Valley of the Shadow

Chapter Ten

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, Iknow. 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 beconcluded 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 beenheld 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.’

She left the field and began to climb back towards Laisre’s fortress.

By the time she reached it, Eadulf had finished his bath. Cruinn was placing the food on the table and there was no sign of Brother Dianach. Eadulf told her that Dianach had gone to the feast but Brother Solin had not returned to the guests’ hostel. Fidelma debated with herself for a moment as to whether she should have her evening bath and decided not to allow the soup to chill but to eat first and bathe later.

Cruinn, asking if they needed anything else and ascertaining that they did not, bade them have a good evening and left them to the meal.

Fidelma gave herself to the meal in silence while Eadulf ate moderately and stuck to water as Fidelma sipped at a beaker of mead.

‘What are you puzzling over, Fidelma?’ Eadulf finally broke the quiet that had fallen between them. ‘I know when your mind is active for you have that far-away look in your eyes.’

She brought her gaze from the middle distance to focus on Eadulf.

‘I have no other thoughts but to conclude the matter with Laisre tomorrow morning, providing we have no more prevarications from Murgal and Solin. After that, as I told you, we must follow up the mystery of the slaughtered young men.’

‘Do you really think that you can find some clue that Colla has missed?’

‘I will not think anything before I have examined the evidence. There is some ominous, oppressive mystery — something which is staring me in the face and yet I am not recognising it. However, one thing I have just confirmed about that strange young man who claims to be a horse trader.’

Eadulf looked up with interest.

‘Apart from the fact that he does not know his law of trading?’ he asked brightly.

‘Not only does he not know about the law of trading but the so-called thoroughbred horse from Britain he says that he has brought to sell at such a grand price … it is no thoroughbred at all.’

‘You saw it?’

‘I went to Ronan’s farm where Ibor is lodging. I saw the two horses he has brought with him. One is a mare and the other a stallion. They are not young horses, either of them, but they are good working horses. Certainly they are trained, too well trained, as war horses. Both of them have scars and it seems they have seen service in battle before now.’

‘Are you saying that he is a complete impostor?’

‘I am saying that neither horse is what he has claimed it to be. He said that he had brought a thoroughbred from the kingdom of the Britons, from Gwynedd. All such horses are short-legged and broad-chested, they have thick, wiry coats and a dense undercoat that insulates the body against the hard winters. But the horses that he has brought are not pure bred at all. They are long-legged and of the sort imported from Gaul for racing or bred for battle. His horses are too old to be worth anything that would justify him journeying all the way from Ulaidh to this remote part of our kingdom. In other words — Ibor of Muirthemne is a liar!’

Eadulf felt helpless for he could offer her no advice or even begin to think of anything which might be of help in solving the mystery.

They finished their meal in meditative silence. Faintly, they could hear the sounds of merry-making from the feasting hall of Laisre. It was Fidelma’s suggestion that, if Eadulf was feeling up to it, theytake another turn around the walls of the ráth before turning in. Eadulf would have preferred to retire immediately to bed for he had still not entirely recovered from the swimming feeling in his head. Yet guilt made him accede to Fidelma’s suggestion. At least they had a rapport in which they did not have to talk but still retained a closeness of thought as if knowing what was passing through each other’s minds as it did so.

They walked from the hostel to the steps leading up to the battlement walkway.

A shadow moved at the top of the stairs. They could hear an embarrassed giggle and the slight, small figure of a young girl disappeared into the darkness. A second shadow emerged and a harsh male voice challenged them. When they identified themselves the figure of Rudgal emerged into the flickering light of a burning brand torch.

‘You are not at Laisre’s feast, then?’ The wagon maker and part-time warrior seemed embarrassed by their appearance.

‘One of Laisre’s feasts is enough for me,’ Eadulf confessed plaintively.

Rudgal’s features seemed to be sympathetic.

‘Bad wine,’ was his verdict. ‘It happens sometimes.’ Then he turned to Fidelma, changing the subject rapidly. ‘I heard from Artgal that there was nothing to be found on the plain where you discovered the bodies; nothing which would explain how that terrible event came to happen.’

Fidelma leant against the battlement and gazed out into the gloom of the evening.

‘You are a Christian, Rudgal. What would you make of this slaughter?’

Rudgal coughed nervously, and cast a look about. He lowered his voice conspiratorially.

‘As you say, Sister, I am of the Faith. Life has been difficult for those of us who follow such a path in Gleann Geis. Then it became obvious that we are becoming a substantial portion of the population in this valley and we began to press the chieftain and his assembly to make recognition of our existence. For years now we have been blocked by the chieftain and his council. Then, suddenly, the chieftain seemed to reach enlightenment for he over-ruled his council and sent to Cashel. I never thought I would see the day. However, there are still many here who cling to the old ways. I will say this about this matter …’ He paused. ‘This ritual slaughter, as you claim it to be. There are many people who would like to see those of the Faith demoralised and the old ways triumph again.’

