Chalice of Blood (27 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Suspense, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: Chalice of Blood
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He strode forward with a grin spreading over his features but first he spoke to Gormán.
‘Be at peace, young cockerel. You could not teach me anything.’ Then he gazed at Fidelma for a moment more before he held out his hands. ‘It is so,’ he said quietly. ‘Fidelma of Cashel. Was I not at your wedding celebration last year?’ He glanced at Eadulf. ‘And with Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. The Saxon of whose fame is spoken of even in our tiny part of the world.’
Fidelma allowed herself to be caught in a bear hug and then Eadulf found himself similarly smothered before the chieftain swung round to his men and thundered, ‘Why are they held prisoners?’
The commander hung his head as if in shame. ‘I thought—’
‘Not clearly enough,’ bellowed his chieftain, turning back with a broad smile again. ‘Forgive us, lady.’
Fidelma did not respond to his smile but gazed evenly at him.
‘Why do you ride in a war band, Uallachán of the Uí Liatháin, when my brother’s kingdom is at peace?’ she demanded. ‘I am told you ride against Fhear Maighe?’
The big man raised one shoulder and let it fall. ‘It is true that there is a score to be settled with Cumscrad. We ride to punish him for his lies.’
‘Do you claim that you have not done so already?’ replied Fidelma. Uallachán looked uncertain. Fidelma went on, ‘We have just ridden from Fhear Maighe where I have seen the library attacked by sword and fire and it now lies in ruins with many priceless works destroyed. The librarian Dubhagan lies
dead. Several are injured. The attackers rode in under your banner. One of the attackers was killed, he was a
bánaí
. Tell me, Uallachán, what score needs to be settled?’
There was no disguising the utter astonishment on Uallachán’s face. The man was no actor and he was clearly shocked at her news.
‘My people are not responsible for this. And I have, or had, no
bánaí
riding among my warriors.’
‘Then we must discover who is responsible. The same people, under the same banner, took the barge of Muirgíos of the Fir Maige Féne and stole two valuable books from it. The blood of the Fir Maige Féne has been spilt enough.’
‘But not by us,’ protested Uallachán. ‘Let us sit awhile and you tell me the story as you know it.’
They did so and Fidelma outlined the accusations that she had heard about the Uí Liatháin. Uallachán did not interrupt but sat listening patiently. When she had finished, he shook his head slowly.
‘As Christ is my witness, lady, I know nothing of this. What would I want with such books, let alone want to destroy them? How can Cumscrad demand retribution for something I did not do? Can you not persuade Cumscrad that he must defer to the judgement of yourself and your brother?’
‘I would hope that both of you will accept such judgement,’ replied Fidelma. She sighed and then suddenly asked, ‘Do you know of a cousin of yours, Gáeth, who is currently a member of the brethren in Lios Mór?’
Uallachán looked surprised at the abrupt change of subject.
‘Gáeth, the son of Selbach of Dún Guairne?’
‘The same.’
‘His father was my cousin and found guilty of
fingal
, the kin-slaying of my uncle, who was chief before me. He was judged harshly, in my opinion, and consigned to the fate of the
wind and waves. But the night before the sentence was due to be carried out, he escaped. He took his wife and Gáeth, who was hardly more than a child. Why do you ask? What has that to do with this matter?’
‘Probably nothing at all. Yet I am interested. In law, a wife and child does not have to share the fate of the husband. They do not have to become
daer-fudir
.’
‘That is true but Selbach’s wife chose that fate. She was loyal to her husband. However, if Gáeth has become a member of the community at Lios Mór, it means that he has freed himself from that stigma.’
Fidelma look at him curiously. ‘You did not insist that even as a member of the brethren he be regarded as a
daer-fudir
and be consigned to work as a field labourer?’
Uallachán uttered a short laugh. ‘Why would I do that? I thought the punishment given to his father was harsh enough at the time. Anything else is simply revenge.’
‘You did not inform the abbot that, even if Gáeth joined the abbey, he must remain a field worker.’
