The Second Death (Sister Fidelma Mysteries)

by Peter Tremayne

  There was a silence and, once again, Enda made some sympathetic remarks to the girl.

  ‘It was lucky that you recognised your cob in Brehon Ruán’s field before you reached his homestead,’ Feradach commented to Eadulf, entering the conversation for the first time.

  ‘And luckier still that Ríonach knew a place where we could escape from he pursuit of Duach and Cellaig, who had been sent after us. I just hope they did not take their revenge on the shepherd and his son, whom we sent to free them.’ Eadulf glanced questioningly at Feradach.

  ‘Feradach is the commander of the guards in this township,’ Fidelma explained, realising that she had not introduced him.

  ‘I have heard much of the husband of the lady Fidelma,’ the warrior said pleasantly.

  Eadulf nodded absently. ‘Then you have the advantage of me. Have we met before?’

  ‘Your comrades have spoken much about you,’ replied the warrior.

  Fidelma summed things up for everyone again. When all is said and done, it seems that the link is still with this abbey, and this is the reason why Ultan and Ultana came here. I believe the link is this sacred pagan treasure or stone, and the secret chamber under the chapel. Perhaps they were members of this Fellowship of the Raven, or had been and were trying to extract some recompense.’

  ‘What happens now?’ Feradach wanted to know.

  ‘We will have another word with the steward and the Abbot,’ Fidelma decided. She smiled at Eadulf, still clad in the farmer’s rough garb. ‘Perhaps we can arrange for baths and a more suitable change of clothing.’

  When they found the steward in the main hall, he greeted them in an unfriendly fashion.

  ‘Have you not bothered the Abbot enough?’ he demanded in answer to Fidelma’s request. ‘He is gravely disturbed by your revelations of the secret chamber.’ His eyes fell on Eadulf and Ríonach; and with distaste on the terrier that followed at the girl’s heels. ‘We allow no animals in the abbey,’ he snapped.

  Fidelma answered, ignoring his protest: ‘This is my husband, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, and another companion.’ She was not specific about Ríonach’s role. ‘They have just escaped from the very pagan group I believe is behind these troubles.’

  Brother Failge glanced in surprise at Feradach. ‘Are they here with your approval?’

  The commander of the Osraige warriors gave a quick assurance, upon which Brother Failge moved off with some reluctance to find Abbot Saran. A few moments later, the Abbot entered and seated himself. There was a frightened expression on his rotund features.

  ‘Why have you come again to disturb the peace of this abbey, Fidelma of Cashel?’ he greeted, clearing his damaged throat.

  ‘The peace of this place was disturbed many years ago, Abbot Saran,’ she told him. ‘And the consequence of that is why it remains disturbed today.’

  ‘I have told you that I knew nothing of that secret chamber,’ protested Saran. ‘I knew nothing either of the man and woman who tried to desecrate my chapel.’ Unconsciously, the Abbot raised a hand to massage his throat as if reminded of the attempt to kill him. His steward, prompted by his duties, stood up and went to a side table to pour water from a jug and returned to hand it to the Abbot.

  Eadulf had been watching Brother Failge curiously. Without any warning, as the steward was reaching forward to hand the drink to the Abbot, he grabbed the man’s hand, causing him to drop the mug, which smashed, showering its contents on the floor. The steward gave an astonished yelp and everyone looked on in shock at the tableau formed by Eadulf and Brother Failge.

  Eadulf was tugging something from the steward’s wrist. The man was struggling, and he let forth a stream of profanities at Eadulf. No one else seemed capable of movement. Then Eadulf released his hold on the steward. Taken by surprise, Brother Failge staggered back. Ríonach meanwhile was trying to calm the excited terrier, who was growling and barking at everyone.

  ‘I seem to have become quite an expert on collecting such baubles in recent days,’ Eadulf commented in triumph, holding up an object for the rest of them to see.

  It was a piece of twisted hemp from which a small brass disc was dangling.

  Brother Failge gave a curious snarl and his hand went beneath his robes and withdrew from them a wicked-looking dagger. Before he could launch himself at Eadulf, however, the dagger had been knocked from his hand by the flat of Aidan’s sword, and the point of that same weapon was now at the steward’s throat.

