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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 (17 page)

BOOK: Valley of the Shadow
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‘I am always interested in meeting a trader in horses, especially one who travels great distances to come to this small corner of the kingdom of Cashel.’
Together, he and Murgal left the ráth.
‘A personable young man,’ remarked Laisre as he and Fidelma stood watching them leave.
Fidelma was cynical.
‘A foolish young man.’ When she saw Laisre look at her questioningly, she continued: ‘It is a fool who rides alone through the country of the Uí Fidgente with a valuable horse in these turbulent times.’
‘Perhaps it is not so dangerous in the country of the Uí Fidgente as you may think,’ Laisre commented. ‘Brother Solin and his young acolyte were there a few days ago.’
Fidelma did not hide her reaction of surprise.
‘Brother Solin actually came here by way of the lands of the Uí Fidgente? Surely that was a curious choice of route?’
‘It is a logical route from the northern kingdoms,’ returned Laisre.
‘I suppose it is,’ Fidelma conceded reluctantly. ‘But not one that I would venture.’
‘My council and I will be gathering later this afternoon to iron out our differences and we may plan to resume our negotiation tomorrow before noon. I apologise once again for this morning. Murgal is an honest man but he is not yet convinced that tolerating the new Faith will bring us anything but a disappearance of our people. He fears the changes it will bring.’
‘It is an understandable attitude,’ accepted Fidelma. ‘However, Heraclitus once said that nothing is permanent in this life but change.’
Laisre smiled wanly.
‘A good saying but it will take much to change Murgal’s mind.’ He paused and then added: ‘We will have another feasting tonight.’
Fidelma winced slightly.
‘Perhaps you will excuse Brother Eadulf and myself?’
The chieftain frowned slightly. To refuse to attend a feast was approaching an insult. Fidelma knew the laws of hospitality. She went on hastily: ‘I am under a geis, a prohibition that on each day after the full moon, I must spend the evening with simple fare and in meditation of my Faith.’
Laisre’s eyes widened a little.
‘A
geis
, you say?’
Fidelma nodded seriously. A geis was an ancient prohibition, a taboo or a bond which, when placed on someone, compelled them to obey the injunction. The concept of the geis still survived in the Brehon Laws. The legendary warrior-hero of Ulaidh, Cúchulainn, had been given a geis never to eat the flesh of a dog. Trapped by his enemies, he eventually had to eat dog flesh and this infringement brought about his inevitable death. The ignoring or transgression of the prohibition exposed the one on whom the geis had been placed to rejection by society and would place them outside the social order.
Fidelma told the lie after the briefest struggle with her religious conscience. Did not the Brehon Morann say: ‘Never to lie is to have no lock to the door of your house. Mendacity is permissible as a means of protection from a greater evil.’ She knew that Laisre could understand and would not question such a prohibition.
‘Very well, Fidelma. I will press you no further.’
‘There is one thing, however …’ Fidelma stayed him.
‘You have but to ask.’
‘Is there a library at the ráth?’
‘Of course.’ Laisre seemed momentarily indignant. ‘It is not only Christians who keep libraries.’
‘I did not mean to imply otherwise,’ Fidelma pacified. ‘Where do I find this library?’
‘I will show you. It is, in fact, under Murgal’s control as my Druid and Brehon.’
‘Will he mind if I examine it?’
‘I am his chieftain,’ Laisre replied curtly in explanation.
He led the way across the courtyard to the same building where the apothecary’s shop was placed. There was a main entrance, a little further beyond the shop, and through this door was a flight of wooden steps leading to other storeys. Laisre climbed the stairs to the third and final storey and proceeded along a passage which led into a square tower room. The squat tower dominated the ráth.
‘That is Murgal’s apartment.’ Laisre indicated an adjacent room. ‘And here is the library.’
Fidelma entered a single, small chamber with the walls lined with wooden pegs from which hung book satchels, each satchel filled with a particular leather-bound volume.
‘Were you looking for something particular?’ Laisre asked as Fidelma moved down the lines of pegs and satchels, searching each book’s title in turn.
