‘We are going to the Saxon’s cell, Cett,’ called Sister Étromma as they passed.
The big man grunted, perhaps signifying agreement but the sound could have meant anything. It seemed that the
rechtaire
took it for
assent for she passed on with Fidelma following swiftly.
She led the way up the stairs to the cell, outside which another religieux was seated on a wooden stool under a flickering brand torch, engaged in contemplation of his crucifix, which he held in both hands before him in his lap. He sprang up as they approached and recognised Sister Étromma immediately. Without a word, he drew back the bolts on the cell door.
Sister Étromma turned to Fidelma. ‘Call when you wish to leave. I have other business to attend to so cannot remain.’
Fidelma passed into the cell. Eadulf rose to greet her. His face was grim.
‘Eadulf …’ she began.
He shook his head swiftly. ‘You do not have to tell me, Fidelma. I saw you and the other Sister crossing the courtyard from the window here and I can guess the outcome. Had the appeal been allowed I would imagine Bishop Forbassach would have come with you and not sent you ahead with such a dismal look on your face.’
‘It is not certain,’ Fidelma said weakly. ‘The result of the appeal will be announced by Forbassach tomorrow morning. There is still some hope.’
Eadulf turned to the window. ‘I doubt it. I told you all along, there is some evil in this place which determines my end.’
‘Nonsense!’ snapped Fidelma. ‘You must not give up.’
Eadulf glanced over his shoulder and smiled bleakly.
‘I think that I have known you too long, Fidelma, for you to keep secrets from me. I can tell it from your eyes. You are already mourning my death.’
She quickly reached out a hand and touched his. ‘Don’t say that!’
For the first time he heard the brittleness in her voice and knew she was close to tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, feeling awkward. ‘A stupid thing to say.’ He realised she needed as much support as he did to face the coming ordeal. Eadulf was not an emotionally selfish man. ‘So, Bishop Forbassach will pronounce on your appeal tomorrow morning?’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘Good. Then we will take it as it comes. In the meanwhile, could you ask Sister Étromma to ensure that I have soap and water? I would like to look my best for whatever the morning brings.’
Fidelma felt the tears stinging her eyes. Suddenly Eadulf reached
forward and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing hard and then thrusting her away almost brutally.
‘There! Off you go, Fidelma. Leave me to my meditations. I will see you in the morning.’
She took the cue; there was too much between them for her to remain. Another few seconds and they both would be without any control of their emotions. She turned and called harshly for the Brother. A moment later the bolts rasped and the door swung open. She did not look back into the cell as she left.
‘Until tomorrow, Eadulf,’ she muttered.
Brother Eadulf made no reply as the cell door slammed shut behind her.
Fidelma did not return to the inn immediately but went for a walk along the riverside, finding a deserted corner at the end of the quays and a log to sit on in the gloom. The moon was brilliant white, casting its eerie dancing lights on the waters. She sat quietly, her cheeks wet with hot tears. She had not cried since she was a young girl. She did not even attempt the meditation technique of the
dercad
to quell the raging emotion within her. She had tried to keep her emotions in check ever since she had learnt of Eadulf’s peril. She could not help him by giving way to sentiment. She had to be strong; divorced from emotion so that she could see logically.
Yet she felt torn between a terrible sense of despair and an explosive feeling of outrage. Since she had known Eadulf she had tried to keep her feelings hidden, even from herself. She had been oppressed by a sense of duty; duty to the Faith, to the law, to the five kingdoms and her own brother. Now, just as she had finally ceased to deny her feelings and had begun to admit just how much Eadulf meant to her, he stood in danger of being taken away from her for ever. It was … so unfair. She realise how banal the phrase was, but could think of no other expression for all her reading of the ancient philosophers. The old philosophers would excuse such outrageous fortune by saying that the gods willed otherwise. She could not accept that. Virgil wrote:
Fata
viam invenient – the gods will find a way. She had to find a way. She had to.
Fidelma stirred in her uneasy sleep.
She was dreaming; dreaming of the corpse of the religieux swinging at the end of the taut rope from the wooden gibbet. Behind the corpse were gathered a group of cowled figures, laughing and jeering at the dead man. She was trying to reach forward, hands outstretched, towards the hanging form, but something was pressing her back. Hands were holding her. She turned to see who it was and the face of her old mentor and tutor – the Brehon Morann – appeared behind her.
‘Why?’ she screamed at him. ‘Why?’
‘The eye hides what it does not wish to see,’ the old man smiled enigmatically.
She pulled away and turned back to the hanging male form.
There was a crashing noise. At first she thought that it was the gibbet breaking up, the wood splintering and scattering.
Then she realised that she had been awakened and the crashing noise was a reality outside her room; heavy footsteps were pounding up the stairs of the Inn of the Yellow Mountain. She had barely time to sit up in the bed before the door was smashed open without any further warning.
Bishop Forbassach pushed through the door, a lantern in his hand. Behind him, with drawn swords, came half a dozen men, among them a large, burly figure which was familiar to her. It was Brother Cett.
