Chalice of Blood (17 page)
Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Suspense, #Medieval Ireland
Eadulf swung off his bed. He would take a look at that ladder lying by the new building. He would at least see if it was long
enough to reach Brother Donnchad’s cell. He would do it now. He would not wait until morning, as he did not want Fidelma to know that he had not accepted her dismissal of the idea. If he could argue from knowledge then …
enough to reach Brother Donnchad’s cell. He would do it now. He would not wait until morning, as he did not want Fidelma to know that he had not accepted her dismissal of the idea. If he could argue from knowledge then …
Impatiently he lit the candle at his bedside with his
tenlach-teined
, the tinderbox with its steel and flint. Eadulf had, over the years, become more adept at creating the
tenlam
, or hand-fire, as it was called, for he had taken instruction from Gormán. Warriors prided themselves on being able to create a fire by means of steel, flint and tinder faster than most people. It was part of their training. Eadulf pulled on his robes and sandals and, taking the lantern, made his way quickly and silently down to the abbey courtyard. The dark shadows of the abbey were shrouded in silence. Here and there he saw the flicker of lamps that were kept burning all night by the main gates and outside the doors of the main buildings.
tenlach-teined
, the tinderbox with its steel and flint. Eadulf had, over the years, become more adept at creating the
tenlam
, or hand-fire, as it was called, for he had taken instruction from Gormán. Warriors prided themselves on being able to create a fire by means of steel, flint and tinder faster than most people. It was part of their training. Eadulf pulled on his robes and sandals and, taking the lantern, made his way quickly and silently down to the abbey courtyard. The dark shadows of the abbey were shrouded in silence. Here and there he saw the flicker of lamps that were kept burning all night by the main gates and outside the doors of the main buildings.
Eadulf peered around, judging his bearings and checking to see if anyone was about, but all was quiet. The moon was now sheltering behind clouds. He was thankful for the light of the lantern. He made his way quickly across the quadrangle, wishing his leather sandals did not slap so noisily on the stone flags. The splashing fountain appeared to provide a muffle to his footsteps. It seemed that the entire abbey and its occupants were blissfully asleep. Not even the lonely cry of a distant wolf outside the abbey gates seemed to disturb their slumber. As he passed the library building and reached the building site, the clouds parted and a nearly full moon provided an ethereal light. The stone walls of the lower part of the building had been built to window level; the windows needed lintels to cap them before the walls could rise higher. But the main door seemed to have its lintel in place although it appeared to be at a curious angle.
Eadulf paused and listened. He thought he had heard a sound.
But it was only an owl perched somewhere in the wooden framework above him.
But it was only an owl perched somewhere in the wooden framework above him.
Eadulf looked around, trying to locate the ladder. He could not see it and moved forward, towards the doorway. Then he heard a creaking noise, a rasp of moving stone. As lifted his lantern to identify the sound, he heard a loud gasp behind him and something slammed into his back. It was such a force that the lantern flew from his hand and he was flung forward. His head smashed against something solid and unyielding. There was a moment of bright light and then utter blackness.
W
hen Eadulf swam reluctantly back to consciousness, his head was pounding with pain. He registered that it was daylight and realised that he was lying on a bed and someone was bending over him. A voice he could not identify said, ‘Ah, good. How do you feel?’
hen Eadulf swam reluctantly back to consciousness, his head was pounding with pain. He registered that it was daylight and realised that he was lying on a bed and someone was bending over him. A voice he could not identify said, ‘Ah, good. How do you feel?’
Eadulf’s mouth was dry and he tried to lick his lips. His voice was a rasping whisper.
‘Like a building has fallen on me.’
‘Do you know who you are?’
‘Eadulf.’ He had no hesitation. ‘Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’
‘Do you know who I am?’
He peered up at the man. The face swam into focus and he recognised it.
‘You are the physician … Brother Seachlann.’
‘Excellent. Now, there is something I want you to drink that will make you feel better.’
‘Where am I?’ he asked, easing himself up. He was not in the bed in the guesthouse. There was a pungent smell of herbs in this place.
