‘Were you able to find out anything else about him?’
‘Only that he said he had trained at Cluain Fois, which you already knew. That is the abbey that was founded by the disciple of Patrick – Iarlaithe son of Loga. I suppose on his return from Rome he was employed there as he admitted that he taught poetry there.’
‘Do you place any credence in the story he told us about his sister? I suppose you heard about it – that he came here to pursue blood vengeance because a Brother Fursaintid had dishonoured his sister?’
The old apothecary shrugged. ‘Stranger things have happened, lady. Although it seems curious that he would arrive here to announce he is engaged in a blood feud. Why did he not go directly to Ráth Cuáin where he suspected his quarry to be? Why come here at all?’
His questions gave Fidelma and Eadulf more food for thought. They left Brother Conchobhar and decided to go back to their chambers to refresh themselves. Muirgen, the nurse, brought them clean water and a change of clothing.
‘Let us try considering the mystery from another angle,’ Fidelma suggested when they were changing.
Eadulf looked at her expectantly. She began to tick off points on her fingers.
‘A shepherd of dubious reputation is found half concealed in a Samhain bonfire. It was arranged so that the body could be seen. He had been killed in a ritualistic way associated with the old religion. Yet carved on him was the emblem of the nearby abbey which is also an emblem of a group that believes in a heresy. Why? He has come to this area, married a local woman, Caoimhe, and taken care of her flock, though he is not a shepherd by all accounts. She dies and he buries her but, appealing to the abbey, he is told that he has no rights and must leave his cabin, which he lets fall into disrepair. At this time he is reported to be poor and desperate. He meets up with Brancheó, who claims to be a Druidess, and asks her to perform an ancient pagan curse for him. Then, suddenly, he comes into some form of wealth and makes plans to live with her in the southern mountains.’
She paused, and Eadulf nodded. ‘That much is known. But where does this lead us?’
‘Why were we meant to find his body? Was it a warning of some sort, and if so, by whom? We are told Brancheó wanted to marry him. That would appear to let her out. We are also told that no member of the Old Faith would perform such a ritual as the threefold murder. It is confusing.’
‘If was as if the ritual killing was meant for our eyes. Was it a warning or a distraction? If so, from what?’
‘If we believe Erca, the father of Brancheó, the ritual was not genuine. He says that when his daughter was visiting the area, she met Spelán and fell in love with him. A questionable taste, true, but if we accept that, she had no reason to be involved in his death. And, of course, she, too, met her end by the same bizarre ritual, although without the symbol of the abbey or heresy carved on her as it had been with Spelán. Her body too was clearly meant to be found and displayed in a very public fashion.’
Eadulf thought for a moment or two and then said: ‘There is only one answer I can think of.’
‘Which is?’ prompted Fidelma.
‘If we were meant to find the first ritual killing, then the second one was intended to disguise the significance of the first.’
Fidelma was smiling broadly. ‘Exactly! The second ritual killing was the distraction, not the first. But distraction for what purpose? We have leaped to the obvious conclusion that the killings were something to do with pagan rituals. Then we have the conflict concerning the heresy of the abbey to consider. There is the mysterious note from our friend Venerable Gelasius saying we might be contacted by a Brother Lucidus. We became confused by the complication of the various meanings of names central to lightbringing.’
Eadulf sighed deeply. ‘We are back with more questions than answers.’
‘So you think that, in spite of everything, Brother Sionnach was really someone called Lucidus? It overlooks the fact that Brother Sionnach seems to be well known to the religious brethren, to scholars who respect what he has written. Therefore, he could not hide away from the public view of scholars under any other name but his own.’
‘Agreed, Eadulf. We don’t even know what the mission was that Venerable Gelasius mentioned. Why would this Brother Lucidus want to seek my help – and for what purpose? What was the mysterious missing book that he needed help to find, and why did he not make contact? In fact, we know nothing of Brother Lucidus: who he is, where he is, what was his question.’
‘So in which direction should our footsteps turn? To Ráth Cuáin?’
‘Before that we must return to Brother Mac Raith and his quarrelsome colleagues. Now we know Brother Sionnach is dead and Febal has disappeared, they might be more forthcoming with information.’