Before she could fully recover her wits, Bishop Forbassach, holding the lantern high, had begun to search her small room, dropping to his knees and peering under her bed.
One of the men stood with a drawn sword pointing at her chest in silent menace.
Fidelma was shocked. She gazed at them firstly in bewilderment and then with a sense of growing outrage.
‘What does this mean?’ she began.
There came another interruption, the sound of a scuffle beyond the door. Some of the men turned to help their comrades behind them and
then Dego and Enda were dragged into the room, arms pinioned behind them. They had apparently come running, swords in hand, at the sound of the disturbance. They were overwhelmed by numbers and disarmed, their arms twisted unmercifully high behind their backs so that they were almost bent double between Forbassach’s men.
‘What is the meaning of this outrage, Forbassach?’ Fidelma demanded coldly, the icy tone disguising her seething fury. She ignored the menacing sword that was held against her. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’
The bishop, having examined the corners of the room, turned back to her, lantern still in hand. His face was a mask of threatening animosity.
‘Where is he?’ he snarled.
Fidelma stared back at him with equal dislike.
‘Where is who? You have much to explain for this unwarranted intrusion, Brehon of Laigin. Do you know what you are doing? You have transgressed all laws of—’
‘Silence, woman!’ muttered the man who held the sword at her chest, giving it a jab to emphasise his order.
Fidelma felt the pinprick. She did not even glance at the warrior but remained with her gaze fixed on Forbassach.
‘Tell your bully who I am, Forbassach, and do you remember it also. If blood is drawn from the sister of the King of Colgú who is a
dálaigh
of the courts then blood will answer for blood. You know the law. There are some things that no allowances can be made for. You have passed beyond my patience.’
Bishop Forbassach hesitated at the ice-cold rage in her voice. Yet he had difficulty in controlling his own temper and stood for what seemed a long time before he succeeded.
‘You may put your sword down,’ he said in clipped tones to the man. Then he turned back to Fidelma. ‘I ask you again, where is he?’
Fidelma regarded the intimidating figure of the Brehon of Laigin with cold curiosity.
‘And I ask
you
again, who is it to whom you refer?’
‘You know well enough that I am referring to the Saxon.’
Fidelma blinked rapidly in astonishment as she realised the implication of his question but forced herself not to show her feelings.
Bishop Forbassach grimaced with irritability.
‘Don’t pretend that you have no knowledge of Brother Eadulf’s escape.’
Fidelma’s eyes did not leave his.
‘I do not pretend. I have no idea what you are talking about.’
The bishop turned to his little army.
‘You men remain,’ he gestured to those holding Fidelma’s companions. ‘Keep hold of those two. The rest of you will search this inn and search it thoroughly, outbuildings as well. Check to see if any horses are missing.’
Fidelma was aware of Lassar appearing behind the men looking terrified. She wished that she could reassure the woman. However, her own heart was beating rapidly. She knew that she must not allow Forbassach to dominate the situation.
Then a thin, whining masculine voice, slurred by alcohol, rose above the hubbub and confusion.
‘What’s this noise? This is an inn and I paid for a good bed and a night’s sleep.’
Behind the crowd at the door a small man pushed his way forward. He had clearly been roused from an alcohol-induced sleep; his hair was dishevelled, a cloak wrapped around him for decency’s sake.
Bishop Forbassach turned, vexed by the interruption.
‘What is happening is no concern of yours, Gabrán. Get back where you belong!’
The little man moved forward a step, almost like a terrier squaring up to a hound. He squinted almost short-sightedly at the bishop and then recognised him. He started to mumble apologies and backed away in confusion. Forbassach turned to Fidelma once more.
‘So, you were claiming that the Saxon is not here?’
Fidelma’s eyes were bright in anticipation.
‘I am not claiming anything: I am telling you that he is not. It seems that he has escaped?’
Bishop Forbassach greeted her question with a sneer. ‘As if you do not know.’
‘I do not know.’
‘He is not in his cell in the abbey. He has escaped and Brother Cett here was knocked unconscious by those who aided him in that escape.’
Fidelma took a sharp inward breath as he confirmed her deduction. A sudden breath of hope. She gave Forbassach a hard look.
‘You accuse me of helping him escape? I am a
dálaigh
and constrained by the laws of the courts of the five kingdoms. I knew nothing of this until you told me this moment. Why do you break into
my room in the middle of the night with a use of force and threaten me and my companions?’
‘For obvious reasons. The Saxon made no attempt to escape until you arrived and it was clear that he did not escape on his own account.’
‘On my
dálaigh’s
oath, Forbassach, I have had no hand in this matter. This much you could have learnt from me without your dramatic entrance and use of unnecessary force. Nor is it necessary for you to continue in your violence to my companions.’
Bishop Forbassach turned to where Dego and Enda were still bent double in excruciating pain in the hands of his men.
‘Let them up,’ he reluctantly ordered.
The men holding the two Cashel warriors loosed their holds. Forbassach gave them a moment to recover their breath.
‘Well, accepting your word that you had no hand in the matter, perhaps your men acted in your stead. Speak, you!’ He pointed abruptly to Dego.