Fidelma turned and tried to read any hidden message in the features of Rudgal’s face in the gloom.

‘Do you think this act was done as a means of intimidating the Christian community here?’

‘Why else would it be done? It serves no other purpose.’

‘But who were the victims? Laisre says that no one in Gleann Geis is missing.’

‘This is true. We would soon know if any of our people were missing. Perhaps the victims were travellers who were waylaid and slaughtered? Who killed them? I think the answer lies not far from where you hear that laughter emanating.’

A burst of rowdy laughter had just echoed from the feasting hall.

‘Who do you accuse? Laisre? Or Murgal?’ prompted Eadulf. ‘Or is there someone else?’

Rudgal glanced briefly at Eadulf.

‘It is not my place to point a finger of accusation. Just ask yourself this — whose interest does this action serve? Laisre was the one who decided to allow the Faith some freedom against the wishes of his council. Examine who opposes Laisre. I can say no more. Goodnight.’

Rudgal made off into the shadowy darkness.

‘There is a logic in what he says,’ offered Eadulf after a moment or two of silence.

‘Cui bono? “Who stands to gain?” is an ancient precept of the law. Cicero demanded it of a judge in Rome. It is logical but is it too logical?’

Eadulf shook his head, puzzled.

‘That is too clever for me. Logic is surely the art of making truth prevail?’

‘Yet logic can often disguise truth from us. Logic can often ruin the spirit, the creative side of our mind, so that we go running along a straight track when our answers lie in the shadows of the forest glades beside those tracks. Logic alone confines us.’

‘Do you think there can be some other explanation then?’

‘One thing occurs to me — if this slaughter was done merely to frighten and coerce the Christians of Gleann Geis, why not slaughter some of the Christians of this valley? Why enact this ritual in the valley outside and use the bodies of strangers? Why not give more forceful strength to the message of menace? That logical deduction, as you see, has its faults.’

‘Well, turning the same facts over and over without anything new to add makes the mind sterile,’ Eadulf observed.

Fidelma chuckled.

‘At times I need your wisdom, Eadulf,’ she said. ‘Let us complete our circuit of the walls and return to a restful slumber.’

Eadulf hesitated.

‘Perhaps Rudgal was trying to put us off the scent? Who was he conspiring with up here just now?’

‘Conspiring is hardly the term,’ Fidelma said in amusement. ‘Even you must have recognised Orla’s daughter.’

They circuited the walls and returned down the steps. They passed across the courtyard, listening to the sounds of merry-making and music echoing from the feasting hall. There came a moment of comparative quiet, a brief lull in the noise, during which the sound of an angry voice and a slamming door could be plainly heard. The sound was unexpected and Fidelma seized Eadulf s sleeve and drew him back into the shadows of the wall.

‘What is it?’ whispered the Saxon perplexed by her action.

Fidelma shook her head and placed a finger against her lips.

Across the courtyard the door of the building where Murgal’s apartment and library were housed was opening and there was no disguising the thick-set figure of Brother Solin as he came out and slammed it shut. He had one hand against the side of his face as if nursing it. He paused for a moment in the light of an oil lamp which hung outside the door, illuminating his angry features. He looked up and down, as if to ensure he had not been observed. The way he carried himself demonstrated his tense attitude and anger. Then he seemed to smooth his clothing and run a hand through his dishevelled hair. He straightened his shoulders and began to walk across the flag stones with a purposeful tread towards the feasting hall.

Fidelma and Eadulf pressed back into the shadows so that Brother Solin did not observe them. They waited in silence until he had vanished through the doors into the chieftain’s building.

Eadulf pulled a face in the darkness.

‘It was only that pompous idiot,’ he remarked. ‘No need to hide from him.’

Fidelma sighed softly.

‘Sometimes you may learn things if people are unaware of your presence.’

‘Learn what?’

‘For instance, Brother Solin passed under the light of that lamp there. What did you observe?’

‘That he was angry.’

‘True. What else?’

Eadulf thought a moment and gave up.

‘Little else, I think.’

‘Ah, Eadulf! Did you not observe that someone seems to have struck Brother Solin hard across the cheek? Did you see the dark mark of blood on the corner of his cheek?’

Eadulf made an impatient negative gesture.

‘And if that is so, what does it tell us?’ he demanded.

‘Earlier, I saw Brother Solin with a nose bleed. I think someone had struck him on the nose. It tells us that someone does not like Brother Solin of Armagh.’

Eadulf burst into sardonic laughter.

‘I could have told you that. I do not like him for one.’

Fidelma regarded Eadulf in amusement.

‘True. But you have not gone so far as to assault our pious cleric. Twice blood has been drawn. Wine has been thrown over him. Let us see if we can find the person who is responsible.’

