Night of the Lightbringer

by Peter Tremayne

  She remembered vividly when she had been visiting Abbot Colmán at Tara that a member of the palace guard, Tressach, had declared that he had heard a scream from a sepulchre among the great memorials of the High Kings buried there. It came from the long-sealed tomb of Tigernmas who had forsaken the old gods to worship a bloodthirsty idol dedicated to vengeance and slaughter. The tomb was opened and the body of a man, Fiacc, had been found. He had been sealed in while still alive and it was his last despairing cries that Tressach had heard. It was not a case that she wished to remember; certainly not at this time and in this place.

  Fidelma knew that she was wasting time, sitting here and letting her mind dwell on her fears. She must find out where she was and how she could escape. That meant freeing her wrists and getting the blindfold off her eyes. Her wrists were tightly secured behind her and she was certainly no contortionist. Her feet were free, that was true, but she was somewhat reluctant to try to stand up as she did not know how high the ceiling was and had no wish to bang her head again after receiving the painful blow that had knocked her senseless.

  She sat forward a little and let her fingertips explore the wall behind her. The blocks of stone seemed smooth enough but they were placed one on top of another – and blocks had edges to them: stone edges. There was only one way to loosen her constraints. She twisted round and, using her fingertips again, sought for an edge that was sharp enough to commence what she had in mind. Raising her bound wrists, she slowly began to rub the cord against the edge of the stone. As she grew in confidence, she began to work more swiftly. Up and down, with her arms and wrists aching. Even so, she realised it was going to take time; a long time before she would be able to sever even one of the cords that bound her.

  Eadulf felt a nudge against his shoulder. He had been dozing. He stared guiltily at the figure kneeling by his side.

  ‘I didn’t mean to drop off,’ he protested before his companion had a chance to remonstrate with him.

  ‘No matter,’ Aidan replied quietly. ‘It only needed one of us to keep a watch. Nothing has stirred so far. All is quiet.’

  ‘The night feels different,’ Eadulf said, shaking himself and peering around. ‘It is colder.’

  ‘The Lightbringer has risen,’ Aidan said solemnly.

  ‘The what?’ Eadulf was startled for the moment, his mind flooding with the references to ‘The Lightbringer’ that he had discussed with Fidelma.

  Aidan pointed into the pale sky. ‘The morning star,’ he explained.

  Eadulf glanced up to see the spangled radiance of Venus, the brightest object in the sky after the sun and moon. Its appearance in the sky heralded the dawn; hence it was referred to as ‘The Lightbringer’.

  He sat up, wide awake now, realising what it meant. ‘It will be fully light shortly,’ he said. ‘There is no sign of her?’

  Aidan shook his head. ‘None, friend Eadulf.’

  ‘Then something has happened to her.’ He rose to his feet abruptly.

  Aidan pulled at his sleeve. ‘Have a care. I heard some horses go by a short while ago. Warriors, I fear, for I heard the clink of their shields and weapons. I like it not.’

  Eadulf crouched back against the rocks. ‘Well, we must do something to get Fidelma out of the abbey. Who knows what has happened to her by this time.’

  ‘She told us to ride to Cashel and bring help.’

  ‘By which time it will definitely be too late to effect a rescue. No – we must do something now.’

  ‘But what? There is just the two of us. It is too light now to attempt to enter the abbey in the way she did. Do we just knock on their gates and say – say what? “The lady Fidelma broke into your abbey in the dead of night and has not been seen since. Something is wrong; may we come in and search the abbey for her?” How would they respond to that?’

  Eadulf stopped and stared at his companion.

  ‘That is not a bad idea,’ he said firmly.

  ‘What?’ Aidan stared at him as if he were mad.

  ‘That is precisely what we will do. We will go to the gates and demand entry. But we will make a slight variation to what we say.’ He explained, but Aidan shook his head dubiously.

