Master of Souls

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was a little after midday when Eadulf awoke and found the others also stirring from their exhausted slumber. Gaeth and Gaimredan were already preparing food that smelled appetising over the fire while Fidelma was also up and washed. Eadulf excused himself and went to the cold stream outside and splashed his face in a perfunctory manner before rejoining them.

The winter’s day was bright and sunny, yet the cloudless sky meant that it would be cold again. Snow lay on the mountains and there were still traces of a frost in the shadowy parts of the buildings around Gaeth’s forge. In the paddock at the back of the forge it seemed that the horses had been fed already.

To Eadulf the previous night seemed like some kind of nightmare. He mentally repeated his oath never to take to the sea again. Apart from a few greetings no one among the company spoke until after the meal was eaten and the fire was stoked and burning brightly again. Then they sat round the central hearth in a circle and finally Fidelma invited Esumaro and Sister Easdan to tell their story.

It was Esumaro who told his tale first. Of the storm that had driven his ship into the long inlet that would have led him to the safe anchorage outside the abbey of Colman. But he described how he had been lured on to the rocky shores of the islet by a false signal and his ship dashed to pieces. He went on to graphically recount how the survivors of the Sumerli had been killed on the shore and how he had hidden himself before making it across a sandy strait to the mainland in the darkness and then had fallen into an exhausted sleep. He ended with being woken by a group of religieuse.

It was then that Sister Easdan took up the story of how they were on

‘Tell us who led these warriors,’ instructed Fidelma, wanting to get down to detail.

‘There was a man whom the men called Olcan,’ replied Sister Easdan immediately.

‘While my men were being killed on the shore where we were wrecked, I heard the killers speak this name — Olcan,’ added Esumaro. ‘The warriors were the wreckers and they became our captors. I owe my life to the good sisters who disguised me, pretending that I was also one of their religious brothers on the same pilgrimage. I called myself Brother Maros lest they found out the name of the captain of the ship they had wrecked.’

Sister Easdan was looking troubled.

‘While Olcan clearly led the warriors, I don’t think he was really in charge.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Fidelma encouragingly.

‘There was a small person among them from whom Olcan appeared to take his orders.’

‘Describe this person,’ Fidelma invited, not revealing that she had already had a good description from Ganicca.

‘We never saw his features,’ the girl replied. ‘He was on horseback but clad from head to foot in grey robes, rather like a religious, but he wore no crucifix round his neck.’

‘Can you describe him further?’

‘A slight, bent figure, speaking in a high-pitched, almost whining voice.’

‘But you never caught sight of his face once?’ pressed Eadulf. Esumaro shook his head.

‘But I can tell you his name,’ he said suddenly, making them all turn to look at him. ‘When we stopped at a village among the mountains after we had been captured, one of the villagers — an old man — pointed to him and called, in my hearing, the name Uaman.’

Eadulf sat back shaking his head.

Conri. let out a long, deep breath.

‘It makes sense if Uaman the Leper still lives,’ he observed. ‘Now we know with whom we are dealing.’

Fidelma did not seem perturbed.

‘Esumaro, did any of the company, the warriors, ever address the man as Uaman?’

It was Sister Easdan who replied.

‘It was just as Esumaro said. The old man in the village seemed to recognise him. But Olcan was the only person who was allowed to address him. Olcan simply called him “master”.’

‘Master?’ echoed Fidelma. It was an odd form of address in the five kingdoms of Eireann for it meant more of a teacher, a spiritual guide and leader, than one of rank.

Sister Easdan nodded.

‘I think that he was an evil man for, at the village where we stopped at in the mountains, he ordered the warriors to fall on it and sack it. They killed many people.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘There seemed no reason that I could see,’ Esumaro replied. ‘It was done out of sheer ill-will.’

‘Where were you taken after that?’

‘We were marched north through the mountains until we came to the sea again,’ Esumaro continued. ‘I knew we had crossed the peninsula and had come to the broad bay with the port that lies not far from Ard Fhearta on the northern side. I had sailed several times into that bay.’

Sister Easdan reached forward and laid a hand on the Gaulish sailor’s arm.

‘But don’t forget that before we came to the bay, our party met that other ugly-looking warrior.’