‘I am looking for the law books.’
Laisre pointed to several works in one corner. He stood hesitating as she began to peer through them. Fidelma took no further notice of him and he finally cleared his throat.
‘Then if you have no further need of me … ?’ he queried.
Fidelma looked up, as if she had forgotten his existence, and smiled apologetically.
‘I am sorry. I will not be long in looking up the reference I require. But you need not wait for me. I can find my own way back.’
Laisre hesitated, then nodded in acknowledgment.
‘Then, unless our paths cross later, I will see you in the council tomorrow before noon.’
Fidelma turned back to the book satchels as he left. She was looking for a copy of a specific law text and wondered if the Brehon had it in his collection of the score or so of legal texts.
She finally found what she was looking for. It was a tract called the
Allmuir Sét
or sale of foreign goods. She spent half an hour reading the text before replacing it in its satchel and rehanging it on its peg.
She left the room with a contemplative expression on her face and retraced her steps down the stairs to the courtyard, making her way confidently to the hostel.
Fidelma was crossing the courtyard when the sound of clattering hooves at the gate of the ráth made her turn. The sound announced the arrival of a body of horsemen. She immediately recognised Colla and Artgal at their head. They came to a halt and began to dismount. Fidelma walked across to where Colla was loosening his saddle girth.
‘So, Colla, what news?’ she demanded without preamble.
The tanist of Gleann Geis looked up sourly. Colla was not apparently overjoyed to see her.
‘A wild goose chase,’ he announced. ‘I expected little else.’
‘What did you find?’ she pressed.
‘Little enough,’ he said dismissively. ‘The ravens had feasted well. Little to be seen. My men and I followed some tracks but they soon vanished in the stony ground. All I could tell was that the tracks led towards the north.’
‘And?’ encouraged Fidelma. ‘Did you follow them?’
‘The ground was stony, as I said. The tracks soon vanished. We looked around for as long as we could but there was little else to do but return.’
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction.
‘So that is what I must report to Cashel? That thirty-three young men died here in some ritual slaughter and there was nothing to be done?’
Colla stood up and faced her defiantly.
‘I cannot conjure a reason from nothing, Fidelma of Cashel. Not even you could have followed a non-existent track.’
‘Yet you say that the tracks led north? How far did you follow them?’
‘As far as the spot where they could no longer be seen.’
‘But what country lies to the north?’ Fidelma pressed.
‘The Corco Dhuibhne are immediately to the north of these valley lands.’
Fidelma pressed her lips together for a moment.
‘They are a pleasant enough clan, whose chieftain, Fathan, I
know. This evil does not bear their mark. What other lands are there beyond here?’
‘Well, to the north-east is the country of your own cousin, Congal of the Eóghanacht of Loch Léin, king of Iarmuman. Do you see his hand in this?’
Fidelma had to admit that she did not.
‘But beyond him is the land of the Uí Fidgente,’ she said reflectively.
Colla’s eyes narrowed.
‘Is it a scapegoat you seek?’ he asked. ‘The Uí Fidgente are a devastated people. Your brother defeated them at Cnoc Áine. They are weak and not capable of any hostile action. Do you wish to pursue them into oblivion?’
‘Only if they are responsible for this outrage,’ Fidelma affirmed.
‘Well, one thing – they are a Christian people so surely that eliminates them from your suspicions?’ Colla was scornful.
Artgal came forward to take the tanist’s horse and lead it away into the stables. He also dismissed the other warriors back to their dwellings.
Fidelma gazed in silence at Colla for a moment before speaking and, when she did so, she was deliberate in her tone.
‘For the time being, Colla, without evidence, we cannot say who slaughtered the young men, except that the manner in which their bodies were laid out indicates that the culprit wanted to indicate a pagan symbolism to any who found them … unintentionally or intentionally.’
She thanked him coldly for his efforts and strode back to the guests’ hostel.
There was only one person about and that was Eadulf. He was now sitting helping himself liberally to a pitcher full of cold water.
