‘What?’ Abbess Fainder appeared astounded. ‘You say that you were told, with the approval of a religieux, to tell lies about something so important?’
‘I knew it was all a lie but I also knew that unless I agreed to tell it, I would be dead as well. I was to say that I had stood behind some bales and had seen this Saxon attacking my friend. I could identify him by the fact that he wore a different tonsure to all other religious and this tonsure was described to me. I was also to say that I and Gormgilla were novitiates at the abbey.’
‘How could you make that claim if it was not true?’ sneered the abbess. ‘My mistress of novitiates would have denounced such a deception.’
‘Except that she had just gone on a pilgrimage to Iona,’ Fidelma reminded her.
‘I was told that no one would doubt my story,’ added Fial.
Fidelma glanced at the abbess. ‘As I recall, you supported the story, Fainder,’ she said. ‘You identified the girls to your stewardess as novitiates, didn’t you?’
There was a silence before Fidelma asked firmly: ‘Who else identified Fial as a novitiate?’
Abbess Fainder fell silent, frowning in thought.
Mel cleared his throat. He had been considering Fial’s story.
‘The girl did appear from behind the bales. She could have come from the boat. But she did tell me …’
‘Indeed,’ Fidelma interrupted impatiently. ‘She had been on the boat the entire time. It makes sense of the points that I made to you about the inconsistency of her position on the quay. However, let her continue the story. When it was realised that Gormgilla’s body had been found, some quick thinking had to be done.’
‘Not by Gabrán, he was drunk. The girl said so,’ interposed Coba with interest. ‘Who do you think arranged this elaborate lie?’
‘The person who employed Gabrán; the person in charge of this terrible trade in human suffering,’ replied Fidelma confidently. ‘It seems that by coincidence, that very person had arrived on the quay with one of Gabrán’s crew just as Gabrán had killed Gormgilla. They grabbed the drunken man, probably knocked him unconscious to be able to manage him properly. Then they dragged him back on board and dumped him in a cabin to sleep it off. Then one or both of them returned to the body, thinking to dispose of it. Yet another coincidence … they were just about to remove the body when Abbess Fainder came trotting out of the darkness on her horse. They scurried back to the boat wondering what to do. Then Mel arrived.’
‘Fainder has told her story of how she spotted the body,’ Coba agreed. ‘That fits into your theory.’
‘Except that the Saxon’s robes were covered in blood and he had a piece of …’ Abbess Fainder did not finish as she remembered what the girl had said about Gabrán’s state of clothing.
‘What happened to the bloody cloth that was grasped in Gabrán’s hand, Fial?’ Coba asked.
‘The boatman gave it to the religieux. He said that it could be put to good use if the religieux could get back to the abbey.’
‘In other words, it was to be planted on Brother Eadulf,’ muttered Fidelma. ‘But let us not get ahead of the story. With the arrival of the
abbess there was panic. They heard Mel hailing Abbess Fainder as he approached the quay. Gabrán’s employer was cornered on the boat. They could no longer attempt to hide the crime. It therefore became imperative to allow Gabrán’s employer to fade into the darkness and for Gabrán not to be suspected. Someone came up with the idea of forcing young Fial to give false evidence on the assurance that she would be freed. Is that so?’
Fial confirmed her surmise.
‘I kept my part. I told everyone what I was instructed to say. I identified the Saxon by his unusual tonsure. They told me that I had to be locked in a room in the abbey for my own safety until after the trial. Days passed then, two days ago, a religieux came and let me out.’
‘The same person who sat with the boatman who instructed you to identify the Saxon?’
‘Not the same. I had not seen this man before. He took me to Gabrán’s boat. Gabrán was on board. Before I could struggle, I was shackled as I was before. I heard the big man say to Gabrán, “You are to get rid of her”! That was all he said. Gabrán replied: “It shall be done.” The religieux left and Gabrán pushed me down into the same small dark cabin that I had shared with Gormgilla. He grinned at me and said: “It shall be done but at a time of my own choosing”.’
Fial started to sob again. ‘I have been down there for all eternity. Gabrán came down last night and … and … he used me.’
Fidelma wrapped the girl’s sobbing form in her arms and gazed towards Coba.
‘It was, sadly, my arrival at the abbey and my enquiries that caused the poor girl to be taken from there and returned to Gabrán.’
Abbess Fainder, who was very pale, cleared her throat nervously.
‘How can we be sure that she is telling the truth this time? She admits that she has lied before, so maybe she is lying now? It seems too grotesque a tale to be real.’