Fidelma raised her head in interest.

‘What warrior was this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Sister Easdan replied. ‘But it was obvious that this man had been expecting us for he was waiting at a spot where there was a memorial stone, a large stone with a cross inscribed on it, not far from a river which we had forded.’

‘So you believe that the meeting had been arranged between your captors and this man?’

Sister Easdan nodded thoughtfully.

‘He was certainly waiting for us. He greeted Olcan like an old friend. We were halted and told to rest awhile. I saw Olcan draw the man aside to bring him to this man they called the “master”. They engaged in some conversation and then the master took a small bag from his saddlebag and

‘You seem to have a sharp eye, Sister Easdan,’ Eadulf commented. ‘Are you sure he went westwards’?’

‘Indeed, he did.’

Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment.

‘Can you describe anything further about this man? You called him ugly.

“Ugly is the word I think of.’ replied Sister Easdan. ’He was a tall, burly-looking man. He had a mass of red curly hair and a beard. He also wore something I have never seen before. It was a… like a picture, painted on his arm. His right arm, I think.’

Fidelma leant forward quickly with a gasp of interest.

‘Do you know what sort of picture?’

‘I can’t be sure. Only that it was something wrapped round a sword. Creatures. I think.’

Fidelma sat back and glanced at Eadulf.

‘That is a description of Slebene’s tren-fher, his personal champion,’ he replied in answer to her unasked question.

‘This small bag that you say the “master” gave to this warrior… what did it look like to you?’

Sister Easdan paused and thought carefully.

‘Just a small bag, although the contents seemed heavy.’

‘Slebene is involved in this matter,’ Eadulf said. ‘This confirms it. Perhaps he is being paid by this man… the master.’

‘I think we can agree that Slebene has some involvement,’ Fidelma concurred. ‘His champion, whatever his name is, would not be acting on his own. He would do nothing without his chief’s permission. However, in law we cannot find a person guilty on such evidence. But the law will accept that there are grounds for suspicion.’

‘But if Slebene is involved in this matter, it would explain a lot,’ Eadulf pointed out.

‘That is true. But first we have to find out what this matter, as you call it, is. What is involved here?’ She turned back to Sister Easdan and Esumaro. ‘What happened next? What happened after this warrior rode off?’

Esumaro glanced at his companion as if seeking permission to continue with the story.

‘It was then that this person called the master also left us.’

‘He rode off in an easterly direction along the shore and we saw no more of him after that,’ added the girl.

‘He rode away alone? None of the warriors went with him?’ asked Eadulf.

‘None.’

‘And what did Olcan do then?’ queried Fidelma.

‘He and his men took us to a sandy shore. A short way out we saw a large warship at anchor,’ replied Esumaro. ‘The women and myself were rowed out to the warship. We were brought to an island, the Island of Seanach, as I later learnt, and taken ashore. There we found a dozen or so hermits who used to live on the island. They, too, were prisoners of these men.’

‘Was nothing said to you during this time about why you had been made captive? No reason was given for your capture?’

‘Our captives spoke not a word to us except to say “do this”, “do that” or to hit us if we moved too slowly. They told us nothing of who they were or what they wanted,’ explained Sister Easdan. ‘We learnt that when we reached the island.’

‘I see. Go on, then.’

‘With the hermits, there was not enough shelter for everyone and our captors set up tents for us behind the chapel. They gave us hardly any warmth or shelter. Nights were spent in freezing conditions and it was almost joy to be given work during the day. However, it could have been worse. The hermits had built a wall around their settlement and this enclosing wall had been made exceptionally strong — it was seven metres thick in places. That, at least, stopped the harsh winds from blowing us away.’

‘There were two small oratories in which the warriors used to sleep themselves. Some of their number remained on the ship,’ Esumaro added. ‘But there was always someone on guard over us to raise the alarm if we disobeyed. Olcan slept in a clochan, one of the small round stone huts near where the old hermits had their souterrain for storing food. There was always someone ensuring that we worked and did not slack.’

Eadulf was puzzled.

‘What work was there to do on that small island?’ he asked.

‘It was the reason why these men, these swine, were there,’ Esumaro replied bitterly. ‘We were brought there as slave labour to cut and polish stone.’

