Our Lady of Darkness (23 page)
Read Our Lady of Darkness Online
Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Medieval Ireland
Eadulf reseated himself ‘My plan?’ he asked, his mind distracted by the appearance of Gabrán.
‘Before Gabrán turned up we were talking of your plan to get to Fearna and find your friend from Cashel,’ Dalbach reminded him.
‘Before we do so, I would like to know more of this man, Gabrán. You mentioned that he was a merchant?’
‘Yes, he is a trader. He has his own boat and moves freely along the river.’
‘I am sure that I once saw him in the abbey at Fearna.’
‘No doubt. He trades regularly with the abbey.’
‘But why did he come to Coba’s fortress to tell me that I was free to go? I thought he was one of Coba’s men.’
‘Perhaps the chieftain of Cam Eolaing paid him to pretend to release you and then shoot you down,’ offered Dalbach.
‘That could be what happened,’ Eadulf said, having given the matter thought. ‘But why should Coba rescue me from the abbey in the first place if he merely wanted my death?’
‘Gabrán’s services are probably available to anyone who pays him, so maybe it was someone else. But that is a mystery which you must deal with. All I can tell you is that Gabrán is well-known along the river.’
‘You said that he often comes this way.’
‘I think that he must have family in the hills.’
Eadulf was interested in this deduction and said so.
‘He often returns from his visits into the hills with young women. I presume that they are his relatives accompanying him back to the river.’
‘You presume? Doesn’t he introduce them?’
‘He leaves them in the woods there when he comes to visit me, but I hear their voices at a distance. He stops for refreshment, you see – I always have mead on hand.’
‘They never come with him to your cabin?’
‘Never,’ Dalbach confirmed. ‘But what will you do about continuing your journey? Gabrán’s arrival makes me suggest that you should not delay. I realise that if, instead of Gabrán, it had been my cousin from Fearna then you might not have escaped attention.’
‘Perhaps it is wise not to stay longer than is necessary,’ agreed Eadulf.
‘Then you must take some clothes of mine and a hat to disguise you.’
‘You are kind, Dalbach.’
‘Not kind, although the sages tell us to have a kind look on another’s misery. I glean my own satisfaction from making a small stand for justice.’ He stood up. ‘Now come with me and I shall show you where I keep some spare clothing and you may make the choice for your journey. Have you thought how you will approach Fearna?’
‘How I will approach it?’
‘The route which you will take there. I am told that the Brehon Bishop Forbassach is clever. He may deduce that you will attempt to make contact with your friend, Sister Fidelma, and mount a watch for you along the road from Cam Eolaing. It would be best to go north, across the mountains, and then approach Fearna from the northerly road. They would never expect you to come from that direction.’
Eadulf considered for a moment or so. ‘It is a clever idea,’ he agreed. ‘It will be a cold night so do not attempt to stay on the mountains. There is a tiny sanctuary at the Church of the Blessed Brigid which lies on the southern slopes of the Yellow Mountain. Remember that place. The Father Superior, Brother Martan, is a kindly man. Mention my name and you will be given a warm bed and food.’
‘I shall remember that. You have been a good friend to a friendless soul, Dalbach.’
‘What is the cry —
justitia omnibus
. Justice for all or justice for no one,’ Dalbach replied.
justitia omnibus
. Justice for all or justice for no one,’ Dalbach replied.
The bright autumn morning, with its sharp frost and clear skies, had begun to turn into a more typical dull, cheerless day. Cold, grey-white stormclouds had blown up from the south-west foretelling rain to come. At first the clouds had appeared very high, wispy as a mare’s tail, developing into a lofty, milky sheet which, from Fidelma’s knowledge, meant that the rain would arrive in twelve hours or less.
Fidelma, with Dego and Enda, had ridden along the river path towards Cam Eolaing and once or twice they had paused to hail passing boatmen in order to seek news of Gabrán. It seemed that his boat, the
Cág,
had not been seen passing downriver and so it was logical to assume that it was still moored at Cam Eolaing.
Cág,
had not been seen passing downriver and so it was logical to assume that it was still moored at Cam Eolaing.
