The Subtle Serpent (32 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: The Subtle Serpent
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She set down her candle and began to push at the top box but she did not have the strength required to move it. It was then that the hollow, booming sound echoed again. It seemed to resonate through the boxes. Then there was silence once again.
It was dark when Fidelma awoke on her cot. For a while she was disorientated. Then she remembered that she had returned to the guests’ hostel after her fruitless exploration of the cave beneath the abbey and, overcome with sheer fatigue, had gone to her cell, climbed on the bed and had fallen asleep immediately. She glanced through the window. While it was not night, the gloom was the dark of an early winter evening. She assessed that it was still well before the time of the evening Angelus. She splashed her face in the cold water bowl and dried herself. Having slept in her clothes she felt decidedly chilly and stretched and moved her arms to warm her body. She felt hungry. With annoyance she realised that she had now missed the midday meal.
She went out into the candle-lit passage and made her way along to the main room, hoping that no one had noticed her absence. To her surprise she saw a cloth covering some familiar objects on the table and, raising it, saw some food had been placed there.
Sister Brónach!
There was no hiding anything from the
doirseór
of the abbey, Fidelma reflected. That made her uneasy. Sister Brónach knew that she had been out all the previous night; knew, then, that she had lain in an exhausted sleep most of the daylight hours to recuperate. If Sister Brónach was an innocent party to the planned uprising against Cashel, if she was loyal to Cashel, then there was no cause for alarm. But Fidelma was unsure if anyone in this land of the Beara could
be wholly trusted. After all, everyone would nominally support their chieftain Gulban.
She sat down and relieved her hunger from the dishes that Sister Brónach had left. Then, feeling better for her rest and food, she left the guests’ hostel just as she heard the gong sounding the hour followed by the bell summoning the community to the evening prayers. It had not taken long for the abbey to get the clepsydra back in proper order, she reflected. That was probably due to Sister Brónach. It would now surely take a brave spirit to stand watch during the night hours in the tower after the death of Sister Síomha.
Fidelma pressed back into the shadows as groups of sisters and one or two isolated figures moved rapidly towards the
duirthech
, in answer to the summons of the bell. She made the movement to conceal herself automatically and it was only after a moment or so that the idea struck her. She would use this time to sneak away to the Gaulish ship and seek Eadulf assistance. She was already forming an idea in her mind as to the next step in the investigation.
She waited until she heard the voices of the community raised together in the ‘Confiteor’, the name by which the general confession which usually preceded the evening prayers was known. It came from the first word of the confession. Then Fidelma moved through the abbey buildings down to the quay.
She could see two lanterns twinkling out in the inlet on the Gaulish ship. It was fairly dark but Fidelma was not perturbed. She found the small rowing boat and clambered in, untying the mooring rope and pushing off from the side of the wooden quay. It took a moment to unship the oars and ease herself into a steady stroke towards the ship.
The evening was soundless and the darkness made deeper by a low covering of clouds. Not even the noise of nocturnal birds or the splash of some aquatic creature came to her ears.
Only the slap of the oars and rippling water as she propelled the boat across the still waters broke the silence.
‘Hóigh!’
She recognised Odar’s hail as she neared the ship.
‘It’s me! Fidelma!’ she called back, swinging the boat alongside.
Willing hands reached down to help her up and secure her boat.
Odar and Eadulf were on the deck to greet her.
‘We were worried about you,’ Eadulf said gruffly. ‘We have had a visitor this afternoon.’
‘Olcán?’ Fidelma was interested.
Odar gave an affirmative gesture. ‘How did you know?’ he asked.
‘He also came to the abbey asking questions. I think he knows that Eadulf and Comnat have escaped. He was particularly interested to know where Ross had gone.’
‘I distrusted him straight away,’ Odar confirmed. ‘We hid Brother Eadulf below when he was aboard.’
‘Did he suspect anything?’
‘No,’ replied Odar. ‘I told him that Ross had gone to do some trading along the coast. He pretended that he was checking about Ross’s right to claim this vessel as salvage.’
‘Excellent,’ Fidelma said approvingly. ‘That fits in with what I told him. I think our conspirators are definitely worried that Eadulf or Comnat may raise an alarm before their plan is ready.’
Odar led the way to the captain’s cabin with Eadulf bringing up the rear.
‘In which case, is it hot wise to leave here at once?’ asked Odar.
Fidelma gave a negative shake of her head.
‘I still have my duty to perform at the abbey. And I think that I am near solving this mystery.’
‘But surely we know who is responsible for the murder of Almu?’ broke in Eadulf. ‘Odar here has been telling me of the
events at the abbey and it seems logical that Almu was killed by the young man at the copper mines who helped her escape. That he was able to do so and then stop any search parties indicates that he was someone of rank, perhaps a chieftain. It sounds as if it is Olcán who is the culprit.’
‘Did you see and recognise Olcán, then?’
‘No,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘But it does seem to fit.’
Fidelma grinned impishly at Eadulf.
‘You have been busy,’ she said in amusement. ‘The one problem with your theory, Eadulf, is that there is no motive. Why allow Almu to escape and then kill her? For every action there is a motive, even if the motive is madness. Olcán does not seem insane to me. Also how would you account for Sister Síomha’s death?’
Eadulf shrugged.
‘I confess that I had not worked that one out yet.’
Fidelma smiled briefly.
‘Then perhaps I will be able to enlighten you, Eadulf. In the morning I shall need your help. There is a place of mystery under the abbey which I need to enter and I cannot do that alone. You know my methods. You have worked with me before. Your help will be invaluable.’
Eadulf studied Fidelma inquisitively. He knew her expression. It was clear that he would not get any further information out of her until she was ready. He sighed. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the return of Ross before we embark on this matter?’
