Our Lady of Darkness (27 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

BOOK: Our Lady of Darkness
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‘He knew your views on the Penitentials?’
‘We discussed such matters long into the night. With all modesty, I converted him to my ideas.’
‘Really? You must be a powerful advocate,’ observed Fidelma.
‘It is not surprising. Abbot Noé is a very progressive man. He shared my idea of a kingdom ruled by the Penitentials and we spoke of how he could become spiritual adviser to young Fianamail. To be adviser and
confessor would give him influence in the matter.’
‘So Abbot Noé suddenly developed this ambition. How was it that you were made his successor at Fearna when custom dictated that an abbot or abbess must be elected in the same manner as a chieftain or any other leader – that the candidate must be chosen from the
fine
or family of the previous abbot meaning either his community or his blood kin – and be elected by the
derbhfine
?’
Abbess Fainder flushed and said nothing.
‘Your sister says that your family has no relationship with Noé’s family or with his religious community at Fearna. Thus ecclesiastical organisation reflects the civil organisation of this land.’
‘The sooner that is changed, the better,’ snapped the abbess.
‘In that regard, I might agree. The offices of bishops and abbots should not be kept in the same family for generations. But in dealing with the reality, how did Noé secure your election to the office?’
Abbess Fainder compressed her lips for a moment and then said, in a tight voice, ‘He dropped hints that I was a distant cousin and no one dared question Noé’s wishes.’
‘Not even the
rechtaire,
the stewardess of the abbey? She must have known the truth. She is related to the King’s family.’
The abbess grimaced, implying dismissal of Sister Étromma.
‘She is a simple soul, content merely on running the business of the abbey.’
Fidelma gave the abbess a long, searching look.
‘The reality was that you converted Noé by becoming his mistress, isn’t that it?’
Her sharp, unexpected question caught the abbess off guard and her flushed face confirmed the answer to the question. Fidelma shook her head sadly.
‘It is not my concern how the religious of Laigin govern their communities but how it impinges in the case of Eadulf. Does Forbassach know of your real relationship with Noé?’
‘He knows,’ whispered the abbess.
‘As the Brehon of this kingdom, the bishop seems to accept a lot of bending of the law.’
‘I am not aware of Bishop Forbassach breaking or bending the law,’ protested the abbess.
‘I think that you are
well
aware of it! Forbassach is also your lover, isn’t that the truth of it?’
The abbess was silent for a moment, not sure how to answer and then she said defensively, ‘I thought I loved Noé until I came here and met Forbassach. Anyway, there is no rule of celibacy in the Church.’
‘True enough, save for those rules which you claim to follow. Your curious triangle is a matter for your own conscience as well as for the wife of Forbassach. I know him to be married. She must consider whether this relationship is grounds for divorce or whether she will meekly accept the situation. Does Noé know about Forbassach?’
‘No!’ Abbess Fainder was scarlet with mortification. ‘I have been trying to break with him but …’
‘It is difficult after he has made you abbess?’ Fidelma was cynical.
‘I love Forbassach.’ She was almost defiant.
‘But it will present a pretty scandal, especially among those who proclaim the cause of Rome and the Penitentials. As a matter of interest, why did you refuse to acknowledge Daig as your brother-in-law or Deog as your sister, come to that? I cannot believe it was a matter of protecting your social rank.’
‘I visited Deog regularly,’ Fainder protested.
‘True, but in secret and because her cabin was a quiet place where you could meet with Forbassach.’
‘You have already answered the question yourself. You would not understand because you have always had social rank. When you do not have it and manage to obtain it, you will do anything –
anything —
to defend what you have gained.’
Fidelma heard the vehemence in her voice.
‘Anything?’ she mused. ‘It occurs to me that Daig’s death was convenient in protecting your rank.’
‘It was an accident. A drowning.’
‘I presume you knew that he was only a witness against Brother Ibar because of Gabrán’s word alone? It seems that the more he thought about the matter, the less sure he was about Ibar’s guilt?’
Abbess Fainder seemed perplexed as Fidelma sprang from one subject to another.
‘That is not so. It was Daig who caught Brother Ibar.’
‘But only after Gabrán had told Daig that Ibar was guilty. Did Gabrán tell Daig the truth? And why, once Daig had made his deposition, did he so conveniently get killed?’
Fainder’s face was drawn in anger now.
‘It was an accident. He was drowned – I have told you. Nor has the matter anything to do with me.’
‘Perhaps Daig could have cast more light on the matter. We don’t know. And now another person who could have told us more about this business is also dead.’ She gestured towards Gabrán’s cabin.
Abbess Fainder stood up, facing Fidelma. She seemed to be trying to recover something of her old arrogance.
‘I do not know what you mean nor what you imply,’ she said coldly. ‘I only know that you are trying to exonerate your Saxon friend. You are trying to accuse me and implicate Bishop Forbassach because we are lovers.’
