Whispers of the Dead (15 page)

Olcán regarded her with a sour expression.

“Without my barges and trade I cannot pay my boatmen.”

“When did these cargoes disappear?” she asked Abaoth.

“The last cargo disappeared two weeks ago. The first was almost exactly four weeks before that.”

“And why haven’t you reported this before now?”

“I have. I reported it to the master of the port. I was told to bring the matter before the Brehon at the next session of the court here on Dair Inis.”

Fidelma was irritated.

“It is a long time that has passed. The matter should have been
investigated before this. Before any decision on whether you merit compensation in this matter, or whether Olcán’s counterclaim is valid, it must be investigated. I will consult
Bretha im Gata,
the law of thefts. You will give the details to the
scriptor
of this court and return here when summoned to do so to hear my decision.”

Abaoth inclined his head turning as if eager to be away from the court. Olcán, however, glowered at her obviously dissatisfied, hesitated a moment but left the court after his fellow merchant. At a gesture from Fidelma, the
scriptor
followed them out.

That afternoon, Fidelma found herself wandering along the quay in Eochaill, looking at the ocean going boats loading and unloading. Her mind was turning over the problem of the disappearance of the barges. A figure was standing blocking her path. It was familiar. She halted and focussed and a mischievous grin spread on her features.

The man was elderly. A short, stocky man with greying close cropped hair. His skin was tanned by sea and wind almost to the color of nut. His stance and appearance marked him out as a grizzled veteran of seafaring.

“Ross? Is it you?”

She knew him of old as the captain of a coastal bark sailing the waters around her brother’s kingdom.

“Lady,” grinned the old seaman, touching his forehead in salutation. Ross never forgot that Fidelma was sister to Colgú, King of Muman.

“What are you doing here?” she asked and then chuckled as she realized it was a foolish question to ask of a sailor in a coastal port. She gestured toward a nearby
bruiden,
a tavern, which stood nearby. “Let us slake our thirst and talk of old times, Ross, and…” she suddenly had a thought, “and perhaps you can help me with a problem that I have.”

“Of course, lady,” agreed Ross at once. “I am always prepared to help if you are in need.”

Seated at a table in the hostel, with a jug of honey-sweetened
mead between them, Fidelma asked Ross if he knew of the merchants Abaoth and Olcán.

Ross grimaced immediately at the name of Olcán.

“Olcán? He is a greedy man. I’ve shipped cargoes for him along the coast and he always tries to cheat on his payments. I no longer take his cargoes. Indeed, he has lost trade recently because people do not trust him. He is reduced to a fleet of river barges whereas he had two seagoing ships some years ago. What have you to do with him?”

Fidelma explained, adding: “What of Abaoth?”

“I know nothing bad about him. He had a fleet of three ships trading mainly with the Frankish ports. I know he has had bad luck recently for one of his ships foundered and was destroyed in a storm. I think he trades hides in return for wine. But as for Olcán—compensation for stolen cargo? I wouldn’t lift a finger to get him compensation. In fact, I might pay the thieves to take his cargoes in order to compensate for the times he cheated others.”

Fidelma smiled grimly.

“At the moment I am more concerned with the boatmen who have disappeared.”

Ross sighed and nodded.

“I know Olcán never treated his men well but I see what you mean. I have heard that several good river men had disappeared of late. I did not know that they worked for Olcán although, come to think of it, I do not recall seeing as many of Olcán’s barges on the river in recent days.”

Fidelma was intrigued.

“Are you saying that you know Olcán’s barges by sight?”

Ross grinned.

“Even barges bear names, lady. And Olcán’s barges have the head of a wolf burnt into the bow to brand the owner’s identity on them. Where did these barges disappear?”

She told him what she knew.

“Between Eochaill and Lios Mór?” he said reflectively. “That’s
over thirty kilometers of river, maybe more. That’s a long stretch of river to examine.”

Fidelma was thoughtful.

