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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

Valley of the Shadow (26 page)

BOOK: Valley of the Shadow
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Eadulf rose and glanced down at the dried bread and cheese that he had been contemplating eating. He grimaced wryly then smiled.
‘It will be very welcome, Esnad.’
The girl placed her basket on the table and began to unpack fresh bread, cold meats, boiled eggs and some vegetables. She had even brought an amphora of wine.
‘Do your mother and father know that you are here?’ inquired Fidelma.
Esnad raised her chin defiantly.
‘I am of the age of choice,’ she replied in an annoyed tone. ‘I was fourteen last birthday.’
‘Yet your parents might be angry that you are consorting with us after what has happened.’
‘Let them be,’ the girl said dismissively. ‘I do not care. I am old enough to make my own decisions.’
‘There is no denying that,’ observed Fidelma gravely.
The girl finished unpacking. There was, at least, enough food for a passable supper.
It was clear that the girl felt uncomfortable in Fidelma’s presence and it appeared that she wanted to speak with Eadulf on her own. That intrigued Fidelma. She was also amused that Eadulf seemed embarrassed at the young girl’s attentions. Nevertheless, she hoped that Eadulf would have the sense to see that the girl wanted to speak with him.
She rose with a smile.
‘I promised to discuss something with Murgal,’ she said with a meaningful glance at Eadulf, hoping that he would understand her motive.
The Saxon looked thoroughly alarmed but he apparently understood that she wanted him to stay and discover what it was that Esnad wanted of him.
Esnad was looking pleased.
‘I hope that I am not interfering with your plans,’ she observed coyly.
‘Not at all,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I will be back shortly, so save me some of that excellent supper.’
She left the hostel and found herself in the gloom of the courtyard.
For a few moments she walked without purpose, wondering if Esnad had some information which could add anything towards a solution of the mystery of Gleann Geis. Then she found herself retracing the route that she had taken on the previous night when she had followed Brother Solin. She had not gone far when she saw a portly figure of a woman leave the building which contained Murgal’s apartment and begin to hurry across the courtyard. The figure was easy to recognise. Fidelma quickened her step.
‘Cruinn!’
The rotund hostel-keeper paused and peered round. She recognised Fidelma within an inward hiss of her breath. She would have moved on had not Fidelma quickly moved to block her path.
‘Cruinn, why have you not come to the hostel?’ Fidelma asked reproachfully. ‘Why are you so angry with me?’
The woman turned and scowled at her.
‘You should know the laws of hospitality, you being a
dálaigh.
You insulted your host by insulting his sister.’
‘That is unjust,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘I know that Orla is well respected but I can only tell the truth. I, myself, was wrongly accused.’
‘You only escaped justice on a technical point of law,’ Cruinn returned sharply, much to Fidelma’s astonishment.
‘You seem to suddenly know much about the law, Cruinn,’ she replied. ‘Where did you learn so much?’
Even in the gloom, Fidelma saw that Cruinn looked uncomfortable for a moment.
‘I only repeat what everyone is saying. Had Artgal not been so foolish as to accept the cows then his evidence would have been proven.’
‘I did not kill Brother Solin.’
Cruinn turned away quickly.
‘I have things to do,’ she muttered. ‘But do not look for me in the hostel. There are few people here who welcome your presence now, Fidelma of Cashel. The sooner you leave Gleann Geis the better.’
The portly figure hurried away into the darkness. Fidelma watched her go with some regret. It was discouraging how people changed their attitudes because of false information and prejudice.
A door opened and a light fell across the courtyard. Fidelma saw the light came from the apothecary of Marga. Two figures were framed in the door. One was Marga and the other was Laisre. Fidelma stood bathed in the light from the doorway. Laisre’s figure stiffened as he turned in her direction. Then he bowed his head to Marga.
‘Thank you, Marga. How many times must I take the infusion?’ His voice came clearly.
‘Only once in the evening, Laisre.’
The attractive apothecary turned and closed the door, cutting off the light from the courtyard.
Laisre stepped away in the gloom which had descended towards Fidelma.
‘Well, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he greeted her heavily, ‘I have just been told by Murgal that you disobeyed my orders and left the ráth earlier.’
‘It was not an order as I recall. You stated that it was only your preference,’ Fidelma replied solemnly.
Laisre snorted angrily.
‘Do not play with words. I did not sanction you leaving the ráth.’
‘If I had not left the ráth do you think that Brother Dianach would have been any the less dead?’
‘You bring death in your wake. The ravens of death are forever fluttering over your head,’ grunted Laisre sourly.
‘Do you really think that I am responsible for the deaths that have occurred?’
Laisre made an impatient gesture.
‘All I know is that such deaths have never occurred in our community before you came. The sooner that you are gone from here the better.’
He left her abruptly and hurried away towards the council chamber.
