Master of Souls

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

After they had eaten the next morning, Fidelma asked Sister Easdan to show her and Eadulf to the workroom where she and her companions plied their art. Sister Sinnchene, who seemed in a slightly more agreeable mood, came to tidy the hospitium and asked if there was anything else that was required of her that morning as she had to distribute the robes that she had washed the previous day to members of the community. Fidelma had not forgotten that one of Sister Sinnchene’s chores at present was running the tech-nigid or washing room of the abbey.

‘I think not,’ Fidelma replied. ‘If anyone wants us we shall be at the workshop where Sister Easdan and her companions worked.’

It was an isolated two-storey building with a flat roof, situated on the southern side of the abbey complex, sticking out at right angles to the main dormitory building but separated from it by a narrow passageway. It had been built on the south side, Sister Easdan explained, so that it caught the maximum amount of sun. Light was precious to the task of cutting and polishing the stones. The workroom contained a long central table or workbench, access to water and, along one side, a series of cupboards and other benches with all manner of implements and tools.

Fidelma stood still on the threshold, casting her eye about the place. ‘What is it that you wish to see, lady?’ asked Sister Easdan. ‘The place looks exactly as we left it.’

‘You and your companions were all known as experts in this art, that of stone polishing?’

‘Known only within the abbey,’ the girl corrected pedantically. ‘We were, indeed.’

‘But surely your names and reputation were known outside the abbey?’

‘The abbey was well known for our work but Abbot Erc insisted that we should not be known by name outside the abbey.’

‘Why was that?’

‘Because he wanted the reputation for the abbey, I suppose, and not for individuals. He wanted to avoid personal vanity.’

‘You and your companions have all done this work for some time?’

‘I started my training as soon as I came to the abbey, which was just after I reached the age of choice. Most of the others have worked about ten years or so at the art.’

Eadulf pointed to some implements on a bench.

‘Are those bows?’ he asked curiously. ‘In what manner would you use those?’

Sister Easdan smiled easily.

‘They are what we call bow lathes, Brother. We work the stone with them and drill holes in the stones with them so that we may string necklaces. It takes a long time to prepare a single necklace, including the cutting and polishing of the stones. Sometimes we have to use special liquids to lubricate the crystals for the grinding and polishing.’

Fidelma was silent for a while, looking at the range of work tools.

‘If the expertise of you and your companions was not known outside the abbey, how do you think it came to the ears of those who abducted you?’ asked Fidelma.

Sister Easdan considered the matter silently for a while and then she said: ‘I suppose the only answer is that the information came from inside the abbey. Or, of course, the merchant Mugron would have known.’

‘But the information would have had to be specific,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully. ‘Your abductors would have had to know that you were all travelling with Abbess Faife on your way to Breanainn’s mount, and to know exactly by what road and the day on which you would be passing the spot where you were attacked.’

‘Only a few people would have known that.’

‘Did Sister Sinnchene know it?’

‘There is no reason why she should.’

‘Did you know that she asked Abbess Faife if she could join you?’

As the girl was shaking her head, something caught Fidelma’s eye, flickering in the rays of the sun, something that sparkled and flashed in a thousand little points of light on the workbench.

She moved to it and ran a finger over it and then, with a pinching

‘What exactly is this?’ she asked.

Sister Easdan peered at the granular crystals and then grimaced.

‘It is only powdered stone.’

‘Corundum?’ Eadulf intervened.

‘Exactly so,’ Sister Easdan replied. ‘We use it in the grinding process of the precious stones. We choose a particular crystallised rock, crystal we know is especially hard. The crystals are almost opaque and we have to smash them until they fragment into little pieces, just as you see there. We sort them until we find splinters that we can use with the bow lathe to drill holes into those stones we wish to string together. Other particles, the finer ones, we use to grind against the stones to produce the shapes which are required. The process is called lec- geraigid.’

Fidelma’s eyes suddenly widened. A look of triumph began to spread across her features but she swiftly controlled it.

‘You said once that the Venerable Cinaed visited here?’

Sister Easdan made an affirmative gesture.

‘When was this?’

‘Some time ago.’

‘Months?’

‘About two months, only a short time before we left. Why?’

‘He came to this workshop and talked to you and your companions, you said. Remind me, about what?’

Sister Easdan shrugged.

‘Just generally about our work, the techniques. Although, now I think of it, he was especially interested in where the stones were found, their type and value… I think he was especially interested in their value.’

Fidelma smiled at Eadulf.

‘I think I am beginning to see the connection,’ she said with some relief in her tone. ‘I think I finally see where the Venerable Cinaed may be involved in all this.’

