Night of the Lightbringer

by Peter Tremayne

  There came a shout, a cry, the sound of something whistling over him and the next moment, a body fell sprawling upon him. He heard some metal on metal and then a familiar voice was speaking: ‘Are you hurt, lady?’

  Eadulf blinked rapidly and tried to raise his head. There were people moving around him and the weight on his legs was being pulled off as he heard Fidelma exclaiming that she was all right. The next moment it was Enda who was helping him to his feet.

  ‘Are you all right, friend Eadulf?’ asked the cheery warrior.

  ‘He’s hurt,’ Fidelma said before he could reply. ‘That man stabbed him in the upper arm.’

  ‘Well,’ Enda replied, ‘he won’t stab anyone any more.’ Eadulf looked, and saw two arrows embedded in the man’s body. ‘He tried to take another stab at you even when we shouted at him to surrender. The other man had the good sense to throw down his sword.’

  Eadulf turned, holding his shoulder, and saw the second man having his arms firmly bound behind him.

  Fidelma had moved across and was now examining Eadulf’s shoulder. ‘Luckily, it’s a superficial wound but it needs attention in case of any infection.’

  Eadulf looked around appreciatively. There seemed an entire company of the warriors of the Golden Collar emerging from their hiding places on the hillside.

  ‘It was good that Aidan told you about this cave, though I think you have missed the chief villain and his cargo of silver.’

  Enda shook his head. ‘Aidan? No, it was Torcán, the woodsman, who came to tell us that he thought you were prisoners here. He didn’t know the full story, but had picked up some information from Aidan. To be honest, Aidan was in a bad way, with a broken leg and a fever. But Torcán knew enough to alert us.’

  ‘How bad is Aidan?’ Fidelma asked immediately.

  ‘If the fever breaks, he will mend,’ Enda assured her.

  ‘So what happened?’ Eadulf pressed. ‘Tell us about the attack.’

  ‘The King himself led the attack. I know no more of it, as I and my men were sent to cover this side of the hill and the caves. Now I think we should join your brother in the abbey, lady. Shall we go back through the caves? It would seem the easier way into the abbey now. As the lady said, friend Eadulf, the sooner you get your wound seen to, the better.’

  They emerged, led by Enda, into one of the courtyards of the abbey complex. From the number of warriors of the Golden Collar who were present, Fidelma judged that her brother had called forth an entire catha or battalion of his guards. She had not seen so many since the fight against Crónan in Osraige and the prevention of the attempt to invade the petty kingdom of Éile.

  Colgú was the first to make his way through the throng to greet her, an expression of relief on his face.

  ‘Are you well, sister?’ he said urgently, holding out his arms to embrace her.

  ‘Well enough, brother,’ she replied. ‘But Eadulf has been wounded.’

  ‘Where’s our apothecary?’ the King demanded of Gormán who now came pushing forward, grinning with joy at seeing them both safe and sound.

  ‘Come, friend Eadulf. Let’s get you attended to. The abbey’s herbalist is helping us tend to the wounded over there.’

  Fidelma gazed round and noticed a pile of bodies in a corner.

  ‘Was it a costly attack?’ she asked sadly.

  Her brother grimaced. ‘I’ve known worse. There were only a dozen men who could be described as warriors. They were relied on to hold the gates. Of course, they didn’t count against Gormán and his men. But we lost three men – good men. And several are wounded. The defenders were armed with bows and some were good at their craft. But most of those who tried to defend this place died here. It was as if they were just trying to delay our entry into the abbey. They must have known they could not withstand my companies.’

  Fidelma was surprised when he used the term feadhna, a company of a hundred men, instead of a catha, a battalion.

  Colgú shrugged in answer to her query. ‘When Torcán came and alerted me to what was going on, I turned out three feadhna from our first catha, and we had this place surrounded well before first light. Three companies were more than enough to handle these mercenaries. I called on the abbot to surrender. When the gates remained closed and defended, I ordered the warriors of the Golden Collar to show Febal’s mercenaries what real warriors could do.’

  ‘Was Febal in command?’

  Colgú looked grim. ‘That treacherous bastard? He was wounded but he lives, which is a good thing because he can stand trial. It was not much of a defence. As I said, they just seemed intent on delaying the inevitable rather than with any hope of holding out against me.’