“There has been something troubling me about it, something Olcán said which struck a thought in my mind and then it passed and now I cannot remember it,” she confessed. Then she clicked her fingers abruptly.

“I know, it was the fact that these boats disappeared at night. That they undertook their journey by night.”

Ross shook his head with a smile.

“Nothing unusual in that. Night is often the safest time to travel and the speediest time for boats like the
ethur
or cargo-carrying boats, as we call them. Often during the day, on rivers such as these, you get many people out in small boats who really don’t know the ways of the river. Many skippers of
ethur
try to avoid them because of the accidents that they cause. The answer is that they choose night to travel and so they can move speedily along.”

“I see.” Fidelma was disappointed. However, Ross was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Did you say that Olcán said the last boat to disappear was two weeks ago and the other was four weeks before that?”

“He did. Is that significant to you?”

Ross pursed his lips.

“Not really. Only that it must have coincided with the new moon on both occasions. Usually skippers avoid that period when traveling at night.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you said they liked traveling at night?”

“But during the three days of the new moon they usually avoid travel for it is the dark time. The day of the new moon, the day before and the day afterwards.”

“I still do not understand.”

“Even boatmen need moonlight to see by and while they like to travel at night, they do not like total darkness. You must know that
we call that the period of the Dark Moon for on those three days the moon is so weak it shows little light.”

“Of course. It is said that the moon holds sway over the night and that things happen at the period of the Dark Moon that never happen in the Full Moon. Hidden acts take place at the Dark Moon.”

Ross nodded quickly.

“She is the sailor’s strength, the Queen of the Night. But she is a hard taskmistress, that is why we have so many names for her in our language and none dare pronounce her real name. Once a sailor steps on shipboard he must never refer to the moon by other than an euphemism such as ‘the Queen of the Night’, ‘the brightness’ and…”

Fidelma had been looking thoughtful and interrupted him.

“Ross, can you find someone to take me upriver? I’d like to examine its course between here and Lios Mór.”

Ross grinned.

“If it’s a trip upriver that you are wanting, lady, then I am your man. I was born on this river. I have a
curragh
moored a short distance away.”

“But there are only a few hours of daylight left today. The sort of trip I had in mind needs daylight. If your offer still holds at dawn tomorrow, then I accept.”

Ross nodded agreeably.

“Dawn tomorrow it is, lady. I’ll bring the
curragh
to the quay at Dair Inis.”

“Good.” She rose. “Then I shall take this opportunity to visit some of the wives of the boatmen who disappeared and see in what condition Olcán has left them. The
scriptor
has made me a list of their names and their families live mostly around Eochaill.”

The first three boatmen who had disappeared had been Erc, Donnucán and Laochra. The second crew were Finchán, Laidcenn and Dathal.

On inquiring for the families of the first two names on the list
prepared by the
scriptor,
Fidelma was informed by neighbors that they had departed from Eochaill. As soon as the news of their husbands’ disappearance had been reported, the womenfolk and their children had left the area, presumably to go to stay with other members of their families.

The third family Fidelma found was still living in Eochaill. A woman with heavy jowls and a baby in her arms stood on the threshold of a poor house, and glowered in suspicion at Fidelma.

“My man was a steersman on Olcán’s barges,” she acknowledged. “Five weeks ago now he was contracted to take a cargo up to Lios Mór and has not returned.”

Fidelma was aware of several children playing around the house.

“You have a large family?”

The woman nodded.

“Times must be hard with the loss of your man. Does Olcán help support the family?”

The woman laughed unpleasantly.

“The wolf? That sly one? He would not give a
pingín
that he did not have to.”

Fidelma sighed. By right, Olcán had to give support to his workers injured in the course of tasks undertaken in their employment. Obviously, the woman did not know her rights.

“Do your family help, with the feeding of your children?”

Again the woman laughed.

“It is the generosity of Abaoth who feeds my children, Sister. A blessing on his name.”

