Night of the Lightbringer

by Peter Tremayne

  Aidan’s face suddenly drained of colour. His lips worked silently for a moment or two but no sounds came. He gazed from the corpse to Eadulf’s face and then back to the corpse. Finally, he was able to articulate slowly: ‘You have been living among us long enough to know what this signifies.’

  But Eadulf was not entirely sure what the young man meant and so countered: ‘What does it signify?’

  ‘Why … it is the threefold death!’ blurted out Aidan. There was fear in his tone. ‘God protect us! This is a ritual killing.’

  Eadulf’s mouth tightened. ‘A ritual killing? But what purpose does it serve?’

  Aidan pointed to the bonfire. ‘Tomorrow night is the feast of Samhain. Christians tolerate it but its origin was old before the Druids. What else would this mean but the fulfilment of some ancient rite?’

  Eadulf rose slowly and dusted himself down. ‘What I know, my friend, is never to draw conclusions without gathering the facts.’ He glanced towards Rumann’s tavern. ‘I want you to stand guard here over the body. News of its discovery will soon spread, but for the moment I need you to ensure that this area is kept clear and no one is to touch the body.’

  ‘What do you intend to do?’

  ‘I am going to take Alchú back to the fortress and report the matter. The Chief Brehon Fíthel will have to be informed. I will return with him so that an investigation can be started at once.’

  ‘I am bored!’

  Colgú, King of Cashel, looked up from his chair of office and gazed at his red-haired sister with a somewhat tired smile.

  ‘So you have said … several times this morning,’ he sighed but not without some exaggeration.

  Fidelma of Cashel was annoyed. ‘I am not expecting sympathy, I just want something to do,’ she snapped. ‘Something to occupy my mind.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to offer you sympathy,’ her brother replied dryly.

  ‘Well, at least you could have sent me on the mission to sort out whatever problem has arisen among the Arada Cliach instead of sending Fíthel. I am told a message came last evening and that Fíthel set off early this morning. It must have been important.’

  ‘Fíthel is the Chief Brehon of this kingdom, Fidelma,’ her brother reminded her, ‘and it is therefore appropriate that he undertake the request from our cousin Prince Gilcach.’

  Fidelma knew Gilcach ruled a prosperous part of the kingdom; prosperous because of the presence of silver mines in its territory. One of the mountains was so abundant in the metal ore that it was called Sliabh an Airgid, the Silver Mountain.

  ‘What’s Gilcach’s problem?’ she demanded.

  ‘It seems that he has been losing shipments of smelted silver during the summer months.’

  ‘Losing?’

  ‘The smelted ore is taken by wagons to boats on the River Siúr, the great river. It is eventually transported down to Port Lairge for foreign trade. Some of these shipments have been disappearing recently.’

  ‘What – entire boats? Doesn’t he send warriors to guard the wealth?’

  ‘Not entire boats,’ corrected her brother. ‘It’s the sacks of mined silver that are carried off. The boats have been boarded and attacked by half a dozen thieves armed with crossbows.’

  ‘That’s not a weapon of choice among our people,’ pointed out Fidelma.

  ‘They are effective, nonetheless. Anyone who resists is dead or badly injured.’

  ‘Surely it is not beyond the capability of Prince Gilcach to track down such a small band of robbers. Where do these attacks take place?’

  ‘Just north of Gabhailín, at the fork of the two rivers.’

  ‘That’s not very far from here.’

  ‘After the first two attacks, Gilcach placed warriors on the boats – but then the thieves failed to appear. When it was thought they had given up, the warriors were withdrawn, but then the boats were attacked again. It was as if the thieves were keeping a close eye out for opportunities, or else were receiving inside information.’

  ‘So why has Fíthel gone north to Gilcach’s fortress at Béal Atha Gabhann? He won’t find an answer there. If the boats are being ambushed just north of the fork of the two rivers, surely it is around there that he needs to look.’

  ‘He has to start his investigation somewhere,’ her brother said. ‘He felt that he should see if he could find the person supplying the information about which boats carried the silver and were the easiest to attack and rob. He thinks the informant probably has a direct connection with the mines themselves.’