Cam Eolaing was a curious junction of rivers and rivulets set in a valley. At the spot where most of these waters intersected, they spread almost into a lake through which there were a series of islands not really inhabited for they were low and marshy. To the north and to the
south, rose hills guarding this valley. On the northern shore, on a strategically placed hill, stood a fortress dominating the area. Fidelma guessed that this was Coba’s fortress in which Eadulf had been given sanctuary on the previous day.
south, rose hills guarding this valley. On the northern shore, on a strategically placed hill, stood a fortress dominating the area. Fidelma guessed that this was Coba’s fortress in which Eadulf had been given sanctuary on the previous day.
Beyond the lake, another ribbon of water flowed from the east, its origin shrouded among the rising hills. Cam Eolaing dominated the gateway through this hill countryside to the west. Below the fortress, mainly along the banks of the river, were several cabins, particularly along the north bank.
Fidelma indicated that they should halt for a while and Dego went to make enquiries about Gabrán and his boat from a blacksmith, who was engaged in preparing a fire in his forge as they approached. The brawny leather-jacketed man barely paused in his work but spoke gruffly and pointed across the river. Dego returned to them and explained.
‘Apparently Gabrán usually keeps his vessel moored on the south bank of the river, lady. He lives just over there.’
The river was broad here and unfordable.
‘We’ll have to find a boat to take us across,’ muttered Enda, pointing out the obvious.
Dego indicated along the bank to where there were several small boats drawn up.
‘The smith says that someone along there will row us across.’
The blacksmith was right. They soon found a woodcutter who offered to take them across for a small consideration. It was decided that Enda would remain with the horses while Dego would accompany Fidelma to find Gabrán.
They were already in midriver when the woodcutter glanced over his shoulder and paused in his rowing.
‘Gabrán is not there,’ he announced. ‘Do you still want to cross?’
Dego frowned sternly. ‘Not there? If you knew that, why did you embark on this journey?’
The woodcutter glanced at him pityingly. ‘I cannot see round corners, my fiery friend. It is only from here in midstream that I can see his moorings behind that islet. The
Cág,
that is his boat, is not at her moorings there. So Gabrán is not there. He lives on his boat, you see.’
Cág,
that is his boat, is not at her moorings there. So Gabrán is not there. He lives on his boat, you see.’
Dego looked deflated at the explanation.
‘Nevertheless, we shall continue,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘I see that there are other cabins by those moorings and someone may know where he has gone.’
The woodcutter silently bent to his oars again. He landed them at the empty mooring, and pointed out a cabin which belonged to Gabrán, although he explained that the boatman never stayed in it. Fidelma made him promise to wait and row them back when they had concluded their business. There was no one at the cabin, but a passing woman carrying a bundle of sticks slung on her back, halted at the sight of them.
‘Are you seeking Gabrán, Sister?’ she asked respectfully.
‘I am.’
‘He does not live there, although the cabin is his. He prefers to spend all his time on his boat.’
‘I see. The fact that his boat is not here must mean that he is not here either?’
The woman agreed with her logic.
‘He was here earlier this morning but he cast off very early. There was some excitement at the chieftain’s fortress this morning.’
‘Was Gabrán involved in it?’
‘I doubt it; it was something to do with an escaped foreigner. Gabrán is more concerned with his profits than with what happens at the fortress of our chieftain.’
‘We were told that the
Cág
had not sailed downriver today.’
Cág
had not sailed downriver today.’
The woman indicated north with her head.
‘Then it went upriver. That’s common sense. Is something amiss that so many people are seeking Gabrán today?’
Fidelma had been turning away when she paused and glanced back at the woman.
‘So many people?’
‘Well, I do not know her name, but there was a grand religieuse here. She was making enquiries after Gabrán not long ago.’
‘Was it Abbess Fainder of Fearna?’
The woman shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know her. I don’t go into Fearna — it’s a big, busy place.’
‘You implied that other people have asked you about Gabrán today?’
‘A warrior was here as well. He announced himself as a commander of the King’s guards.’
‘Was his name Mel?’