‘Cut and polish stone?’ Fidelma’s eyebrows arched.

Sister Easdan was apparently unaware of the surprise the announcement had caused.

‘That was the interesting point,’ she said. ‘How did these men know about us?’

Fidelma looked frankly bewildered.

‘I don’t understand.’

Sister Easdan realised that she had been assuming knowledge.

‘Did you not know that our task at Ard Fhearta was to cut and polish stones that were brought in to the abbey from other parts of the country? Abbess Faife had chosen us to go on the pilgrimage this year because we all worked in the jewellery workshop making necklaces and brooches for the abbey to trade.’

‘Ah.’ Fidelma suddenly realised what was meant by the word stone. ‘You mean that these stones were lec-logmar, precious stones that are cut to shape and engraved for personal ornaments…’

‘… or used by artists in their ornamental works. Red jasper, rose-coloured quartz, jet, amber, diorite…’

Fidelma’s eyes widened slowly in understanding.

‘So are you saying that all the religieuse that accompanied Abbess Faife had worked on cutting and polishing these stones in the abbey?’

‘Of course,’ Sister Easdan said. ‘Each year Abbess Faife chose certain groups to go on the pilgrimage. This year she had chosen us workers in stone.’

Fidelma peered accusingly at Conri.

‘No one told me that those abducted held any special position at the abbey,’ she commented in irritation.

‘I did not know this either,’ Conri. protested. ‘I did not know they were stone polishers. The abbot never told me.’

Eadulf had turned to the girl. ‘And this was what you were made to do on the island?’

‘Even worse, we were made to use, as tables, three of the rectangular burial platforms, quartz-covered leachts, under which the old leaders of the community were buried.’ Sister Easdan shivered and crossed herself. ‘They made us work on their graves as if they had been nothing but slabs of wood.’

‘Why not deny that you were workers in precious stones?’ asked Eadulf.

‘They had obviously found out who we were and what we did,’ Sister

Esumaro leant towards Fidelma.

‘I have been captain of a merchant vessel for many years. I know the trade between here and Gaul. I can tell you that the stones I saw on the island — what do you call them, lec-logmar? — were valuable beyond anything I have seen elsewhere. Amethyst, topaz, emerald and sapphire… never have I seen such riches before.’

Eadulf looked doubtful.

‘Where would such precious stones come from?’ he demanded. Gaeth the smith, who had been listening intently to the questioning, smiled gently.

‘Do not be surprised, Brother Saxon. Such stones as these are to be found, often in abundance, in these mountains and the coastal areas. They are extracted from clefts between the great rock surfaces, tiny shining crystals in the sandstone cliffs. They are difficult to find but now and again a rich seam of them comes to light. They are very expensive for artisans to use. I know that Ard Fhearta has its own craftsmen who use the stones that these sisters cut and polish to embellish crucifixes and chalices and other icons for your Christian church.’

‘But emeralds, sapphires…’ began Eadulf sceptically.

‘Believe me, Brother,’ Esumaro said earnestly, ‘I tell you I have seen several boxes of those glittering gems. The unworked crystal was brought to the sisters and when they had done with it the stones were stored in boxes in the chapel. The man, Olcan, and his master are amassing a fortune.’

‘So these stones are local? Do you know where exactly they came from?’ asked Fidelma in curiosity.

‘They would not tell us,’ Sister Easdan said, ‘but we found out that some of the hermits had been made to work on the far side of the island. We believe that there was a seam there where the crystal was plentiful. It was clear purple stone, amethyst. I am not sure where they brought the other in from. But as Esumaro says, there were some sapphires and emeralds and a few topazes.’

Eadulf glanced at Esumaro.

‘You did not possess the cutting and polishing skill of the sisters, so what did you do?’

‘I simply acted as a general handyman,’ the sailor replied. ‘I lifted and

‘Why was that?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Well, when I was first taken captive Sister Easdan intervened after they recognised me as a Gaul. She explained that I was a noted scholar, and I gave them the name of Brother Maros. When our captors pointed out that I wore no tonsure, Sister Easdan’ — he smiled quickly at her — ‘claimed that I was a follower of the Blessed Budoc of Laurea, and his followers did not wear tonsures. She said I had been with them some time at the abbey of Ard Fhearta.’