Fidelma raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Abaoth?” While it was technically Abaoth’s cargo, the legal responsibility was on the employer, Olcán, to compensate the families of the men who were injured in his employ. Disappearance could well be interpreted by the Brehons as a form of injury.

“He is a generous man,” repeated the woman. “It was his cargo that my man was transporting.”

“Does he help all the families of the boatmen who have disappeared?”

“So I am told. I know he helps me and will do so until the time my man returns.”

“And you have no idea what has happened to your man and his fellow boatmen?”

“None. Now I have things to attend to, Sister.” The woman turned abruptly to her house and closed the door behind her.

Thoughtfully, Fidelma went to find another of the families. According to the
scriptor,
one of the boatmen had recently been married. His young wife’s name was Serc. The house was a small but better kept house, near the quay. As she came to the door Fidelma heard voices raised, a male voice and a female voice. She could not hear what was said but some altercation was taking place. Fidelma knocked loudly and the voices fell silent. She knocked again. There came the sounds of whispering. Then Fidelma heard the noise of a door opening softly on the far side of the house. Something prompted her to move swiftly to the corner of the building where there was a narrow passage leading to the back of it. She had a brief glimpse of a semi-clad male figure, some of his clothes in hand, moving hurriedly away. A second’s glimpse, and then he had disappeared.

Behind her the front door had opened.

Fidelma turned back to find herself being confronted by a young, attractive but sulky-looking girl with a shawl around her. It was clear that she was naked underneath. Her hair was tousled and her lips were pursed in a surly expression. There was something promiscuous about her even in this state. Her stare was disapproving as she looked at Fidelma.

“Is your name Serc? I am told your husband disappeared a few weeks ago while working as a boatman for Olcán the merchant.”

“What’s it to do with you?” demanded the girl, still sulky.

“I am a
dálaigh
of the Brehon Court and my inquiry is official.”

Serc was still defiant.

“If you are who you say then you must know the answer to the question.”

Fidelma controlled her irritation.

“Since your husband disappeared, I presume that you are being cared for by the employer of your husband?”

The girl raised her chin a little.

“Abaoth has ensured that I do not want.”

“Abaoth? Not Olcán?”

“Olcán is a lecherous old bastard!” the girl replied without rancor.

“He came here and said he would take care of me if…” Her mouth clamped shut.

Fidelma was not surprised.

“You do not know what happened to your husband?”

“Of course not. Why should I?”

“I am trying to find out what happened to him and to the others.”

“Let me know when you do. I’d be interested. Now I am cold, standing here. Have you finished?”

It was clear that even though her husband had vanished with his fellow boatmen, Serc would lack for nothing now or in the future so long as she retained her looks.

There were two other families on her list. One of them, like the first two Fidelma had inquired after, had left Eochaill and had, presumably, moved off to live with relatives, since their husbands had gone missing. The other was a large, broad-faced woman who had several children. She seemed anxious when confronted with Fidelma. She and her children seemed to lack for nothing and Fidelma confirmed that this was due to Abaoth rather than the miserly Olcán. Like the other wives, Fidelma was not able to pick up any useful information—neither about the missing boatmen nor their last trip for Olcán.

It was dawn the next day when Fidelma joined Ross in his
curragh
and they began to move upriver from Eochaill. The Abhainn Mór was well named. It was a “great river” whose black waters were
deep and dark. Once out of the estuary waters and entering the river proper—around the place called the Point of the Sacred Tree from pagan times: this was a hill on which a small fortress stood to protect the river passage—progress was more interesting. They went through the wooded banks of the still-broad river, the trees rising on hills along either side as it kept a moderately straight course north.

Apart from small streams that fed the river Fidelma saw nothing that excited her suspicions. Isolated farmsteads could be seen now and again but there were no major settlements once they were beyond Dair Inis.

Ross eased on his oars for a moment.

“Have you seen anything of interest yet, lady?” he asked.

She shook her head negatively.

“Everything seems as it should be.”

“What did you expect to see?”