The Subtle Serpent (33 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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Fidelma did not need to be a seer to know that these were the missing heads of Sister Almu and Sister Síomha. Sister Síomha’s features were easily recognisable.
Fidelma felt a hand descend on her shoulder and this time the fear escaped as a terrified groan. The lantern nearly dropped from her hand. She swung round to find the puzzled features of Eadulf staring at her.
‘A fox on your fishing hook!’ she snapped vehemently, before giving a breath of relief.
Eadulf blinked, unused to an Irish curse on the lips of the young religieuse.
‘Sorry, I thought you knew that I was following.’
He broke off as his eyes fell on the grisly discovery in the flickering light of her lantern. He swallowed hard.
‘Are those … ?’
Fidelma was still trying to regulate her pounding heart.
‘Yes. One is certainly Sister Síomha. The other I presume to be Sister Almu.’
‘I don’t understand. Why would their heads be placed here?’
‘There is much that is confusing at this time,’ responded Fidelma. ‘Let’s explore further.’
Fidelma, with head bent, moved forward a pace into the low-ceilinged cave, holding the lantern before her.
Eadulf’s hand suddenly closed round her wrist and yanked her to a halt, making her gasp for breath.
‘Another step and you would have fallen in!’ he explained as she cast him a startled glance.
She looked down at her feet.
Before her was a large dark area. The lamp reflected mirror-like against it. She realised that it was water. Most of the cave was an underground pool. And floating on the water were a couple of apparently empty casks. Now and again there was a ripple and the casks passed perilously close to one another. If they touched, mused Fidelma, then they would produce the hollow, knocking sound. This would undoubtedly resonate with the cave acting like a sounding chamber.
But apart from the pool and the casks there seemed nothing else in the cave. The pool seemed to be fed by some sort of underground conduit from the inlet which accounted for the ripples which appeared every now and then on its surface. But mainly the water appeared stagnant so she presumed the pool was not completely tidal. She was, however, disappointed in the barrenness of the cave for she had been expecting to find more, much more, than simply the desolate pool and empty casks. She saw that amidst the rocks and slabs which made up the floor of the cave, the earth was churned into a brown red mud.
She carried the lantern to the rocky walls and observed traces of a greenish surface film here and there marking indications of a metallic element veined into the rock.
It was Eadulf who asked: ‘What’s that? Shine the light this way.’
He was pointing to something just on the edge of the circle of light from the lantern, something on the cave wall at eye level. Fidelma drew closer.
The scratch marks on the wall resembled those at the foot of the steps on the arch into the storage cave behind them.
‘The hound of Dedel,’ Fidelma said quietly.
Eadulf was critical.
‘A hound? It looks more like a cow to me,’ he objected.
‘Dedelchu,’ Fidelma said, almost to herself. ‘The sign of the hound of Dedel. A pagan priest who …’
Eadulf suddenly grunted, as if in pain.
Fidelma had barely time to turn before the Saxon monk collapsed in a heap, falling against her and sending her staggering back into the wall. For a moment she thought she would loose her grip on the precious lantern but she managed to recover her balance. She did not know what had happened to Eadulf and her first thought was to bend down to see what had made him fall. For a moment, she was bewildered to see blood on his head. Then something made her look up.
A few feet away, just inside the pale rays of the lantern, stood a figure. The light glinted wickedly on the burnished naked sword blade which he held threateningly in his hand.
Fidelma felt a chill run through her body.
‘So it is you, Torcán!’ She controlled her voice, hoping that he would not recognise the tremulous fear in her tone.
The young prince of the Ui Fidgenti had no expression on his face
‘I have come for …’ he began, his blade raised.
Then everything became blurred.
The blade was raised in the confined space on a level with her throat. Torcán, the son of Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti, appeared to have drawn it back as if to throw his weight behind it, and then … Then he seemed to halt and looked surprised. He staggered a pace or two. His mouth opened and something dark began to dribble from a corner of it. He stood swaying, a strange woebegone, almost comical expression, on his face. The sword dropped out of his hand, clanging on to the rocky floor of the cave.
Torcán sank slowly, so slowly it seemed, first to his knees and then he fell abruptly forward on to his face.
It was then that Fidelma saw the second shadow which had been behind him.
The lantern was clasped in her hand so tightly that it would have been impossible to prise it away from her grip at that moment.
The shadow moved forward, a sword was held in one hand. The light caught the dark stains on the blade which had been Torcán’s blood.
There was a silence and then Fidelma heard Eadulf beginning to groan. The Saxon monk rose to his knees and shook his head.
‘Someone hit me,’ he moaned.
‘That much is obvious,’ muttered Fidelma with gentle irony, attempting a sparkle of her old self. Her eyes never left the newcomer.
Adnár of Dún Boí took another pace forward into the circle of light.
‘Are you hurt badly?’ he asked, sheathing his sword.
Eadulf, recovering his senses, scrambled to his feet in dismay. There was still blood on his head but he drew his strength from some hidden reserve. He stared down at the body of Torcán and his eyes widened as he saw the young man’s features. He began to open his mouth to say something but Fidelma jerked at his arm to silence him.
‘I am not hurt but my companion is in need of attention,’ Fidelma replied. She had bent down to examine the body of Torcán but it did not really need a second glance to see that the sword thrust that Adnár had made was fatal. Fidelma raised her eyes to the chieftain of Dún Boí.
‘You appear to have saved my life, Adnár.’
Adnár looked concerned as he stared down at the son of the prince of the Ui Fidgenti.
‘I did not mean to take a life in doing so,’ he confessed. ‘I
was hoping that I might gather some further information from Torcán.’
‘Information?’
