The Second Death (Sister Fidelma Mysteries)

by Peter Tremayne

  Even as Eadulf moved forward to see if he could locate the mechanism of the door to release them, a cold voice shouted: ‘Stay still or you will die now.’

  They froze for a moment.

  ‘Well, Brother Failge,’ Fidelma turned calmly, ‘it seems you have outsmarted us.’ The former steward of Cill Cainnech stood in one of the other doorways.

  ‘I believe that I have,’ returned Brother Failge, his laughter harsh and cruel. ‘You came like lambs to the slaughter.’

  ‘There is only one of you,’ Eadulf snapped. ‘You have made me angry enough to try your mettle. I handled a bow and a cudgel before I accepted the way of the religieux.’

  ‘Then you had better turn around,’ Failge replied coldly. ‘After that, I advise you to take your weapons and place them on the table.’

  Eadulf recognised Duach and Cellaig immediately. They had emerged through the last door and were holding in their hands weapons that were not common among the warriors of the Five Kingdoms.

  ‘Stay still,’ repeated Failge ‘for, as you see, my men are armed with crossbows. They are deadly accurate at this range.’

  Cellaig looked proud as he held his weapon a little higher. ‘Some years ago we had the fortune to join the Ulidians when they fought the Cruithin at a ford across the Lagan up in the north country. The Cruithin were generous. They not only left their dead on the field but also these weapons. We took them as spoils and learned their use. Interesting devices. I am told they were much favoured in Ancient Rome. I think they are called arcuballista.’

  Fidelma knew that the warriors of the Five Kingdoms preferred longbows, for they had a greater accuracy than the crossbow, although she was aware that the Romans and Greeks had introduced these weapons among the Britons. The Cruithin, in the north of Britain, certainly favoured them. However, at such close quarters there was no argument about accuracy. The little bolts the weapons propelled were deadly. It was clear that Cellaig and Duach knew how to handle them.

  ‘Now, weapons on the table!’ ordered Failge.

  ‘We do not have any weapons.’ Eadulf replied.

  ‘But you doubtless have knives or daggers. Place them on the table and do not try to conceal anything.’

  ‘They are in our saddlebags,’ Fidelma replied. ‘And since you have separated us from our warriors, we are defenceless. So what now?’

  Brother Failge addressed the still simpering woman who had led them into the trap. ‘Search them, Dar Badh, to ensure that they don’t lie.’

  The portly woman shuffled forward and quickly, though not expertly, ran her stubby hands over them and peered into their belt bags. ‘No weapon on them, lord,’ she sniffed.

  ‘Then you may return to your kitchen,’ he ordered. He then addressed Fidelma. ‘Your ruse to entomb me alive showed some imagination, lady. I will have to see if I can do better with my plan for your own exit to the Otherworld. It is a comfort to know that you have failed to prevent the fruition of our plan.’

  It was Eadulf who responded. ‘Your plan? What plan would a band of fanatics such as you have that we need fear?’

  Brother Failge gave him a look akin to pity. ‘I seem to have given you credit for knowing that which you do not know. It is sad that you will die in ignorance.’

  ‘If we are to die,’ Fidelma replied evenly, ‘I would much rather not die in ignorance. Perhaps you could enlighten us? After all, you believe that we shall be reborn in the Otherworld when we die. Let us have the knowledge of why we have been despatched there before our time. What good would such knowledge do in the Otherworld? Otherwise, according to your belief, we might have to come back and visit you on the eve of Samhain, as you promised to visit me.’

  Brother Failge smirked. ‘You have a good sense of humour, lady. It is a pity that you chose the wrong side. Your passing will not be as simple as a quick rebirth. When your earthly flesh perishes, Donn, the feared Lord of the Dead, will come in all his terrible splendour to claim your souls and take you to Tech Duinn, the House of the Dead. That is the great assembly place of the dead before they begin their journey to the Otherworld.’

  Fidelma replied grimly, ‘I know the ancient legends.’

  ‘Legends? We know them as reality. Do you realise that there are many places which we collectively call the Otherworld? For some there are the dark, brooding purgatories of the Fomorii Islands, such as Hy-Falga or Dún Sciath, the Lands of Eternal Shadows. For the true believers there is Tír Tairngiri, the Land of Promise, or Tír na nÓg, the Land of Eternal Youth. Alas, you are not destined for the lands of happiness. You will probably be lost forever in Magh Da Cheo, the Plain of the Two Mists, designed to wander for eternity, seeing nothing, hearing nothing.’