‘The longer we leave it, the easier it will be for those responsible for the deaths of Almu and Síomha to make their escape. No, before dawn tomorrow, I want you to meet me under the abbey tower. And be careful. Come before it gets light because there is always a sister in the tower who watches the water-clock there.’
‘Why not do this tonight?’
‘Because I am wary of the
doirseór
, Sister Brónach. She
knows that I was out all last night and I think she is suspicious of me and watching carefully.’
‘You believe that she is involved?’
‘Perhaps. Though involved in what, I am not sure yet. Involved in the conspiracy for insurrection? Or involved in the murders? I do not know.’
‘You seem sure that the two things are separate issues,’ observed Eadulf.
‘I am now certain of it. I hope tomorrow that we will know the truth.’
 
It was still dark when Fidelma rose, bathed her face and hurriedly dressed, throwing on a heavy cloak to warm her against the chill. Outside, across the abbey buildings and courtyard, it was white and Fidelma thought another snow had fallen. It was, however, a frost as she realised from the sparkling glint of the covering. She could also see that high on the mountains snow had certainly fallen and it reflected in the pre-dawn creating a twilight landscape. She paused to examine the sky from the window to estimate the time by the fading stars for the snow clouds had already vanished. Her attention was caught by a couple of dark moving specks on the mountain. Squinting, in order to focus better, she could see that they were two riders and horses, ploughing through the snow at a dangerous pace. So fast and so dangerously did the two horsemen press their steeds that Fidelma found herself fascinated for a moment or two. She noted they were on the road to Adnár’s fortress and wondered what took the early morning visitors there with such urgency.
She turned to the task in hand and left the guests’ hostel as quietly as she could, setting off across the white crisp carpet of frost which lay like slippery ice on the courtyard. The crunch of frost beneath her feet seemed loud as she hurried towards the tower. Eadulf was not waiting for her in its shadows and she halted.
Almost immediately her ears caught the sound of wood striking water and a moment later the tall figure of Brother Eadulf scrambled up towards her. He, too, was wrapped in a heavy cloak.
‘It’s cold enough, Fidelma,’ he greeted.
Fidelma placed a finger against her lips.
‘Follow me and be quiet!’ she hissed.
Eadulf followed Fidelma as she led the way beyond the tower doorway before quietly entering the stone store house. Here she paused and fumbled in the darkness. Eadulf heard the flint strike and the next moment, Fidelma had lit and trimmed a lantern to illuminate the room.
‘What are we going to do?’ inquired Eadulf softly.
‘We are going to explore a cave,’ replied Fidelma in a whisper.
She started down the rough-cut stone steps into the cave store room below with Eadulf following warily.
‘Nothing much can be hidden in here,’ he observed, peering over her shoulder. ‘Where do those other steps lead to?’
‘Those? Up into the watch tower. But come across here. This is where I need your help.’
She led the way to the boxes which had defied her attempts to move them on the previous day. She carefully set down her lamp.
‘As quietly as you can,’ she instructed as she motioned him to help her move the boxes. To her surprise, only the top two boxes were heavy. These, in fact, were very heavy and, inquisitively, Eadulf carefully wrenched one of the rotting pieces of wood aside to examine its contents. He stared at them in disgust.
‘Earth? Nothing but earth and bits of rock. Who would want to store earth in a box?’
Fidelma was satisfied that she was on the right track but did not enlighten him, gesturing for him to help her lift the other boxes. They were empty and were easily shifted. As
Eadulf pushed one of the lower boxes out of the way, Fidelma smiled in grim gratification.
Behind the box was a hole in the cave wall, a dark aperture some two feet in width and three feet in height. She bent down and examined it. It was a tiny passage which, after only a few feet, seemed to open up a little. The condition of the entrance showed that it had only recently been excavated. Logic indicated that the material from the passage was the excavated earth and stones now stored in the boxes. However, it was also clear that only the immediate entrance to the passage had been filled in with the rubble and that the passage itself was older than the rubble filling. So, at some previous period, someone had filled in part of the passage and, more recently, someone had excavated it.
Fidelma stretched out the lantern as far as she could into the passage. The light did not extend far for the narrow access appeared to bend into darkness. However, she could see that after a few feet the passageway rose in height to some five feet though it did not widen to any greater breadth. She considered the matter cautiously. The air was chill and somewhat fetid. There was a smell like that of stagnant water. But the passage must lead somewhere and someone had been anxious to excavate it.
‘I will have to squeeze through,’ she decided.
Eadulf looked dubious.
‘I doubt there is room. What if you get stuck?’
Fidelma gave him a scornful glance.
‘You can wait for me here, if you will.’
It was cold, icy cold as she squeezed forward. The rocky surface was damp and sharp in places, scratching at her and tearing at her clothes. It was hardly any easier after she had progressed through the first few feet. The passage suddenly turned and then turned again and, with abruptness that was confusing, she found herself in a smaller cave, its ceiling was low, no more than six feet in height. It was also dark and
almost freezing and the air was putrid, it reeked of some foul decay.
She reached forward to raise her lantern, stretching out a hand to steady herself.
The surface that she touched was curious, cold and soft. There was also a sensation of what seemed like wet fur.
She withdrew her hand immediately and held the lantern close to the spot.
She felt the nausea well inside her and struggled to prevent herself from crying out in disgust.
She had put her hand on a head. A severed head placed on a rocky shelf on the cave wall. It was a female head, the long dark hair was plastered about it in dampness. Alongside it was a second female head. One of them had reached the stage where it had begun to decay, the flesh white and rotting. The stench was intolerable.

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