‘This is the
bróinbherg
, our little hospital in the abbey.’ The word meant ‘house of sorrow’, the name often given to hospitals.
bróinbherg
, our little hospital in the abbey.’ The word meant ‘house of sorrow’, the name often given to hospitals.
‘How did I get here?’
‘You ask too many questions. Come, drink this down, it will help ease your headache.’
‘What is it?’ asked Eadulf suspiciously, as a small cup was held beneath his nose. Its odour was pungent.
Brother Seachlann frowned for a moment. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘you were trained at Tuaim Brecain. This is
deoch suain
, a sleeping draught that is an infusion of valerian mixed with wild mint and rosemary.’
deoch suain
, a sleeping draught that is an infusion of valerian mixed with wild mint and rosemary.’
Eadulf allowed Brother Seachlann to hold the cup to his lips. He knew it was the sort of medication that was prescribed for a bad headache.
As he lay back, he realised his forehead was bandaged. He raised a hand uncertainly to it as the physician stood up from where he had been perched on the side of the bed.
‘What happened to me?’
‘I made a paste of comfrey root and spread it over the abrasion on your forehead. It should heal in a few days.’
‘I meant, how did it happen? How did I get here?’
‘I brought you here.’
At that moment, the door burst open and Fidelma came in, her face drawn and anxious. She hurried to Eadulf’s side.
‘I’ve just heard. Are you all right?’
Eadulf managed a lopsided grin. ‘
Non omnis mortar
,’ he joked. He could not remember where the line came from. It meant, ‘I shall not wholly die.’
Non omnis mortar
,’ he joked. He could not remember where the line came from. It meant, ‘I shall not wholly die.’
Fidelma made an impatient sound and asked, ‘What happened?’
‘I was just asking Brother Seachlann the same question. I have no idea.’
She turned to the physician. Brother Seachlann placed the cup he was holding on a nearby table.
‘I cannot tell you much. I was passing by the new building, the incomplete one. It was late last night. I heard a moaning
sound. I went towards the sound. I couldn’t see much even though I had a lantern. I almost tripped over Brother Eadulf, who was lying in the rubble. It looked as though he had tripped and struck his forehead, for there was blood on it. The fall had knocked the senses from him. Having checked that he had not broken any bones, I lifted him up and carried him here, dressed his wound and put him to bed. As soon as it was light, I sent a message to Brother Máel Eoin to inform you.’
sound. I went towards the sound. I couldn’t see much even though I had a lantern. I almost tripped over Brother Eadulf, who was lying in the rubble. It looked as though he had tripped and struck his forehead, for there was blood on it. The fall had knocked the senses from him. Having checked that he had not broken any bones, I lifted him up and carried him here, dressed his wound and put him to bed. As soon as it was light, I sent a message to Brother Máel Eoin to inform you.’
Fidelma looked at Eadulf. His eyes were closing but he was breathing regularly. Seeing her anxious look, the physician said, ‘That will be the effect of the infusion that I gave him. He will sleep and when he wakes again his headache should be gone.’
‘Why didn’t you send for me earlier? It was only a short time ago that the hosteller woke me with this news. You say Eadulf has been here all night?’
‘I could not leave him in case of complications,’ protested the physician. ‘It was best to stay with him. It was only moments ago that he recovered consciousness. It would have served no purpose to rouse you in the middle of the night. Better only one person should lose a night’s sleep than several.’
It made sense to Fidelma but it was frustrating that she could not question Eadulf immediately. She knew it was unlike him to go wandering about without informing her and he was certainly not one prone to accidents.
At that moment Gormán entered, looking anxious.
‘I heard …’ His eyes went to Eadulf lying on the bed. ‘Is he … ?’
Fidelma turned to the physician without answering the warrior. ‘Are you sure he is out of danger now?’
Brother Seachlann shrugged. ‘The physician who says he is sure of anything is a physician to be wary of. When Brother Eadulf wakes he should be fine apart from a bruise and a gash on the forehead which he needs to keep bound for a few days.’
