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Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

Valley of the Shadow (3 page)

BOOK: Valley of the Shadow
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Colgú leant forward in his chair.
‘And have you heard stories of Laisre?’
Fidelma frowned.
‘Laisre, chieftain of Gleann Geis? There has been some talk about the man recently among the religious here at Cashel.’
‘What have you heard? You may speak freely.’
‘That his people still follow the old gods and goddesses. That strangers have not been welcome in his lands and that the brothers and sisters of the Faith go into his lands at their own risk.’
Colgú gave a sigh and lowered his head.
‘There is some truth to this. But the times change quickly and Laisre is apparently a man of intelligence. He now realises that he cannot remain a barrier to progress for ever.’
Fidelma was surprised.
‘Do you mean that he has converted to the Faith?’
‘Not quite,’ admitted Colgú. ‘He is still a fierce adherent of the old ways. However, he is willing to consider the arguments with an open mind. There is much opposition among his people, however. So the first step is a negotiation …’
‘A negotiation?’
‘Laisre has sent word to us that he is willing to negotiate with me a means whereby he will give permission for members of the Faith to build a church and a school in his territory which will eventually replace the old pagan sanctuaries.’
‘The term “negotiate” implies that he wants something in return. What is his price for allowing the building of a church and school in his land?’
Colgú shrugged slightly.
‘That price is one that we have to find out. But I need someone who can negotiate on behalf of both this kingdom and the Church.’
Fidelma stared thoughtfully at her brother for a moment or two.
‘Are you suggesting that you want me to go to the Cruacha Dubha and negotiate with Laisre?’
Inwardly, she was surprised. She had thought that Colgú was merely seeking her advice on the matter.
‘Who is more assiduous in negotiating and who is more knowledgeable about this kingdom and the needs it has?’
‘But …’
‘You can speak as my voice, Fidelma, as well as that of Bishop Ségdae. Find out what Laisre wants; what he expects. If the terms be reasonable, then agree with him. If they be unconscionable then you may tell him that the king and his council must take them into consideration.’
Fidelma was thoughtful.
‘Does Laisre know that I am coming?’
‘I did not presume on your agreement, Fidelma,’ smiled Colgú. ‘He merely asked for an envoy of the Faith to be in his lands by the start of next week and that it should be an emissary worthy of my charge. Will you accept?’
‘If it is your wish that I represent you and Bishop Ségdae. Why isn’t the good bishop here, by the way, to express his views on this matter?’
Colgú grimaced wryly.
‘He is. I have the old “hawk of the borderland” waiting outside
until I had talked the matter over with you. He will advise you of his views on the matter later.’
Fidelma examined her brother suspiciously.
‘You were sure that I would go then?’
‘Never,’ Colgú assured her with a smile which did not give weight to his reply. ‘But now that you are going, I want you to take a company of my champions with you. My knights of the Golden Collar.’
‘And what would Laisre say if I came riding into his territory with a band of Niadh Nasc at my command? If I am sent as an emissary, then an emissary I must be. He would only see the company of warriors as an insult and an intimidation to a negotiation. Warriors have no place in the negotiation of the establishment of a church or a school. I will ride alone.’
Colgú shook his head vehemently.
‘Alone into the Cruacha Dubha? No, that you will not. Take one warrior at least.’
‘One warrior or ten, they are all warriors and will cause affront. No, I will take only another member of the Faith to express our peaceful intent.’
Colgú studied her face for a moment and then gave a grimace of resignation, realising that she had made up her mind and when his sister had made up her mind Colgú knew that it was useless to attempt to change it.
‘Then take your Saxon along,’ he insisted. ‘He is a good man to have at your side.’
Fidelma glanced swiftly at her brother but this time did not blush.
‘Brother Eadulf may have other things to do – it is surely time that he returned to the archbishop of Canterbury who sent him to you as an envoy?’
Colgú smiled gently.