Fidelma sighed and decided to return to the hostel. She reasoned that she had allowed enough time for Esnad to unburden herself to Eadulf and say whatever it was she had wanted to say.
She was about to open the door when it was flung open and Esnad nearly collided with her. Fidelma almost lost her footing as the young woman pushed into her and, without faltering herself, hurried off into the night.
A moment later another figure came out of the hostel.
‘Esnad! Wait!’
The figure of Rudgal hurried by without even seeing Fidelma in the shadows.
Fidelma stared after his vanishing figure with an expression of perplexity. She entered the hostel and closed the door behind her. Eadulf was seated where she had left him. The food was barely touched.
He looked up with some relief.
‘What’s happened?’ Fidelma demanded. ‘Esnad came hurrying out and nearly knocked me over. Then Rudgal came out apparently chasing after her.’
‘I’ve no idea,’ confessed Eadulf. ‘I begin to think there is a madness in this place.’
‘Why was Esnad so keen on speaking to you alone? I thought she had something of importance to tell you which might have helped us solve this puzzle.’
Eadulf shook his head.
‘She was more anxious to ask me questions about who I was,
where I came from and what life was like in the land of the South Folk.’
Fidelma was disappointed.
‘Is that all?’
Eadulf became embarrassed.
‘Actually, no. She wanted to know why I was travelling with you and what our relationship was.’
Fidelma gave a mischievous grin.
‘Our relationship?’
Eadulf gestured half-heartedly.
‘You know,’ he said lamely.
Fidelma decided not to tease him further.
‘Why do you think she was asking such questions? Was there a purpose in it?’
Eadulf was perplexed.
‘None that I could see. If she was older …’
Fidelma examined him closely. There was still some humour in her eyes.
‘
If
she was older?’ she prompted. ‘Remember she is already beyond the age of choice now.’
Eadulf, red with embarrassment, protested.
‘She is only a child.’
‘Fourteen is the age of maturity for a girl in this land, Eadulf. A girl can be married at that age and make her own decisions.’
‘But …’
‘You felt that she was being more than simply friendly towards you?’
‘Yes, I did. To be truthful, I have noticed her wanton attitude before. Well, it is probably only infatuation,’ he ended lamely.
Fidelma could not help smiling at his discomfiture.
‘So, she could add no more pieces to our puzzle? Very well. But what was Rudgal doing here and what was the meaning of that scene just now?’
‘He came in presumably because he had promised to prepare a meal for us, knowing that Cruinn was refusing to come to the hostel.’
‘Why was he so put out with Esnad?’
‘Maybe because Esnad brought us a supper before he did. He came in and when he saw her he seemed very ill-tempered.’
‘And how did she react?’
‘I do not think that she was pleased to see him. She left immediately.’
‘And he followed,’ mused Fidelma. ‘Interesting.’
Eadulf stood up.
‘It is beyond my understanding, however, it is time we had our supper. The hour grows late and if you still have a mind to depart in search of Ibor of Muirthemne … ?’
Fidelma asserted that she did.
‘In that case, let us eat and go to bed early. Who knows what tomorrow may bring.’
It was still dark when Fidelma awakened Eadulf and told him to get ready. She was already dressed and, while he hurriedly copied her, she went down to fill their saddle bags with the remaining food that had been left from their evening meal. When Eadulf was ready, they crept out of the hostel and across the courtyard, keeping close to the shadows away from the flickering torchlight in case a wandering guard observed them. Fidelma wanted to avoid any vigilant eye as much as possible. There was one sentinel on the walls but he seemed to be dozing.
They saddled their horses as quietly as they could and led them cautiously out of the stables.
Eadulf groaned for the clatter of their shod hooves on the flagstones was surely enough to wake the dead. It certainly woke the sentinel who had been napping on the walls. He came down the steps to stand by the open gates. Fidelma realised the hopelessness of attempting to leave without anyone realising it. The only way was to bluff it out.
‘Who is it?’ demanded the gruff, though still sleepy, voice of the guard.
‘It is Fidelma of Cashel,’ she replied, summoning a haughty tone.
‘Ha! It is not yet dawn,’ replied the sentinel, stating the obvious. ‘Why are you leaving the ráth at such an hour?’
The man spoke uncertainly, knowing who she was and wondering whether he should speak deferentially or with hostility.
‘Brother Eadulf and I are leaving the ráth for a short while.’
‘Does Laisre know of this, lady?’ came the warrior’s still uncertain tone.
‘Isn’t Laisre chief of Gleann Geis and surely he knows everything which stirs within his own ráth?’ she countered, trying hard to steer a cautious path between not telling an outright lie and making an implication which would satisfy the man.
The sentinel’s voice was aggrieved.
‘Do not blame me, lady, for my ignorance. No one has informed me of your leaving.’