She led the way across the courtyard to the door that Brother Solin had exited from. She was about to open the door when it swung open and the dark-haired figure of Orla came out. She stopped in surprise as if not expecting to find anyone outside.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded ungraciously.

‘We seem to have missed our way,’ Fidelma returned evenly. ‘Where does this door lead?’

The sister of Laisre glowered.

‘Not to the hostel, that is for certain,’ she replied. ‘There is no need for you to have missed the way to it. You can see it from here.’

Fidelma turned and then feigned surprise.

‘So you can.’ She went on unabashed. ‘Tell me, have you seen Brother Solin recently? I wanted to speak with him.’

Orla tossed her head in annoyance.

‘I have not seen him. Nor do I wish to. I told you this afternoon that I do not want that pig near me. Now, if you will stand aside …?’

‘Are these your chambers, then?’ Eadulf stopped her, lamely feeling that he ought to make a contribution.

Orla simply ignored his question.

‘I have other matters to attend to, if you do not,’ she said as she pushed by them and headed towards the feasting hall.

Fidelma and Eadulf waited until she had gone.

‘She must have seen Brother Solin,’ Eadulf ventured.

‘Perhaps.’

‘But they both came through this same door.’

‘True, but it leads into a large building with several apartments, including Murgal’s. Also, as you can see, there is the apothecary’s shop in the building.’

They went through the open door and stood in the dimly lit hallway. An oil lamp hung in the centre giving a dancing shadowy light. There were several doors along one side of it leading, presumably, into the apartments. Fidelma looked across to the stairs which Laisre had conducted her up earlier that day.

She was about to suggest that they withdraw, for there was little to be seen, when the tread of someone descending the stairs caused her to pause. Laisre appeared abruptly around the corner and started in surprise at the sight of them.

‘Are you looking for me?’ he greeted, having swiftly gathered his composure. ‘Or did you come seeking more books?’

Fidelma made a hurried decision.

‘I thought that I would show Brother Eadulf where the library is located in case we stood in need of consulting any of its volumes tomorrow.’

‘Ah.’ Laisre shrugged. ‘Time enough for work tomorrow. You should be at the feasting. Yes, I know,’ he went on hurriedly, ‘you have explained all about your religious geis.’

‘The feast is where I thought you would have been,’ countered Fidelma. ‘I hear from the music that it is still continuing.’

Laisre shrugged.

‘I had to leave it for a moment. I needed to instruct Murgal on a matter for tomorrow. He left too early for me to mention it. But now I shall go back. Are you sure that you won’t join me?’

Fidelma shook her head.

‘The geis lasts from dusk until dawn,’ she replied, wishing Eadulf would not look so bewildered. ‘We should have retired some time ago but merely called in to look at the library on our way back to the hostel.’

‘Then I shall bid you a good night.’

Laisre left the building with a friendly nod at the two of them.

Fidelma and Eadulf stood at the bottom of the stairs. Laisre had not closed the door and so they could see his shadowy figure crossing the stone-flagged courtyard. Almost immediately that he left the building, a large, portly figure hurried out of the shadows and intercepted him. Fidelma and Eadulf could not mistake the rotund figure of Cruinn, the hostel keeper. She seemed animated and even grabbed the chieftain by the arm. He appeared uncomfortable, glancing round towards the door behind him, but Fidelma and Eadulf were well back in the shadows. Laisre drewthe portly hostel-keeper swiftly to one side. They could faintly hear his voice raised slightly as if trying to calm her.

Fidelma placed a finger to her lips and motioned Eadulf to follow her. Her idea was to draw closer to where Laisre and Cruinn were engaged in conversation. However, the sound of another woman’s voice within the building raised in vehemence reached their ears. A door opened and shut with an abrupt bang. The sound came from somewhere along the corridor. Fidelma quickly propelled Eadulf out into the night, closing the door behind them.

Laisre and Cruinn had disappeared by now and they were scarcely across the courtyard when the door behind them opened and the figure of Rudgal was hurrying behind them in the darkness. He hesitated and then halted as he saw them.

‘Did Murgal pass you a moment ago?’ was his breathless greeting.

‘No, we have not seen Murgal at all this evening,’ Fidelma replied.

Rudgal raised a hand in brief acknowledgment and hurried away.

‘Surely this is a place of great restlessness?’ muttered Eadulf, stifling a sudden yawn.

Fidelma agreed without amusement. It was time to turn in anyway. Perhaps Brother Solin’s nocturnal adventure was not of importance to her after all.

They made their way back to the hostel. The sounds of revelry were still echoing from the feasting hall. Eadulf had no regrets as he made his way directly to his bed chamber, bidding Fidelma good night. Fidelma sat for a while in the main room of the hostel. She sipped at a beaker of mead as she turned matters over in her mind. In the end she had to accept that Eadulf s proposition was right. It was no good turning the same information over and over without adding any new material to point her on to a new pathway. Eventually she made her way to bed, undressed and fell asleep.