However, Brother Mac Raith, Brother Giolla Rua or Brother Duibhinn could volunteer no further information that associated their murdered colleague with Febal. One by one they repeated that they had only seen Febal once at the Samhain feast the previous night. They had been separated by the width of the feasting hall. Only Brother Duibhinn remarked, as an afterthought, that he felt that Brother Sionnach had behaved curiously later on. When pressed to explain, he said it had happened when the King had become tired of trying to make entertainment out of the pagan woman Brancheó. As soon as Gormán had left, escorting the woman, Brother Sionnach had risen, almost with indecent haste and ignoring etiquette, saying that he had much to do and left the hall. At the same time, Brother Duibhinn recalled, Febal of the Uí Briúin Seóla had also left the hall.
Fidelma already knew that Brother Sionnach had followed Gormán and Brancheó and that an exchange of curious words had taken place in the courtyard. After the midnight mass, it appeared that Sionnach had made his way to Febal’s chamber – but why? What made Febal kill him and flee? Was it something to do with the ‘lightbringer’ connection?
Fidelma concluded the interview by asking Brother Mac Raith to show her and Eadulf where Brother Sionnach slept. It was in a corner of the small chamber-like room that was really part of the chapel but set aside for visiting religious dignitaries of lower ranks. All four members of the council had chosen to use it so that they could extend their deliberations into the night if they so wanted. Brother Sionnach had a wooden cot in a corner. By it stood a stout wooden staff, carved from oak, leaning against the wall. Hanging on a peg was a large satchel, a spare robe and a new pair of leather sandals. It seemed that Brother Sionnach was fastidious about his appearance and always travelled with extra clothing.
On examination, the satchel was found to contain one unusual object – a graib, a pointed metal stylus used for writing on a waxed tablet. The tablet was usually a small frame made of wood with raised borders so that wax could be poured into it when hot. The wax then cooled and by the use of the graib, notes could be written. The wax could be softened into a smooth surface when needed again, often by simply the heat of the hand rubbing on it.
‘Curious that he carried a stylus and nothing to write on,’ Fidelma commented, having exhausted a search of the dead man’s belongings, even turning the straw mattress on the wooden cot in case something had been hidden there.
Eadulf, meanwhile, was putting down the folds of the hanging robe. He let out an exclamation as his hand closed over a hidden object. He had to rummage a bit before carefully removing a small wooden tablet from a linen sacculus, a pouch-like pocket that had been sewn into the interior of the robe. Fidelma looked at him questioningly.
Eadulf grinned triumphantly. ‘I remembered when we first worked together on the murders during the council at Streonshalh. Do you recall that the murdered religieux Seaxwulf followed the new fashion of keeping a hidden pocket inside his robe? It is now being adopted by many instead of a bag hanging from the belt. People think it keeps their personal items safer from thieves. The idea came from Frankia, as I recall. Anyway, that was where Brother Sionnach was keeping his wax tablet. It appears to have writing still on it,’ he added, glancing at it.
&nbs
p; Fidelma took the small rectangular frame of beechwood and went to the window to hold it up to illuminate the dark wax surface.
‘Latin,’ she said, examining the text that had been inscribed there. Then she breathed out sharply before reading it aloud.
‘“Look for Tau-Rho. Secret book there. It must be returned. Danger in wrong hands. Perhaps ‘Lightbringer’ not to be trusted”.’
Fidelma stood leaning against the sill of the window, her brows knitted in a frown of concentration.
‘I think, we may have finally found the thread that will lead us to resolve these mysteries,’ she whispered.
‘The thread?’ echoed Eadulf. ‘Brother Sionnach mentions that Lightbringer might not be trusted. That tells us that we must discount any notion that Sionnach was this Brother Lucidus or Lightbringer. Why did Brancheó think he was?’
‘That was your interpretation of what she said,’ Fidelma gently reminded him. ‘She simply referred to him as a “lightbringer”.’