‘I am now informing you.’ Fidelma tried to sound irritable. ‘Stand aside and let us pass. Should any inquire, we shall soon be back.’
Hesitantly the sentinel stood aside and Fidelma and Eadulf trotted through the open gates through into the darkness.
It was not until they were some way from the ráth and moving swiftly along the valley road towards the ravine which provided the exit from Gleann Geis that Eadulf allowed himself to exhale noisily in relief.
‘Was that wise, Fidelma? To imply that you had Laisre’s permission will only deepen the chieftain’s anger when we return.’
‘Wisdom rises upon the ruins of folly,’ grinned Fidelma in the darkness. ‘I told the man no lie. And we shall be back as soon as possible.’
There were grey streaks in the sky by the time that they reached the grim granite statue of the god Lugh of the Long Hand which marked the entrance to the valley. It looked strange and frightening in the grey half-light as they rode past. Eadulf crossed himself nervously at its towering image but Fidelma laughed gaily.
‘Didn’t I tell you that the ancients saw Lugh as a god of light, a solar deity. You should not fear him for he was a good god.’
‘How can you be so calm about such frightening wraiths?’ protested Eadulf. ‘Antler-headed gods with serpents in their hands!’ He shivered violently.
‘Didn’t your people worship such gods before they converted to Christianity?’ asked Fidelma.
‘None with antlers from their heads,’ vowed Eadulf.
They reached the entrance of the gorge and started through its narrow rocky passage.
‘Who passes?’ cried a voice from high above them.
Fidelma groaned inwardly. She had forgotten the sentinels who guarded the gorge. However, what had worked once would doubtless work again.
‘Fidelma of Cashel,’ she called back. Then, as an afterthought, ‘Were you on guard here yesterday afternoon?’
A shadow moved above them and emerged indistinctly in the rising light of the dawn.
‘Not I. Why do you ask?’
‘I wondered if the horse dealer, Ibor of Muirthemne, was seen passing this way or Artgal?’
‘Everyone who passed through this gorge came under our scrutiny. The horse dealer certainly passed along here in the afternoon
for my brother was on duty here. But as for Artgal … no, it would have been mentioned if he had passed this way. The news of Artgal’s loss of honour has certainly been spoken.’
Fidelma accepted the information with resignation. She had not really expected to learn much.
‘Very well. Can we proceed?’
‘Go in peace,’ invited the sentinel.
By the time they had negotiated the gorge, dawn had broken across the mountains in streaks of orange, gold and yellow and the countryside was coming to life with a noisy chorus of birds arising from all around them. Fidelma made her unerring way towards the spot where they had encountered the slaughtered bodies of the young men. It was well and truly light by the time they reached the place. The view was clear in every direction. However, in two days the ravens had done their work well. The white bones of the skeletons lay scattered with hardly any flesh left upon them. Eadulf shuddered as he gazed about the bright sepulchre of bones, reflecting in the translucent light.
Fidelma did not give them a second glance but rode directly to where she recalled that the tracks had been. She could not find them. It was Eadulf who attempted an explanation.
‘While it didn’t rain in Gleann Geis yesterday, there was some rain beyond the mountains. It might be that the tracks have been washed away.’
Fidelma moved forward to view the ground more carefully.
‘But not entirely,’ she called triumphantly. ‘I can still see faint traces of the ruts.’
Eadulf followed her, his eyes sweeping the countryside around them in case of danger for he still questioned the wisdom of what they were attempting. Those who would not hesitate to kill thirty-three young men in a ritual slaughter would not falter in killing any religious if they became a threat.
‘Come on,’ Fidelma called, ‘the tracks lead northwards.’
She began to walk her horse carefully across the floor of the valley.
‘How far do you intend to go?’ grumbled the Saxon. ‘Colla says the tracks soon disappeared.’
Fidelma pointed before her towards the northern hills on the rim of the valley.
‘I will go as far as the edge of the glen, just there, where the hills begin to rise. If we see no further signs by then, we will follow the edge of the valley back to the entrance to Gleann Geis and conclude our business there.’
‘Do you mistrust Colla so much? Do you really think that he has tried to mislead us?’
‘I prefer the evidence of my own eyes,’ replied Fidelma easily. ‘And don’t forget, I did see Orla outside the stable. I know I did. Therefore, the logical conclusion is that Colla lied to protect his wife. By doing so, he placed me in jeopardy. What he did once, he can do a second time.’
In silence they walked their horses on, sitting at ease in their saddles, but now and then Fidelma stopped in an attempt to pick up the signs of the passing of the wagons. The tracks soon disappeared. They had not been visible for long before the stony ground had, indeed, disguised all signs of the passing of the carts. She was forced to admit that Colla had told the truth. They were still a mile or so off from the foot of the hills when all trace completely vanished.
‘Perhaps you have done Colla an injustice?’ ventured Eadulf wryly.