‘Then if Gormán will stay with Eadulf, perhaps you will show me the spot where you found him.’
Brother Seachlann looked surprised. ‘For what purpose?’
‘For my own satisfaction,’ Fidelma replied firmly.
Brother Seachlann led the way across to the site. One or two men already at work regarded them with curiosity. The physician halted and pointed to a spot close to the supporting columns of a door. There was no lintel on it; the lintel stone was lying on the ground close by, ready to be hoisted into place.
‘I found him lying there, by that wooden post,’ the physician said.
Fidelma moved forward and inspected the thick wooden post beyond. There was a dark discoloration on it. She licked the tip of her finger and ran it over the stain.
‘Dried blood,’ she muttered. ‘So this is what Eadulf encountered with his forehead.’
‘He must have tripped and hit his head,’ suggested the physician. ‘A place like this is dangerous in the darkness.’
‘Well, one thing is certain,’ Fidelma replied, ‘he did not walk up to the post and bang his own head against it.’
‘Hey! Be careful!’ They turned at the shouted warning to find Glassán hurrying towards them with Saor, his assistant, at his side. ‘What are you doing there? It is dangerous to wander around a building site like this.’
‘That has already been discovered,’ Fidelma replied drily.
Glassán spotted the lintel. ‘What happened there?’ he demanded. ‘Surely that was secure and in place when we finished work last evening.’
Saor looked uncomfortable. ‘I swear it was. Maybe it was not fitted properly.’
‘Even so, it would need a push to get it off its resting place,’ Fidelma observed, looking thoughtfully at the door supports.
Glassán glanced at the lintel and then at her.
‘What do you mean?’ he demanded. ‘Pushed off?’ There was a note of unease in his voice.
‘It could have fallen down,’ Saor suggested as he examined it.
‘It seems Brother Eadulf tripped over something last night. Perhaps that stone,’ suggested the physician.
Glassán’s bewilderment increased.
‘Brother Seachlann found Brother Eadulf last evening,’ Fidelma explained. ‘He was lying unconscious at this spot. It seems he tripped and knocked himself out on that wooden post there.’
Glassán’s face paled; his jaw muscles tightened. Then he turned to Saor. ‘Better be about the work. There is much to do to refit this lintel.’ When Saor had left, he turned, licking his lips nervously. ‘How is your husband, lady?’
‘He is recovering,’ intervened the physician. ‘He has a bad gash on the forehead and a headache. Nothing more. Now I should like to get back to my patient.’
Fidelma dismissed him with a motion of her hand.
‘What was Brother Eadulf doing here last night?’ Glassán asked. ‘I am truly sorry to hear that he has been hurt but I must point out that I cannot be held responsible for anyone entering a building site without permission and injuring themselves.’
‘No one is accusing anyone of culpability just yet. We do not know the facts and will not know them until Eadulf has recovered enough to tell us.’
The master builder hesitated. Then he said quickly, ‘Just so, just so. Well, there is much to be done.’
Fidelma continued to examine the scene carefully. When she had seen everything she wanted to see, she finally turned and picked her way from the area of the doorway. Glassán followed her. As they came to the edge of the new building, she saw the young boy, Gúasach, hurrying round the corner. He saw them and smiled a greeting to Fidelma and then spoke to Glassán. ‘Good morning,
aite
. Where am I to work this morning?’
aite
. Where am I to work this morning?’
Fidelma gazed at him in surprise. The term
aite
was one that denoted foster-father.
aite
was one that denoted foster-father.
Glassán answered gruffly, telling him to report to Saor. The lad nodded, turned and hurried off across the building works.
‘You have young workers here, Glassán,’ commented Fidelma.
‘The boy is my
dalta,
my apprentice, under fosterage,’ the master builder replied. ‘In another six years he may be able to leave fosterage and start a career of his own in this art.’
dalta,
my apprentice, under fosterage,’ the master builder replied. ‘In another six years he may be able to leave fosterage and start a career of his own in this art.’
