The Subtle Serpent (31 page)
Read The Subtle Serpent Online
Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland
‘Yes, you did mention that. So you were, in fact, given this book to take to Torcán?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who gave you the book? I thought only the librarian would be able to give permission to remove a book from the abbey library.’
Sister Lerben shook her head.
‘No, the
rechtaire
has authority.’
rechtaire
has authority.’
‘The
rechtaire
?’
rechtaire
?’
‘Yes, it was Sister Síomha who handed me the book and asked me to take it to the fortress of Adnár and hand it to Torcán.’
‘Sister Síomha! And that was during the afternoon before her death?’
‘I think so.’
‘Did she explain why Torcán was being allowed to borrow this book instead of coming to the abbey to look at it?’
‘She did not. She simply told me to take it to him and return. That is all.’
Fidelma had a feeling of tremendous frustration. Every time she thought she was about to clear up a point, then several more questions rose to confuse her mind. She
thanked Sister Lerben and left the store house, entering the tower.
thanked Sister Lerben and left the store house, entering the tower.
It was dark inside the main library room and Fidelma peered in vain for a lamp in the gloom.
She was feeling her way to the foot of the steps leading to the second floor when she heard a sound like someone dragging a sack across the floor above her head.
She paused a moment and then moved cautiously upwards one step at a time, listening.
The dragging sound came again.
Fidelma’s head reached the level of the floor and peered upwards.
Someone was seated by the light of the window peering at a book.
Fidelma heaved a sigh of relief.
It was Sister Berrach. The sound that she had heard had been the disabled sister moving across the floor.
‘Good morning, Sister Berrach!’ Fidelma climbed into the room.
The young sister was startled and almost dropped the book she had been looking at.
‘Oh, it’s you, Sister Fidelma.’
‘What are you doing here?’
Berrach’s chin came up a little defensively.
‘I told you that I enjoyed reading. With Sister Comnat and Sister Almu not returned to the abbey, and Sister Síomha not here to tell me what to do, I no longer have to sneak here at night to do my reading.’
Fidelma seated herself beside Berrach.
‘I, too, have come to do some reading but I could not find a lamp below.’
‘There are some candles here,’ Berrach indicated a table. ‘Do you want a particular book?’
‘I was going to look for one of the annals that I am told are kept here. But what are you reading?’ Fidelma lent across and glanced at the text.
‘Eó na dTri dTobar
… The Salmon of the Three Wells!’ Fidelma was somewhat taken aback by the coincidence. ‘What text is that?’
… The Salmon of the Three Wells!’ Fidelma was somewhat taken aback by the coincidence. ‘What text is that?’
‘A short account of the life of the Necht the Pure who founded this abbey,’ replied Sister Berrach.
‘And does it mention her discourse with Dedelchú, the pagan priest?’
Sister Berrach started in surprise.
‘You know a lot about this place. I have lived here all my life and am only just reading this book.’
‘One picks up things here and there, Berrach. Does the book explain much about Dedelchú? It is an odd name. The last element is simple to recognise meaning “hound of” — the hound of Dedel. I wonder who or what the original Dedel was? I am fascinated by the meaning of these old names, aren’t you?’
Sister Berrach shook her head.
‘Not particularly. I am more interested in history, in the lives of people. But we do have a copy of the
Glossary of Longarad
in the library.’
Glossary of Longarad
in the library.’
‘Is that so? So you have read some of the annals?’
Berrach conceded that she had.
‘I have read through all the annals that have been placed in this library.’
‘Do you known the annals of Clonmacnoise?’
‘Know it? yes. Sister Comnat herself made that copy. She spent six months away at the abbey of the Blessed Ciarán and copied the book with the full permission of the abbot. You will find it on the shelves here.’
‘It is no longer at the abbey. It was loaned, according to Sister Lerben, to Torcán, who is a guest of Adnár.’
‘Torcán, son of Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti?’ Sister Berrach looked bewildered. ‘What would he want with it?’
‘I was hoping I might find out. I think he was particularly interested in the story of Cormac Mac Art. There was a page
which had been much consulted. It was an entry to do with the death of Cormac Mac Art. I do not suppose you would know what was written there?’
which had been much consulted. It was an entry to do with the death of Cormac Mac Art. I do not suppose you would know what was written there?’
Berrach frowned reflectively.
