Master of Souls (44 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

BOOK: Master of Souls
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A warship was burning in the harbour. It was tied close to the quayside. A few other merchant ships were being towed away from the quays by small craft, apparently drawing them out of harm’s way. Two more warships were stationary some way off near the entrance of the bay but they could see warriors milling about the quay. Some bodies lay nearby.
Conrí called to Fidelma to hold back while he investigated. She halted her mount reluctantly and allowed Eadulf to catch up with her, reining
his horse to a stand at her side. Together they watched Conr
trot down towards the quayside, his sword unsheathed.
A warrior came running up on foot towards him, sword in hand. But Conr
halted and seemed to greet the man. The warlord turned and waved them forward.
‘This is Tadcán, lord of Baile Tadc,’ he grinned. ‘Good news, lady. Tell her, Tadcán.’
The warrior, a broad-shouldered, well-built young man, with a shock of fair hair and a pleasant grin, saluted her.
‘It is a story that is easy in the telling, lady,’ he said. ‘We heard lord Conr
’s signal which had been arranged with Socht. We knew something was up. And we decided to pre-empt the danger by seizing Slébéne’s warship. His captain decided to fight, so we had to set fire to it. I know Slébéne of old. He doesn’t believe in fighting fair, so I decided not to give him the benefit of the doubt. I wasn’t wrong, as it turned out. There were many armed warriors waiting below decks but we bested them.
‘While we were thus engaged, along comes Slébéne with two of his warriors and a religieuse. They fell on us and so we fell on them.’
He laughed a little harshly.
‘In truth, lady, the lord of the Corco Duibhne was no great warrior, and when we had dispatched his men, especially the red-haired warrior, he seemed to go berserk in fear. He leapt for his ship’s rail from the quayside rather than surrender. He did not make it. He slipped into the harbour waters and when the tide caused the ship to nudge against the quay he was crushed between them. We hauled his body out of the waters and his men, realising their chief is dead, are even now surrendering to us.’
He jerked his thumb to the burning warship.
‘His ship is well alight and it is beyond our abilities to douse the flames.’
Conrí was smiling approvingly.
‘You have done well, Tadcán.’
Fidelma, however, was looking about with a frown as if not interested in the warrior’s report.
‘Where is Uallach?’ she demanded.
Tadcán looked bewildered.
‘Who, lady?’
‘The woman who was with Slébéne. The religieuse.’
A look of understanding crossed Tadcán’s features.
‘When we attacked her companions, she ran into one of the buildings
there.’ He pointed to one of the stone buildings that stood back from the harbour.
‘That is Mugrón’s house,’ muttered Conrí.
Already Fidelma and Eadulf had dismounted and were heading in its direction. Crying to them to be careful, Conrí also jumped from his horse and followed them. He called to Tadcán to follow him.
‘We must capture her or she will remain a rallying symbol for the Uí Fidgente dissidents,’ Fidelma told Conrí as he caught her up.
They came to the house and halted before the door.
‘Tadcán, you and Brother Eadulf go round the back,’ hissed Conrí.
Then, waiting for a few moments until he judged they had taken up their position, Conrí ran swiftly at the door and thrust against it with his foot. The door went flying from its hinges and he was inside with Fidelma at his shoulder.
The first thing they saw was Mugrón lying on the floor, his upper body propped up against a wall. Blood was spreading over one shoulder. His eyes were wide open with pain. His features were greying.
There was a crash as Tadcán and Eadulf entered through the back door. Conrí looked swiftly round in the shadows of the room. Apart from Mugrón’s body there was no sign of any other occupant.
Eadulf bent to the merchant and quickly examined the wound. ‘Painful, but he will survive. The blade has penetrated the shoulder muscle.’
The merchant licked his lips and then indicated with his head towards a closed door that led to an adjoining room. He frowned and indicated again.
Conr
raised a finger to his lips before motioning Tadcán forward. The fair-haired warrior took two swift steps and then kicked the door in.
Sister Buan, or rather Uallach, was seated in a chair, facing them. Her face had a wild-eyed, angry expression that was not pleasant to look upon. She saw Fidelma at Conri’s elbow. Her face was screwed into a picture of hatred, the eyes flashing darkly.
‘Eoghanacht bitch!’ she spat. ‘You will never take me to be a slave at Cashel!
Fidgennid go Buadh!’
Before they realised what she was doing, she had jerked in the chair, given a gasp and fallen sideways.
Eadulf pushed forward and knelt beside her.
He removed something from her lower chest. It was a tiny white bone-handled dagger.
‘Dead?’ asked Fidelma.
Eadulf felt for a heartbeat and looked up in surprise.
‘Not dead,’ he said. He turned quickly and eased the unconscious form into a more comfortable position.
‘Can you save her?’ Fidelma peered over his shoulder.
‘I can try. It looks like a clean wound. She did not make a good job of it. I don’t think the blade dug deeply enough to be mortal. I’ll do my best.’
Fidelma glanced at Conrí. ‘I didn’t understand what she shouted before she dug the knife in.’
The warlord grimaced.