‘Too grotesque to be made up by a thirteen-year-old child,’ replied Fidelma sharply. She turned back to Fial. ‘Just a few questions more, little one. While you were imprisoned in the darkness on the boat, you did not waste your time, did you?’
Fial looked at her questioningly. ‘How did you know?’
‘You managed to get a sharp piece of metal and you started digging out the fixture of the metal chain that bound your ankle.’
‘I don’t know how long it took me. Ages.’
‘And when you were free …?’
‘I could only free my leg iron. I still had manacles on my wrists.’
‘Just so. But you were able to climb up through the small hatch into Gabrán’s cabin? The hatchway into the main cabin was locked, of course.’
‘So
she
killed him!’ cried Abbess Fainder, realising where this was now leading. ‘She stabbed him at the time that I came aboard. Why,’ she paused, wondering, ‘she must have been in the very process of killing Gabrán. I knocked at the cabin door and the girl slid back through the hatch. Then, while I was bent over the body, she escaped through the cabin and went over the side of the ship. That was the splash I heard.’
‘You are nearly right, Mother Abbess,’ agreed Fidelma.
‘
Nearly
right?’ The abbess was belligerent.
‘When Fial climbed into the cabin she found that Gabrán was dead already. He had been killed by a sword blow which had been delivered with a terrific force. Am I right, Fial? Shall I continue?’
The girl seemed stunned by her apparent omniscience. When she did not speak, Fidelma continued: ‘Fial knew where Gabrán kept his keys and released herself from the wrist manacles. She was about to leave when a desire came over her for revenge; revenge for the terrible injury that this brute had done her. It was, perhaps, an instinctive adolescent reaction. She grabbed a knife that lay nearby and pulling Gabrán up by his hair – she grasped the hair so tightly in her rage that some of it came out by the roots – she plunged the knife half-a-dozen times into his chest and arms. The wounds were superficial. Then the abbess knocked on the cabin door. Fial dropped the knife and let go her hold on the body. That, indeed, was the soft thud that Fainder heard.
‘Fial knew that she had to escape. The only way lay below but the door was locked. She grabbed at some keys in Gabrán’s cabin. There were four of them. She knew one of them had to fit the lock of her prison below. It was her only means to escape. She scuttled back into the cabin. The rest is obvious.’
Fidelma paused and placed her hands either side of the girl’s face and drew it up so that Fial was forced to look directly into her eyes.
‘Have I told it correctly, my dear? Is that how it happened?’
Fial let out a great sob.
‘I would have killed him if I could. I hated him so – what he did to me! What he did to me!’
Fidelma dropped her arms around the child to comfort her.
Coba leaned backwards in his chair, closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long sigh.
‘Do I understand this correctly? While the abbess was in Gabrán’s cabin, the girl made her way up on deck and jumped into the torrent? The current of the river is strong there. Why not simply go ashore?’
‘It was a point that confused me at the time,’ Fidelma confessed. ‘However, I did not take into account how strong fear is as a means of compulsion. Poor Fial was scared for her life. She did not know where she was. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself by walking off the ship onto a jetty. She did not know if her enemies were there. She obviously could swim well and took that route. Then shortly afterwards, on shore, when she encountered Fainder and Mel …’
‘ … She thought that we were part of this slave conspiracy,’ Mel supplied.
‘Conspiracy is a good word, Mel. For there are many mysteries here yet to be solved.’
Abbess Fainder sniffed disdainfully.
‘That is very true, Sister. For if Fial did not kill Gabrán, and you finally seem to accept that
I
did not – then who did kill him?’ Her eyes suddenly glistened. ‘Or are we to conclude that your Saxon came looking for revenge?’
Fidelma’s eyes flashed angrily.
‘I hope this poor child’s testimony has demonstrated that Brother Eadulf was
not
guilty of the rape and murder of Gormgilla, and that another hand guided that outrageous conspiracy!’
‘Even so, Sister,’ Coba interposed, ‘where are you leading us? You say Gabrán was murdered but not by Fial nor by the abbess. I cannot see who else could have killed him, nor even why he was killed.’
‘Gabrán was merely a tool. He was the means by which the trade in human beings was carried out, the means by which they were transported down to the sea port. Gabrán did not have the brains to plan and sustain this vile commerce. Have you forgotten Fial’s words already? She spoke of the cowled religious who ordered her to falsely identify Brother Eadulf.’