  ‘I doubt that will work.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but it gives them the benefit of the doubt. It also alerts them to the fact that it is known she is in the abbey. The odds are that she is a prisoner. If they realise that this is known, they may think twice about holding her. They can then release her, declaring some mistake, for they will be aware that it is illegal to make a dálaigh captive and that it incurs heavier punishment when the dálaigh in question is the King’s sister.’

  Aidan looked uncertain. ‘But if they don’t release her, what do we do then? Do we ride for Cashel?’

  ‘I don’t want to leave here before I have attempted a rescue.’ Eadulf was adamant.

  ‘I can’t say I like it.’

  ‘Better to do things by talking than by an all-out assault with people being killed or injured. That is what will happen if we bring Gormán and your comrades to attack the fortress.’

  Aidan sighed. ‘But that is what she told us to do.’

  ‘Fidelma is not infallible,’ Eadulf replied irritably.

  Aidan hesitated only a moment and then acceded. ‘We’ll let the day brighten a little more and then ride round to the main gate and demand to see the abbot. Then we will ascertain whether he holds Fidelma a prisoner in the abbey and is willing to release her.’

  A short time later, on horseback and leading Fidelma’s riderless mount, they made their way up to the gates of Ráth Cuáin, with its imposing Tau-Rho symbol carved on the oak gates, and pulled vigorously on the bell-rope. The bell emitted its clanging, unmusical peal.

  It took some time before the thin, disapproving figure of the gatekeeper appeared, looking down from the parapet above the gate. Aidan nudged his horse back a little to look up to the man.

  ‘What is it?’ the gatekeeper cried sharply.

  ‘Do you recognise me, Brother Tadhg?’ called Aidan. ‘I am Aidan of the Nasc Niadh, the warriors of the Golden Collar, bodyguards to Colgú, King of Cashel.’

  ‘I do not doubt it,’ came the unfriendly response. ‘What business have you here, warrior?’

  ‘My companion, Brother Eadulf, and I seek entry and a word with your abbot, Abbot Síoda.’

  ‘The Abbey of Ráth Cuáin does not welcome strangers. Depart in peace!’

  Aidan frowned angrily. ‘We believe that Fidelma, sister of the King, and a dálaigh under protection of the law, is currently in the abbey and illegally detained against her will. We demand to see Abbot Síoda to discuss the matter.’

  ‘Demand to see the abbot?’ the gatekeeper sneered. ‘You have no right to demand anything of this abbey, warrior, nor does your foreign companion.’

  ‘Are you denying that Fidelma is in your abbey?’

  ‘Anyone entering the abbey does so of their own free will. They could not enter otherwise.’

  ‘Then they can depart of their own free will,’ Aidan pointed out. ‘So Fidelma of Cashel is able to depart. Tell her that her companions are here to see that she does so. Where is she?’

  The gatekeeper gave a bark of laughter.

  ‘You speak in contradictory terms, warrior. Are you claiming that we have made her a prisoner here? If she has entered this abbey, she could only have done so of her own volition for it is not our custom to abduct people. Neither do we freely admit people and then stop their leaving. Only if a person forces entry against the law would that person have to answer according to the law. Have I made myself clear enough? Now begone!’

  Brother Tadhg turned and vanished behind the wall.

  ‘I warned you that it would not work, friend Eadulf,’ Aidan said with a worried look. ‘What can we do?’

  Eadulf gestured for them to ride a little distance from the gates of the abbey so that he was sure they were out of earshot.

  ‘You realise that was double-talk,’ he declared. ‘Fidelm
a is definitely a prisoner and I am sure that the gatekeeper knows that fact full well. So now we know she is held there, we must attempt a rescue.’

  ‘So now do we ride back to Cashel?’

  ‘I am loath to leave here.’

  ‘Then I should ride back to Cashel and return with a company of warriors to force entry, if you prefer to remain.’

  ‘We’ll decide in a moment. Before that, let’s ride down to the copse where Spelán’s cabin is. If we are watched from Ráth Cuáin they might think they have got rid of us. We can discuss matters there out of sight of prying eyes.’