‘I don’t understand,’ replied Eadulf in bewilderment.

‘We were concerned with a book that the Venerable Cinaed had written. We were concentrating on his political work. Don’t you remember? We should have been thinking about his new work — De ars sordida gemmae, a critical tract on the local trade in these gemstones.’

‘Do you mean that he was murdered because of a book he wrote on our work?’ gasped Sister Easdan.

‘We must find out some more,’ Fidelma replied. ‘It is a pity that book was destroyed but I believe we can guess the reason now.’ She gave a last glance around the workshop and sighed. ‘I have seen all that I need to see.’

They moved through the door and paused while Sister Easdan turned to lock it.

It was a slight sound, a movement of air, which caused Eadulf to turn with a cry of alarm and throw himself at Fidelma, knocking her sideways from the step.

As they both fell sprawling, a heavy stone block smashed into the spot where Fidelma had been standing a moment before.

Sister Easdan turned with a scream, staring at the shattered stone. Eadulf was already on his feet, hauling Fidelma up but scanning the upper storey of the stone building. He saw at once the gap in the parapet from which the stone had fallen.

‘How do you get to the upper floor?’ he shouted to the still shocked Sister Easdan. ‘Quickly now!’

Unable to speak, she simply pointed to a side door.

It was unlocked. Eadulf was through it and racing up a narrow enclosed stone stairway that led along the side of the building, passing the second floor and up to the flat roof. There was no one there. He looked around. He made his way to the parapet where the stone block was missing. He bent to examine the markings where the block had stood.

There was a noise behind him.

He swung round in a defensive position and found Fidelma had arrived. ‘A loose block?’ she asked.

He pulled a face.

‘A loose block that was helped,’ he replied sharply, pointing to the scratch marks. ‘Someone has deliberately prised it loose. They meant to kill you, I think.’

Fidelma took the news in her stride.

‘That means that we are fairly close to a resolution,’ she said calmly. ‘But how did they get off this roof so quickly?’ she added, looking about.

The answer was obvious. The end of the building was close to the main dormitory block of the abbey. A leap of a metre would take one on to a flat narrow walkway designed for the maintenance of that building’s roof, and the walkway led to a small door.

‘Shall I follow?’ Eadulf asked.

Fidelma made a negative gesture.

‘They are long gone, I think. You will never be able to identify the culprit.’

There came the sound of footsteps below from the narrow passage that led between the two buildings at ground level. Sister Sinnchene was walking along with a basket of clothing in her arms, obviously carrying out the task of delivering the washing. Fidelma turned back to the stairway.

‘We should see that Sister Easdan is all right,’ she said. ‘She had a shock.’

As they rejoined Sister Easdan in the workshop, Brother Cu Mara entered.

‘There is some debris on the ground outside, a stone seems to have fallen,’ he announced worriedly.

‘We know,’ Fidelma smile thinly. ‘A loose stone has fallen by accident but no harm has been done.’

The steward hesitated a moment and cleared his throat.

‘I came to offer my apologies for my rudeness yesterday,’ he said stiffly.

‘As steward of this abbey, I should not give way to personal emotion. I am sorry.’

Eadulf examined the steward with narrowed eyes. ‘How did you know we were here?’ he asked abruptly.

Brother Cu Mara frowned. ‘Sister Sinnchene passed as I was speaking to Sister Uallann and Sister Buan and I asked her if she knew where you were.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Fidelma said solemnly. ‘Your apology is accepted, Brother Cu Mara, these are stressful days for us all. It might have helped if I had been told earlier that the missing members of the community were all stone cutters and polishers, though.’

‘I don’t see how?’ At once the young steward was defensive again.

Sister Fidelma answered with a smile.

‘That is my job,’ she pointed out softly. ‘But I can only make deductions from information when it is provided. At least I have that information now.’

She left the workshop with Eadulf and the young Sister Easdan trailing in their wake, leaving the steward of the abbey looking thoughtfully after them.

Late in the afternoon they heard a commotion at the main gates of the abbey. It was Socht who came to report to them, quiet and unemotional as ever. A member of the community had arrived in a breathless condition from the port of An Bhearbha with news that two warships were entering the harbour. They belonged to Tadcan, lord of Baile Tadc, and Conri had been spotted on board. News swiftly spread that he was coming to Ard Fhearta with prisoners and the other missing members of the community. There was an excited movement to the main gates to await the arrival of the Ui Fidgente warlord. Fidelma and Eadulf, accompanied by Socht, joined the others and saw that most of the major figures of the abbey were already assembled there.