‘I have a gift for memory. My retentive mind is quite clear.’ She paused and thought carefully. ‘The entry spoke of how Cormac slew his enemy Fergus and became a wise and virtuous High King. It spoke of his writing his book of instructions and …’ She paused a moment. ‘Ah yes; it went on to speak of how a gold calf had been set up in Tara and a cult had developed about it, turning it into a god to be worshipped. The priests of this cult called upon Cormac to come and worship the gold image but he refused saying he would sooner worship the goldsmith who had made so beautiful an image. The entry said that the chief priest of this cult then contrived to make salmon bones stick fast in the High King’s throat during a meal so that Cormac was induced to die.’
Fidelma was fascinated at the effortless ease with which Sister Berrach recalled the passage.
‘Do you know anything more about that story?’
The young religieuse shook her head.
‘Only that it was symbolic, I believe. I mean, the story about the pagan priest being able to kill Cormac by three salmon bones.’
‘Three
salmon bones?’ asked Fidelma quickly. ‘What symbolism do you read into that?’
salmon bones?’ asked Fidelma quickly. ‘What symbolism do you read into that?’
‘I think it was probably meant as an indication of the identity of the pagan priest. Cormac may have been murdered but there was no means of deliberately causing three salmon bones to stick in a person’s gullet unless you accept such a thing as evil magic.’ Berrach smiled ruefully. ‘And I think you helped to persuade the community here that such things as witchcraft and magic did not exist.’
‘What else is known of this cult of the gold calf?’
‘Little enough. The entry in the annals of Clonmacnoise is,
so far as I know, the only reference to the creation and worship of this idol, this great golden calf. I have read several other annals but no one else mentions the cult of the golden calf. Why,’ she added, ‘if such a fabulous idol existed, it must have been worth a great fortune.’
so far as I know, the only reference to the creation and worship of this idol, this great golden calf. I have read several other annals but no one else mentions the cult of the golden calf. Why,’ she added, ‘if such a fabulous idol existed, it must have been worth a great fortune.’
There was a soft scuffle on the stair. It was faint but Fidelma caught it and turned sharply, motioning Sister Berrach to silence. She was about to move across to the stairway when the head and shoulders of Sister Brónach appeared. In spite of the semi-gloom, Fidelma could see that she wore a sheepish expression.
‘I am sorry to disturb you. I was on my way to the clepsydra.’
Fidelma felt that it was an excuse hurriedly invented but Sister Berrach did not seem to notice anything out of place. She smiled happily at Sister Brónach who continued her way on to the next floor. Fidelma turned back to Berrach and resumed her conversation.
‘If I remember correctly, King Cormac died nearly four hundred years ago, is that right?’
‘That is right.’
‘Can you remember anything else about Cormac and this golden calf?’
Sister Berrach shook her head.
‘No, but I know that Sister Comnat recently bought a copy of Cormac’s instructions from a beggar. The book called the
Teagasg Ri
, Instructions of the King. An old man who lived up in the mountains here came to the abbey one day and told Comnat that his family had kept the copy for a long while but wanted to exchange it for food. I was passing by and heard the conversation. If you are interested in Cormac then it is worthwhile reading. It is in the library.’
Teagasg Ri
, Instructions of the King. An old man who lived up in the mountains here came to the abbey one day and told Comnat that his family had kept the copy for a long while but wanted to exchange it for food. I was passing by and heard the conversation. If you are interested in Cormac then it is worthwhile reading. It is in the library.’
Fidelma did not reply that she already knew that Cormac’s book of instructions was in the library and, indeed, she had glanced through the copy which, as she recalled, had been soiled with red mud.
‘When did that transaction take place?’
‘Not long ago. About a week before Sister Comnat and Sister Almu left on their journey to Ard Fhearta.’
Fidelma stood up, took a candle and lit it.
‘Thank you, Sister Berrach. I’ll go to look for that book now. You’ve been a great help.’
The Instructions of Cormac,
Teagasg Rí,
was hanging in its book satchel from a peg. She took it out and looked round for a seat. Placing the candle on a ledge nearby she opened it and began to turn the vellum pages. Once more she observed the strange brown red mud stains over the book. But the book was slightly different to the last time she had glanced through it. She wished she had paid more attention to it then. She realised that two vellum pages were now missing. It was clear that they had been cut recently with a sharp blade, presumably a knife, for the next page was scored where the line had been cut.