‘Feeling any better?’ she asked encouragingly.
He raised bloodshot eyes and forced a smile. His face was still pale.
‘A little but not much.’
‘Are you in a mood to accept an invitation from Laisre to another feasting?’ she asked keeping her expression serious.
Eadulf groaned aloud and put his head in his hands.
Fidelma smiled maliciously.
‘I thought not. Have no fear. I have already declined in both our names.’
‘Deo gloria!’
he intoned piously.
‘A quiet evening is called for, I think. Our business should be
concluded tomorrow and then we can leave to search the plain and see what we may find out about the slaughtered young men.’
Eadulf was not enthusiastic.
‘I thought we were waiting for Colla?’ he objected.
‘He has already arrived back,’ Fidelma explained shortly. ‘He has discovered no more than we already knew.’
Eadulf raised his head and contrived to look interested in spite of his condition.
‘Did he follow the tracks?’
‘He said that he lost them in the hills to the north.’
‘But you don’t believe him?’
Fidelma sat down and poured herself a beaker of cold water from Eadulf’s pitcher.
‘I do not know. He might be telling the truth. It is stony ground in that valley. Why come back with such news so soon? If it were some conspiracy to keep us occupied for a while, he could certainly have spent a few days pretending to search before returning.’
‘I suppose so,’ Eadulf conceded.
Brother Dianach entered. He bade them a polite good evening.
‘Are you going to the feasting tonight?’ he inquired with an air of innocence, looking directly at the suffering Eadulf.
‘No,’ Fidelma replied shortly.
‘If you forgive me, then, I am going to bathe before the feasting.’
They ignored him and he delayed only a moment before going into the bath house.
‘There is another guest come to the ráth,’ Fidelma told Eadulf after they heard the splashing of water from the next room.
‘Yes? Who?’ Eadulf wondered at her confidential tone.
‘A young man from Ulaidh?’
‘Another visitor from Ulaidh?’ Eadulf was surprised.
‘Exactly my reaction. He calls himself Ibor of Muirthemne and says he is a
cennaige
or trader in horses.’
‘You sound as if you do not believe it?’
Fidelma nodded.
‘He does not know his law of dealing in horses from overseas.’
‘Should he do so?’
‘Any competent trader would know the basic laws.’
‘So he is not a trader in horses. So who is he and why is he here?’
‘I wish I knew. He does have the bearing of a man used to arms. And remember that we found a warrior’s torc near the bodies of the young men and that torc was of northern workmanship? I feel …’
The door opened boisterously and the corpulent figure of Cruinn entered.
‘I hear there is another feasting tonight,’ she greeted them. ‘However, I thought I would see if you required anything from me beforehand.’
‘Brother Eadulf and I will not be going to the feasting,’ Fidelma informed her.
The eyes of Cruinn showed surprise in her fleshy face.
‘Not going?’ she repeated as if it were an unheard-of thing. ‘But it is Laisre who is hosting the feast.’
‘We will not tax your services too much,’ Fidelma informed her, ignoring her disapproval. ‘If you could prepare a dish of cold meats and some bread that will be food enough.’
Cruinn glanced at Eadulf’s haggard features.
‘I could also prepare a hot broth. A broth of leeks and oats with herbs added.’
Eadulf’s tongue flickered over his lips with anticipation.
‘It sounds the very thing that is needed to settle a rebellious stomach,’ he observed.
The pudgy woman bustled off to prepare the food while Fidelma and Eadulf remained seated at the table.
‘I presume the others – Solin and the young man – are going to the feast?’ Cruinn called over her shoulder as she set about her task.
‘Young Brother Dianach is in the bath house. But he has said that he is going,’ Fidelma volunteered. ‘We have not seen Brother Solin this evening. I am sure he will be going as well.’
Fidelma rose and went to Cruinn’s side, watching the large woman’s dexterous hands preparing the meal.
‘Have you always lived in Gleann Geis, Cruinn?’ she asked abruptly. Then: ‘I have heard that there are many newcomers to the valley.’