‘Doesn’t the law in some place say that every dead man kills his own liabilities?’
Fidelma smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you, Uallachán. Now, let us return to this matter between you and Cumscrad. This is my condition, and I will send Gormán here back to Cumscrad with a similar condition. I want you, Brother Temnen and a chosen warrior to go to a
bruden
, a hostel, on the Rian Bó Phádraig where it crosses the Abh Beag, the little river, south of Lios Mór. Do you know the place?’
‘I do,’ said the leader of the Uí Liatháin.
‘You will wait there until I send for you to come to Lios Mór at a time when I am ready to render judgement.’
‘And is Cumscrad to be there as well? How can I stay there if Cumscrad is there?’ he protested.
‘Cumscrad will be told to wait at another place, awaiting a similar message from me. You will not know where, and he will not know where you are. I do that for the protection of you both. I will send messengers to you at the same time, asking you both to come to the abbey, freely, without prejudice and with no warrior guards apart from your single bodyguard. Is that understood?’
‘I understand the terms, lady, but not the reason.’
‘You may have to await my message for several days but it will be sent and this matter resolved. A judgement shall be made about the tensions between your peoples. I begin to realise that there is a greater judgement to be made, of which your conflict is but a smaller part, although an important part – an attempt to distract me from reaching the truth.’
 
 
I
t was Brother Echen, the keeper of the stables, who greeted them as they rode through the gates of the abbey of Lios Mór early the following morning. They had spent a night at the hostel by the Abh Beag where they had left Uallachán and his companions to wait until Fidelma was ready to call them. It was a short ride. Gormán had been sent back to Fhear Maighe to see Cumscrad and give him similar instructions. Now Brother Echen came forward and he was clearly agitated as they swung down from their horses. He began to speak excitedly even before Fidelma reached the ground.
‘Glassán, the master builder, has been killed, Sister.’
‘When?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘His body was found only a short time ago.’
‘How was he killed and where?’ Eadulf asked.
‘Where else but on the building site?’ Brother Echen replied. ‘He has just been found by the little boy, his foster-son, as the builders were coming to start work.’
Before they could question the man further, Fidelma’s name was called from across the quadrangle. They turned. Brother Lugna was striding towards them.
They left Brother Echen attending their horses.
‘I presume that Brother Echen has told you the news?’ was
Brother Lugna’s opening question. His expression registered no emotion.
‘He has. What happened?’
‘An accident. One of the stones of the building fell on him.’
‘There seems to have been too many accidents on this building site,’ Eadulf commented drily.
‘Such things happen,’ replied the steward in a terse tone.
‘Let us see where this happened.’ Fidelma turned and made for the half-finished building.
The body still lay where it had fallen. Brother Seachlann was examining it and beside him was Saor, the carpenter and assistant master builder.
Abbot Iarnla looked relieved as he spotted their approach.
‘Thanks be that you have arrived back,’ he greeted Fidelma. ‘As you see, we have yet another tragedy on our hands.’
The group stood back while Fidelma moved forward to look down at the body of Glassán, the master builder. His body lay on its back under a small doorway amidst a pile of debris. Some large blocks of stone that had been dressed were nearby. One of them was stained with blood but there was no blood on the man’s face or the front of his body.
‘He has been moved,’ Eadulf said, stating the obvious.
Brother Seachlann nodded. ‘He was lying face down. A heavy stone crushed the back of his head. I turned him on to his back to see if he had any injuries to his front. As you can see, there are none.’
‘It is sad,’ offered Saor. ‘But it seems clear what must have happened. Glassán came here to inspect the work early this morning and a loose stone fell as he was passing this wall.’ He pointed upwards to where the wall was unfinished and some dressed stones seemed not to have been placed correctly. He shook his head. ‘These accidents can sometimes happen.’
‘Sometimes?’ Eadulf’s inflection was cynical as he bent down
beside the body. Then he raised his eyes to the physician. ‘With your permission, Brother Seachlann?’
‘I have finished my examination, Brother,’ the man answered with a shrug.