He paused.

‘Very well, go on,’ Eadulf said encouragingly.

‘At first they seemed content enough with that explanation. Truly, I had never heard of Budoc of Laurea. Sister Easdan quickly instructed me on the march through the mountains. Budoc had apparently become Bishop of Dol over a hundred years ago. That is in Armorica — which we are now calling Little Britain because of the countless refugees from Britain who have come to live in there since they were driven out by you Saxons.’

A colour sprang to Eadulf’s cheeks.

‘I am not responsible for what my ancestors did,’ he protested.

Esumaro chuckled. ‘Is there not a saying about the sins of the fathers?’

Fidelma laid a hand on Eadulf’s arm.

‘We are in Muman, not Britain, Esumaro. Let us concentrate our minds on the immediate matter. You said that your captors were initially content with the explanation that you were a member of the religieux. This implies that they were not content later. What happened?’

‘I had the feeling that this strange person, the one called the master, was watching me for some time after we were captured. It is hard to explain. Several times I glanced in his direction but it was difficult to see anything with the hood of the robe drawn down. There was nothing to show which way his eyes were turned. But I had this feeling…’ He paused and shuddered. Then he continued: ‘I saw this Olcan talking to him and soon after, when we had paused on our march, Olcan came over to me and started asking me questions.’

‘Such as?’ prompted Fidelma.

‘Such as how long did I claim I had been at Ard Fhearta. Whom did I know there and so on. I presumed that one of the sisters had slipped up and told them that I had not been at Ard Fhearta. I said that there must have

‘And did that satisfy this Olcan?’

Esumaro shook his head.

‘He questioned me further on where I had come from, what sort of scholar I was. Who Budoc was and so on. I did my best. But the only scholarship that I knew anything about was how to navigate the oceans by the stars. So I pretended that I was an astronomer and talked of this star and that. Of course, Olcan knew a little but not as much as I did. Do you not have a saying that the blind of one eye is a king among the blind of both eyes?’

‘So they accepted you?’

‘Not entirely. I think they continued to be suspicious. However, they did not bother me any more, although I was aware, all the time, that I was being watched.’

‘So when you reached the island, Seanach’s Island, the religieuse were put to work cleaning the stones and you did fetching and carrying while the original inhabitants of the community were actually cutting the crystals from the rocks on the far side of the island,’ Fidelma summed up. ‘What prompted you to escape?’

Esumaro continued their story.

‘It was an old man who inspired us. I do not know his name, but I think he was the head of the community there. He was a sprightly man in spite of his age. I was taking a box of the polished rocks to the chapel when I heard shouting. I turned and saw that he had evaded his captors and was pushing out one of those canoes into the surf from the beach on the east side.

‘The guards had seen him, of course, but the old man could handle that canoe. I admired him. He paddled with the tide so that he had slipped past their advantage points and was heading away out to the sea in the direction of the mainland before they spotted him. Olcan was on the warship when it happened and I heard him shouting in his fury. Then — I think it was at his order — his men began shooting at the old man who was now rowing for all he was worth. Arrows fell on his craft but never seemed to touch him. I thought for a few moments that he might make it. I was rooted to the spot, box still in my hand, and wanting to shout and cheer. But an arrow must have struck him in the back and he gave a scream. I could hear it over the waves. He slumped on to his side.

‘Then I was knocked to the ground by one of the guards. I saw no more of the old man and could hear nothing except the guard rebuking me for my idleness because I had stopped to watch. I had to pick up the polished stones that had spilt from the box. When I had done that, I was given to understand, by the coarse laughter and jesting of the guards, that the old man was dead.’

‘Which was not true,’ intervened Conri. ‘Somehow that old man, whose name we discovered was Brother Martan, managed to struggle with the naomhog and reach the shore on the mainland where, by coincidence, we were. Alas, he died in our arms, having warned us about the island.’

Esumaro looked impressed.

‘So how did you make your escape?’ prompted Eadulf.