‘I have always lived here,’ the woman confirmed. ‘Those you speak of are the Christian wives and some husbands from the surrounding areas who have married among the original settlers in this valley.’
‘Do you approve of Christians?’
The fleshy woman chuckled.
‘You might just as well ask whether I approve of the mountains. They are there. What else to do but live with them?’
‘You are wise,’ Fidelma smiled. ‘Are all the people of the valley as philosophical as you?’
The big woman did not understand the word.
Fidelma sought for another means of explaining her question.
‘Do all the others in the valley feel as you do? Or do they feel an insecurity about the Christians?’
‘We are very secure in this valley for there are only two ways in and two ways out,’ Cruinn said, misinterpreting her.
Fidelma was about to explain that she had not meant physical fear when she realised what Cruinn had said.
‘Two ways? I thought that there was only one path through the ravine?’
‘Oh, no. There is the river path.’
‘But I was told that the river is unnavigable through the rapids.’
‘That is so but there is a small footpath that runs beside the river. Difficult and hidden in places because it goes through caves. A sure-footed person can manage it. It emerges into the valley beyond. As children most of us explored it. But no one could …’
The woman paused and then her eyes narrowed. It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps she was speaking too freely. Her embarrassment was covered when Brother Dianach emerged and confirmed that he would be going to the feasting. When questioned about Brother Solin’s intentions he replied that he had not seen the cleric for a while but would presume that he was going too.
Fidelma announced that she would take a short walk before having her evening bath. Promising to be back soon, she left the hostel leaving Cruinn preparing the evening meal.
It was with some reluctance that Eadulf decided to also use the facilities of the second chamber to have an evening bathe. He decided that a cold bath might relieve him of the sweaty alcohol-induced discomfiture from his body. He felt a shame that he had succumbed to the excess of drink. Even though everyone had told him the wine had been bad, he felt it no excuse. He felt more humiliation since Fidelma had not been as reproving as she might have been.
Fidelma had actually left the ráth. She knew exactly where she was going. It took fifteen minutes or so to walk down to Ronan’s hamlet, having first ascertained from the sentinel at the gate that both Ibor of Muirthemne and Murgal had returned to the ráth for the evening’s festivities. She spotted her goal when she saw two horses grazing in the field next to Ronan’s farmstead.
She made directly into the field by climbing over the low stone wall which surrounded it.
Fidelma was not without knowledge when it came to equestrian matters. She had been raised on a horse almost before she could walk. If the truth were known, her name was still spoken of in awe at the famous Cuirrech where a great annual race gathering had been
held since time immemorial. A few years had passed since she had solved the mystery of the slaughter of the king of Laighin’s prize race-horse and his jockey. She knew much about horses.
There were two horses in the field. A black stallion and a white mare. The mare was skittish but the stallion stood docilely enough as Fidelma ran her hands over his shoulders and fetlocks. She stroked him gently on the muzzle until he allowed her to open his mouth and examine his teeth. The mare was more difficult to examine but after a while she managed to calm her sufficiently to inspect her also.
‘What are you doing?’ cried a harsh voice.
Bairsech, the wife of Ronan, stood regarding her with a sour expression from the doorway of the farm building.
‘Just examining these horses, Bairsech,’ replied Fidelma unruffled. ‘Are they the horses that belong to Ibor of Muirthemne?’
The woman recognised Fidelma but scowled even more.
‘Yes; they are his.’ It was said ungraciously.
Fidelma pursed her lips reflectively as she gazed at the animals.
‘Has he no other horses with him?’
‘Why do you ask? Do you want to buy them for he is not here but up at the ráth.’
‘Indulge me,’ replied Fidelma patiently. ‘Did he bring any other animals with him?’
‘No, just those two beasts.’ Bairsech was wary. ‘What does that have to do with you?’
‘Nothing,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Nothing at all. I shall doubtless see him at the ráth later.’
BOOK: Valley of the Shadow
13.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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