narrow footpath through that wood over there. Whose land would that be, the land beyond those trees?’

  The farmer’s expression had become slightly tense. ‘Beyond the patch of alder and yew trees, you mean?’ When Eadulf nodded, the man said, ‘The woodland is mine, but the far side is just marshland.’

  ‘I came upon the corpse of a man by the track there,’ Eadulf went on more gravely. ‘He had been shot twice in the back with arrows. I think someone had pushed him into the marsh, hoping it would swallow him. But it did not. Now the crows are providing an answer to the burial. I said a prayer over him, but could do no more.’

  ‘Is what you say true?’ frowned the farmer.

  ‘My word on it. In fact, I will go further and say that the man was one of those who held me prisoner in a shepherd’s hut last night.’

  Rechtabra looked astonished. ‘You recognised him? How can you be sure?’

  Eadulf was slightly surprised by the question. ‘It is of more import that he was murdered, surely?’ he countered.

  ‘Murdered, you say?’

  ‘Two arrows in the back scarcely constitute an accident,’ Eadulf reminded him dryly. ‘But now I need to wash and change my clothing. Before that, perhaps you will come and view the body with me and see if the man can be identified.’

  Rechtabra’s thin lips twisted into a smile. ‘My friend, it seems that you have been through much. I will do my best to deal with all your concerns. Wash and refresh yourself first – I’ll fetch you some dry clothing. As for this corpse, I’ll take a walk across to the marsh. Perhaps I will be able to recognise the man and then I’ll consider how best to alert our local Brehon.’

  Eadulf’s eyes widened. ‘You have a Brehon here?’

  ‘Not exactly here,’ the man replied evasively. ‘Proceed with your washing. I will fetch clean clothing for you.’

  ‘I feel better already,’ Eadulf assured him, turning towards the stream with its little pool and stripping off his muddied and stained clothing before plunging in. Rechtabra watched him for a moment and then went back into the farmhouse.

  Eadulf was still splashing in the chilly waters of the pool, eyes closed as he cupped the water over his face, when he felt the point of cold steel dig into the small of his back.

  ‘Don’t move,’ was the unnecessary command, given in the cold tones of Rechtabra’s voice.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Eadulf replied, his back still to his assailant. He had been so intent on his ablutions that he had not even heard the farmer return.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Rechtabra assured him in a mocking tone. ‘You have had bad luck, my foreign friend. You should have taken some other path out of the marshland rather than
the one that led through my farmland. Still, your bad luck is my good luck as you might have found that other path from the marshes and started to spread your tale.’

  Eadulf stood quite still, feeling the needle-point in his back. His mind was working rapidly, and now he suddenly recognised the voice of the second captor.

  ‘Say nothing and you may live longer,’ instructed the man. ‘Now back slowly out of the stream towards me.’

  The point dug sharply in his spine. Eadulf obeyed.

  ‘Am I allowed to pick up my clothes?’ he asked, shivering, pointing to his discarded clothing.

  ‘You will soon have no need of them,’ came the smiling retort. ‘Now turn and move towards that small stone hut you see before you.’

  Eadulf hesitated a fraction and again the sharp point urged him into movement. The hut was tiny; no higher than a man’s shoulder level and so small that two men could barely fit into the interior. There were no windows, not even a small aperture.

  ‘In there!’ snapped the farmer. The order was accompanied by another vicious prod with the sword.

  Eadulf stumbled in, crouching low, and the door slammed shut behind him. There came the sound of a wooden bar being lifted into place to secure the door. Then there was silence.

  Eadulf did not know how long he had been squeezed into his tiny prison. He knew that his limbs were cramped and he was freezing cold. And then he became aware of someone approaching and tensed. He would not succumb to his captor without a fight this time, he vowed, and made ready to strike out as soon as the door opened. Then a feminine voice called softly: ‘You in there, don’t worry. I am going to set you free.’

  He heard the wooden bar being removed and then the door swung open. Eadulf’s limbs had been so cramped that he would not have been able to launch himself at his jailer in any case. He crawled in an undignified manner out of the confined space and slowly stood up, forgetting he was unclothed.

  The girl who had released him was young and would have been attractive had it not been for the bruise and swollen lip which still showed flecks of blood on it. She gazed on him with an expression of anxiety, almost fear.