‘I think that you will find that Brother Eadulf is willing to bide a while longer in our kingdom, sister. Nevertheless, I do wish you would allow yourself to be accompanied by my warriors.’
Fidelma was adamant.
‘How can we demonstrate that the Faith is the path of peace and truth if we go with force to make converts? No; I say again, brother, if I am sent to negotiate with Laisre and his people, I must go demonstrating that I place my trust in my Faith and my reliance on a truthful tongue not a sword.
Vincit omnia veritas!’
Colgú was amused.
‘Truth may well conquer all things but knowing when and to
whom that truth should be spoken is the secret. Since you are fond of Latin tags, Fidelma, I give you this advice –
cave quid, dicis, quando et cui.
’
Fidelma bowed her head gravely.
‘It is advice that I shall bear in mind.’
Colgú arose and went to a cupboard, taking from it a small wand of white rowan wood on which was fixed a figurine in gold. It was the image of an antlered stag, the symbol of the Eóghanacht princes of Cashel. Solemnly, Colgú handed it to his sister.
‘Here is the emblem of your embassy, Fidelma. By this wand you derive authority from me and speak with my voice.’
Fidelma rose, knowing well the symbolism of the wand.
‘I will not fail you, brother.’
Colgú gazed fondly on his sister, then held out both hands and placed them on her shoulders.
‘And since I cannot persuade you to take a troop of warriors with you, I can offer you the next best thing.’
Fidelma frowned as Colgú turned and clapped his hands. The door opened and his Brehon and chamberlain entered. They were followed by Bishop Ségdae, an elderly hawk-faced man whose features seemed to fit his name. They had obviously been waiting outside for this moment. They bowed briefly to Fidelma in respectful greeting. Then, with no word being spoken, the chamberlain moved forward to Colgú’s left side. He carried a small wooden box. He held out the casket towards the king.
‘I have been meaning to do this for some time,’ Colgú confessed in a confidential tone, as he turned to open the box. ‘Especially after you thwarted the Uí Fidgente in their plot to destroy my kingdom.’
He took out a length of golden chain. It was a simple and unadorned piece some two feet in length.
Fidelma had seen other kings of Cashel perform the ceremony and she suddenly realised what was about to take place. Even so, she was surprised.
‘Do you mean to raise me to the Niadh Nasc?’ she whispered.
‘I do,’ confirmed her brother. ‘Will you kneel and take the oath?’
The Niadh Nasc, the order of the Golden Chain or Collar, was a venerable Muman nobiliary fraternity which had sprung from membership of the ancient elite warrior guards of the kings of Cashel. The honour was in the personal presentation of the Eóghanacht king of Cashel and each recipient observed personal allegiance to him, being given, in turn, a cross to wear which had originated from an
ancient solar symbol for it was said the origins of the honour were shrouded in the mists of time. Some scribes claimed that it had been founded almost a thousand years before the birth of Christ.
Slowly, Fidelma sank to her knees.
‘Do you, Fidelma of Cashel, swear on all that you honour to defend and guard the legitimate king of Muman, the head of your house, and receive in brotherhood and sisterhood your companions who bear the order of the Golden Chain?’
‘I swear it,’ whispered Fidelma and placed her right hand in that of her brother, Colgú the king.
He took the length of golden chain and wrapped it around their joined hands in a symbolic act of binding them.
‘Conscious of your loyalty towards our person, house and order, and of the solemn vow you have sworn to obey, defend, protect and guard the same, so now do we bind you with this chain to our service and invest you as a Niadh Nasc. Let death and not dishonour sever these links.’
There was silence for a moment and then, with an awkward laugh, Colgú unwound the chain and raised his sister to her feet, bestowing a kiss on both her cheeks. Then he turned back to the box and took out another length of golden chain. This time there was a singularly shaped cross attached to the end of it, a white cross with rounded ends in which a plain cross was inserted. It was the insignia of the order, a cross that was old before Christian symbolism. Gravely, Colgú placed it around his sister’s neck.