The warrior’s eyes narrowed and doubtless he would have attacked the arrogant Brehon had he not been aware of the muscular Brother Cett at his side.
‘I know nothing about this escape, Brehon of Laigin,’ he replied in a measured tone but there was no respect in his voice which the rank of the Brehon should have commanded.
Bishop Forbassach’s face mirrored his anger.
‘And you?’ he demanded, turning to Enda.
‘I was in bed until your bullies disturbed my slumber by attacking the sister of my King,’ he said defiantly. ‘I came to defend her from your assault. You may have to answer to the consequences of that attack later.’
‘Perhaps we might persuade you to reflect on your memories,’ smiled the bishop unpleasantly.
‘This is an outrage, Forbassach!’ cried Fidelma, horrified by his insinuation. ‘You will not lay hands on my men. Remember, they are trusted warriors of my brother, the King of Cashel.’
‘Better we lay hands on them than we should lay hands on you, woman,’ broke in the surly Brother Cett.
‘There will be blood between Cashel and Fearna if you let this matter get out of hand, Bishop Forbassach!’ warned Fidelma harshly. ‘You know that even if your bullies do not.’
‘I can vouch that these two warriors have not been out of the inn this night, my lord bishop.’
The interruption came from a man who was standing outside the room and now pushed his way in.
Fidelma saw that it was Mel, the commander of the palace guard.
Bishop Forbassach looked up at him in surprise.
‘What makes you so sure of this, Mel?’ he demanded.
‘Because this is my sister’s inn, as you know, and I have been staying here this night. My bed is in the room next to where these men sleep. I am a light sleeper and I can vouch for the fact that they have not stirred until your men burst in here.’
‘You have been a long time in coming to tell me,’ observed Forbassach. ‘If you are so light a sleeper, why have you taken all this time to come to see me?’
‘Because your men started to search my sister’s inn and I thought it wiser to go with them to ensure that they were not too enthusiastic in their search and damaged her property.’
The bishop stood as if puzzled how next to proceed. It was clear that the unexpected support from the Laigin warrior had left him without room to manoeuvre. While he stood undecided, one of his men came hurrying back.
‘The inn and all the outhouses have been searched. There is no sign of the Saxon. No sign of anything at all.’
‘Are you sure? Have you searched everywhere thoroughly?’
‘Everywhere, Forbassach,’ replied the man. ‘Maybe the Saxon stole away on a boat towards Loch Garman to get a ship back to his own lands?’
Bishop Forbassach turned back to Fidelma with lips compressed angrily. Fidelma decided to seize the advantage.
‘My companions and I will accept your apology for this unwarranted intrusion, Forbassach. However, you have stretched the laws of hospitality to their limits and beyond. I will accept your apology only because it is clear that you are under some stress.’
Bishop Forbassach’s face clouded in anger for a moment and he seemed about to make a verbal attack again. Instead he hesitated and then motioned to his men to leave. His fiery eyes did not leave Fidelma’s ice-cold gaze.
‘Let me warn you, Fidelma of Cashel.’ He spoke slowly, as if he had trouble formulating his thoughts in words. ‘This matter of the Saxon’s escape is a serious one. It is known that you are a friend of his. You came here to defend him. The fact that he has escaped at this moment
is no coincidence. You and your companions may have outwitted us and been able to hide him from our search. Doubtless you knew that we would come here first. I warn you, Fidelma, this will be your undoing. By taking the law into your own hands you will never be able to practise the profession of law again.’ He laughed shortly. ‘And here is an amusing thought to ponder on, Fidelma. I was actually going to defer the execution of the Saxon for a week, to please the concerns of King Fianamail, so that we might find some answers to those clever questions which you put forward. The escape of the Saxon is now a clear confession of his guilt. As soon as he is recaptured, he will be hanged. We will have no more appeals.’
Fidelma met Bishop Forbassach’s smouldering gaze evenly.
‘You are wrong to accuse me of aiding Brother Eadulf’s escape, Forbassach. I have, unlike some in this kingdom, maintained strict compliance to the laws of the five kingdoms and have not discarded my faith in them for any other law. Remember that, Forbassach. Nor would I interpret his escape as a confession of guilt. Every innocent person has the right to self-defence. The escape might just as easily be interpreted as a defence from a judicial murder.’
The bishop made to reply, changed his mind and left the room without another word.
Dego came forward with a look of concern on his face.
‘Are you all right, lady? They have not harmed you?’
Fidelma shook her head. She put a hand up to her shoulder where the tip of the warrior’s blade had pricked it.
‘A scratch, no more. Pass me my robe, Enda,’ she instructed quietly and when the young man did so, she swung out of the bed. She regarded the two young warriors carefully.
‘Now we are alone, tell me, and speak the truth. Did either of you have any hand in Eadulf’s escape?’ She asked the question swiftly, breathlessly.
Dego answered immediately with a negative gesture. ‘I swear it, lady.’ Then he smiled crookedly. ‘However, had such an idea occurred to us, I think we might well have considered participation in it.’