‘That same evening. I realised from the way the old man had been shot that we could expect no mercy. As soon as they had finished with our labour, they would kill us. I had noticed that there was a second canoe — a naomhog you call it? Well, there was a second canoe alongside the one that the old man took. If I attempted to run in daylight, I would not get far so I decided to make the attempt at night.’

‘The sea had no perils for you?’ interrupted Eadulf, slightly enviously.

Esumaro laughed.

‘I am a son of the sea,’ he said confidently. ‘The sea is my friend and I respect its moods. I have often rowed small boats and know how to handle the canoes that you use. I also knew these islands, having sailed them, and I realised that the only chance was to go south to the mainland where the old man had been going. I also felt that I could not leave Sister Easdan behind. She had been instrumental in saving my life and so I suggested to her that we should make the attempt together and then try to raise the alarm so that the local chieftain could rescue the others.’

Conri’s expression was cynical.

‘Slebene would not have been much help to you,’ he muttered.

‘Continue, Esumaro,’ Fidelma said, with a glance of annoyance at Conri.

‘Well, it was towards dusk that Sister Easdan and I managed to sneak away. The guards were lax then, eating their meal. Sure enough there was the canoe still where it had been with the paddles and it was light enough for the two of us to be able to launch it. We started to head south-west towards the mainland but there was a high sea running against us and then Sister Easdan called out that we had a leak. Water was coming through the side of the craft.’

‘We had forgotten in our haste to depart that the rim of the western sky was still light and we could be seen against it,’ continued Sister Easdan. ‘We heard shouting from the shore for the wind carried it to us. We knew then that we had been spotted. God looked down on us, for at least we were beyond arrow reach.’

‘We could not pull back to shore,’ chimed in Esumaro. ‘Anyway, I don’t think we would have reached it alive, after what they did to the old man. Sister Easdan, as we told you before, was busy with the leather apron and thongs in the half-light, but by then I realised that we had no hope of reaching the mainland with the tide running up from the south-east against us.’

Gaeth made one of his infrequent interpolations.

‘That was the same tide which helped us run swiftly to the islands.’

‘I was sailor enough to know that I would have to run with the tide,’ continued Esumaro. ‘But I knew that there was another large island to the north-west of Seanach’s Island and hoped that, with luck, the tide would help me and we could be carried there before the leak was so bad that we sank.’

Gaeth clapped his hand on his thigh in approval.

‘Your captors did not give much for your chances, according to what we overheard. They had seen what direction you were going but thought you’d sink long before you reached the island.’

‘We nearly did,’ Esumaro admitted. ‘But thanks to Sister Easdan, we came within reach of it. It was while I was trying to estimate the best place to land that I saw the cave entrance and took a chance. We were within a hand’s reach when the canoe cracked against the rocks and began to break up. I grabbed Sister Easdan and we jumped for our lives. We fought the tide for a few moments and managed to scramble up the rocks on to the island.’

‘Precious the foot on shore,’ muttered Eadulf reverently, uttering an old landsman’s prayer.

‘We were cold and tired and had no means of making a fire on that bare rock. Indeed, I couldn’t see anything, although I knew there were birds about which I could have caught in the daylight, and made something to eat.’

‘We simply huddled together from the cold,’ Sister Easdan added. ‘There was nothing else to do.’

‘We had dropped off to sleep when I was woken by the sounds of

‘And nearly killed me,’ Eadulf said ruefully.

‘You cannot blame Esumaro for trying to protect himself,’ Sister Easdan admonished. ‘Anyway, that is our story.’

There was a silence until Gaeth rose and put more turf upon the fire. ‘Doubtless when our friends went there this morning and did not find you they would think that you had indeed gone down beneath the waves and drowned,’ he said.

Fidelma agreed.

‘I do not think we need concern ourselves with any immediate pursuit from the people on Seanach’s Island,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘At least we have solved the mystery,’ Conri. observed in satisfaction.

They looked at him curiously.

‘How do you come to that conclusion?’ There was a dangerous softness in Fidelma’s voice.

Conri. looked surprised at the question.

‘Why, is it not clear? Uaman and his followers are to blame for all this. He is back to his old ways of trying to gain riches and build up a power base again.’

‘As simple as that?’ said Fidelma.