  Eadulf looked out across the steep slope towards the river. ‘I think I know why they were trying to do that,’ he said hollowly.

  ‘Because?’

  ‘It has given time for Brother Giolla Rua to flee with the silver loot taken from Prince Gilcach and get across country to the river.’

  Enda, who had been standing by, began to smile broadly. ‘I think you’ll find that particular religieux with four pack mules waiting impatiently by the riverside under the guard of Dego and his men. Our men were in place long before the Lightbringer rose in the sky.’

  ‘So it was Giolla Rua who was in league with Febal, robbing the silver from the boats of Prince Gilcach’s mines.’ Colgú formed his lips in a soundless whistle. ‘And is that what has been happening here? Is this is the centre of the silver thieves?’

  ‘That’s not the entire story,’ Fidelma corrected him. ‘But it’s a long story and better for the telling in a formal court as soon as we can arrange it.’

  Colgú heaved a sigh. ‘Well, certainly Abbot Síoda seems as bewildered as I now am. I have talked with him and he claims it was Febal who refused to open the gates and ordered his men to fight us. The abbot said that he did try to get the men to lay down their weapons. He defends himself by saying that he was acting lawfully in hiring mercenaries, since no clansmen of his came forward to fulfil their obligations to him. Febal was put in command of this motley force. Whether true or not, Abbot Síoda will have a lot to answer for.’

  ‘What of the other members of the abbey – did any of them resist?’

  ‘The gatekeeper maintains he kept the gates closed under threat of Febal. We might give him the benefit of the doubt.’

  ‘And the others? For example, the librarian Brother Gébennach and the other religious?’

  ‘They all seemed to be horrified by the action of the mercenary warriors. The herbalist …’

  ‘Sister Fioniúr?’

  ‘As I mentioned before, she and her assistant have been helping with the wounded.’

  ‘Do you have further news of Aidan?’ Eadulf interrupted at this point. ‘Should I not go to Torcán’s cabin and tend to him?’

  ‘Brother Conchobhar went there as soon as we heard the news. I am told Aidan will pull through. Torcán and his wife set the broken leg and the wife, who is a woman of the woods and knows cures, was treating the fever.’

  Fidelma let out a long sigh as she gazed sadly around her.

  Colgú followed her gaze. ‘Greed,’ he said. ‘Risking death, injury and even the existence of this ancient abbey and its community for the sake of a few sacks of silver.’

  Fidelma was reflective for a few moments. ‘It is not as simple as that,’ she replied at last.

  ‘You mean there is something more to this matter?’

  ‘We must hold a Dál, a court, here as soon as it is possible to arrange,’ she said. ‘I shall submit my case to the Chief Brehon Fríthel. Prince Gilcach and the Prince of the Uí Briúin Seóla and their legal advisers must be sent for. Meanwhile, I would request the presence of Abbot Cuán and his steward Brother Mac Raith and Brother Duibhinn. They have an interest in the proceedings involving this abbey.’

  ‘They know something about the silver thefts?’

  Fidelma grimaced wearily. ‘Obviously, the entire abbey is to be placed under guar
d, all members of the community to be isolated and no one is allowed to leave under any circumstances.’

  Colgú stared at her in surprise for a moment. ‘What – all of them?’

  ‘It would be better there are no exceptions. That means sending guards into the caves below so that no one sneaks out. I presume Brother Giolla Rua will be brought back with his sacks of silver? He and those with him can be accompanied back here under guard as well.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘For as long as it takes the Chief Brehon and the others to get here. I would say the legal period of nine days should pass before we hold the Dál.’

  Colgú ran a hand through his red hair as he stared at his sister. ‘It sounds as though this is more than a simple resolution about the theft of silver.’

  ‘It is a very complicated matter involving the murder of the shepherd Spelán, the woman Brancheó and Brother Sionnach. However, it started with an incident in the Lateran Palace in Rome.’

  Colgú was stunned. ‘An incident in Rome and the deaths … Are you ascribing all three deaths to this abbey?’ he gasped.

  ‘More or less,’ Fidelma said off-handedly. Then she suddenly became very serious. ‘I have realised that with the matter of the silver thefts and the murders, there has been one evil mind behind it all. If what I suspect is right, then I hope to uncover the owner of that evil mind during the hearing.’