‘Any person within the five kingdoms of Éireann will know this insignia,’ he said solemnly. ‘You have refused the protection of my warriors in the flesh but this will afford you their protection in spirit because anyone who offers offence to a member of this order also offers offence to the kings of Cashel and the brethren of the Niadh Nasc.’
Fidelma knew that her brother was making no idle boast. Few were admitted to the order, even fewer women achieved the honour.
‘I will wear this insignia with honour, brother,’ she said quietly.
‘May it protect you in your journey to the Forbidden Valley and your negotiation with Laisre. Also, Fidelma, remember my exhortation –
cave quid, dicis, quando et cui
.’
 
Beware what you say, when and to whom.
Her brother’s advice was echoing in Fidelma’s mind as she brought her attention back to the grim forbidding peaks of the mountain range above her.
The climb upwards through the foothills into the mountains took much longer than Eadulf had expected. The track twisted and turned like a restless serpent through precipitous embankments of rock and earth, crossing gushing streams that poured from the towering mountain peaks, through dark wooded glades and across open rocky stretches. Eadulf wondered how anyone could live in such an isolated habitation for Fidelma assured him this was the only route into the region from the south.
As he peered upwards towards the impossible heights, his eye caught something flashing momentarily. He blinked. He had seen the flash at least two or three times before on their upward climb and, at first, he thought that he had merely imagined it. He must have betrayed his concern, perhaps by a tightening of his neck muscles or straining his head too long in the direction of the point of the glinting light, because Fidelma said quietly: ‘I see it. Someone has been watching our approach for the last half hour.’
Eadulf was aggrieved.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Tell you what? It should be no surprise that someone watches strangers riding through these mountains. Mountain folk are a suspicious people.’
Eadulf relapsed into silence. Nevertheless, he continued to keep a wary eye on the surrounding hills. To his perception, the flash was the sun striking on metal. Metal meant weapons or armour. That always meant a potential danger. The journey continued in silence for a while and still they climbed higher. At one point they were forced to dismount, so steep and rocky did the path become, and lead their horses upwards.
Eventually, Eadulf was about to ask Fidelma if she thought that there would be much further to climb when the pathway suddenly curved around the shoulder of the mountain and, unexpectedly, a broad glen stretched away before them. It was heather filled with a mass of red, orange and green gorse presenting a strange ethereal
spectacle. And still the higher mountain peaks seemed as distant as before.
‘This journey is neverending,’ Eadulf grumbled.
Fidelma paused and turned in her saddle to regard the Saxon sternly.
‘Not so. We have but to cross this great glen and pass through those peaks beyond. Then we shall be in the territory of Laisre; in Gleann Geis itself.’
Eadulf frowned momentarily.
‘I thought that you had never been in this territory before?’
Fidelma suppressed a sigh.
‘Nor have I, though I have passed it by.’
‘Then how … ?’
‘Ah, Eadulf! Do you think our people have no knowledge of the making of maps? If we don’t know how to cross our own country, how could we send missionaries across the great lands to the east?’
Eadulf felt a little foolish. He was about to speak again but he suddenly observed that Fidelma’s body had tensed and she was staring across the glen before them, looking upwards into the sky. He followed her gaze.
‘Birds,’ he remarked.
‘The ravens of death.’ Her voice was low.
The dark specks were circling against the azure sky, seemingly moving lower and lower in a spiral.
‘A dead animal, no doubt,’ Eadulf suggested, adding: ‘A big one to attract so many scavengers.’
‘Big, indeed,’ agreed Fidelma. Then she nudged her horse forward with a determined movement. ‘Come on, it is on our way, and I have a mind to see what attracts so many scavengers.’
Reluctantly Eadulf followed her. Sometimes he wished that his companion was not always filled with curiosity about things. He would rather press on out of the heat of the day and reach their destination quickly. Several days in the saddle was enough for Eadulf. He would prefer a comfortable chair and a mug of mead which had been left to chill in some icy mountain stream.