Fidelma did not grace his comment with an answer.
‘If we go back empty handed, what excuse will you give to Laisre?’ Eadulf pressed.
Fidelma thrust out her lower lip in annoyance.
‘I am not in the habit of giving excuses,’ she replied crossly. ‘He has no right to question my actions as a
dálaigh.’
She drew her horse to a halt and raised a hand to shade her eyes. Then she exhaled in irritation.
‘I would be happier if I even had an idea of what we were looking for,’ protested Eadulf. ‘I don’t think we are going to find further tracks in this terrain. What else is there?’
For a time Fidelma did not bother to reply. They continued in silence for a while until the stony valley floor began to rise into the surrounding hills. But there was no sign of any tracks at all. After a fruitless hour or so Fidelma called a halt and extended her hand southwards.
‘There are some grassy areas if we swing south of here. Perhaps we might find some tracks there,’ she volunteered. ‘This northern path looks as if it is going to reveal nothing.’
Eadulf suppressed a sigh but still followed her. He already had a feeling that a search of the area would reveal nothing. Not a sign of wagon tracks but Fidelma pressed on. Eadulf was about to make a stronger protest to the effect that they were simply wasting time and ought to return to Gleann Geis when Fidelma halted.
‘Tracks of several horses,’ she cried triumphantly pointing downwards to the disturbed grassy area.
Eadulf confirmed the statement with a sour glare.
‘It means little without wagon tracks. There are plenty of people on horseback who could pass this spot.’
It happened so suddenly that Fidelma and Eadulf had no time at all to react.
Out of nowhere half-a-dozen warriors appeared on horseback with swords ready and surrounded them.
‘Hold still, if you value your lives!’ cried their leader, a large man with a bushy red beard and a burnished bronze helmet studded with red enamel pieces.
Fidelma had a sinking sensation as she realised that the man spoke in a northern accent.
A second man rode alongside them and, before they could protest, their wrists were expertly bound behind them. Blindfolds were produced and tied over their eyes. Their reins were taken from them and they found themselves being led at a swift canter. They needed their breath to maintain their balance on the fast-moving horses and could not protest or demand an explanation. Neither Fidelma nor Eadulf could estimate the amount of time it took as they were escorted to their captors’ destination.
The end of the ride came as abruptly as it had begun.
The horses suddenly halted, there were shouted commands, and strong arms lifted them both down. Their blindfolds were removed and they stood blinking in the centre of a group of warriors. Fidelma noticed that they were in a gorge, no more than a rocky fissure, hardly big enough for four men to stand abreast. Around them the rocky walls rose almost blotting out the sky. It was a dark, narrow passageway.
The leader of the warriors, the red-haired man with a fierce, almost angry expression, stood in front of them and his shrewd scrutiny missed nothing.
‘You have come from Gleann Geis.’ It was a statement rather than a question.
‘We do not deny it,’ affirmed Fidelma coldly. ‘Where have you come from?’
The man’s face conveyed no reaction. His sharp blue eyes examined them both carefully, taking in Fidelma’s cross of the Golden Chain and Eadulf s foreign appearance. Then he turned and signalled to one of his men. Silently the man handed him their saddle bags which he had obviously removed from their horses. The red-haired leader peered firstly into Eadulf’s saddle bags and then took hold of Fidelma’s bags.
‘Are you common thieves and robbers, then?’ she sneered. ‘If you are looking for riches, you will not find any for …’
The man ignored her and continued to rummage through the saddle bag. His hand came out holding the gold torc. His eyes glinted.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘I am Fidelma of Cashel.’
‘A woman of Muman who carries the gold collar of Ailech?’ scoffed the man. He thrust it back into the saddle bag and then slung both over his shoulder.
Fidelma started at the mention of the name of Ailech.
Ailech was the capital of the northern Uí Néill kings who were in enmity with the southern Uí Néill kings who ruled at Tara.
The red-bearded man had turned and was striding towards what appeared to be the sheer cliff face. His men had closed in around Fidelma and Eadulf. Before they could protest or make further demands of their captors they were forced to move at a rapid trot towards one of the towering walls of the fissure. So fast did they move, even with their hands still tied behind their backs, that Eadulf found himself closing his eyes believing, for a moment, that their captors were intent on killing them by smashing them against the granite wall. Then he felt cold and darkness encompassed him. He ventured to open his eyes and found he was in a cave which was dimly lit by a single torch. Somehow he and Fidelma had been manoeuvred into a hidden cave entrance.
The leader continued to head the way along the dark tunnel. Neither Fidelma nor Eadulf made any protest for there was little point in protesting. The warriors moved them swiftly and professionally. They were propelled through a series of caves and narrow passageways. Then they came to a sudden halt.
‘Blindfold them again,’ ordered the leader.
BOOK: Valley of the Shadow
13.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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