‘It would seem,’ interrupted Fidelma evenly, ‘that, whatever is going on at Fearna, people have a habit of either being killed or disappearing. I would think about that, if I were as innocent as you claim to be.’
Abbess Fainder stood staring at Fidelma with wide, dark eyes. Her face had grown pale. She took a step forward and, as she opened her mouth, a shrill cry of terror echoed from the woods on the bank.
For a moment both the abbess and Fidelma froze with uncertainty. The shriek, a shrill feminine scream, echoed once more.
Fidelma turned towards the bank, where she could see a small figure running through the trees. It seemed to be running blindly for it burst onto the bank and came to an abrupt halt, as if realising that the river barred the way. Then it twisted like a snipe, weaving and ducking and was away as fast as it could go.
‘Enda! Quick!’ cried Fidelma, running forward to the shore.
She had recognised the figure as a wisp of a girl, bedraggled and barefooted.
Enda plunged forward from his vantage position, which had been near to the spot where the girl had emerged out of the bushes; he was able to overtake her with ease. Within a few strides he was able to grab the girl by one of her thin arms and twist her around, sobbing, crying and beating vainly at him with her free hand.
Fidelma had already leapt onto the wooden jetty and she ran to Enda’s aid.
As she reached his side she was aware of horses breaking through the trees and bushes along the pathway behind. She turned and found herself staring up at the surprised faces of Bishop Forbassach and Mel, the warrior, as they pulled rein on their snorting mounts.
She turned back to the dishevelled form in front of her.
‘They’ve been after me! Don’t let them kill me! Oh please, don’t let them kill me!’ screamed the girl. She was not much more than thirteen years old.
‘Don’t struggle then,’ Fidelma said soothingly. ‘We will not hurt you.’
‘They’ll kill me!’ the girl was sobbing. ‘They want to kill me!’
Fidelma was aware that Abbess Fainder had joined her for she felt her presence at her shoulder.
The abbess’s voice was shocked. ‘It is Sister Fial,’ she breathed. ‘We have been looking for you, Sister.’
Fidelma took in the bedraggled appearance of the young girl.
‘Your dress is soaked,’ she observed. ‘Have you been swimming in the river?’
 
It had taken Eadulf and his two charges a considerable time to cross the hills; it was perhaps too generous to call them mountains for only a couple of them rose above four hundred metres. The problem was not the height but the bare, rocky countryside and the fact that the young girls were weak from their ordeal. Eadulf himself, after weeks of incarceration in a cell, and in spite of his attempts to keep fit, was also not in the best physical condition. They had to pause frequently for rest on their upward journey.
They had journeyed north, heading to the north-east end of the mountain range and then turned to continue their journey south-west. Eadulf could see the tall shadow of the Yellow Mountain in the distance and was confirmed in his plan that the main hope of passing the night in any degree of comfort and without inviting exposure was to follow Dalbach’s advice and find sanctuary in the small religious settlement dedicated to the Blessed Brigid of Kildare, on the southern slopes. But the afternoon hours were speeding. It would be a long trek and one which would not be accomplished before nightfall.
Dego arrived back at the boat, in the company of Coba and several of his warriors, within minutes of the surprise emergence of Fial and her pursuers. Coba suggested that everyone should return to the comfort of his fortress at Cam Eolaing to discuss events. Fidelma had not been able to extract any sense from the still hysterical Fial nor from Bishop Forbassach and Mel, who suddenly seemed disinclined to explain themselves. The abbess had likewise grown quiet. Fidelma was undecided but Dego pointed out that the day was drawing on and it would soon be dark. The decision seemed to have been made for her.
Among Coba’s men were warriors who knew the river well and they volunteered to bring Gabrán’s boat downstream to the jetty below the fortress of Cam Eolaing. Two of the chieftain’s men, together with Enda, took charge of the horses and rode back with them while Fidelma, with the others, took her place on the boat.
‘When we reach your fortress, Coba,’ Fidelma told the chieftain, ‘I will examine these people in an attempt to find out what has happened. As a magistrate of the country, I think it would be fitting that you sat with me as the local representative.’
Bishop Forbassach, overhearing, immediately raised objections.
‘Coba is no longer qualified to sit as a magistrate,’ he complained tersely. ‘In helping your Saxon friend escape, he lost his authority. You were there at the inn when I told him so.’
‘Loss of rank must be pronounced and confirmed by the King,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Has Fianamail formally stripped Coba of his rank as
bó-aire
?’
Bishop Forbassach seemed irritated.
‘The King had gone hunting with Abbot Noé in the northern hills when I went to see him about the matter of Coba’s abuse of the law over the Saxon.’
‘So, at this time, until Fianamail returns from hunting, Coba remains the
bó-aire
of this district, is that correct?’