Fidelma had to guide her horse carefully, for the superficially level valley floor was deceptive. The clumps of heather and brambles grew at depths over an uneven terrain. An entire army could have hidden out of sight among the gorse and heather. Their coming had set off an alarmed croaking chorus among the wheeling birds who stopped their whirling descent and rose reluctantly higher.
Abruptly, Fidelma halted her horse and stared at the ground before her.
‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf, coming up behind her. She said nothing but sat like a statue in her saddle, staring with her features drained of blood.
Frowning, Eadulf edged forward and looked towards the object of her horror-filled eyes.
His face also went ashen.
‘
Deus miseratur …
’ He began the first line of Psalm 67 and then halted. It seemed inappropriate. There had been no mercy shown to those who comprised the curious altar of death before them. Around the rough ground there lay over a score of bodies; naked bodies of young men, arranged in a grotesque circle. That they had met their deaths violently was obvious.
Fidelma and Eadulf sat still on their horses, looking down at a ring of naked bodies, unable to comprehend what their eyes accepted.
Still without speaking, Fidelma finally slid from her saddle and moved forward a pace or two. Eadulf swallowed hard, dismounted and, taking the reins of both horses, loosely tethered them to a nearby bush. Then he moved forward to join Fidelma.
She stood, hands folded in front of her, her lips compressed in a thin line. There was a slight twitching of a nerve in her jaw which betrayed the emotion her features did their best to conceal.
She took another step forward and let her eyes travel intently around the circle of death. That the naked, male bodies had been carefully laid out after they had met their deaths, there was no question.
Fidelma’s shoulders braced and her jaw thrust out a little as if she were preparing herself for a difficult task.
‘Should we not remove ourselves lest those responsible return?’ Eadulf urged nervously, glancing about him. But the valley seemed devoid of life save the flock of night-black ravens still gathering in the sky above, flying in a chaotic croaking cloud. Some were moving hesitantly down again as if unsure of what their senses told them – that here was rich pickings, carrion for the eating. But some sense told them there was movement among the corpses, living humans who could do them harm. A few, braver than the rest, actually landed a short distance from the circle. Eadulf, in disgust, as they hopped cautiously to the nearest corpses to inspect them more closely, reached down and picked up a stone. He did not hit the ugly black bird at which he aimed but the action itself was enough to cause it to take flight again with an angry squawk which warned its fellows that there was danger below. Some of them still
alighted on the ground nearby but out of range and watched with glinting hungry eyes.
‘Come away, Fidelma,’ urged Eadulf. ‘This is not a sight for your eyes.’
Fidelma’s green eyes flashed dangerously.
‘Then whose eyes is it a sight for?’ Her voice was sharp. ‘Whose sight, if not that of an advocate sworn to uphold the laws of the five kingdoms?’
Eadulf hesitated awkwardly.
‘I meant …’ he began to protest but Fidelma cut him short with a sharp gesture of her hand.
She had turned and dropped to one knee by the nearest body and began to inspect it. Then, slowly, one by one, she began to move around the circle of bodies repeating her examination, pausing by one body for a longer period than the others. Eadulf gave an inward shrug and, although his eyes kept flickering across the surrounding countryside, he passed the time trying to make some sense from the grim pile of cadavers.
That they were all young males, perhaps the youngest was no more than sixteen or seventeen, the eldest no more than twenty-five, was the first and immediate thing that struck him. They were all naked; their pale skins, parchment white, showed that they were unused to any stage of nudity in life. He also noted the bodies were arranged in a circle with each body placed with the feet towards the centre of the circle. Each body also lay on its left side. He also noted that there were no signs of blood or disturbance of the ground around the circle. To Eadulf this meant that the young men had not been slaughtered at this spot. He was pleased by his deduction.