  They had hardly reached the shelter of the copse with its burnt-out ruins that had once been the shepherd’s cabin when Aidan called a warning.

  ‘A rider on horseback is approaching up the hill … no, not on horseback but on an ass.’

  A moment or two passed before the rider drew closer.

  ‘Why, it is Brother Gébennach, the librarian,’ Eadulf said, recognising the man. ‘Do you remember that he was on his way to Ara’s Well on the great river to exchange a book with another religious brother from the Abbey of Mungarit? He must be on his way back to the abbey now. We might be in luck.’

  ‘In luck?’ Aidan was puzzled.

  ‘We might be able to persuade him to help us get into the abbey. We could argue that the alternative to refusing would be to face the wrath of the King – and not only the King but the entire legal system. Fidelma is a dálaigh whose influence and reputation is felt even in Tara.’

  Aidan’s lips twisted cynically. ‘That didn’t have much influence on the gatekeeper, Brother Tadhg.’

  ‘If that is not of influence on Brother Gébennach, I shall rely on you to show him that he has little choice in the matter.’

  ‘I still believe that I should ride to Cashel, as Fidelma wished.’

  ‘It might be the very thing that they – I mean those who tried to ambush us yesterday – are expecting us to do,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘Fidelma would take that into account and do the unexpected, even though she originally told us to do this. I am fearful that any delay increases her chances of coming to harm.’

  ‘They shall face the justice of the King if that has happened,’ replied Aidan grimly.

  ‘Better to pre-empt it in the first place.’

  They both looked down at the approaching figure on the back of the ass.

  ‘I suppose we had better put ourselves in a position to ensure that he makes no attempt to escape,’ Aidan said. ‘Let’s conceal ourselves behind the ruined cabin so that we can surprise him. I’ll go to stop his forward path and you go around the rear.’

  Eadulf gave way to the warrior’s authority in such matters. They eased back behind the cover of the burnt-out cabin. Aidan signalled for Eadulf to dismount and, following his example, secured the horses behind the cabin. Thus hidden, they listened to the sounds of the ass; its heavy breathing was discernible as it plodded its way up the hillside, bearing Brother Gébennach.

  It seemed to Fidelma that several cadar of the day had passed since she had commenced rubbing her bonds against the sharp edge of the stonework. She felt tired and her arms, stretched out and bound behind her, were painful and aching. Yet she refused to give in. She would not give in! She only wished there was some light in this strange, dark vault. She had no means of measuring time and no idea how long it had been since she had been knocked unconscious and brought to this place. That thought immediately set her off wondering what Eadulf and Aidan would be doing now. Had they made it safely to Cashel and alerted her brother and Gormán?

  It was while she was reflecting on this that she suddenly felt one of the cords give slightly. With renewed vigour she increased the motion of rubbing against the stone and then, within a moment, she felt the strands of a cord loosen and snap. She set to work with a will now, and it was not long before she felt the other strands begin to give. Soon she could wriggle one of her wrists free and then she could draw her arms and wrists in front of her, still with some of the cord dangling from one wrist.

  Her first thought was to relax her aching limbs, feeling the blood flowing through them after being confined in an awkward position. It was almost as painful for the first few minutes as the constriction had been. Then she raised her hands and tore off the blindfold, blinking to adjust her sight. Her fears were immediately confirmed. She was confined in some underground chamber, the dimensions of which she had no way of knowing, for it was almost pitch-black. She needed to explore, but before she could do that, she began to massage the aching muscles of her upper arms and then her shoulders. She could feel the soreness of her wrists and wished there was some water nearby in which she could bathe them. However, her next concern was to remove the remains of the cords from her numb wrists. Using her nimble fingers, she was able to accomplish this with the minimum of effort.