  She glanced around again. Eadulf was rising from a chair in a corner of the courtyard, helped by Enda. Apparently Sister Fioniúr had just finished binding up his stab wound and he was thanking her.

  ‘Now, brother,’ Fidelma said, ‘if you can let me take Enda, Eadulf and I will go down to Torcán’s cabin to see poor Aidan. I presume he is still there?’

  ‘I hear that, with a broken leg, it was thought better to allow him to recover there until he can walk more easily.’

  ‘That is good. We might even stay and sample Éimhinn’s hospitality again. I feel famished. I am sure Eadulf does also.’

  She turned with a quick wave at her brother and went to join Eadulf and Enda. As they crossed into the main courtyard, making their way towards the now blackened gates of the abbey, they saw the young librarian, Brother Gébennach, standing under guard of one of the Cashel warriors. He smiled ruefully as they passed.

  Fidelma suddenly paused and turned back. ‘Spoken words can fly away but written words remain and words can become truth and truth can breed hatred,’ she said.

  Eadulf stared at her in total bewilderment but Brother Gébennach seemed to understand. His smile simply broadened.

  ‘Vero, cucullus non facit monachum,’ he replied gravely.

  She turned back to join the others as they moved on out of the gates,

  ‘What did he mean by that?’ asked Eadulf, still puzzled.

  ‘Just what he said,’ replied Fidelma airily. ‘The cowl doesn’t make someone a religieux, any more than you should believe a book contains the truth merely because it says it is the truth.’

  TWENTY

  It was nine days since the warriors of the Golden Collar had stormed and occupied the abbey of Ráth Cuáin – a period called nómad which was the ancient calendrical week that had existed before the adoption of the New Faith and attempts to fit in with the Roman calendrical concepts. It was also considered the legal period to allow time to elapse before a hearing that necessitated the attendance of representatives of other kingdoms. The large praintech, or refectory, of Ráth Cuáin had been converted into a Dál or courtroom.

  A slightly raised platform had been constructed at one end of the refectory and chairs had been brought for the King to take his seat alongside his Chief Brehon, Fíthel, to his right. Behind Colgú’s chair stood Gormán. On the left side of the King sat Abbot Cuán of Imleach in his position as Chief Bishop of the kingdom. Next to him was Prince Gilcach of Béal Atha Gabhann who sat with his Brehon, and next to them the Prince of the Uí Briúin Seóla with his Brehon. But these two Brehons attended as legal observers only, for this was a court of law of Muman and it was Fíthel alone who would conduct this hearing; his voice only would be heard in final judgement.

  To the right of the platform stood a table and two chairs for the use of Fidelma, who would be assisted by Eadulf.

  A short distance behind them was a chair placed there for Aidan, his right leg in a splint and stiffly bound. He looked pale and determined. According to the law of the Brehons the period of nómad, the ancient week, was also one allowed for resting if one was injured. Aidan had insisted that he must attend the hearing to bear witness to the events, in spite of Brother Conchobhar’s advice that he should rest even more than the customary legal period.

  Numerous warriors of the Golden Collar were placed at strategic points around the hall because the entire abbey community was still under restraint.

  Directly opposite to Fidelma, on the far side of the hall, sat a scowling Abbot Síoda with his thin, bleak-faced gatekeeper, Brother Tadhg, and other members of the community. Among them was the young librarian Brother Gébennach, who looked remarkably cheerful. Next to him stood the dark-haired, attractive-looking herbalist, Sister Fioniúr, whose features bore no expression at all.

  On benches facing the Chief Brehon, in the centre of the hall, were four desolate-looking prisoners. A surly Brother Giolla Rua sat alongside the sullen and bitter-looking Febal, whose arm was in a sling, having been wounded in the fighting. Next to them were two members of the mercenary warriors, one of whom was the survivor of those who had tried to use Fidelma and Eadulf as hostages. Behind them were a few other men who had apparently been the muleteers who had been caught alongside Brother Giolla Rua when they had tried to escape with the silver to the coast. They were all closely guarded by Gormán’s warriors.