‘Has he been with you long?’
‘Since he was seven, as the law prescribed.’
Most male children were sent away to fosterage, or
altram
, between the ages of seven and seventeen, when they reached the
togu aismir
, the age of maturity, when they had full responsibility under the law. ‘Fosterage’ was a keystone of society and practised in all the Five Kingdoms since remote times and by all social ranks. Fosterage in this context denoted education, since the fosterers were supposed to teach their charges the skills necessary for their adult life. Some were fostered for affection, usually because they were kin, and some for payment determined by law, depending on what class and degree the child was.
altram
, between the ages of seven and seventeen, when they reached the
togu aismir
, the age of maturity, when they had full responsibility under the law. ‘Fosterage’ was a keystone of society and practised in all the Five Kingdoms since remote times and by all social ranks. Fosterage in this context denoted education, since the fosterers were supposed to teach their charges the skills necessary for their adult life. Some were fostered for affection, usually because they were kin, and some for payment determined by law, depending on what class and degree the child was.
‘He seems a bright boy. Is he a relative?’
‘I am paid an
iarraith
, a fee, for his fosterage,’ Glassán said shortly. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, lady.’
iarraith
, a fee, for his fosterage,’ Glassán said shortly. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, lady.’
Fidelma nodded and turned to make her way back to Brother Seachlann’s little hospital. Gormán was still there, sitting anxiously by Eadulf’s bedside; the physician was mixing some potion at the table.
‘I doubt if he will be awake before midday,’ the physician said as she entered. ‘Better to let him sleep naturally and deeply. Do not worry. I shall take care of him. After a good sleep he will be able to go back to his own
cubiculum
this evening.’
cubiculum
this evening.’
Fidelma motioned to Gormán to accompany her and left the physician with Eadulf.
‘Have you found out what happened?’ asked the warrior.
‘Only that something took him to the building site last night, that he tripped and hit his head on a post, knocking himself unconscious.’
They were making their way across the quadrangle when Abbot Iarnla came hurrying across to them.
‘I have just been told of Brother Eadulf’s accident. Terrible! Terrible!’ The elderly abbot was distraught. ‘How is he?’
‘Your physician tells us that he will make a good recovery after rest. There are no bones broken,’ replied Fidelma.
‘
Deo gratias
,’ intoned the abbot. ‘But how did it happen? I am told he was on the building site in the middle of the night.’
Deo gratias
,’ intoned the abbot. ‘But how did it happen? I am told he was on the building site in the middle of the night.’
‘Who told you?’
‘Brother Lugna. I think he was told by Brother Máel Eoin.’
She was about to speak again when she saw Brother Lugna himself approaching.
‘I am distressed to hear the news of Brother Eadulf. I trust he is recovering well,’ he greeted them. His voice was entirely without emotion.
‘He is,’ Abbot Iarnla replied impatiently before Fidelma could respond.
‘That is good,’ Brother Lugna replied, still looking at Fidelma. ‘But what was he doing at that place in the middle of the night? Doesn’t he understand that it is dangerous to be wandering about such a construction site?’
Abbot Iarnla nodded in agreement. ‘That is just what I was asking.’
‘We think that Eadulf was looking for something and fell, that’s all.’
Brother Lugna was puzzled. ‘Looking for something? In the middle of the night and on the building site?’
‘I can only say that Eadulf had good reason to be there.’ She felt compelled to defend Eadulf. ‘You must indulge us while we investigate.’
‘I fail to see what stumbling about the new buildings in the middle of the night has to do with the death of Brother Donnchad.’ Brother Lugna’s tone was critical.
‘By time everything is revealed,’ smiled Fidelma, airing the old proverb.
Brother Lugna seemed about to speak further but then compressed his lips into a thin line and turned away.
Abbot Iarnla looked anxiously after him. ‘I hope you will be able to come to some conclusions soon, Fidelma.’
‘One cannot hurry truth, Abbot Iarnla,’ she replied in a philosophical tone. ‘There is more to be done and more to be asked.’
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