  By the time she had restored movement and confidence in her physical shape her eyes had grown used to her surroundings. Instead of being in total blackness now the chamber had become outlined in dark greys. While there was no window in the room, there was a small aperture in what must be the door. A grey glimmer did filter through this hole. It was then that Fidelma realised that her captors had removed her marsupium, which contained a few items that might have helped her in her plight.

  Moving carefully, raising a hand above her head in case the ceiling was low, she moved towards this source of light. Had she been holding out any hopes of exit, she would have been disappointed for the door was obviously barred from the outside and it was made of thick wood. She could tell that by feeling the width of the door. Unfortunately the aperture was also just above her head level, so she had no way of peering through to see outside the room. Judging from the light, it was also underground, perhaps a corridor. She guessed that she was in the cave complex under the abbey of which Erca had spoken. But this was of no help to her at the moment. She might have escaped her bonds but she had not escaped her confinement.

  She turned with her back to the door so that the light filtered in from behind her. Now she could vaguely see that she was in a place that was more of a natural cave than a talman. The cave had been blocked off by stone flags and the door. The roof was uneven but there was still a good clearance for her to move so she need not have troubled herself about her head hitting it. She tried to estimate its dimensions. It was not very big; two men of average height could lie prone across the width and the same number for the depth. The place was cold but the dampness lay in the natural stones in which the cave had been formed.

  The place was entirely empty. There was no bench to sit upon nor bunk to lie down on. She made a circuit of the walls to make sure that her eyes were not missing anything in the grey light. But having done so, she realised that her first assessment was the correct one. There was no way she could get through the door, no other means of exit. She could not be released until someone came to the door to draw back the bolts or turn the lock. She gave a deep sigh. What was it that old Brehon Morann, her tutor, would say? ‘When there is nothing to be done, do nothing.’

  She moved back to the wall and sank down onto the stone slabs again; sitting in the most comfortable position she could manage, she folded her hands before her and closed her eyes. The old art of meditation had long been handed down by the ancients, and the language had many words to describe the practice. She was grateful that she was well acquainted with the art of imradud: the art of clearing the mind and relaxing in a deep, meditative state. There was nothing else to do but wait.

  ‘Now!’ signalled Aidan, suddenly launching himself around one end of the ruined cabin, while Eadulf hastened in the other direction.

  ‘Greetings, Brother Gébennach!’ Aidan called as he sprang onto the path in front of the beast, causing its rider to start nervously. Eadulf had moved quickly to get behind the rider and once again he saw the man’s tell-tale gesture of his hand as if to go for a sword which was not there.

  The young librarian of Ráth Cuáin glanced behind him a
s if he knew by some uncanny distinct that Eadulf was there.

  ‘What are you still doing here?’ he asked in surprise. It was at this very spot that he had left them to continue his journey yesterday to Ara’s Well.

  Aidan smiled thinly. ‘Rather than being still here, we have been away and returned. Many things have happened since we last saw you.’

  ‘So where is Fidelma of Cashel?’ asked Brother Gébennach. ‘Is she also hiding behind those boulders?’

  ‘She is not,’ replied Aidan. ‘We have reason to believe that the sister to the King has been made a prisoner in Ráth Cuáin.’

  Brother Gébennach was clearly startled. ‘A prisoner? Why? How?’

  Aidan moved forward to catch the reins of Brother Gébennach’s ass. ‘We ask you to alight, keeper of books, and bide with us awhile so that we can explain and tell you how you may help us.’

  The young man looked uncertain for a moment and then shrugged. He swung from the ass and secured the animal to a nearby bush. Then the three men took seats provided by some of the nearby fallen trees.

  Aidan left it to Eadulf to explain as much or as little as he felt the librarian should know. In fact, Eadulf was well aware of the limits of what he should tell the man, for here was the librarian of the abbey – and it was because of a book that Fidelma had entered the abbey, in order to find and remove it. He was not sure exactly why Fidelma had made the connection between this and the killing of Spelán or Brancheó but he knew that it would be best to avoid the subject in case the librarian was involved.