Fidelma noticed that only the Venerable Mac Faosma and Abbot Erc were absent. Sister Uallann, the physician, stood with folded arms next to Sister Buan. Nearby was Brother Cillin. Even Brother Eolas had been enticed from his library with the nervous young Brother Faolchair.

When Conri. and half a dozen warriors arrived they were escorting only one prisoner but behind them came the five missing young women of the community. Sister Easdan raced forward to greet them, laughing. They all threw their arms about each other, laughing, crying and making a considerable noise, much to the disapproval of some of the senior members of the abbey,

The prisoner was a dark, brooding man whose coarse features maintained an impassive expression. His hands were bound before him with rope.

Conri. grinned as he saw Fidelma and Eadulf, raising his hand in salute.

‘It was easy,’ he reported immediately. ‘Our two warships came upon Seanach’s Island at first light and when they saw our overwhelming force they laid down their arms immediately… all except this man.’ He prodded the man with his sword tip. ‘Allow me to present our friend Olcan. He wanted his band to fight to the death but was finally persuaded not to do so himself.’

Fidelma regarded him with a keen scrutiny. Olcan tried to meet her gaze arrogantly. She turned to Conri.

‘Where are the other prisoners?’

‘Have no fear, lady. I have left them in the capable hands of Tadcan at the harbour. They are still shackled on one of his warships and await your word as to what should be done with them. A curious bunch. Most of them are northerners, men from the Ui Maine and some of the Ui Briuin Ai. They claim to follow Olcan purely for payment. The hermits refused

‘You have done well, Conri,’ Fidelma said approvingly. ‘Very well.’ She looked for Sister Sinnchene and waved her forward. ‘The young religieuse can bathe and be fed before I examine them.’ She glanced at Eadulf and confessed quietly, ‘I do not think they will add anything to what our friend Sister Easdan has already told us.’

Sister Sinnchene came forward. Suddenly she stopped dead, staring at Conri, and then she stumbled and collapsed on the ground.

Eadulf was at her side immediately. A moment later she was stirring.

‘She seems to have passed out,’ Eadulf said. Two of the community came forward and volunteered to help the girl back to her quarters while someone else was found to take the young women under her charge.

Abbot Erc had now arrived, glaring at the gathering.

‘What happened?’ he demanded, looking at the disappearing women.

‘Sister Sinnchene seems to have fainted, that’s all,’ Fidelma replied.

‘Since you are here you may tell me whether you have a secure chamber in the abbey where we can hold this man?’ She gestured towards Olcan.

‘There is such a chamber below the tech-screptra,’ replied the abbot stiffly. ‘There is a good lock upon the door.’ He glanced at Olcan. ‘Who is he?’

Fidelma’s features were grim.

‘This is the man who slew Abbess Faife and imprisoned her companions. Let us make sure he is locked up safely and treated well, so that he may have no complaints when he comes before the Brehon.’

Abbot Erc motioned Brother Cu Mara forward. The steward had been hanging back but now the abbot repeated Fidelma’s instructions.

The man, Olcan, did not speak or even glance at his captors. He remained gazing woodenly before him, head unbowed.

Brother Cu Mara led the way through the buildings to the stone edifice of the library. They passed through groups of curious bystanders. The physician, Sister Uallann, whose apothecary stood near the library building, was staring at Olcan with narrowed eyes. The songmaster, Brother Cillin, had retreated to the library door with Brother Eolas the librarian and his young assistant, Brother Faolchair. They appeared interested in the proceedings. Fidelma noticed that Sister Buan had disappeared among

The steward unlocked one of the thick wooden doors with an iron key and pushed the still bound Olcan into a cell.

Fidelma glanced in by the light of a lantern. There was a wooden cot, a table and a chair but, being below ground, no window, and no entrance or exit except by the single door.

‘I think he can have the freedom of his hands and arms,’ she decided, speaking to Conri. ‘He can have food and drink later and I shall question him then.’

Conri was indifferent.

‘I doubt if you will get anything out of him, lady. I tried to question him and he has remained as silent as if he were mute.’

Nevertheless, the warlord severed the dark man’s bonds in accordance with her instructions. They left him alone in the cell and Brother Cu Mara locked the door and hung the key on a nearby hook.

Fidelma was looking around at the musty smelling cellars.

‘To what use are such rooms put?’ she asked with curiosity.

The steward seemed to have overcome his animosity of the previous evening. He was polite, even helpful.

‘Originally, they were storage rooms,’ he explained. ‘When it became the custom for a visiting Brehon to hold court in the abbey, we used a couple of these chambers to detain those who were due to face serious charges before the Brehon.’