‘It was
the barrán-glaed,
the old Uí Fidgente war cry — Fidgente to victory. If nothing else she believed in the Uí Fidgente.’
 
 
A
bbot Erc was looking grim as Fidelma and Eadulf filed into his chambers early the next morning. Conrí was with them. Brother Cú Mara and Sister Uallann, the physician, were already seated there. The elderly abbot waved them to the remaining seats that had been arranged before his table.
‘I have been told by Sister Uallann that Sister Buan is dead. Her death has to be accounted for, Sister Fidelma, as also the deaths of Slébéne and his men at An Bhearbha.’
There was sadness in Fidelma’s features.
‘We had hoped that Uallach, or Sister Buan, as you knew her, would have survived. We had brought her to the abbey so that she might have better attention than could be provided at An Bhearbha. Has Sister Uallann informed you of exactly what happened?’
The physician sniffed.
‘I have not explained in detail. I was about to say that when she was brought to me, I found that the initial wound was clean and had penetrated only the muscle. The woman could have survived. She did not want to.’
Abbot Erc leant forward in his seat.
‘Explain what you mean,’ he instructed with a puzzled expression.
‘I had applied medicaments, the healing poultices,’ continued the physician. ‘Buan, whatever her name was, recovered consciousness. She was in truculent mood. She was angry that she had been cheated of her death. Fidelma of Cashel, the Saxon brother and lord Conrí came to question her but that was against my advice. I remained in the room during this time and can testify to what she told them. Afterwards … well, we left the room and when I returned a moment later I found that Sister Buan
had finished the job she began. She had taken one of my surgical knives and thrust it into her heart. It would have been an instant death.’
Abbot Erc regarded her with a shocked expression.
‘When you left the room where she was confined, there were surgical knives left within her reach? Surely that was negligent when we are told that the woman had attempted to kill herself?’
Sister Uallann looked unhappy at the reprimand but Fidelma intervened quickly.
‘Sister Uallann did not realise that the woman was still intent on taking her life,’ she explained. ‘In fact, none of us realised how strong her will was.’
Abbot Erc sat back with pursed lips, thinking for a moment or two.
‘You claim that she was really Uallach, daughter of Eoganan, and was intent on becoming his
banchomarbae
— his rightful heir? You accuse her of being responsible for the death of Abbess Faife, for the abduction of the stone polishers of our community, for the murder of her own husband Cinaed, as well as all else that has followed. It is now time that we had some explanations. Are you saying that she was solely to blame for all this evil?’
‘Solely to blame?’ Fidelma paused reflectively. ‘Not solely to blame. I believe it could be argued that it was Eoganán, son of Crunmael, one time ruler of the Uí Fidgente who was the true architect of the evil that has come upon his people. His actions have conditioned the lives of his offspring and that includes Uallach. In a way, you have to feel some compassion for Uallach. Eoganán was the true “master of souls”. Despising the value of his own life in pursuit of his ambitions, he despised the value of other people’s lives, particularly those of his own offspring. He became the master of other’s lives and thereby the master of their souls. So that, even after his death, he was governing what paths in life they have taken.’
Abbot Erc grimaced in irritation.
‘Leave compassion to priests who are best able to bestow it. Your task is the law. While I will accept that Sister Buan was this woman Uallach - indeed, her actions now seem to have confirmed your accusations — I am at a total loss to understand how you came to suspect it.’
Sister Fidelma smiled sadly.
‘Before I answer that, I have to say that without compassion there can be no administration of law. I do not think you will be able to share my philosophy, Abbot Erc, therefore I will not pursue this. As to the practicalities
of the case, I think this was one of the most difficult investigations that I have ever undertaken. As I began to explain yesterday, there were various layers. But once we had discovered the prime motive then all else followed swiftly. The motive, as I told you, was to reinstate the dynasty of the Uí Choirpre Áedba. So far as we knew, Eoganan and his son Torcán had been killed during the rebellion against Cashel. His other son Uaman was dead. Eadulf had seen his death. But then we found that he appeared to have returned from the Otherworld.’
‘Even I began to question my own memory,’ confided Eadulf easily. ‘Especially when Ganicca was so sure that it was Uaman who rode with Olcán and his men.’
Fidelma glanced at him with a smile.
‘Eadulf does not imagine things. I trust when he reports that he has seen something that he has indeed seen it. So who was this wraith who rode about in Uaman’s robes? When questioned closely, none had seen the features of the wraith and that fact made me suspect that this was someone passing themselves off as Uaman.’
She paused and looked round. Seeing that she held their attention, she continued: ‘We had a lot of information, many strands, and I knew that all the strands wound their way back to this abbey. That was not only because of the death of Cinaed but because someone here had to give instructions to Olcán about the six stone polishers leaving the abbey for the pilgrimage.’
Abbot Erc interrupted with an impatient wave of his hand.
‘I followed your argument on that yesterday.’
Brother Cú Mara added: ‘I think the abbot means — how did you come to suspect Sister Buan? She had been in this abbey for years and no one suspected that she was Eoganán’s daughter.’