  Eadulf shivered, for he had been raised with the gods and goddesses of his own people before converting to the New Faith.

  ‘It seems then that you are able to dictate to the gods what they should do with us,’ returned Fidelma dryly, not daunted by his solemn recital of the legends she knew well. ‘But so far, you have told us nothing more than what we knew already. We know that you and the so-called Fellowship of the Raven are just a group of fanatics trying to live in the past with the Old Gods.’

  A muscle in Failge’s cheek twitched.

  ‘We know the story,’ went on Fidelma, outwardly oblivious to his anger. ‘The hill which is now Cill Cainnech was where those last members of the Old Religion retreated a hundred years ago. I presume many of them fled from the north and brought the Golden Stone with them. It came from Clochar, the Place of the Stone. I am told that it was regarded as a sacred stone through which the gods and goddesses spoke to the servers of the Old Faith.’

  Brother Failge bent his head forward in unwilling agreement.

  ‘It was hidden in the hill,’ he said softly. ‘That was before Cainnech and his Christian marauders attacked and slaughtered most of our people. A secret chamber had been made in the hill and the entrance was disguised. It was symbolic because the Christians were driving all our old deities into the hills, the sidh, and when they could not entirely eradicate our beliefs the Christians pretended that the old gods and goddesses were sprites, elves, goblins and fairy creatures in order to denigrate them. We, who remained loyal, knew the truth, and we waited for our time to come again.’

  Failge wore the gloating expression of a fanatic. ‘And now our time has come! We are emerging throughout the Five Kingdoms. Sechnussach the High King was the first to feel our wrath. Oh yes, I have heard how you and Eadulf overcame our followers on Hag’s Hill and discovered the truth of Sechnussach’s assassination. Therefore it is just that you have both fallen into our hands.’

  ‘It is certainly interesting that we have found more of you fanatics here,’ Fidelma agreed calmly. ‘But because you have nearly managed to get away with disrupting the Five Kingdoms once, it does not mean you will do so again, nor that you will be able to persuade the people to rise up with you.’

  Failge was unruffled. ‘I am sure that you have heard the news from the north these last six months? The revenge of Badh has started.’

  ‘Ah, Badh the Raven Goddess,’ Eadulf sighed, following Fidelma’s unconcerned attitude. ‘And what innocent souls has her vengeance claimed?’

  ‘Innocent?’ Failge repeated angrily. ‘You must have heard that Ard Macha was burned, and Beannhoir and even the Abbey of Telle on the edge of the High King’s own territory.’

  Certainly Fidelma had heard of what had been thought to be local unrest during the previous months, with attacks on the great abbeys to the north.

  ‘So your Fellowship of the Raven is a northern group?’

  ‘Northern? Of course not! It is found in all the Five Kingdoms. When the Golden Stone is raised as our battle emblem to drive the New Faith from this land, we will be joined by all the clans in all the kingdoms.’

  ‘Ah yes, the Cloch Ór, the Golden Stone. You have successfully moved it from under the abbey?’

  ‘You are intelligent, Fidelma of Cashel.’ Failge grinned
appreciatively. ‘Yes, indeed. We have moved it, ready to take it on its journey to rally our followers before we march on the High King Cenn Faelad and replace him with his cousin Niall, son of Cernach.’

  ‘Niall?’ Fidelma frowned. ‘The grandson of the High King Diarmait, who died of the Yellow Plague? But he is a mere boy. He is scarcely at the age of choice.’

  ‘A figurehead is all we require – not someone who can think for himself.’

  ‘Like the inanimate stone that you worship?’ Eadulf was fed up with the sneering face of the man.

  The former steward turned and suddenly struck Eadulf across the face, causing him to stagger a little from the unexpectedness of the blow.

  ‘You mock what is sacred, Saxon!’ snarled Failge. ‘Well, soon you will be sorry. Badh does not take sacrilege lightly.’

  Eadulf recovered and smiled. Through the blood on his lips, he said, ‘What is she waiting for, then? I would have thought a Goddess of Vengeance would be as quick to temper as you have been, Failge. Or is it that she is powerless to strike without someone like you having to do it for her?’