Fidelma had finished her examination and rose to her feet. There was a small stream about ten yards away and, without a word, she turned and walked with a studied determination towards it. Bending before it, she washed her hands and arms and then splashed the cold water on her face.
Eadulf waited patiently. He had been long enough in the five kingdoms of Éireann to know how fastidious the Irish were about cleanliness. He waited patiently until she had finished. When she returned, her face was still sombre and she halted again before the circle of bodies.
‘Well, Eadulf, what have you observed?’ she asked, after a pause of a moment or so.
Eadulf started in surprise. He had not realised that she had noticed his inspection. He thought rapidly.
‘They are all young men,’ he offered.
‘That is true.’
‘They have been lain out in some sort of order, in a circle, and they were not killed here.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow in query.
‘Why do you think that?’
‘Because if they had been killed here then there would have been a struggle. The ground around is not disturbed nor is it bloody. They were killed elsewhere and placed here.’
She nodded appreciatively at his observation.
‘What about their feet?’
Eadulf looked at her curiously.
‘Their feet?’ he faltered.
She pointed downwards.
‘If you examine their feet, you will see that each young man has callouses, sores and blisters, as if they have been forced to walk over rough ground or for many miles. The abrasions are recent. Doesn’t that contradict your argument that they were carried here?’
Eadulf thought furiously.
‘Not necessarily,’ he said after a moment. ‘They may well have been marched a distance to the place where they were killed and then brought here after death to be laid out in this curious fashion.’
Fidelma was approving. ‘Well done, Eadulf. We’ll make a
dálaigh
of you yet. Anything else? You have not mentioned the marks of a leg-iron around their left ankles.’
In truth, Eadulf had not spotted these abrasions which, since Fidelma pointed them out, were now clear. However, Fidelma went on: ‘Did you count the number of bodies?’
‘About thirty, I think.’
There was a momentary expression of annoyance on her features.
‘One should be more accurate. There are precisely thirty-three bodies.’
‘Well, I was near enough,’ he replied defensively.
‘No, you were not,’ she countered sharply. ‘But we will return to that in a moment. You mentioned that they were laid out in some sort of order. Do you have any other observations?’
Eadulf regarded the circle and grimaced.
‘No.’
‘You have no comment to make on the fact that they were laid on their left side, every one of them with their feet placed towards the centre of the circle? Does that not mean anything to you?’
‘Only that it must be some form of a ritual.’
‘Ah, a ritual. Look again. The bodies are placed on their left side. Start at the top of the circle and follow round … they are placed facing right-hand-wise. In other words – sunwise, what we call
deisiol
.’
‘I am not sure that I follow your meaning.’
‘In pagan times we performed certain rites by turning
deisiol
or sunwise. Even now, at a burial, there are many among us who insist on walking round the graveyard three times sunwise with the coffin.’
‘You mean this might be a pagan symbol?’ Eadulf shuddered and raised a hand to cross himself, a gesture he thought better of.
‘Not necessarily,’ Fidelma reassured him. ‘When the Blessed Patrick was given land at Armagh, on which he eventually raised his church, it was said that he had to walk
deisiol
around it holding a crozier and, in that fashion, solemnly consecrated the land to the service of the Christ by using our ancient customs and rites.’
‘Then what are you saying?’ frowned Eadulf.
‘That these bodies are laid out as part of a ritual but what form of ritual – pagan or Christian – we must endeavour to find out by other observations.’
‘Such as?’
‘Have you observed the manner in which these unfortunates were precipitated from this world?’
Eadulf confessed that he had not.
‘Have you ever heard of The Threefold Death?’
‘I have not.’
‘There is an ancient tale that once, long ago, our people forsook the ancient moral code of our Druids and fell to the worship of a great golden idol called Cromm Cruach, the god of the Bloody Crescent, to whom human sacrifices were offered. He was worshipped on the Plain of Adoration, Magh Slécht, in the time of the High King Tigernmas, son of Follach. His very name meant “lord of death”.’
BOOK: Valley of the Shadow
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