‘It is hardly a simple matter,’ protested Conri.

‘In that I can agree with Conri,’ Eadulf observed.

‘You might have to admit that Uaman is still alive,’ Fidelma suggested. ‘Are you certain that you saw him die?’

Eadulf shrugged. ‘I was. But I cannot go against so many people who claim to have seen him.’ His voice was not emphatic.

‘Believe me, this mystery is far from solved,’ she said. ‘We have learned only a few more details to add to our fund of knowledge, that is all. There is much to discover yet.’

‘But we know that the religieuse from Ard Fhearta were abducted

‘And why were we not informed of their expertise at the abbey?’ Fidelma demanded.

‘That is a question I cannot answer,’ replied Conri. ‘Anyway, we know who killed Abbess Faife and abducted them. This man Olcan.’

‘But who is Olcan and whom does he work for?’

‘We must accept that Uaman the Leper is alive. He is this mysterious “master”. Also Slebene is in his pay.’

‘Uaman has miraculously returned from the dead?’ smiled Fidelma. ‘Remember that no one has yet positively identified the man except Ganicca. I have enough trust in Eadulf to accept that when he claims to have seen something, he has seen it. No one has gazed upon the man’s face clearly enough to identify him. They have seen a shadow and that is all.’

She looked from one to another.

‘Certainly, whoever is behind all this, they have found rich seams of the lec-logmar, and have abducted those who know how to work the stone to make it saleable to merchants. We know this man Olcan is ruthless. So is the person he works for — whoever he is. I agree that they probably pay a bribe to Slebene in order that he will not interfere in what they are doing. But there is another question that preoccupies me. Why did Sister Sinnchene want to accompany Abbess Faife and the others when she was not a stone cutter and polisher? And was that why Abbess Faife refused to take her?’

They waited in uncomfortable silence for her to continue.

‘What can we do now, lady?’ muttered Conri.

Fidelma glanced towards the sky. The short winter day was darkening yet again.

‘Little enough today.’ She sighed. ‘We will have to impose on Gaeth and Gaimredan for another night of hospitality. But at first light, we must set out for Ard Fhearta again. I believe that it is there that these strands will intertwine.’

Conri could not control his expression of surprise.

‘Why at Ard Fhearta?’ he demanded.

She shook her head sorrowfully at him.

‘Have you forgotten about the murder of the Venerable Cinaed?’

There was a soft gasp of horror from Sister Easdan who had not, of course, heard the news.

Fidelma turned to her with a quick look of apology.

‘Ah, I had forgotten that you did not know of his death. Did you know him well?’

The girl shook her head sorrowfully.

‘Not well. He was a friend of our mentor, Abbess Faife. Some time ago he spent a little while in our workshop talking about what we did. He was writing some tract about it.’

‘About the working of stones?’

‘About the lec-logmar,’ confirmed the girl. ‘He was a nice old man. A wise old man. He was not arrogant, like the Venerable Mac Faosma. He would speak to anyone on equal terms no matter what rank they were. How was he murdered, Sister?’

Briefly, Fidelma told her the facts.

‘Who could have done such a thing?’

‘I cannot tell you yet. But I think, finally, I might see a light on the path ahead.’

Conri. gave her a curious look.

‘So we start back to the abbey tomorrow?’ he asked after a moment or two.

‘Indeed we do,’ she replied. ‘But you, Conri, do not. Eadulf and I will go to the abbey with Sister Easdan and our friend Esumaro here. You, Conri, will have to raise a band of warriors and warships to go back to Seanach’s Island and rescue the others there. Try to take the man called Olcan captive; take him alive. We need him to unravel the thread that will lead us to this man “the master”.’

‘And then? If we succeed?’

‘You will succeed,’ she said with emphasis. ‘You will bring all the prisoners back to the abbey. By which time I hope I shall have sorted out this conundrum.’

‘What about Uaman?’ demanded Conri. ‘If it is Uaman he will have gone back to his fortress on the south side of the peninsula. Even if he has not, then he will be in hiding somewhere. We need to search for him.’

Fidelma smiled with calm assurance.

‘You will be wasting your time, Conri. All the strands of this mystery will entwine with one another at the abbey of Ard Fhearta.’