Fidelma made no comment but led the way back up into the light and the fresher air. She noticed that the onlookers had dispersed.

She glanced at Eadulf with a satisfied smile.

‘And now our course is set,’ she said mysteriously. ‘We will soon have our prey in the snare.’

It was after the main meal when Fidelma, Eadulf, Conri and Brother Cu Mara returned to the subterranean cell of Olcan. The steward had brought a tray of food. He handed this to Eadulf while he took down the key and opened the door. He did it warily but the lamp beyond showed the big warrior sitting immobile on the bed staring as if at some distant object before him.

The steward put down the tray of food and, at Fidelma’s signal, withdrew, while Fidelma sat in the only chair and Eadulf and Conri. took up positions just inside the door.

Fidelma examined the man carefully. She summed him up as a man without feeling. A killer who obeyed orders without question. His cruel features were not possessed of sensitivity or much intelligence.

‘Do you know who I am?’

Olcan made a slight movement with one shoulder which expressed either affirmation or disinterest.

‘That your name is Olcan I know. Of what clan are you?’

The man continued in silence.

‘You have a choice of two paths before you, Olcan. You may make things hard on yourself or easy. It is up to you.’

Olcan glanced quickly at her.

‘I have nothing to say.’

‘Then things will go hard with you. You are already facing charges of heinous crimes. There are witnesses to them. The wrecking of a Gaulish ship. The murder of Abbess Faife. The raids and destruction of settlements among the Corco Duibhne. The imprisonment of six young religieuse from this abbey as well as the hermit community on Seanach’s Island, one of whom you slew or had slain.’

Her voice was remorseless as she recited the litany.

Olcan eyed her with hate simmering in his eyes.

‘And do you expect me to admit to all this, sister of Colgu the usurper?’ he sneered.

Fidelma smiled faintly.

‘At least you admit that you know who I am?’

He was silent again.

‘And since you describe my brother as a usurper I presume that you felt you owed allegiance to Eoganan of the Ui Fidgente?’

Once more only silence met her.

‘Let me put it this way, Olcan. You may well be responsible for all these evil deeds. You may well have been in command of the war band that carried them out. Yet I do not believe that it was your own design. The command was given by another — your so-called “master”? Is that not so?’

Olcan laughed harshly.

‘Then you will have to capture this “master” and ask him. That you will never do.’

Fidelma forced herself to remain relaxed.

‘What I am trying to tell you, Olcan, is that if you tell me who gave you those orders, then things may not go as harshly with you.’

‘The chief of the wolf tribe does not betray his lord,’ snapped Olcan.

Fidelma frowned as a chord of memory suddenly struck. She was about to say something when Conri. exclaimed: ‘Olcan! Olcan the wolf! I have heard of you.’ In spite of Fidelma’s warning glance, he turned to her excitedly.

‘This man was head of a band of raiders when Eoganan ruled the Ui Fidgente. They called themselves the wolf tribe.’

He paused when he saw Fidelma’s angry look at the interruption to her interrogation.

Olcan had missed the silent warning and was smiling viciously. He seemed proud of his reputation.

‘Is that why you continue to take your orders from Uaman the Leper?’ Fidelma asked quietly.

Olcan turned to her with a brief look of puzzlement that was gone before she had time to register it. Then he burst out with a short laugh.

‘You must have heard, woman of Cashel, that Uaman is dead. He died in the month of Cet Gaimred.’

‘And so we must assume that it is his troubled wraith that rides through the Sliabh Mis valleys with you?’

‘It would be hard to take orders from a shade from the Otherworld, woman. Oh, but have no fear. The seed of Eoganan will lead the Ui Fidgente against Cashel once more and that very soon.’

‘That will be difficult,’ interjected Conri. with a sneer. ‘The true Ui Fidgente do not follow ghosts or voices from the Otherworld.’

Olcan smiled knowingly for a moment.

‘They will hear a voice shortly. A voice crying vengeance for our people. And, indeed, it will not be a voice from the Otherworld.’

‘You are in no position to be truculent, Olcan,’ Fidelma warned him.

The man, however, relapsed into a pugnacious silence.

Fidelma uttered a deep sigh of disgust and rose to her feet.