  Fidelma tossed her red hair back with an impatient motion of her head.

  ‘I could have dealt with this,’ she told Colgú. ‘I’ve solved a matter for Gilcach before and I know the silver mines. It would have been a good opportunity to visit that area again.’

  ‘I am surely allowed to conduct the affairs of the kingdom as I see fit?’ The reply was softly made but with a certain edge which indicated that her brother shared the same fiery nature as his sister.

  ‘Well, there must be something else that I can do. I dislike it when my mind grows idle for want of some challenge or a riddle to resolve. Which reminds me,’ she paused and frowned, ‘three strange religious arrived here at different times yesterday. It seems they were all expected. What are they about?’

  Her brother sighed. ‘A request from the new Abbot of Imleach, Abbot Cuán, exercising his role as Chief Bishop. It is some religious council about the discipline of smaller communities. The religious are scholars representing some of the teaching abbeys of the kingdom. Ard Mór, Ros Ailithir and Corcach Mór.’

  ‘Why aren’t Imleach or Mungairit represented if Abbot Cuán has called them together to discuss such matters? It seems odd to exclude two of the leading teaching abbeys in the kingdom,’ Fidelma observed.

  ‘Abbot Cuán is sending his steward here as his representative and he should be here soon.’

  ‘Also, why choose Cashel as the place in which to discuss their theology?’ frowned Fidelma. ‘Surely it would be more appropriate to have a discussion on such matters in Imleach itself.’

  ‘Abbot Cuán seemed worried about the allegiances of some of the community in his abbey,’ Colgú explained. ‘He wanted the scholars to meet somewhere away from any undue influence.’

  Fidelma thought for a moment and then shrugged. ‘I suppose I can understand that. Abbot Cuán has only just taken over following the murder of our dear friend Abbot Ségdae …’

  ‘A mystery you solved and thereby saved several lives,’ her brother intervened approvingly.

  Fidelma made a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘The point is, I know Abbot Cuán, and if he has concerns about his community, then his fears must be real.’ She paused and then asked: ‘Do you know what matters of discipline are involved?’

  Colgú became irritated. ‘If you must interrogate me, Fidelma …’

  ‘It is in my nature to do so,’ she replied calmly.

  ‘Abbot Cuán suspects more than indiscipline among his community. He thinks there might be some plot to revolutionise the Faith as it has been taught to us. Now, no more. Surely there is something else that you can find to occupy your mind apart from the comings and goings of the religious? I thought you might want to spend more time with your son and your husband Eadulf. Don’t you ever relax?’

  Fidelma sighed, realising that her brother’s will was just as strong as her own. She raised her arms and let them fall in a resigned gesture by her sides.

  ‘When I relax, my mind withers. What is there offered to me? A dispute about fences between two farmers, the loss of some fleeces ready to be spun for a weaver’s loom and a claim of infidelity. Give me some real mystery to unravel, some conundrum that needs an explanation – that is what I crave.’

  Colgú was exasperated. ‘I thought that you would welcome having some free time after you came back from the Uí Fidgente fortress. I know Eadulf dislikes those long journeys he has to undertake on horseback with you.’

  It was well known tha
t Eadulf was no horseman and only climbed into the saddle reluctantly when there was no other method of transportation available.

  Fidelma was immediately on the defensive. ‘Eadulf is more used to horses now. He takes his duties as a father conscientiously and goes riding almost each day with young Alchú. He enjoys it.’

  Colgú caught the clatter of horses in the courtyard outside. He rose and went to the window. ‘Well, he seems to have arrived back earlier than usual this morning,’ he commented.

  ‘That can’t be right.’ Fidelma joined her brother to look down into the courtyard. ‘He only left with Alchú and Aidan a short while ago.’

  A few moments later, after a slight commotion in the corridor outside the King’s chamber, the door swung open and Dar Luga, the ainbertach or housekeeper to the palace, announced Brother Eadulf.

  ‘Has anything happened to Alchú?’ was Fidelma’s first anxious question on seeing her husband’s flustered features as he entered.

  Eadulf quickly reassured her. ‘The boy is quite safe. I’ve brought him back with me. He is with Muirgen.’ He turned to Colgú. ‘One of the guards has told me that Brehon Fíthel has already left Cashel. What a pity. I came back to see him.’