  Abbot Saran was staring at his steward as if he had never seen him before. ‘What does this outrage mean?’ he gasped.

  Fidelma had taken the round metal disc from Eadulf and examined it.

  ‘Well spotted, Eadulf,’ she said. ‘So this is the symbol of your Fellowship of the Raven?’

  ‘You’ll recognise it, I am sure,’ Eadulf acknowledged with a smile.

  Fidelma turned to Feradach who stood uncertainly by. ‘I would ask that you restrain this man, for we will need to question him. He is obviously a member of this conspiracy and possibly the one person who can answer our questions about the deaths of Ultan and Ultana.’

  Before the Osraige warrior could respond, Enda had removed a piece of cord from his belt and had expertly bound Brother Failge’s hands. Then he pushed the steward onto a nearby seat. Feradach had scooped up the dagger that had fallen from the steward’s hand.

  ‘I understand none of this,’ the Abbot croaked, looking from one to another as if in search of an explanation. His expression was almost comically woebegone.

  ‘Perhaps we should all be seated,’ suggested Fidelma. ‘Then Eadulf can explain what he has told me.’

  After they had seated themselves, and looked expectantly at Eadulf, he took the brass disc from Fidelma and placed it in the centre of the round table. Then from his belt bag he extracted firstly the disc he had taken from the dead man in the marsh, who had been his captor; then the similar disc he had taken from Rechtabra, followed by those from Cellaig and Duach. As he placed each disc alongside that which had been worn by Brother Failge, he recited where they had come from. Then he turned to Fidelma.

  ‘I believe that you have another one to contribute?’

  Fidelma felt in her comb bag for the metal disc and placed it with its fellows.

  ‘That was taken from the wrist of the murdered girl we now know as Ultana,’ she stated.

  There was a silence before Eadulf began to speak. ‘All these little brass discs have the image of a bird on them. Specifically, the image of a raven. Now the raven was a potent symbol of the Old Religion of this country, so I am told. It is the symbol of death and battle, of blood and vengeance, and is personified by the Triune Goddess Badh, Mórrígan and Macha … who collectively take the form of a raven. You will remember the story of the hero Cúchullain who, dying at the Pillar Stone, had the Goddess of Vengeance, in the form of a raven, perch on his shoulder to triumphantly drink his blood.’

  Abbot Saran managed to summon a snort of uneasy indignation. ‘Such superstitions should have no meaning in the New Faith.’

  ‘Oh, but they do continue to have meaning in the minds of many people,’ replied Eadulf. ‘This has become the symbol of the Fellowship of the Raven, which is a group of people who still adhere to the Old Religion of this country. Ríonach’s husband was one of them.’

  The girl lowered her head in mute agreement.

  ‘What is their purpose?’ bleated Abbot Saran.

  ‘Perhaps we can ask Failge?’ replied Fidelma.

  The steward gave her a sullen glance. ‘I found the emblem. It is not mine. I – I found it on the wrist of the man Ultan.’

  ‘That explanation seems reasonable enough,’ the Abbot said quickly.

  ‘Reasonable?’ repeated Fidelma. ‘Then kindly explain what is reasonable about drawing a knife to attack Eadulf, accompanied by language that does not belong in a marketplace, let alone in an abbey!’ She paused and then said: ‘I believe that they have chosen the Triune Goddess in order to wreak vengeance for th
e destruction of the Old Faith, and to seek the death of the New Faith.’

  The rotund Abbot blinked bewilderedly. ‘You mean they want revenge for what Cainnech did here when he overthrew the last of the Druids seventy years ago?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Eadulf agreed, his mind latching on to Fidelma’s line of thinking.

  ‘And you believe that Ultan and Ultana were part of this conspiracy?’

  ‘It seems likely, but we need more facts.’ Fidelma turned to Failge, who was sitting hunched up, his hands tied, glowering at them. ‘You will answer some questions now.’

  The steward gave a contemptuous snort. ‘That I will not.’

  ‘I think you will.’

  ‘And I know that I won’t. Threats will not force me to speak to you.’