‘Very well, Olcan, chief of the wolf tribe. We can be patient also but not too patient. You have much to answer for. Your crimes are many in the counting. As I have said, the path you choose may be hard or easy and that is your choice. Your future is black-’

Olcan glanced up belligerently. ‘And your future, the future of all the

Fidgente will find their backbone again and come against you — even in spite of your lapdog’ — he gestured to Conr

– ‘or a thousand treacherous U

Fidgente like him. They will not alter the course of the river we have set in flood. That river will lead the U

Fidgente not only to recover their lost lands but to claim Cashel, and beyond Cashel they will claim Tara, the seat of the High Kings. The master has prophesised it and so it will come to pass.’

He suddenly seemed to realise that he might have said too much and returned his sullen gaze to some distant point before him.

There was a silence after his outburst.

‘Very well, Olcan,’ Fidelma finally replied. ‘We will leave you to think on this during the forthcoming night. If you continue to take the hard path, then I can assure you that it will be harder than you can ever imagine. I will come to speak to you in the morning when you have contemplated your future more carefully because, whatever your prognostication about my future, and the future of Cashel, your future is a certainty and you will never live to see your master’s prediction come to fruition.’

They left the man still staring into space.

Outside, when they had relocked the cell door and hung the key back on the hook, Conr was apologetic.

‘I suddenly remembered hearing tales about this man,’ he explained. ‘I never knew him personally and he was not at the battle of Cnoc Aine, but I think he was with Torcan, the son of Eoganan, in the south-west.’

‘Well, your comment at least provoked the man to speech.’

‘I fear that he is a die-hard, lady,’ Conr replied. ‘If, as we have been told, Uaman still lives, then it seems that some of this activity must be concerned with an attempt to place Uaman in control of the U

Fidgente…’

‘But that would never happen because the law is specific. No one with a physical blemish can be king. Even one of the greatest of High Kings, Cormac Mac Art, had to abdicate when he was blinded by a spear cast. Even Olcan seemed to discredit the idea that he took his orders from Uaman.’

Conr did not agree.

‘We have had Uaman identified. If it is not Uaman, then I can think of no descendant of the U

Choirpre Aedba who can claim the chieftainship of our people.’

Eadulf looked blankly at him.

‘I thought that the U

Fidgente were the descendants of Fiachu Fidgennid? That Donennach is just as much a descendant as was Eoganan?’

Conr was patient.

‘It is easily explained. Our current ruler, Donennach, is descended from the line of the family we call U

Chonaill Gabra, from Fidgennid’s grandson Daire. Eoganan was descended from Fidgennid’s grandson Coirpre, hence that line is now called the U

Choirpre Aedba.’

It didn’t clear Eadulf’s understanding at all. He knew that the Eirean-nach placed much store by their ancient genealogies, delineating cousins and distant relatives; more store, he felt, than the Saxon kings set by their own simple direct father to son genealogies. He shrugged but did not pursue the matter.

Fidelma, however, seemed to follow the argument.

‘You have never heard of any other legitimate successor to Eoganan who might be persuaded to attempt a coup against Donennach?’

Conr shook his head at once.

‘Uaman was certainly the only male descendant of Eoganan who survived after Cnoc Aine.’

They had emerged by the closed doors of the tech-screptra and saw Brother Eolas standing before them, talking to Sister Buan and Sister Uallann.

‘Brother Eolas,’ Conr called, before Fidelma could stop him. ‘Do you have a genealogy of the princes of the U

Fidgente?’

The librarian turned curiously in their direction.

‘We do have such a manuscript,’ he confirmed.

‘Is it up to date? I am interested in the children of Eoganan.’

Brother Eolas shook his head.

‘It is as up to date as time allows. My assistant and I have much to do in maintaining the records of the library and there was the fire

…’

‘Can we see it now?’ interrupted Conr.

Brother Eolas sniffed in irritation at Conri’s demanding manner.

‘The library is closed. You will have to return tomorrow.’ He inclined his head in farewell to his companions and turned on his heel.

Sister Buan and Sister Uallann seemed to decide their presence was no longer required, muttered an excuse, and also left, leaving Conr looking a little crestfallen.

‘I thought that it might have given us some further information,’ he

Eadulf was shaking his head in disagreement but he said: ‘There must be a means of getting Olcan to talk further about this master.’

Fidelma was not optimistic.

‘I doubt it.’ She found that the steward, who had waited outside so that he could ensure the cell was locked, was still standing with them. ‘We will not detain you further, Brother Cu Mara,’ she said, bidding him good night before leading the way back to the hospitium. Once out of earshot of the steward she lowered her voice.

‘I’ll wait until tomorrow, but I now realise that I may have something up my sleeve that might induce our friend Olcan to talk. He has a close relation in the abbey and that fact may induce him to speak.’

Conr and Eadulf stared at her in surprise but her expression forbade any further questioning.