‘Anyway, Gelasius tells you to trust a Brother Lucidus if he contacts you about some matter of a book. Now this note from Sionnach says Lucidus is not to be trusted.’ Eadulf looked perplexed. ‘I don’t understand it. The only thing I recognise from his note is the reference to the Tau-Rho sign because it is the sign of this group at the Abbey of Ráth Cuáin, where I have always felt the mystery has its source.’
‘It seems that you are right,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘However, now I know what the main clue is, some things appear to be coming together.’
‘The main clue?’ Eadulf was bewildered.
‘The secret book. More to the point, I have seen it on Abbot Síoda’s desk. So now we shall definitely go to Ráth Cuáin.’
The day had turned out to be surprisingly warm and pleasant as they rode once more into the lands of the Sítae, the clan lands around the Abbey of Ráth Cuáin. Even the coarse hills circling the central Hill of the Bullock looked serene and peaceful under the soft autumnal sun. Fidelma could not think of the young and handsome Abbot Síoda without remembering that he also held secular power over the small group of people who dwelled there as far the great river, the Siúr. She disapproved of any person holding both religious and secular power, but many Brehons argued that churchmen had to obey the ancient laws as much as the temporal princes and chieftains, and that any abuse of power would be opposed. She personally did not think this a sufficient safeguard, having seen several abuses by churchmen abandoning the law to accept the new Roman ideas of the Penitentials – which gave them unprecedented power.
Aidan, as usual, was riding in front, with Fidelma following on her white-grey pony, Aonbharr. Eadulf brought up the rear on his steady roan cob. There had not been much to talk about since they left the outskirts of the township and Fidelma never believed in talking when it was not necessary. It was relaxing to sit at ease on their horses, almost giving the beasts their heads, as the faint afternoon sun in a cloudless sky warmed them whenever the soft breeze allowed. Now and again rabbits would pop up alongside their path and then bound away unafraid by their passing, as they continued off on some mysterious search of their own. In the distance a fox, in its bright russet colours, would be seen trotting across the hillside; it would halt suddenly as their scent reached its sensitive nostrils, stare in their direction, sitting to examine them calmly, before rising again and trotting off about its business. Once again, as before, there was little sign of livestock on the gently sloping hillside.
To their left, the ground rose steeply in a series of craggy rocks. Their approach startled a small flock of starlings which fluttered into the sky, rising with glossy iridescent plumage and yellow bills in a twirling mess, arguing with each other in aggressive cries as they sought some morsel of food to assuage their voracious appetites. Now and then Eadulf thought he heard the call of other birds among them. Then he realised that the starlings were expert mimics and were making calls to intimidate their fellows from what they considered their prey. All of a sudden silence fell; the wheeling swarm vanished behind the rocky outcrop. Eadulf glanced up and saw the dull brown flash of a female merlin, with pointed wings, ascending, ready to drop on its prey below. No wonder the starlings had fled. A moment later, a cacophony of bird calls came to his ears and other birds began to rise up and fly away from the rocks above.
Alerted by the sound, Aidan had halted his horse and was glancing upwards.
‘It’s only starlings and a merlin in search of prey,’ Eadulf called to him.
But Aidan paid him no heed.
‘You remember the sense of danger I felt, the first time we rode along this trail?’ he asked Eadulf, keeping his voice low.
‘When you suspected that we were being followed? Yes – and it turned out to be Brancheó on a path above us.’
‘I have the same sense now,’ Aidan confessed quietly. Then: ‘Don’t glance up,’ he added urgently.
Fidelma reached forward to take a water bottle from her saddle bow and drank.
‘Do you know who it is?’ she asked, under cover of her actions. ‘Is it one person or several?’
‘I am not sure on either account, lady,’ he said. ‘I had an uneasy feeling for some time … then the birds alerted me and I saw the flash of the sun reflecting on what might be a sword or shield. Up ahead is the place where the track turns sharply and where Brancheó was waiting for us. That is an ideal spot for an ambush.’
‘Why would anyone intend to ambush us?’ Eadulf asked.
‘Who knows? There are many things that have occurred these last few days that seem beyond logic to me.’