  Failge took another step forward, raising his hand, but Fidelma moved into his path.

  ‘Before you proceed with your vengeance, let me just get one more thing clear and then we can all depart to the Otherworld with a good conscience.’

  Failge hesitated and then shrugged, lowering his arm. ‘What more is there that you want to know?’

  ‘You say that the Golden Stone was taken from Cill Cainnech. I assume you removed it from the secret chamber and that it is now here?’

  ‘Yes, lady, you have guessed correctly. It was brought here and is ready to be transported north to join our people.’

  ‘Was it to be transported by Ultan and Ultana?’

  For a moment Failge stared wide-eyed at her and then he roared with laughter.

  ‘Now you ruin your reputation, lady. It was because of the arrival of that couple that we had to move it before we were ready.’

  ‘So who were they?’

  ‘Truly,’ Failge was still trying to control his mirth, ‘I have no idea who they were. I suspect that they were sent to find out the whereabouts of the Golden Stone.’

  ‘So what happened to them?’

  ‘Abbot Saran discovered them in the chapel, as I have told you, and was about to raise the alarm. That would not have been good for our plans. Unbeknownst to him, I had actually followed the Abbot to the chapel, and it was I who knocked him unconscious. I told the young man, Ultan, that it was the Abbot who was the keeper of the sacred stone and that he would never allow them to escape the abbey. I said that I was a friend and urged them to leave at once. I told him to take the girl and his wagon and head west to Tulach Ruán, where they would find supporters. I would follow them, and explain everything.’

  ‘This they did?’ asked Fidelma thoughtfully.

  ‘Yes. After they left, I used a cord to nearly strangle the Abbot. I did not mean to kill him, merely to injure him enough so that he would be out of action for a while. Leaving him in the chapel, I then told one of the guards at the stables that the Abbot was missing and that a search should be made, knowing that he would soon be found. I also said that I was taking a horse to look for the couple who I had seen fleeing the abbey. Being on horseback, I easily overtook the ox-wagon before they reached Tulach Ruán, and guided them here.’

  ‘So when Abbot Saran recovered, he thought it was Ultan and Ultana who had attacked him in the chapel?’

  ‘Yes. And Ultan and Ultana were received here by the leader of our Fellowship …’ went on Failge.

  Eadulf said heavily, ‘I’d like to meet him.’

  Failge grinned mockingly. ‘You have already met him.’

  ‘In the dark, with a blindfold over my eyes – and when it was lifted, a light was shone into my face, so that I could see nothing,’ returned Eadulf.

  ‘Never mind,’ replied Failge. ‘He might allow you to see him again before … Ah well, to return to the young couple. Hospitality had been offered them. We did our best to discover exactly who they were and where they came from. What we learned was that they were working for the New Faith and would be a threat to our plans.’

  Fidelma sighed. ‘So how did they meet their deaths? I presume you forced them to drink hemlock?’

  ‘Forced? No, not forced; they drank it of their own accord, although I confess it was administered by stealth and they did not know what they were drinking. They thought they were among friends.’

  ‘So you did poison them?’

  ‘That sounds so dramatic, but essentially, it is true. We offered them hospitality for the night, believing that they would never wake in the morning. At that point, Dulach and Cellaig were supposed to take the bodies to the Raven House.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘We are the Fellowship of the Ravens,’ smiled Failge, ‘the raven being the potent icon of our Goddess Badh. We have built a special caged house here in her honour, where we make offerings to her. They are voracious scavengers, these birds of ill-omen. We have to provide them with small mammals, reptiles – even eggs – and they will also devour corpses. I have known them to attack anything with fresh blood on it.’ He glanced at Ríonach, who was cowering behind Eadulf, her terrier still in her arms. ‘That little dog you hold will make a tender morsel for them.’

  The girl suppressed a scream and clung fiercely to the animal, which seemed to know it was in some danger for it began to whine softly.

  Eadulf laid a hand on her arm. ‘Don’t worry, Ríonach. He won’t be carrying out that threat.’

  ‘You are mistaken, Saxon, if you think I will not do so,’ replied the former steward.