Eadulf turned the corpse on to its front and examined the back of the skull. They could all see the massive injury. There was little doubt how the master builder had come by his death. To Fidelma it seemed that Eadulf spent a longer time than necessary peering at the injury before standing up. Then she saw from his expression that he had noticed something.
‘Is it all right to remove the body now?’ asked Brother Seachlann.
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf who nodded.
‘I understand the foster-son, Gúasach, found the body,’ Fidelma said. ‘I will need to have a word with him.’
‘He is being comforted by Brother Donnán in the
scriptorium
,’ Abbot Iarnla told her.
Saor was helping Brother Seachlann lift the body of the master builder in order to carry it to the
bróinbherg
.
Brother Lugna looked on, still expressionless, as the two men began to carry the body out of the debris. He muttered a swift apology to the abbot and hurried after them.
Abbot Iarnla remained, looking helpless and undecided. ‘Is there anything that I should do?’ he asked.
‘Just tell me what you know,’ Fidelma suggested. ‘I am told that it was not long ago that young Gúasach came to the site, presumably to start work. He found his foster-father here, already dead. What then?’
‘I was not witness to this, Fidelma. I was in my chamber when Brother Lugna came to tell me the news.’
‘How was Brother Lugna told?’
‘I think the boy raised the alarm with Brother Seachlann. Then a passing member of the brethren told Brother Lugna. By the time I came here with Brother Lugna, I found the physician and
Saor standing with the body. The physician had asked our
scriptor
to look after the boy. As we were contemplating the removal of the body, we saw your return to the abbey and Brother Lugna went to inform you of what had happened.’
Fidelma stood in thoughtful silence for a moment and then said, ‘Very well. You had better ensure that the brethren are not alarmed over this. A second death in the abbey will be disturbing. It would be best to carry on with your routines without interruption.’
Abbot Iarnla hesitated, a worried expression on his features.
‘You are right, of course … but surely there are no links between this accident and Brother Donnchad’s death, are there?’
Fidelma smiled as if pacifying a child. ‘What links would there be?’ she countered.
Abbot Iarnla took this as a negative and, nodding slightly, he turned and hurried off.
Fidelma looked at Eadulf. ‘What?’ she demanded.
‘He was murdered,’ Eadulf replied simply.
‘How did you make that out?’
Eadulf raised a fist and opened it. On his palm lay a number of bloodstained slivers of wood. ‘No one seemed to notice that I picked these from the wound at the back of his skull. From these splinters I would say the wood was blackthorn, which is pretty hard.’
Fidelma looked closely at the splinters.
‘Well done, Eadulf,’ she murmured, appreciatively. ‘How do you interpret the event?’
‘I believe that someone came up behind him and hit him with a stick. He has been dead some time.’
Fidelma knew that Eadulf did not just make guesses on such matters.
‘Because?’
‘The body was stiff and cold.’
‘So he came here in the dark?’
‘Certainly some time before first light.’
As he spoke, Eadulf was looking around the area where the master builder had fallen. His brow was creased in a frown of concentration.
‘What are you looking for?’ Fidelma asked patiently.
‘That!’ said Eadulf in triumph, pointing.
Just behind where she was standing was a piece of half-burnt candle and a battered holder. Eadulf looked back to where the body had been lying with its feet towards the candle.
‘I think he came here after dark,’ he said slowly. ‘Why? I suspect he came to meet someone. Whoever was waiting for him could not replicate what happened to me – it had been tried once, and Glassán might well have been on his guard. So they hit him over the head – so hard their blackthorn cudgel splintered around the skull. But I would have expected the candle he was carrying to have been flung forward by the impact of the blow, not behind him.’
Fidelma regarded him with approval. ‘Well spotted, Eadulf. How do you explain it?’
‘Having knocked him out, they pulled the body to the place where he was found. This was to ensure he was under a half-finished wall. They smeared one of the stones with his blood so that it looked as if the stone had fallen and killed him. But they forgot the candle.’
‘How can you be sure they moved the body?’