Bishop Forbassach’s look was contemptuous.
‘Not in my eyes. I am Brehon of Laigin.’
‘In the eyes of the law, Coba is still magistrate while you are too closely involved in this matter, Forbassach. He will sit with me while I make my examination.’
Coba’s glance at Forbassach and the abbess contained not a little triumph in it.
‘I shall do so willingly, Sister. There seems some collusion here.’
‘We will discuss it at Cam Eolaing,’ Fidelma assured him.
It was growing dark when the boat nudged against the wooden jetty below the fortress of Cam Eolaing. Torches had to be lit to illuminate the way up the track from the river to the gates of Coba’s fortress. A small group of the chieftain’s retainers had gathered once they heard that he was returning and that a body was being carried among his party. They grouped anxiously around the gates, concerned that someone from Coba’s household had been killed.
Coba, leading the party to the fortress, halted briefly to identify the dead man to them. There was a murmur of surprise when they learnt it was Gabrán.
‘Back to your duties now,’ called their chieftain. ‘Light the hall fires for my guests and prepare refreshments,’ he instructed the house steward. Then, to the stable lads: ‘Take the horses and see to their needs.’ To those carrying Gabrán’s body: ‘Put that in the chapel.’
With half-a-dozen concise orders, Coba had organised an adequate reception for his guests, unwilling and willing. It was only after they had been washed, fed and rested, that they were called into the hall of Coba, where a fire blazed in the hearth and brand torches illuminated all the dark recesses.
Coba took his chair of office while Fidelma was offered a chair at his side.
She looked down at the expectant faces of Abbess Fainder, Mel, Enda and Dego, and the sullen, huddled figure of the girl named Fial. Then she frowned and glanced quickly round.
‘Bishop Forbassach? Where is he?’ She caught a gleam in Abbess Fainder’s eyes.
Coba had turned to his chief warrior and the man hurriedly left the room.
Fidelma fixed Abbess Fainder with a cold stare.
‘It would be easier for all of us if you told us where Forbassach has gone.’
‘You presume that I know?’ sneered the abbess.
‘I know that you do,’ replied Fidelma confidently.
‘I have done nothing wrong,’ replied Abbess Fainder, her jaw coming up aggressively. ‘I refuse to accept the lawfulness of being held here and being questioned by you or the
bó-aire
of Cam Eolaing. Coba has shown himself to be my enemy. I am held here against my will.’
Fidelma saw from the set of her features that she was not going to get anywhere with the abbess.
‘My men will search the fortress, Sister,’ Coba assured her. ‘We will find him.’
It was then that Coba’s chief warrior returned to the hall and came straight to Coba.
‘Bishop Forbassach has left the fortress!’
Coba looked startled. ‘I posted a guard on the gate with strict instructions that no one was to leave unless I or Sister Fidelma said so. How can this be? Were my orders not obeyed?’
The man grimaced awkwardly. ‘They were not, my chieftain. The gate stands open and Forbassach has taken a horse. Someone who saw him leave – they did not know that he had no permission to do so and so cannot be blamed – they saw him ride towards Fearna.’
Coba swore violently.
‘
Aequo animo,
’ murmured Fidelma, reprovingly.
‘My mind is calm,’ snapped Coba. ‘Where is the guard who was at the gate? Where is he who let Bishop Forbassach through? Bring him to me!’
‘He is gone also,’ muttered the warrior.
Coba was puzzled. ‘Gone? Who is this warrior who dares disobey me?’
‘The man is called Dau. He has a bandaged head.’
Coba was suddenly thoughtful. ‘The same man who was knocked unconscious when the Saxon fled from here this morning?’
‘That is he.’
‘Is it also known in which direction this man Dau has fled?’ intervened Fidelma.
‘The person who saw the bishop riding towards Fearna observed that another man rode with him, Sister,’ the warrior replied. ‘Doubtless, that was Dau. They have fled together.’
‘Bishop Forbassach was not fleeing,’ the abbess laughed scornfully. ‘He rides to Fearna in order to bring the King and his warriors back
here to make an end to your treachery, Coba, and an end to the false accusations of this friend of the Saxon murderer!’
 
‘I am cold and hungry. I do not feel well. Can’t we stop for a while?’
The complaint came from the young girl, Conna.
Eadulf drew to a halt and peered back to where the girl was lagging behind him and Muirecht in the gloom which was quickly descending over the mountain.
‘This is too exposed – without shelter, Conna,’ he replied. ‘We must reach the religious community before nightfall or soon after. If we halt here, we will freeze to death.’
‘I can’t go on. My legs are giving out.’
Eadulf gritted his teeth. He knew that they were now on the southern slopes of the Yellow Mountain and must surely be near the sanctuary of which Dalbach had spoken. If they halted they would never get started again and, out here on the windy unprotected slopes of the mountain, they might soon perish of cold.