  ‘You planned to take the bodies of the man and girl to be consumed in this Raven House, as you call it,’ Fidelma intervened hurriedly to distract him.

  ‘That was the idea,’ agreed Failge, almost reflectively as if he was trying to understand what had gone wrong. ‘Unfortunately, I left the task in the hands of Duach and Cellaig, who imbibed too much that night. When they awoke, not only had the two fled, but they had taken their wagon.’

  ‘That must have been a nasty moment for you and your leader,’ commented Eadulf with grim humour.

  ‘Cellaig and Duach set off on fast horses but lost their trail.’

  ‘They are not too good at tracking people, are they?’ Eadulf said, with a glance at the two men, who still stood with their crossbows cocked and ready to fire. ‘They soon lost our trail when they tried to chase Ríonach and me.’

  ‘Listen here, Saxon …’ began Cellaig angrily but Failge waved him to silence.

  ‘And that was the last you saw or heard of them – of Ultan and Ultana?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘Until you turned up and reported the good news that they had both died of the poison and had been unable to report the whereabouts of the Golden Stone.’

  ‘The girl tried,’ Fidelma told him. ‘She had written it in Ogham but I did not understand it until now. She was dying and not able to concentrate. She wrote “the Golden Stone at the graveyard of …”’ Her eyes suddenly lit up. ‘Of course! It was not a graveyard at all. She put down tamhlacht when she meant to write tulach. The Hill of Ruán. The words sound similar and she made a slip of the pen. The Golden Stone was at the Hill of Ruán.’

  ‘So near, eh?’ Failge replied with a careless smile. ‘Well, it shows that Badh is with us and guides us with her hand.’

  ‘It shows that the hemlock was with you,’ Eadulf snapped. ‘It took that poor girl more than three days to die.’

  ‘It does not matter.’ Failge was complacent. ‘It was frustrating not to have known where she and her companion had disappeared to. My men did search the marshes. We put the word out for our people to be on the look-out for them. Baodain’s Players were passing on their way to the Great Fair, so when they stopped in Cill Cainnech I ensured the word was passed among the travellers.’

  Eadulf was startled. ‘So Baodain and his group played a pa
rt, after all?’

  Cellaig, who had been silently waiting with his crossbow, suddenly stirred and said, ‘I grow weary. Enough of these speeches and explanations, Failge. Let us get rid of them. There are more important matters to attend to.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Failge agreed. ‘We have talked far too long.’

  ‘But surely your leader, your mysterious lord, will want to say his farewells to us first?’ Fidelma said.

  ‘Yes – where is your lord, Ruán of Tulach Ruán?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘I think it is high time that he received us.’

  Brother Failge stared at him for a moment and then started to chuckle. Cellaig and Duach too grinned at one another.

  ‘I suppose we should take you to him. He will be probably pleased to see you.’ Catching sight of Eadulf looking at the still closed metal door, Failge added, ‘Don’t worry; your companions are safe for the time being. They shall join you in the Otherworld soon enough, so you will have company when Donn comes to collect your souls.’

  They were taken through a stone corridor to a stairway in the building. The steps led down to another iron door. With Failge leading the way, they were followed by the two men menacing them with their crossbows. Failge opened the door with a flourish and motioned them all inside.

  There was a lantern hanging centrally in the underground room. Directly beneath it was a chair on which an elderly man sat slumped. His white hair was bedraggled, his face was bloody, bruised and swollen. He was bent forward, his shoulders moving as he breathed rapidly. Only the fact that he was tied to the chair prevented him from falling to the floor. He stirred fearfully as they entered.

  ‘Have you come …’ he mumbled, blinking as he tried to focus. ‘Have you come to torture me again?’

  Failge chuckled. ‘Torture you? Indeed not. We have brought you some companions who will now share your journey to Tech Duinn, to the House of Death.’

  ‘Cut me free but a moment and I will take you to Tech Duinn as my companion, Failge.’

  ‘That you never will,’ answered Failge gently. ‘There is no place in this world for pious people like you. You have outlasted your usefulness anyway.’ He turned to Fidelma and saw that she and Eadulf were staring at him with incomprehension. He laughed and waved his hand in a grandiose fashion at the constrained old man. ‘Allow me to present Ruán, Brehon to the late, unlamented Coileach, Lord of the Marshes.’