He examined the area just behind her and pointed without comment.
Fidelma saw that there were little spots of blood on the debris there and one tiny almost dried-up pool.
‘In the dark, the killer did not manage to clean up all the evidence.’ Eadulf paused. ‘It seems clear that the attack on me was intended for Glassán. But when I held up the candle
and was recognised, one of the killers pushed me out of the way of the falling stone.’
Fidelma nodded in agreement. ‘There had to be two killers to accomplish that.’
‘There were probably two attackers this time as well.’
‘And don’t forget that we have heard of other so-called accidents. These must all have been attempts to kill Glassán. After the last one, where you were nearly killed, the attackers probably gave up the idea of trying to make it look like an accident. They must have made sure he was killed first and then fixed things later to seem like an accident.’ She looked around and then said, ‘Let us have a word with the boy.’
‘I can’t see the connection between Glassán and Donnchad,’ Eadulf said as he fell in step with her.
‘Perhaps there isn’t,’ Fidelma replied.
‘But it would surely be a curious coincidence.’
‘Coincidence defeats a well-laid plan, Eadulf,’ Fidelma remarked.
Eadulf thrust out his lower lip as he pondered this.
‘I am inclined to think that the reason might lie in the master builder’s reputation. Wherever a man goes, his character goes with him.’
Fidelma smiled at him but said nothing.
Brother Donnán met them at the door of the
scriptorium
with a sad face.
‘Have you come to see the boy?’ he asked, as they came up the steps into the building.
‘Is he able to answer some questions?’ asked Fidelma.
‘He is young but he is strong. However, it was a shock for him and he is far from home.’
‘Thank you for looking after him, Brother Donnán,’ she answered. ‘Where is he?’
The
scriptor
indicated a spot at the far end of the library
where the boy was seated, staring before him. He held a mug in his hand, which he was regarding morosely.
‘I thought, in the circumstances, a little wine might help to ease his distress,’ muttered Brother Donnán.
Fidelma walked to where Gúasach sat. Eadulf followed with Brother Donnán.
‘Hello, Gúasach,’ she said as the boy looked up at her approach.
‘Hello, Sister,’ he replied, his voice firm.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I do not know. I have been in fosterage to Glassán for three years. He was not a nice person. He did not treat me well but he was my legal fosterer and instructor. What am I to do now?’
Fidelma drew up a small stool and sat by the boy.
‘Before you tell me all you know of this morning, let me assure you that you must not worry about that. You will be looked after. Now, what can you tell me about finding Glassán?’
‘Not much to tell,’ replied the boy. ‘I rose at the usual time, at first light. I came to the abbey to make sure all was prepared for the day’s work. That is what I usually did.’
‘You live in the workers’ cabins outside the abbey walls, don’t you?’
‘By the riverside,’ he confirmed.
‘And Glassán lived in the guesthouse in the abbey. So you would not have seen him until you came to the site. Isn’t that unusual for a foster-child?’
The boy shrugged. ‘I would not know. It was the way things were. Glassán always treated me as one of his workers and told me what work I should do. It was the others who taught me their skills when they had time.’
The corner of Fidelma’s mouth turned down in disapproval. It was not the custom of fosterage. The foster-child usually became part of the fosterer’s family, lived, ate and slept with
them as one of them and was given their education with them. It seemed Glassán simply treated the boy as one of his workforce from whom he expected a day’s work as well as the fee from the boy’s father for his training.
‘So you came to the abbey at first light. Did you see anyone about?’
‘Brother Echen was up and cleaning the stables,’ the boy said. ‘He is usually up first and he opens the gates of the abbey. The ugly brother was coming through the gates at the same time.’
‘The ugly brother?’ queried Fidelma.
‘He has a name like “wind” or something similar.’
She frowned.
‘He means Brother Gáeth,’ interpreted Brother Donnán. Fidelma smiled as she suddenly realised the connection. The name Gáeth actually meant ‘clever’ or ‘wise’, where as
gáith
meant ‘wind’.
‘Was anyone else about?’

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