  ‘Who mentioned threats?’ Fidelma said mildly. ‘I do not make threats,’ she went on. Then she sighed. ‘Is it your last word that you will not speak further of this Fellowship of the Raven?’

  Brother Failge raised his chin defiantly and sneered, ‘I will answer nothing. I will speak no more to you. I will endure all physical pain you can inflict on me. I shall never betray the blessed raven.’

  ‘Physical pain?’ Failge had actually used the word branndán – torture. ‘Why would you think that we would resort to torture?’

  ‘Because that is the way with you – you of the New Faith. It is well known that you are spreading new laws called the Penitentials in place of our ancient laws. Mutilations, hangings, drowning … they are used by many abbeys who have adopted foreign ways, where wrongdoers are physically punished instead of being forced to compensate their victims. I have seen it written in Di Astud Chirt agus Dligid, On the Confirmation of Right and Law, that it was Patrick who first introduced such vicious punishments into this island. So do your worst. I shall not talk.’

  ‘If you are part of a group seeking vengeance, is that no better than the vengeance of the Penitentials?’ queried Fidelma.

  ‘The New Faith has taught us the weapons we must use to overcome them,’ replied Failge stubbornly. ‘When a forest burns, one often has to light another fire to stop it destroying the entire forest … “burning for burning” as your teaching goes.’

  Fidelma paused thoughtfully for a moment before addressing Feradach and Enda, saying, ‘Go into the chapel and open the underground room again.’

  They looked surprised, but she made no further comment and so they left to fulfil her instruction.

  ‘What do you intend?’ Abbot Saran asked anxiously.

  ‘I intend to explain the difference between our law system and the rules that certain communities of our religious have misguidedly adopted – these rules called the Penitentials which incorporate foreign laws of punishment.’

  Failge laughed aloud. ‘Are you saying that you can uphold our old laws and values while accepting this New Faith from the East?’ he challenged.

  ‘Do you say that we cannot?’ she countered.

  ‘I do. Have you not read the justification for torture that these so-called Penitentials would inflict – such as the call for us to mortify our flesh in order to gain an afterlife? In our religion, when we die, we are simply reborn in the Otherworld, the parallel world. When we die in that world, we are reborn in this one. Our stations in both worlds depend on how well we have lived our lives. While we dwell in this world, on the eve of Samhain, the Otherworld becomes visible to us – and those whom we have wronged, who have passed there, can return to exact their vengeance.’

  ‘I know of that belief,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘But you claim the Penitentials expect us to indulge in mortification of the flesh to obtain an afterlife?’

  ‘The Gospels of the New Faith declare it,’ Brother Failge spat.

  ‘I have not heard it said,’ she declared.

  ‘It is so said by Paul in his letter to his followers in Rome: si enim secundum carnem vixeritis moriemini si autem Spiritu facta carnis mortificatis vivetis …’

  ‘If you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live,’ muttered the Abbot.

  ‘So you are interpreting this as an exhortation to inflict punishment on the flesh to deaden natural functions and desires in order to gain an afterlife?’ Fidelma was appalled. ‘That is nonsense.’

  ‘Then many who follow this New Faith have no sense.’

  ‘What are words but labels that can be misinterpreted?’ Eadulf said.

  ‘I am not the one doing the misinterpretation,’ returned the steward. ‘It is the clerics who maintain these Penitentials.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that many will have sympathy with your cause, Failge,’ Fidelma mused, ignoring the disapproving look of the Abbot. ‘I myself feel saddened at the loss of some of the moral concepts from the old days. But I have to remind myself that I am a dálaigh. I am an advocate of the law of the Fénechus and not that of the Penitentials, and it is to the law of the Fénechus that I must turn.

  ‘I am not judging either the New or the Old Faith,’ she went on, ‘but the crime of murder. I am investigating the deaths of this young couple whom we are now calling Ultan and Ultana. Then there is the capture of Eadulf here, and the attempt to murder him – which resulted in other deaths. This, from the evidence that has been shown, is the responsibility of the Fellowship of the Raven. You appear to represent this Fellowship, Failge. Under the law of the Fénechus you have a right to present your defence.’