‘We will continue a little further. We cannot be far off now. I thought I saw a wooded area down on the lower slopes a while ago when the sun was out. We will head in that direction. At least, if we don’t find the religious settlement, then we will have some protection in the woods. We might even be able to get a fire going.’
‘I can’t move!’ wailed the young girl.
‘Leave her,’ muttered Muirecht. ‘I am cold and hungry too but I do not want to die this night.’
Eadulf was about to rebuke her for her callousness but decided to save his breath. He turned and walked back to where Conna had sunk to a seat on a boulder.
‘If you can’t walk,’ he said firmly, ‘I must carry you.’
The girl gazed up at him uncertainly. Then she bowed her head and rose unsteadily from her perch.
‘I will try to go on a little further,’ she conceded in a grumbling tone.
It was a long time before the stretch of trees appeared over a sinewy shoulder of the mountain, a gloomy dark outline, no more. It was not far off and Eadulf could see nothing beyond its dim vista which seemed to merge with the slope of the mountains.
‘Come on!’ Eadulf said. ‘It will not be far now.’
They trudged on, the younger girl whimpering to herself now and then, the older one silent and angry.
The woods, when they reached them, were scarcely inviting in their dusk-shrouded blackness. Eadulf had trouble keeping to the track which led through them. Yet the fact that he had come on a well-used track was a good sign; it must mean that this was the way to the religious settlement. Nightfall came rapidly and there was no moon to light the way for the sky was cloudy and heavy.
After a while Eadulf sensed the thinning of the trees: they had emerged into open country again. The track split in two and it was lucky that he had his eyes to the ground trying to decipher which direction it would be best to take, otherwise he would have missed the fact that the path was diverging.
Muirecht suddenly gave a cry. ‘Look! There is a light down there. Look, Saxon, below us!’
Eadulf raised his head. The girl was right. Some way down the darkened slope he could see the flicker of a light. Was it a fire or perhaps it was a lantern?
‘There is another light just above us,’ Conna pointed out peevishly.
Eadulf turned in surprise and peered through the darkness in the opposite direction. Above them he saw the faint light of a dancing lantern. It was closer than the lights below. He made a decision.
‘We will go up towards that light.’
‘It would be easier to go down,’ protested Muirecht.
‘And further to return here if we are wrong,’ replied Eadulf logically. ‘We will go up.’
He began to lead the way up the path towards the flickering light. It was further than he thought but at last they came to a flat area with several buildings, surrounded by walls, emerging from the darkness. A lantern hung above the gates and an iron crucifix was fixed to them marking the purpose for which the buildings were used.
Eadulf gave a sigh of relief. At last they had found the religious sanctuary recommended by Dalbach. He tugged on the bell rope outside the gate.
A young, fresh-faced religieux came to open up. He looked in astonishment at the strange trio who stood outside in the circle of light cast by the lantern.
‘May I see Brother Martan?’ Eadulf addressed him. ‘Dalbach sent me here to seek shelter. I need food, warmth and a bed for myself and the little ones.’
The young religieux moved back and waved them inside.
‘Come in, come in, all of you.’ His welcome was enthusiastic. ‘I will take you to Brother Martan and while you speak with him, I shall see that your daughters are cared for.’
Eadulf did not bother to correct the well-meaning young man.
Brother Martan was stocky and chubby-faced. He was a man of advancing years and he wore a perpetual smile.
‘
Deus tescum.
You are welcome, stranger. I hear that you have come with Dalbach’s blessing.’
‘He told me that I might find a night’s sanctuary from the elements in your house.’
‘And Dalbach spoke truly. Have you come far, for your speech is that of a stranger to this land?’
The old man halted for Eadulf had automatically taken off his hat during the conversation.
‘You wear the tonsure of Peter. So are you of the Faith?’
‘I am a Saxon Brother,’ admitted Eadulf.
‘And you travel with your children?’
Eadulf shook his head and, without giving details of his own background, explained how he had encountered the girls.
‘Ah, such a tragedy is not unusual,’ sighed Brother Martan sadly, when Eadulf had finished. ‘I have heard of such an evil trade in human flesh before. And you say that the name of Gabrán was mentioned in this foul enterprise? He is a man known to our brethren at Fearna. He is a trader along the river.’
‘I shall be on my way to Fearna first thing in the morning.’
‘And the two girls?’
‘Could I leave them in your safekeeping?’
Brother Martan gave his approval. ‘They can stay here for as long as it is necessary. Perhaps they can be offered a new life in a family community, since their own has rejected them. The Faith is always seeking novitiates.’
‘That is a matter for them to decide. At the moment they have had a harsh experience. To be betrayed is one thing, but to be betrayed by your own parents …’ He shuddered slightly.

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