‘I have just learned some grave news, Fidelma.’ Adnár paused and glanced quickly at the tall Saxon. ‘Doubtless this is Brother Eadulf? You are wounded, brother. Perhaps it would be best if we removed ourselves from this unhealthy place and got your wound attended to.’
Fidelma examined Eadulf’s head by the lantern light.
‘A superficial wound,’ was her verdict. ‘Nevertheless, he should have it dressed. I think Torcán must have hit you with a well-aimed rock rather than his sword. Come, we must bathe it immediately. Lead the way back into the other cave, Adnar.’
The chieftain squeezed back through the twisted aperture with Eadulf following and then Fidelma.
In the
subterraneus
of the abbey, where either Torcán or Adnár had left a second lantern, Fidelma bade Eadulf sit on one of the wooden boxes while she took a strip of cloth and indicated that Adnár should hand her one of the jugs stacked along one side of the cave whose odours announced them to contain
cuirm.
She dampened the cloth in it and began to apply the alcohol to Eadulf’s wound.
‘What is this grave news that have you learned, Adnár?’ she demanded as she worked, ignoring Eadulf’s soft moan of protest as the fiery spirit reacted on his grazed skin.
‘You must send a message to your brother, Colgú. He is in danger. Torcán’s father, Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti, is organising an insurrection against your brother at Cashel. Torcan was in on the plot for I heard him speaking of it. I believe that Olcán is also involved as his father, Gulban the Hawk-Eyed, was also a conspirator. His reward would be that Eoganan would make him chieftain of the Loigde. I have placed Olcán under guard. I followed Torcan here thinking that he was coming to meet fellow conspirators. Then I saw him about to strike at you and so I struck first. I meant only to
wound him so that he would be able to tell us more about this plot.’
Fidelma’s surprise was not feigned. She had been certain that Adnár had been part of the Ui Fidgenti conspiracy. Adnár’s statement dramatically overturned her suspicion.
‘Gulban is your chieftain, Adnár,’ she pointed out. ‘Surely your first loyalty is to him?’
‘Not when he plots against the Loigde and my rightful king. Why,’ he frowned abruptly, ‘do you disapprove of my loyalty to the Loigde and to Cashel?’
Fidelma shook her head.
Adnár continued: ‘I cannot understand what Torcan could achieve in killing you. It would have been better for him, and his fellow conspirators, if he had taken you hostage in case some negotiations were needed if their attack on Cashel failed.’
‘There is more to this matter than that,’ Fidelma made the comment softly. ‘In that cave yonder are the heads of Sister Almu, who escaped from the copper mines of Gulban, and who, I believe, was trying to warn the abbey of the uprising. There is another head, that of Sister Siomha.’
Adnár looked at her in astonishment.
‘I did not understand. Do you suggest that Torcan killed them as well? But why? Perhaps to prevent them revealing this conspiracy?’
Fidelma had finished cleaning Eadulf’s wound. It was merely an abrasion and confirmed her judgment that it had been caused by a stone. Torcan must have either thrown it or used it to crash against the side of the Saxon monk’s head.
‘If what you say is true, as magistrate here, I must be witness to this find.’
When she did not object, Adnár disappeared back through the opening into the next cave.
‘You’d better tell me what is going on,’ groaned Eadulf, one hand holding the side of his head.
‘What is going on,’ whispered Fidelma, ‘is that the mist of confusion is beginning to clear.’
‘Not for me,’ Eadulf sighed in perplexity. ‘But the boy who was killed just now was our captor at the copper mines.’
‘Ah, I thought you were about to reveal as much,’ Fidelma said. ‘Stay silent awhile.’
‘Who is this man, then?’
Fidelma relented a little and explained. By that time Adnár had returned. His face was grim.
‘I have seen them, sister. This is a bad thing. As
dálaigh
, you have higher jurisdiction than I do. What do you mean to do about this matter?’
Fidelma did not reply directly. Instead she helped Eadulf get to his feet.
‘Firstly, you may assist me in taking Brother Eadulf to the guests’ hostel,’ she instructed. ‘He has had a bad blow. I think he needs to have some herbal dressings and some rest. Then, Adnár, we shall talk.’
 
Later that morning Fidelma and Eadulf headed a small group returning to the cave. Abbess Draigen, who ignored her brother with studied coldness, came with Sister Brónach. Each, in turn, identified the terrible remains of Sister Almu and of Sister Síomha. Two sisters then placed the remains in a sack and carried them away under the direction of Sister Brónach, ready to be interred with the rest of their corpses.
Draigen was gazing down disdainfully at the body of Torcán, still lying as he had fallen.
‘Perhaps your companion,’ the abbess motioned towards Eadulf, who was now much recovered, ‘will help Adnár to remove this body. It has no place in the grounds of this abbey.’
‘Of course, mother abbess,’ Eadulf agreed readily, not picking up the antagonism in the abbess’s voice. But Fidelma held Eadulf back a moment. She was frowning as she bent once more over the body and ran her hand to where her
discerning eye had marked a bulge under the dead man’s jerkin. ‘Curious,’ she muttered, as she reached forward and drew out some sheets of vellum. The lantern revealed that they were stained with red brown mud.
‘Well?’ demanded Abbess Draigen expectantly.
Fidelma silently folded the pages and put them into her
crumena.
Then she smiled at the abbess.
‘Now the body can be removed. But perhaps it would be better if Adnár sent some of Torcan’s retainers to dispose of the body? Such a task would be ill befitting for a
bó-
aire
and a brother of the Faith.’
The abbess snorted in annoyance and turned away with an: ‘As you wish, so long as it is removed.’ Then she was gone without another word. Adnár waited until she had gone and then he shrugged.
‘I will do as you say, Sister Fidelma, and send Torcan’s retainers to retrieve his body.’

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