  But Brother Failge shook his head, saying, ‘I see what you are trying to do, but it will not work. I shall say nothing.’

  Fidelma rose as Feradach and Enda returned.

  ‘We’ve opened the entrance again, lady,’ reported Feradach.

  ‘Bring him along then.’ She nodded to Brother Failge. Then she glanced to Ríonach, who was still sitting with bowed head. ‘It is not necessary for you to come, my dear. You may remain here with your dog. Enda – you may stay with her.’

  Feradach and Aidan hoisted the steward to his feet, each supporting one of his arms. Fidelma led the way to the chapel, Eadulf and Abbot Saran following along behind her. ‘I don’t understand,’ muttered the fat Abbot; this had become a phrase that he was repeating again and again, almost as a religious prayer.

  Fidelma walked to the top of the steps and pointed downwards into the underground chamber. Her face was a mask.

  ‘At least you will pass to your Otherworld surrounded by the images of your Old Faith, Failge.’

  The steward’s eyes went wide. ‘Surely you do not intend to incarcerate me down there?’ he breathed.

  ‘But you told me that I can.’ Fidelma actually smiled. ‘You expect little else from the New Faith. Do you not claim that we not only mortify our own flesh but ensure the mortification of others?’ She spoke to Feradach. ‘Untie his hands and give him a candle, Feradach … not a large one, just a stub so that he can quickly look on the images of the old gods and goddesses, who will doubtless sustain him in his dark vigil.’

  There was a silence. Then the horrified voice of the Abbot cried: ‘But you are a dálaigh … I protest! You cannot bury a man alive, no matter what he has done. This is not the true way of the New Faith!’

  ‘Did Brother Failge not quote from one of the sacred texts to prove it so?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘What was the quotation?’

  ‘Punishments should be life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand … burning for burning …’ conceded the Abbot. ‘But—’

  ‘Exactly,’ she interrupted grimly. ‘Animam pro anima. Untie his hands, but Aidan, keep your sword at his throat. Try not to kill him if he refuses to descend – he might need some persuasion. Where is the candle stub I asked you for? Light it and give it to him, and light another one for me.’

  Feradach reluctantly did as he was told. Fidelma took the candle that he had given to her, placed it on the altar and took from her comb bag a pin. To their surprise, she measured down the wick with her thumb and then thrust the pin into the cand
le at that point. Then she turned back with a glance of impatience. The men moved reluctantly, as if they could not believe her order. Brother Failge took the lighted candle stub from Feradach with a defiant smile and began to descend the narrow stairs. He paused for a moment and stared malignantly at Fidelma. ‘My vengeance is to come, Fidelma of Cashel. Look for me on the eve of the Feast of Samhain. Look for me …’

  She signalled to Feradach to push the altar stone back in position. Even Eadulf was looking at her in dismay. Like Aidan, he found her action entirely out of character and was unable to believe the scene that he had just witnessed. It was almost impossible to accept this new callousness in her.

  ‘Now, Aidan, go and tell Enda to prepare our horses. We must soon be away from this place.’ When Aidan hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, she added, ‘Don’t forget to ensure that Eadulf and the girl’s horses are also ready for the journey. Ríonach will accompany us to Cashel in fulfilment of Eadulf’s promise, and Feradach will also be joining us. Tell Enda to make haste.’

  ‘Are you leaving?’ Abbot Saran asked, aghast. ‘Leaving after … after …’ Words seemed to fail him as he gestured to the closed slab hiding the secret chamber.

  Fidelma turned back and regarded his outraged expression as if in amusement.

  ‘You will not object to our departure? I thought you would be rejoicing.’

  The Abbot pointed to the floor at the base of the altar. ‘You have exacted a terrible punishment. This abbey will not sit quietly with the grave of an unbeliever under its chapel.’

  ‘What better place would you have an unbeliever resting for eternity?’ Her voice was cold.

  ‘It will be my Christian duty to open the chamber as soon as you have departed,’ declared the Abbot, angrily leaving the chapel. ‘I pray I am not too late.’

  A moment later, Aidan returned. ‘Enda and the girl have gone to the abbey stable to get all the horses prepared.’