Mel rubbed the back of his neck. ‘She also mentioned another crewman who helped him when Gabrán was lying drunk. So who was the other crewman? Did
he
turn on Gabrán?’
Fidelma made a quick, impatient motion of her hand.
‘No. Gabrán turned on
him.
That crewman was the man who was killed the next day – the one that poor Brother Ibar was wrongly executed for murdering.’
Abbess Fainder blinked rapidly. ‘Are you saying that Ibar was innocent?’
‘That is exactly what I am saying. Ibar the blacksmith was a convenient scapegoat and perhaps a necessary one. The day before he was killed, he had been complaining that all he was being employed to do at the abbey was to make animal shackles. Perhaps he did not realise, or perhaps he realised too late, that the shackles for animals were being used on human beings?
‘Brother Eadulf told me that he heard Ibar crying, when he was being led to the gibbet, about manacles. “Ask about the manacles!” he called.’
‘I would like to know, as Coba has already asked you, where you are leading us, Sister,’ demanded the abbess. Her voice was suddenly tremulous and she seemed to have lost her strength.
Fidelma faced the abbess squarely.
‘I would have thought that it was obvious, Mother Abbess,’ she said quietly. ‘This trade in young girls, selling them off to foreign slave ships, is being run by someone in Fearna, someone in the abbey – and that someone is a religious who bears a high rank there.’
Abbess Fainder’s hand came up to clutch her throat, her face pale.
‘No! No! she cried and then, without warning, she collapsed to the floor in a swoon.
Fidelma moved swiftly to her side and bent down, feeling for the pulse in her neck.
At that moment, one of Coba’s warriors came bursting into the hall in a state of excitement.
‘Bishop Forbassach has returned. He is outside with a large band of the King’s warriors. He demands the release of the abbess and the warrior, Mel, and the surrender of the rest of us. What is the word, Chieftain? Do we surrender or do we fight?’
Eadulf awakened with a start as the door of his small chamber crashed open. He blinked in confusion at the figures crowding in the doorway. One of them was holding a lamp. His figure was very familiar. It was with a sickening sense of despair that Eadulf recognised Brother Cett. By his side stood the young, animated Fianamail. Eadulf was dimly aware of the anguished features of Brother Martan behind them.
Fianamail’s features twisted into a smile of satisfaction as he gazed down at Eadulf.
‘That is the man,’ he affirmed. ‘Well done, Brother Cett.’
Eadulf was dragged from the bed by Brother Cett and hauled upright. With expert ease, he found himself forced round; his hands were twisted behind him and he was bound. The hemp rope cut deeply into his wrists.
‘Well, Saxon,’ Brother Cett leered at him as he spun him back to face the young King. ‘You thought that you had made your escape. Not so.’
He punctuated his sentences with a short, sharp rabbit punch which made Eadulf double over and retch at the pain.
‘Brother!’ cried Brother Martan in disgust. ‘Forbear to use violence on a bound man, a man of the Faith at that!’
It was then that Eadulf heard a familiar voice.
‘The Saxon has lost whatever Faith he adheres to, Father Martan. However, you are right to admonish Brother Cett. You need not treat a dying man so harshly, Brother. God will punish him before the day is out.’
Eadulf twisted round to see the sallow face of Abbot Noé swim into view. Realising the futility of his position, Eadulf forced a pain-racked grin at the dour religieux.
‘Your Christian charity does you credit,’ he gasped, trying to recover his breath.
Abbot Noé took a step forward and examined him carefully but his thin features were expressionless.
‘There is no escape from the fires of hell, Saxon.’ His voice was solemn.
‘So I am told. We all eventually have to answer for our misdeeds; kings and bishops … even abbots.’
Abbot Noé simply smiled, turned and left the cell.
The young King Fianamail was impatient. He looked across the cell to the window and saw the diminishing darkness. It would be dawn within the hour. Brother Martan observed his restless glance.
‘Will you leave at once for Fearna?’ he asked. ‘Or return first to your hunting lodge?’
‘We will wait here until dawn and then ride directly for Fearna,’ the King replied.
‘Regretfully, we have no extra horse for your prisoner,’ apologised the Father Superior.
Fianamail looked grim.
‘The Saxon will not need one. There is a good strong tree outside the gates here. He has escaped our justice twice. He will not escape a third time. We will hang him before we depart.’
Eadulf felt a cold sensation in his stomach but he did his best not to show his feelings to those around him. He forced a smile. After all, death had to come to everyone, did it not? He had been facing death these last few weeks, although he had hoped that, with Fidelma’s arrival, there might be some chance that the truth would be discovered. Fidelma! Where was she? He wished he could see her one more time in this world.
