A Prayer for the Damned (40 page)

Eadulf smiled grimly. ‘It was purely coincidence that we saw you on this road. We were heading for the Glen of Eatharlaí when we saw you. Where were you going?’

She stuck out her lower lip pugnaciously. ‘Away … away from Cashel … from everything.’

Eadulf smiled. He had seen no signs of pain from the girl, and now he helped her to her feet. It was true that she appeared none the worse for her fall.

‘I am afraid, Marga, that you will have to come with us for the time being and tomorrow return with us to Cashel.’

‘I will not!’ the girl replied sharply.

Eadulf shrugged. ‘You have no choice.’

‘You are no brehon. You are a foreigner and cannot compel me.’

In this respect, the girl was speaking the truth. Eadulf glanced at Gormán, who had dismounted and was examining the horse she had been riding with a curious look. The warrior responded at once.

‘I am afraid that Brother Eadulf is right, sister,’ he said sharply, ‘for I am of the Nasc Niadh, the bodyguard of the king of Muman, and can compel you to return to Cashel to face questioning.’

‘Questioning about what?’ demanded the girl angrily. ‘I have already been questioned about Abbot Ultán’s death.’

‘About where you stole this horse from to start with.’

The girl flushed indignantly. ‘I did not steal it.’

‘Really? I know the horse well,’ Gormán said sharply. ‘I gave it to someone very dear to me as a present.’

Eadulf glanced at the warrior in surprise but decided to stick to the important matter in hand. ‘And we have to ask you what knowledge you have of the attack on Fergus Fanat,’ he added quietly.

The girl seemed to stagger a pace and went pale. ‘An attack on … on Fergus?’ she began.

‘He was attacked last night, and he had not recovered consciousness when I left Cashel just after midday. All we know is that soon after that attack you left Cashel. This necessitates many questions.’

Sister Marga stared at him as if not understanding his words. Then, finally, she was able to say in a tremulous voice: ‘Are you accusing me of attacking Fergus?’

‘I am not accusing you of anything, Sister Marga. I am telling you what has happened and why you need to return to Cashel to clarify matters.’

‘If I do, I shall be killed,’ she suddenly sobbed.

‘I presume that you fear Brother Drón?’

She nodded quickly.

‘Then do not, for he has been taken under guard to Cashel this morning to answer questions also.’ He quickly told the story of Ordwulf and Drón and the reason for their journey to the Glen of Eatharlaí.

She listened quietly.

‘It must have been Brother Drón who attacked Fergus,’ she commented at last. ‘He is an evil man. If he tried to kill Fergus, then he will try to kill me.’

‘We will protect you,’ Eadulf assured her. ‘Brother Drón is safe under lock and key in Cashel. He will not escape to harm you.’

F
idelma had caught up with Caol in the main square of the township below the great rock of Cashel. He had selected four other warriors of Colgú’s bodyguard and together with the tracker Rónán they had ridden from the fortress down into the town. Already Rónán had pointed out to them the hopelessness of his being able to pick up any tracks of Brother Drón’s in or around the township. He had spent some time examining the stall where Drón’s horse had been kept and discovered that there was nothing significant about the animal or its tracks. Caol had sent his men about the town to see if anyone had seen the religious from Cill Ria, but by the time Fidelma joined them he had had no success.

She found Caol standing morosely outside the main inn or
bruighean
speaking to the innkeeper.

‘There are still many strangers in the township, lady,’ he said in a resigned tone.

‘It is true, lady,’ added the innkeeper. ‘People find it hard to tell one from another. I can’t recall any northerner making such inquiries as you ask.’ Fidelma was about to thank him when he added: ‘Perhaps Delia might know something. I know she gave shelter to a young female religieuse from the north last night. Perhaps, if she is still there, she would know the man you are looking for?’

‘Della?’ Fidelma was astonished at the mention of her friend, the mother of Gormán. ‘Last night? Are you sure?’