Teagasg Rí,
was hanging in its book satchel from a peg. She took it out and looked round for a seat. Placing the candle on a ledge nearby she opened it and began to turn the vellum pages. Once more she observed the strange brown red mud stains over the book. But the book was slightly different to the last time she had glanced through it. She wished she had paid more attention to it then. She realised that two vellum pages were now missing. It was clear that they had been cut recently with a sharp blade, presumably a knife, for the next page was scored where the line had been cut.
Why had these pages been removed?
She examined the text carefully.
The section was nothing to do with the main part of the book which was the actual philosophies of King Cormac. This was an addition to the book which was an essay about the life of the High King. She could decipher nothing by looking at the preceding and proceeding pages. She turned to the opening page, seeking some other information.
The book was an old one. The style was crude enough. It had not been written by a trained scribe, of that she was certain. The main work was clearly copied, which was not surprising, but the little biography of Cormac was something new to her and seemed provincial in attitude. She wished now that Sister Comnat had remained on the Gaulish ship with Brother Eadulf. She would have been able to consult with her about the missing pages.
Eadulf! She suddenly realised that she had not even thought about him since she had dragged her tired body into her bed early that morning. She felt a momentary pleasure
that he was alive, safe and well. Then, as her mind turned to her escapade of the previous night, she suddenly felt exhausted. She would have to give way to sleep for a short time.
that he was alive, safe and well. Then, as her mind turned to her escapade of the previous night, she suddenly felt exhausted. She would have to give way to sleep for a short time.
She stood up and returned the book into the leather satchel and yawned, feeling a bone in her jaw crack in protest. She rubbed the tender spot for a moment. Then she took up the candle and was about to blow it out. Then she remembered the word ‘Dedal’ and found Longarad’s
Glossary.
She was not surprised when she saw what the definition of the word was.
Glossary.
She was not surprised when she saw what the definition of the word was.
Another thought struck her.
Stifling a second yawn, she took the candle, shielding it from the draught, and, leaving the library, made her way down the stairway in the corner. Pausing halfway down she saw that the blood was dried on the side of the passage. There was little doubt in her mind that it was Síomha’s blood. Had the sister been killed below in the
subterraneus
and carried up into the tower or killed in the tower and her head carried … ?
subterraneus
and carried up into the tower or killed in the tower and her head carried … ?
She descended on into the depths. She paused again. There it was, the vaulted entrance and the scratch marks over it. She reached up a hand and allowed a finger to trace the outline of the primitive animal. Then she sighed.
‘Dedelchú!’ she whispered to herself. ‘The hound of Dedel.’
She passed through the entrance into the vaulted cave and examined it carefully in the flickering light of the lantern.
The place where the corpse had been laid no longer had the four candles around it. It was a flat, oblong rock which the sisters apparently used as some sort of table. Starting on the right side, Fidelma began to walk carefully around the walls of the cave examining everything as painstakingly as she was able in the flickering faint light. There was little to examine. The only contents of the cave were the large boxes piled on top of each other at one side of the cave and the row of
amphorae
and other containers with their odour of wines and spirits.
amphorae
and other containers with their odour of wines and spirits.
A close search of the cave revealed nothing more than that it was a large cave with only the two entrances: one by the stairs from the stone store house; the other by the stairs directly from the tower. She stood to one side and gazed into the gloom with frustration. She was about to turn to leave when a sudden sound caused her to start and the candle go jumping in her hand.
It was a hollow, booming sound. Like the sound of two wooden ships knocking together.
It seemed to echo from just behind her. But there was nothing behind her but solid grey stone — the stone of the cave walls. She turned, her mind working rapidly as she stared at the solid rocks seeking some clue. Then again, there came the hollow boom as if two vessels were banging together. She placed a hand against the cold, damp rock and waited. There was nothing but silence.
She was about to turn away when she noticed a dark patch on the rocky floor. She bent down and found it was earth. Still damp and cloying. It was red brown. She saw that it was in irregular patches as if someone had trodden in the muddy earth and then proceeded to walk through the cave. She followed the trail away from the direction of the entrance, as the only logical path to take, and came up against the wooden boxes stacked against a wall.
Other books
One Dance (The Club, #7) by Lexi Buchanan
Aphrodite's Kiss by Julie Kenner
Manhattan in Reverse by Peter F. Hamilton
The Cage Keeper by Andre Dubus Iii
The Midnight Road by Piccirilli, Tom
The Flash of a Firefly by Amber Riley
Fugitive Wife by Sara Craven
The Green Muse by Jessie Prichard Hunter
Voyager: Travel Writings by Russell Banks
Under Zenith by Camp, Shannen Crane