‘Can that be within the law?’ Brother Martan was staring askance at his King.
Fianamail turned on the man with a frown of displeasure.
‘The law?’ His voice was threatening. ‘The man has had his trial. He was about to be hanged when he escaped. Of course it is legal! I act as representative of that law. Brother Cett will see to the arrangements and if you have moral qualms, Brother Martan, I suggest you consult the abbot.’
Brother Cett grinned sourly at Eadulf as Brother Martan left the cell.
‘Now,’ continued Fianamail, ‘let me breakfast for the day is chill and I am hungry. To be awakened before dawn and have to come chasing outlaws is a tiring business.’ He hesitated as if he had just thought of something. ‘By the way, we will also take the two young girls with us to Fearna. In the circumstances, they will have a better chance of life in
the abbey there than returning home or wandering the countryside.’
Brother Cett’s sadistic expression broadened. ‘It shall be as you say.’
The cell door slammed as Fianamail and the burly Brother Cett left Eadulf alone to watch the arrival of his last dawn.
The horses were trotting in a column, two abreast, towards Fearna. Dego was riding beside Fidelma while behind them rode Coba and Enda and behind them came Fial mounted on the same horse as Mel who, in turn, rode with Abbess Fainder. Bishop Forbassach was behind. In the front and at the rear came warriors of King Fianamail’s guard. It was cold and dark but the leading horsemen seemed to know the road from Cam Eolaing to Fearna well and did not hesitate in keeping up a steady pace.
Dego finally glanced at Fidelma.
‘Why did you persuade Coba to surrender, lady?’ He demanded. His tone was slightly querulous. The question had been on his mind since Fidelma had urged the
bó-aire
not to resist the warriors whom Forbassach had brought with him. It was the first time since those hectic moments that Dego had been able to pose the question and he did so in a low voice, not wishing to be heard by the guards. ‘We could have fought this bishop and his men.’
Fidelma returned his look in the gloom.
‘And then what?’ she asked gently. ‘Taken satisfaction in making a futile stand or, had we been lucky enough to drive off Bishop Forbassach, the Brehon of Laigin and the King’s warriors, would we have had satisfaction in bringing down a bloody conflict on both kingdoms in which truth and justice would have been entirely forgotten?’
‘I don’t understand, lady.’
‘Say that Coba had refused to surrender? Bishop Forbassach is Brehon of this kingdom and has a legitimate right to demand the surrender of people held against their will.’
Dego remained silent.
‘On what legal grounds did we have the right to refuse to surrender to the Brehon of this kingdom?’
‘I thought that we were about to discover the reason. You had already proved that Brother Eadulf had been unjustly persecuted for crimes he did not commit. You showed that the abbess must have been involved in some terrible slave trade among young girls.’
‘What I said,’ replied Fidelma slowly, ‘was that the abbey was a centre of passing young girls downriver and selling them to foreign slave ships. We had not yet gone into examining the details, far less discovering who is behind this trade.’
Dego felt bewildered.
‘But now we have no chance of discovering anything, lady. By surrendering we have given ourselves no freedom of opportunity to continue our quest. At best, Bishop Forbassach will have us thrown out of the kingdom. At worst, he will have us imprisoned for … well, for something or other. I am sure he will dream up a suitable charge.’
‘Dego, had Coba not surrendered, we might have all been slaughtered by the superior numbers of Forbassach’s warriors; or, if by some miracle we had driven Forbassach off, how long would it have been before the King himself came with an army and burnt Cam Eolaing to the ground? We had no choice.’
Dego was reluctant to admit the logic of her argument. Indeed, Fidelma herself had only just supported her own logic, for emotionally she agreed with Dego. Her first instinct had been to fight, for there was a darkness and evil which pervaded the abbey and those associated with it. Yet, examining the situation coolly, she realised that there was no choice. The problem now arose as to how she could persuade Bishop Forbassach to allow her to continue the process that she had begun in Coba’s hall. At least, she had shown that Brother Eadulf was not guilty and she now had the key witness to the event, the girl Fial.
Yet could she rely on Fial? She was young, still below the ‘age of choice’, and had already changed her version of events once. In law, her evidence was inadmissible. But that had not stopped Forbassach from finding a flimsy excuse to use it. Therefore, in an appeal, he must accept Fial’s repudiation of it. But would he? Forbassach might easily dismiss her evidence if he so wished.