‘I will come to that. I was looking for the motive. When I accepted that Uaman was dead there were two possibilities. Either the person imitating Uaman was doing so because of the fear that his reputation instilled or because they were preparing the way for the reinstatement of the dynasty. Olcán made a remark in his cell which implied that Uaman was dead and that Eoganan had more than two sons. There was another who could claim to be his heir. Conrí pointed out the answer lay in the genealogy of the Uí Fidgente. And after we saw Olcán, Conrí asked the librarian for a copy …’
‘Buan was standing next to him when I asked,’ Conri recalled excitedly.
‘So that is what alerted her and she went off to eradicate the name of Uallach from it?’
To his surprise Fidelma shook her head.
‘She had already eliminated it some time before. It was when Cinaed was beginning to suspect her that he had borrowed the genealogy. She had cut her name Uallach from the book. But what she did suspect was that Conr
’s question meant that Olcán was boastful and could not be trusted. So she returned that night and stabbed him in his cell.’
There was a silence. Then Brother Cú Mara asked: ‘If the name in the genealogy was deleted how could you tell the identity of the heir?’
‘Buan had told some truth about her background. Her mother ran off with a young man, and her father sent her away to be fostered by a chieftain of the Corco Duibhne. Who would that be but Slébéne? Cáeth, the smith, who had been fostered by Slébéne, told us that Slébéne had fostered a daughter of a noble from the east. Her name was Uallach.’
Conr
smiled apologetically to Sister Uallann.
‘I mistakenly thought that Uallach was you. The similarity of the name.’
The physician cast a glance of dislike at him but made no comment.
‘I pointed out that anyone disguising his or her name would not simply change a syllable,’ Fidelma explained. ‘Anyway, although we heard that Uallach was arrogant, any ambition was killed by Eoganán’s rejection of her. So she came to Ard Fhearta and entered the abbey. After her father was killed and her brothers also, she realised that she could now claim to be a
banchomarbae
— a female heir — and strike out to claim the leadership of the Uí Fidgente. She sought and gained support from her brother’s right-hand man, Olcán, and from her foster father Slébéne.’
‘What I don’t understand is that if she was a princess of the Uí Fidgente,’ broke in the abbot, ‘why was she not acknowledged as such? Why did she enter this abbey under an assumed name.’
‘Uallach herself gave the answer. Her father rejected her when her mother left him, and sent her to fosterage with Slébéne. She had little to do with her father nor her half-brothers. Buan admitted the bitterness she felt when I first spoke to her. That bitterness now made her ambition the greater.’
‘But why did she marry the Venerable Cinaed?’ demanded Brother Cú Mara. ‘He was surely everything she detested both as a man and for his views about the Uí Fidgente.’
Fidelma assumed a wry expression.
‘In that matter, we must accept she spoke the truth. She needed Cináed’s authority and protection within the abbey. It was Cinaed, of course, who helped her. And remember this was a few years before she began to develop her ambition. But it was Cinaed who eventually began to suspect his wife. She did not love him and he found romance with Sister Sinnchéne.’
‘He had not realised her connection—’ Eadulf suddenly saw the warning glance that Fidelma gave him. He had been going to mention that Olcán was her father, and he compressed his lips firmly.
‘Eadulf was going to say that Cinaed gave her a necklet.’
Eadulf drew out the necklet that he had borrowed from Sister Sinnchéne and laid it on the table.
‘Cináed gave her this and told her to keep it safe, to let no one see it. It is evidence, he said. In fact, it was symbolic evidence because Buan had been travelling on behalf of the abbey selling the precious stones that were produced here. She had realised that this was the great source of wealth through which she could purchase, through Olcán and Slébéne, armed mercenaries to place her in power. The freedom to travel and to trade allowed her to maintain contact with Olcán.
‘Cináed had already begun to suspect that Uallach, or Buan as we know her, was involved in the precious stone business but for her own ends. I am not sure the exact evidence the necklet was to be but I am sure he found it among Buan’s things. That should have made me think about the book he had written on the sordid trade in local precious stones. He had handed that to Brother Faolchair to be copied.’
‘Ah, Cináed’s books,’ muttered Abbot Erc. ‘All his books were destroyed. What have you to say about that?’
‘Cináed had already written a book arguing against Eoganán’s reasons for making war on Cashel. It was destroyed in the Venerable Mac Faosma’s rooms. It was Buan who destroyed it because she realised that her husband had seen the genealogy and mentioned Eoganán’s third child. She found the genealogy in his rooms and so she cut her name from it
‘But Buan was unsure later whether Cinaed had made references in other books. That concern grew as I began to take an interest in his writings. I was talking to Buan when I realised that I had been concentrating on clues in the wrong book. I had thought the secrets lay in Cináed’s denouncement of Eoganán’s regime, the book she had destroyed in Mac Faosma’s chamber. It was much later that I came to realise that the book on the gem trade was more important. Eadulf and I had mentioned the
title in front of Buan. A short time later we found that all Cináed’s books in the library had been burnt. That was to prevent our search. Buan was cunning enough to realise that if she burnt the book on the gems only, suspicion would have fallen on her. She burnt them all.

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