  Colgú exchanged a swift glance of surprise with his sister. ‘You have heard correctly, Eadulf. The Brehon has already left. Why?’

  Eadulf took a moment to gather his wits before he explained, ‘The matter that has brought me back to the fortress is a death.’ He sighed. ‘You know the big bonfire the townsfolk are building in the square below?’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It is the Samhain fire. What is the matter?’

  ‘We were riding by it and Alchú thought he saw a bundle of rags shoved into the base of it. We stopped and Aidan examined them, and well … the rags turned out to be the body of man – a religieux – and he had been murdered.’

  ‘What? Did our son see this body?’ Fidelma asked sharply.

  ‘No. I had given him into Rumann’s care so that he should not see while we extracted the body,’ Eadulf told her.

  ‘How did you know this man had been murdered?’ Colgú asked. ‘And who was he?’

  ‘I don’t know who he was,’ Eadulf admitted. ‘I have a feeling I have seen him somewhere before, but cannot be certain. I’ve left Aidan guarding the body. As for how he was murdered, you will know the symbolism of it and understand the cause for our concern. He had been stabbed in the heart, his throat was cut and his skull smashed in. Any one of those wounds would have been fatal.’

  There was a moment of shocked silence.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Fidelma’s voice was a whisper. Then she pulled herself together. ‘Of course you are sure. I am sorry.’

  Colgú spoke softly, almost to himself. ‘I have heard stories about the ritual threefold death, but only from the storytellers – and, of course, there are rumours of such happenings among those areas in the dark mountain gorges where the New Faith has not been accepted. What does this mean?’

  ‘It means that there is a mystery to be resolved,’ Fidelma replied grimly, yet not without a certain relish. ‘You say that you think you have seen this religieux before?’

  ‘His features did seem familiar; even Aidan felt that he knew him. But neither of us could recall where we’d seen him before, nor could we identify him.’

  ‘How did you know he was a religieux?’

  ‘The man was in the religious robes and wore the tonsure of the Blessed John.’

  Colgú had resumed his seat and was staring moodily into the log fire. His tone was troubled as he said, ‘This news is not good, especially at this time of year.’

  ‘I will take charge of this matter in the absence of Brehon Fíthel,’ Fidelma announced, as if someone would challenge her.

  ‘You have your wish, Fidelma,’ Colgú said bitterly. ‘You were complaining of boredom a moment ago. Hopefully this matter can be cleared up before the Samhain feast. I am expecting many of the local princes and religious leaders to join us. The Princess Gelgéis of Éile is coming and …’ His voice trailed off as he contemplated his guests’ reactions to this news.

  Fidelma’s expression was not sympathetic. ‘Disquiet at this news will not just be confined to your guests, brother. The townsfolk below will be alarmed that the body was found in their Samhain bonfire.’ She then recalled that Colgú, as a boy, was always deeply disturbed by tales of Samhain ghosts and vengeful spirits. Was that what was bothering him? She smiled kindly, promising, ‘Don’t worry, brother. I will sort out this matter.’

  Fidelma first made sure that Alchú had been transferred to the safe care of his nurse, Muirgen, and checked that the young boy had suffered no ill effects from the discovery of the body. Muirgen had become an essential part of their household since the recovery of the child after his abduction some time before. She was a middle-aged woman of ample proportions with greying, untidy hair. Her weathered skin showed that she was more used to the open air than the enclosures of the palace. Alchú called her by the familiar form muimme rather than the formal mathair which he used to address Fidelma. It was a custom of the language that Eadulf had never become used to. The intimate forms such as ‘Mummy’ and ‘Daddy’ were reserved for foster-parents while the formal ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’ were reserved for blood parents.

  Fidelma and Eadulf decided to walk the short distance from the main gates of the fortress down to the town square. The warrior, Dego, whose life Eadulf had saved by amputating his right arm, stood on duty at the gates. By natural dexterity and dogged practice, the warrior had become as good a fighter with the use of his left arm as ever he had been when he had two good limbs.