The innkeeper answered in the affirmative. There was not much that happened in the township that he did not know about, he boasted.

Fidelma suggested that Caol’s warriors wait for them at the inn
while she and Caol went directly to seek out Della. If the innkeeper was so free with the information about a northern religieuse staying at Della’s, then Drón would have probably been there before them.

Delia was standing at her open door when Fidelma swung down from her horse. She was a woman of short stature, in her forties, but her maturity had not dimmed the youthfulness of her features or the golden abundance of her hair, or the trimness of her figure.

‘You are welcome, lady.’ She smiled. ‘I was hoping that by now I would be at your wedding feast.’

‘Alas, there are matters to be sorted out first,’ responded Fidelma. ‘You have heard of what has happened, of course?’

‘My son …’ she spoke the words with an added pride, as it had been only recently that she could admit in public that Gorman was her son, ‘has told me some of the details.’

‘I am told that you also had a visitor last night? Is she still here?’

Della’s eyes widened and her hand crept to her throat.

‘She left at midday. Surely, lady, she was not connected with the murders?’

Fidelma smiled reassuringly. ‘Do you know her name?’

‘Indeed. She told me that she was Sister Marga from Cill Ria.’

‘How did she come to stay with you?’

‘It was late last night. I was aroused by a noise in the little barn at the back where I keep my pigs and goat during the cold of winter. I know there are wolves about at this time of year and so I rose and lit a lamp and took my blackthorn stick and went to investigate. It was cold and the rain was falling so hard it was difficult to see one’s hand in front of one’s face. I went to my barn and there in a corner was this young, frightened girl.’

She paused and Fidelma waited patiently.

‘She told me that she was fleeing from some man in her community who wished her harm. She was on foot and had come to the barn, driven there by the cold and rain and night. She had thought to go east to Laigin but felt the man would guess her intention so she was going to attempt the western road but was overcome with tiredness and the rain. She was also exhausted. Naturally, I offered her shelter and warmth in my house.’

‘Did she give any further details?’

‘Only that she kept on about this man, Brother Drón, who wanted to harm her and how she had tried to escape from him once, and fallen in with someone whom she thought she could trust to help her. I gathered it was some young man. She did not tell me his name. She told me that he had betrayed her because he did not believe in her and so she had decided to flee from Cashel. We talked awhile and then she slept. In fact, the poor girl was so exhausted that she slept almost until midday.’

‘She left here at midday?’

‘Shortly afterwards,’ Della agreed.

‘I don’t suppose you noticed in which direction she went?’

‘Is the girl in trouble?’ Della demanded.

‘She will be unless I reach her first and speak to her.’

Della hesitated a moment and then sighed. ‘I put her on the road to the glen of Eatharlaí.’

Fidelma was surprised. ‘Why there?’

‘As I have said, she was fearful of going east to Laigin. I have a cousin among the Uí Cuileann who dwell in the glen. I told her to go to Rumann the smith. I loaned her my horse and told her to go there and that he would protect her. I promised that I would send word to her when all the guests had departed from Cashel.’

‘Having just met the girl, you are very trusting, Della.’

The older woman smiled wanly. ‘In my lifetime, with my experience, lady, I have come to know people. Not their outward appearances but their inward beings. I am sure there is no harm in that girl, only fear.’

‘I hear you, Della,’ replied Fidelma grimly. ‘Nevertheless, I will have to send one of the warriors after her. The thing is, news of your guest was known by the innkeeper and if he was passed that news on …’

Della looked troubled. ‘The innkeeper was passing the house just as the poor girl was leaving. I told him that she was a friend who was staying with me but he picked up on her northern accent. Send Gormán after her, lady. My son will treat her gently.’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘Coincidence is a strange thing, Della, for not long after Sister Marga departed on that road, Gormán set out for the glen of Eatharlaí on an unrelated errand.’

The woman looked surprised but Fidelma was frowning as she considered matters.