Fidelma glanced to the left-hand side of the path. ‘The hill slopes quite gently here. We could leave the track and ride down towards the forest below. That would provide cover, and then we could approach Ráth Cuáin from the south by a more circuitous route. Would you be able to ride down this hill, if we need to hurry, Eadulf?’
Eadulf, no great horseman, viewed the terrain bleakly. ‘I could try, but don’t ask me to canter or I will end up breaking my neck.’
Fidelma put back her water bottle. She smiled encouragingly at Eadulf. ‘Then follow me. I’ll make it as easy as I can.’
She turned her pony, Aonbharr, and nudged him forward. He snorted and then without further protest began to trot rapidly down the incline. If Fidelma had meant it to be easy, her horse thought otherwise, for the animal broke into a quick pace, although not moving directly downwards but at an angle to the slope. Even so, Fidelma had to stretch back in the saddle to maintain her balance.
‘Go, friend Eadulf,’ Aidan hissed, as Eadulf seemed to hesitate.
He was aware of Aidan suddenly unhooking his shield and swinging it around behind him just as something hit it with a clang on the metal. It wasn’t until he felt the wind of a missile speed by the side of his face – a sound like a passing wasp – and saw an arrow embed itself in the ground nearby, that he realised what was happening. The three of them were under attack – and the aim was to kill them.
SIXTEEN
As Eadulf urged his usually placid cob forward, he closed his eyes and trusted in his animal’s instinct as it moved rapidly down at the same angle to the slope as Aonbharr. It would have been too dangerous to move straight downwards, but Eadulf’s cob was intelligent. They were moving quickly down and away from the brow of the hill. Somewhere in the dim recess of his mind, Eadulf realised it would be difficult for bowmen to hit a target from where they were shooting. He clung on for dear life, hearing the raucous breath of Aidan’s mount close behind but not daring to look.
The ride seemed to take a long time down the bare open hillside until Eadulf felt they had reached a level area. Opening his eyes, he saw that they were already on the edge of the woodland that spread across the valley. Only when they entered the cover of the trees did Fidelma draw rein as Eadulf managed to pull his sweating cob to a halt beside her.
‘Are you hurt, Aidan?’ she asked as the warrior pulled up next to them.
The young man grinned. ‘I
swung my shield behind me just in time,’ he replied. ‘One arrow hit the shield boss. A second one, as you can see …’
It was then that Eadulf saw an arrow protruding from the warrior’s saddlebag. He felt a cold shiver on the nape of his neck and glanced back up the hill. There was no sign of pursuit. All was quiet.
Fidelma reached forward from her horse and pulled the arrow free, examining it carefully.
‘This is no hunter’s arrow,’ she commented. ‘What do you make of it, Aidan?’
The warrior took it from her, turning it over between the thumb and fingers of his right hand.
‘A war arrow,’ he confirmed. ‘But not one from this kingdom.’
Fidelma pursed her lips. ‘Uí Briúin Seóla?’ she queried.
‘Certainly it is of the type used in Connacht. I have seen similar when I was a young shield-bearer during the wars against King Guaire Aidne.’
Eadulf knew arrows usually had special markings to identify their origins; therefore he was not surprised by the question and answer.
‘Are you saying that it was Febal who tried to ambush us up there?’ he asked.
‘Febal – or possibly his confederates. Someone who uses the arrows of Connacht,’ Aidan said. ‘As I turned, I saw the heads of at least two bowmen emerge on the ridge. They clearly meant to ambush us had we ridden on. Don’t forget that Febal might claim to be a poet but he was once a member of the Gamanride.’
‘Are we in danger here, do you think?’ Fidelma asked.
‘There is no sign of them following us down the hill. Nevertheless, if they mean us harm, it might be wise not to tarry here, lady. What shall we do – return to Cashel?’
‘Why would Febal want to prevent us reaching Ráth Cuáin?’ interrupted Eadulf. ‘Because he killed Brother Sionnach? Surely, this attack is as good as a confession; it indicates that there is some murderous conspiracy afoot. Do we conclude that he is involved in some plot from Connacht?’
‘Eadulf has a point, lady,’ said Aidan. ‘Perhaps we should alert your brother, the King.’
Night of the Lightbringer Page 26