‘He didn’t say.’ She shrugged again. ‘He was here even before the grand religieuse.’
‘He was looking for Gabrán?’
‘In a great hurry, he was. Seemed most put out when I told him where the
Cág
had gone. Upriver? says he. Upriver? Then off he goes, racing away.’
Cág
had gone. Upriver? says he. Upriver? Then off he goes, racing away.’
‘I see. I don’t suppose that he mentioned why he wanted to find Gabrán?’
‘Not he.’
‘So we will find Gabrán somewhere upriver?’
‘I have said as much.’
Fidelma waited but when no further information was forthcoming she asked: ‘Yet this river appears to have two main arteries beyond those islands. Which one do we take?’
‘You are a stranger here, Sister,’ the woman chided. ‘There is only one route for a boat. The eastern branch of the river is not negotiable for a boat the size of the
Cág.
Gabrán usually takes the northern route to some settlements along the way. He collects some merchandise there before he returns downriver where he sells it.’
Cág.
Gabrán usually takes the northern route to some settlements along the way. He collects some merchandise there before he returns downriver where he sells it.’
Fidelma thanked the woman and turned for the woodcutter’s boat with Dego following.
‘It seems that we must ride further upriver after Gabrán, then,’ she sighed.
‘Why do you think the abbess was looking for him?’ asked Dego, as they reached the boat. ‘And now Mel? Are they all involved in this mystery?’
Fidelma shrugged. ‘Let us hope that we shall discover that.’ She found herself suddenly shivering. ‘Today is bitterly cold. I hope that Eadulf has found some shelter.’
Back in the boat, the woodcutter was reclining, wrapped in a woollen cloak, looking comfortable in spite of the chill.
‘I told you that Gabrán was not there,’ he grinned, reaching out a hand to steady Fidelma as she climbed into the boat, causing it to rock a little.
‘You did,’ she replied shortly.
He rowed them back across the river in silence.
On the north shore, Dego gave the man the coin he asked for and they rejoined Enda.
‘The
Cág
has gone upriver,’ Dego told him. ‘We shall ride after it.’
Cág
has gone upriver,’ Dego told him. ‘We shall ride after it.’
Enda’s features were gloomy.
‘I spoke to the woodcutter’s wife while you were across there,’ he offered. ‘The northern branch of the river is not navigable beyond two
or three kilometres from here, and the southern branch is not navigable beyond a kilometre or thereabouts.’
or three kilometres from here, and the southern branch is not navigable beyond a kilometre or thereabouts.’
‘Well, that is good news,’ replied Fidelma, mounting her horse. ‘That means we shall catch up with the
Cág
sooner rather than later.’
Cág
sooner rather than later.’
‘The woodcutter’s wife also said that there was another warrior here,’ added Enda, ‘who left his horse …’
‘We know all about him; it was Mel,’ Dego interrupted, hauling himself up into the saddle.
‘Apparently he was with another man who waited for him on this shore while he went across the river.’
Fidelma waited patiently and then said with irritation, ‘well — are you going to share your knowledge, with us Enda?’
‘Yes, of course. It was the Brehon, the woman said. Bishop Forbassach.’
Eadulf had left his new-found friend Dalbach, and was climbing further up into the hills. The air was chill and a wind was whipping up from the south-east. He knew that bad weather was on its way. From his elevated position, he could see the dark shape of rainclouds gathering in the southern sky.
He was taking the track directly north which, Dalbach had advised him, would bring him into a valley at the eastern end of the northern mountains, somewhere beyond a peak where he could turn west and pick up the road to Fearna. In spite of his blindness, Dalbach seemed to recall the geography of his native land as well as any sighted man. Memories were seared into his mind. The countryside which Eadulf was travelling through was a desolate hilly landscape, and he was doubly grateful for Dalbach’s hospitality and his loan of warm clothing and boots to replace his worn woollen habit and sandals. He was also glad of the woollen hat which Dalbach had provided; it complemented his sheepskin cloak, and fitted snugly on his head with the flaps covering his ears. The wind across the hillside was like a knife cutting frequently through the sensitive parts of the flesh.
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