‘The main thing now is whether Brother Drón has discovered the road on which she was travelling.’

‘He has not,’ Della offered unexpectedly. ‘A short time after the innkeeper left, this northern brother came here asking where Marga was going.’

Fidelma tried to hide her surprise. ‘He came here?’

‘The innkeeper is a blabbermouth. He had told someone and that someone told this Brother Drón. Well, he came here looking for her and I told him that she had gone. He wanted to know where.’

‘But when was this?’ Brother Drón had left the fortress in the early hours of the morning before dawn. Where had he been overnight?

‘It was about an hour or so after Sister Marga left here. After midday.’

Fidelma groaned softly. ‘That means he could catch up with her before she gets to the glen of Eatharlaí …’

She noticed that Della was smiling broadly. ‘Unlike you, lady, with your religion and your law, I am not governed by a rule that I have to tell the truth.’

Fidelma glanced at her uncertainly. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘I sent him along the road south-east to Rath na Drínne. I said that she had mentioned something about meeting someone at Ferloga’s inn there at nightfall.’

Fidelma stared at her for a moment and then her features moulded into her famous mischievous grin.

‘Well done, Della. For the first time, I approve of an untruth. I have a feeling that it will not be long before you will be enjoying the wedding feast after all. I will despatch one of the warriors to Eatharlaí while Caol and the others can find Brother Drón at Ferloga’s inn.’

For the first time in the last few days Fidelma felt relaxed and almost happy.

‘That’s Ardane!’ Gormán pointed as he led the party of riders through the woods towards the surprisingly brightly lit settlement. There were many men moving around with lighted brand torches and they were challenged several times.

‘What is happening?’ Eadulf called to Gormán as he rode alongside the silent Sister Marga. She had not spoken, since they had left the spot where they had encountered her and forced her to come with them.

‘I have no idea,’ Gormán replied. ‘There seems to be a lot of activity.’

Miach, the chief of the Uí Cuileann, was the first to come forward to greet them.

‘What is happening?’ asked Eadulf again, as he dismounted.

‘We heard that you were coming, Brother Eadulf. Brother Berrihert has explained everything. It is all arranged. We gave Ordwulf and his sons hospitality in our territory. With hospitality comes duty. Some of my men have already gone up into the mountain with Brother Berrihert to help him to build a funeral pyre.’

‘You are very generous,’ said Eadulf. ‘You realise that Ordwulf was not a Christian?’

Miach grinned. ‘Neither were my people a hundred years ago. What matter so long as a man lives a moral life and dies firm in his belief?’

Gormán nodded in approval. ‘From what I saw, Ordwulf was a warrior and deserves to be saluted by fellow warriors,’ he agreed.

‘Fidelma told me to tell you that she approves of this action,’ Eadulf added.’

‘She has a great heart.’ Miach smiled, and turned to Pecanum and Naoyan. ‘I share your grief, sons of Ordwulf. Your father was a fine warrior and I salute his spirit. We have waited here to guide you up to where the funeral pyre is prepared for your father. I have suggested it be placed not so high up but on the summit of An Starraicin, the small peak on the south side of the valley. We can ride up there on horseback.’

‘Before we do,’ Eadulf interrupted, ‘I would request a further favour. This is Sister Marga.’ He motioned to the girl. ‘She is our unwilling guest, for she is needed back in Cashel to answer questions from Fidelma. She will not go of her own accord. Therefore, until we are ready to return, I would like her to stay here, for she has no place at the funeral of Ordwulf.’

Miach looked thoughtful. ‘She will stay willingly or unwillingly?’

Eadulf looked at the girl, who raised her chin slightly but maintained a defiant silence. ‘She will remain unwillingly.’

Miach sighed and motioned to one of his men to come forward. ‘Then we shall ensure that she is here on our return.’ He issued instructions and a couple of women were summoned from one of the buildings.

‘Sister Marga, your safety will be ensured with these women until our return.’