Any appeal to Fianamail was almost hopeless now. He was too young, without the maturity of years, to overcome his prejudices and his excessive ambition to leave his mark on his kingdom. Abbot Noé had apparently persuaded the young man to think of himself as ‘Fianamail the Lawgiver’, the King who changed the law system of Laigin by imposing the Penitentials to make it, as he thought, a truly Christian kingdom. Her heart sank as she turned over the possibilities in her mind.
While fighting Bishop Forbassach and his warriors had not been an
option, each kilometre they drew nearer to Fearna produced no viable alternatives. At no time in her career had Fidelma felt so helpless through the lack of choice. Dego was probably right. Knowing Forbassach, the best she could hope for would be that the bishop would have her and her companions escorted to the border and expelled from Laigin. At worst he could lay charges against her for some conspiracy, for impeding justice, for false accusations, for abetting Coba in a ‘rebellion’ against the law. Forbassach was capable of all these things.
She sighed. Now she really hoped that Eadulf had absconded from the kingdom. Had he been wise, he would have made for the coast and picked up a ship to escape back to his homeland. Had he not done so, she shivered slightly at the thought of what might be his fate.
Dawn heralded a bright, chill morning. Brother Martan and two of his community stood with arms folded in their robes, and heads bowed under their cowls, at the gates of the tiny church and community of the Blessed Brigid, on the broad frost-covered slopes of the Yellow Mountain. The white frost stretched away like snow, southward towards the distant valley where the river swept around the principal town of the Laigin kingdom, around the place of the great alder trees, Fearna.
Standing in front of the monks were the two young girls, Muirecht and Conna. They were shivering in the frigid early morning air in spite of the woollen cloaks given them by the kindly Brother Martan. They were bewildered and scared by the developments. Brother Martan looked on unhappily as he viewed the unfolding scene from beneath his cowl.
One of Fianamail’s warriors was standing with the horses of the company, holding them with the reins drawn loosely into one hand. Abbot Noé stood slightly to one side of Brother Martan’s group, seemingly disinterested by the proceedings. Only the young King Fianamail, already seated on horseback, appeared impatient.
Outside the gate were several trees but one tree caught the attention immediately; a twisted black oak that seemed as old as Time itself. From a low branch, the burly Brother Cett had secured a hemp rope which he had expertly fashioned into a noose. He had placed a three-legged stool, borrowed from the community, underneath it. Now he looked questioningly towards Fianamail, indicating that he was ready.
Fianamail glanced up at the bright sky and smiled, a thin-lipped smile of satisfaction.
‘Let’s get on with it,’ he called harshly.
Three of his warriors emerged from the gates, propelling Eadulf before them.
Eadulf was no longer frightened of death. He would have admitted that he was fearful of being hurt, but not of death itself. He walked with a firm step. He felt sad at the unjust manner of his death as it seemed to him to serve no useful purpose. But he was resigned to it and the quicker it was over the sooner his fear of pain would be gone. He even stepped up on the stool without being asked. He found his thoughts were filled by images of Fidelma. He tried to keep her face before him as he felt the noose being secured around his neck by Brother Cett.
‘Well, Saxon, do you confess your sins?’ cried Fianamail. Eadulf did not bother to answer him and the young King turned impatiently to Abbot Noé. ‘You are his religious superior, Noé. It is your task to take his confession.’
Abbot Noé smiled thinly. ‘Perhaps he does not believe in the Roman form of public confession and would prefer to whisper his sins into the ears of a soul friend in the manner of our church?’
‘You will not be interested in my confession for I am innocent of the crimes laid against me,’ Eadulf replied, irritated by their delay. ‘Get on with this murderous business.’
Yet Fianamail appeared conscious that the law should be assuaged by a confession.
‘Do you refuse to admit your guilt even at this moment? You are about to come face to face with the Almighty God to answer for that guilt.’
Eadulf found himself smiling in spite of the imminence of death. It was an automatic reaction.
‘Then He will know that I am not guilty. Remember, Fianamail, King of Laigin, that Morann, a Brehon and philosopher of your country, said that death cancels everything – except the truth.’
He heard Fianamail’s exasperated sigh and then he felt the noose tighten as the stool was kicked from under him.
Bishop Forbassach and his prisoners had arrived back at Fearna. They were led directly into the abbey courtyard, ordered to dismount and ushered into the chapel of the abbey under guard. Sister Étromma had greeted the appearance of Fial with some degree of astonishment. The
abbess took personal charge of the young girl and led her away, presumably to be cared for.