  Apart from the prisoners, at the end of the hall, sat Brother Mac Raith, the steward of Imleach, with Brother Duibhinn, Brother Conchobhar, the woodsman Torcán and his wife Éimhín and their two sons, and even Torcán’s brother, Curnan.

  The hall had become hot and stuffy. Many of those gathered had begun to talk among themselves, creating an almost deafening hubbub. Eadulf found it impossible to concentrate. Finally, Brehon Fíthel, after an exchange with Colgú, signalled to Gormán as holder of the staff of office. The warrior brought the oak staff down sharply on the wooden floor. He had to perform this several times before the noise gradually began to die down. An uneasy quiet descended and finally all were looking expectantly at the Chief Brehon of the kingdom.

  ‘There is much to be heard and considered this day, and this can only be done with your cooperation.’ Fíthel rose and looked round at the assembly. ‘I proclaim this Dál in session. I want no interruptions while the dálaigh explains her case. Only when the charges are made clear will those who are charged be called upon to answer. Is this understood?’ He paused a moment or two and then smiled grimly. ‘Since all have agreed by their silence that they understand, we shall proceed.’

  Again he paused, looking around before turning towards Fidelma.

  ‘Are you ready to proceed, Fidelma of Cashel?’

  Fidelma rose and inclined her head in silent agreement. Brehon Fíthel resumed his seat and signalled her to begin.

  ‘This matter started with the discovery of the body of a man hidden in the pile designated for the Samhain bonfire in the town square of Cashel. The man had been killed by what, in the legends of our people, was thought to be an ancient pagan ritual called the threefold death. His skull was smashed in, he was stabbed in the heart and his throat was cut. This was thought to be significant as we are all acquainted with the former symbolism of Samhain. Sharp eyes saw the body and it was removed before the fire could consume it. It was identified as a shepherd, the widower of Caoimhe of the clan Sítae from the Hill of the Bullock. His name was Spelán. Carved onto the buttocks of this man was a symbol – it is called the Tau-Rho …’

  She was interrupted by gasps from the majority of the community who had not known this.

  �
�The Tau-Rho,’ she continued, ‘is an early symbol of the New Faith and one that is now used by those who follow certain beliefs that the Bishop of Rome would consider heretical. It is the symbol of this abbey.’

  She paused and let her gaze wander over the silent hall.

  ‘This was the starting point of a mystery – a mystery that was so deep and impenetrable that it was not until I realised that I was dealing with more than a single mystery that clarity began to emerge. In fact, there were two separate mysteries that conjoined within this abbey. Because they were overlaid, I could make no sense of this first murder and, indeed, the subsequent murders of the woman Brancheó and of Brother Sionnach. But then the mist began to clear. My problem today is how to explain the conjoined mysteries in simple terms; how to make their interweaving into one logical narrative.’

  Again she paused dramatically, but her question was rhetorical and needed no intervention.

  ‘To explain this, I will leave the murder of Spelán, and start with the place rather than the victims.’ She looked across at Abbot Síoda. ‘Ráth Cuáin is a special place in the order of abbeys of our kingdom. It was the fortress of a petty chieftain of the clan Sítae which occupies this area. It still is. The abbot exacts tributes from the local population both as chieftain and as abbot.’

  ‘Nothing unusual in that,’ interrupted Abbot Síoda loudly. ‘It is my right under law.’

  Fíthel turned to him with a warning frown. ‘Remember what I said about procedure, Abbot Síoda of Ráth Cuáin,’ he warned coldly before turning back to Fidelma. ‘However, this is true. There are many abbots and bishops among the Five Kingdoms who are elected to their rôles because they are also princes or chieftains of their people. As such they are entitled to tribute, both secular and ecclesiastical.’

  Fidelma bowed her head in acknowledgement. ‘I did not mean to imply it was unusual. I merely wish to emphasise the status of Síoda. Of course, under the same law, the chieftain has an obligation to his clan, so in return for tribute from them there is a duty of care and protection. Anyway, the transition from secular fortress to a centre of the New Faith took place over a hundred years ago. In those hundred years, the philosophies and outlook of those pursuing the New Faith have often changed. New ideas and new rules and attitudes have been adopted and discarded at the many councils throughout the lands that have adopted this New Faith, which we now call Christendom.