  ‘What’s this I hear about a body in the Samhain bonfire?’ he greeted them as they paused at the gate.

  Fidelma frowned in annoyance. ‘Has the word spread so quickly?’ she asked.

  Dego shrugged. ‘With merchants and townfolk crossing the square and coming to the fortress, you would not expect such news to be kept a secret for long, would you? The story is that there are some who are fanatics for the Old Faith and who do not wish Samhain to be sullied by the New Faith.’

  ‘Is that what folk are saying?’ Eadulf said with interest.

  ‘The merchants who came here just now think that it is some Druidical protest at the Christian use of the Samhain bonfire,’ Dego confirmed. ‘News of the murder is widely known. Are you investigating this matter, lady?’

  ‘I am,’ she replied, ‘unless, of course, everyone has already made up their mind about why the man was killed and who did it, so making the task of a simple dálaigh superfluous.’ There was no missing the sarcasm in her voice as she went on. ‘The same sources who are so free with their information did not reveal the identity of this religieux, did they?’

  Dego blinked uncomfortably. ‘They did not, lady,’ he muttered.

  ‘Then at least they have left me one task to fulfil.’

  Eadulf followed as she stalked on through the gates and headed down towards the township below.

  ‘You were a bit harsh on poor Dego,’ ventured Eadulf after they had gone a short distance. ‘He was only repeating what people were saying.’

  ‘That in itself is dangerous.’ Fidelma was sharp. ‘The prudent keep their tongues silent, for such whispers can lead to the birth of evil intent.’

  There was a small group of townsfolk gathered at the bonfire when they reached it. However, Aidan had covered the body with some sacking that Rumann had brought him and was vainly trying to keep people back from the site. They moved away nervously as Fidelma strode up with Eadulf close behind. After greeting Aidan with a quick nod, she turned and stared disdainfully round at the townsfolk. She saw Rumann’s broad face among them.

  ‘Are there no chores to be done in your tavern or in your brewery, Rumann, that you can waste time here to gawp at a body?’ she challenged him. ‘And you, Gabhann, your smithy fires will soon be out if you stand gawking here. Are there no horses to be shoed, no bridles to be f
ixed or other metalwork to be repaired?’ She then addressed some of the women. ‘I see baskets of clothing on the banks of the stream yonder, but no one is engaged in washing them. Will they wash themselves? There is nothing for you here. We have all seen dead bodies before. It is time to get back to your duties. If there is news to tell you, then I shall let you know soon enough.’

  There was a soft muttering, a few resentful remarks, but the group began to disperse and move off in various directions.

  Fidelma waited a moment and then turned to Aidan. ‘They haven’t interfered with anything?’

  The warrior shook his head. ‘I asked Rumann to bring the sackcloth, as I felt the body should be covered. Then, I suppose, there were whispers of the news and several people began to arrive but I told them not to approach too close. And there were some merchants passing up to the fortress who stopped to ask questions.’

  ‘And with the few answers that they were given, I hear that they have already resolved the whole mystery,’ she replied dryly.

  Aidan’s expression was one of bewilderment. Eadulf explained what Dego had said.

  ‘I told the merchants nothing about the threefold death,’ the young warrior protested. ‘Rumann must have mentioned it to them. He saw that the body was clad in the robes of a religieux when he brought me the sackcloth to cover it with.’

  ‘A pity,’ was all Fidelma replied before indicating that he should remove the sacking so that she could examine the body.

  To their surprise, she actually knelt on the grass by the side of the corpse and stared long and hard at the man’s face. Then she sniffed cautiously. Eadulf saw the gesture.

  ‘He seems to have been bathing in lavender,’ he offered. Fidelma did not reply but reached forward, turning the dead man’s head this way and that as if to confirm the style of his tonsure before indicating to Eadulf that he should help to show her the wounds. Having closely examined the three mortal blows that he had mentioned, she then turned her attention to the robes, rubbing the material between her fingers as if to judge its quality before removing a simple carved wooden cross which hung around the man’s neck on a leather thong. This she put into the marsupium that hung from her criss or belt. Then she gave sigh and rose to her feet, looking from the corpse back to the unlit bonfire from which it had been dragged.