Master of Souls

CHAPTER TWENTY

Fidelma had suggested that Abbot Erc request the attendance of certain members of the community to assemble in the aireagal, the oratory. As congregations usually stood in the oratory during the services, benches had been brought in and the lanterns were lit. Opposite these benches another bench had been arranged so that Abbot Erc, along with his steward, Brother Cu Mara, were seated facing the congregation. Next to them were Fidelma and Eadulf.

The small oratory was crowded. Conri sat to one side with Sister Easdan and her companions as well as the Gaulish seaman, Esumaro. On the other side sat the physician, Sister Uallann, alongside Brothers Eolas and Faolchair. Sister Sinnchene sat behind them. Sister Buan sat further back with Brother Cillin. Fidelma had asked Abbot Erc to insist upon the attendance of Slebene, who was seated behind them. His champion was nowhere to be seen and, rather than reassure Fidelma, his absence worried her. There was some surprise among the company when the Venerable Mac Faosma entered escorted by the watchful Brother Benen. The Venerable Mac Faosma attended hardly any gathering unless he was giving one of his lectures or debates. But, again, Fidelma had asked Abbot Erc to especially request his presence.

The last person to enter was Socht, with two of his fellow warriors. They stood near the oratory door, which Socht closed. He signalled to Conr that all was secure and Conr then nodded towards Fidelma.

Abbot Erc found Fidelma looking at him. He realised that he had to govern the proceedings. He gave a nervous cough and began, speaking quickly.

‘We are gathered here at the request of Sister Fidelma, who is here in her capacity as a dalaigh, as you all doubtless know.’ The abbot sounded

He sat back with mouth closed firmly, glancing at Fidelma, who, perceiving that he had said all he was going to say, rose and looked around at the upturned, expectant faces that greeted her.

‘This is not a court of law,’ she began. ‘No one here is on trial but from what occurs here a trial will doubtless result, for we are dealing with murder; not merely the murder of Abbess Faife and the Venerable Cinaed but of many unfortunate Gaulish seamen, of villagers who dwelt among the Sliabh Mis mountains, and of an ill-fated religious member of the community of Seanach’s Island named Brother Martan. In addition, we now must deal with the murder of the prisoner Olcan.’

Abbot Erc seemed irritated by her self-assurance.

‘And you are claiming that all these events are connected?’ he demanded.

Fidelma smiled.

‘I would not say so were it otherwise,’ she replied softly, but Eadulf heard the waspish rebuke in her tone.

She turned back to the still quiet assembly.

‘This has been a frustrating mystery, involving several strands. Each strand had to be followed and unravelled before one could be sure that they all led back to one central point. It makes a long story.’

The harsh voice of the Venerable Mac Faosma came from the assembly: ‘Then the sooner the story is started, the faster it will end and we can return to the comfort of our chambers.’

Fidelma was not perturbed by the old man’s rudeness. She merely glanced in his direction.

‘Are we not in the Lord’s house, Venerable Mac Faosma?’ Her voice was acrid. ‘Where else is more comfortable in his sight than in the place sacred to him?’ She delighted in the disconcerted expression on the old scholar’s face. Eadulf realised that she was pricking at the bubble of his piety with her irony. She continued before he could think of a suitable riposte: ‘Remember that it is not just the sister of the king of Muman who stands here. It is a representative of the laws which govern all this kingdom, all the territories, petty kingdoms and provinces of this land. When insult is delivered to the representative then it is delivered to the law itself. I

The Venerable Mac Faosma made a spluttering sound. But Fidelma was now ignoring him.

‘I will not keep you all longer than I have to. Yet I have to peel away the strands that envelop this mystery. I will begin by showing you the prime cause behind what has happened here. The prime motivation behind the deaths and abductions. I regret to say that we have to return to the ages-old conflict between the Ui Fidgente and the Eoghanacht of Cashel.’

An immediate murmur of outrage came from several quarters. Conr looked about him unhappily.

Fidelma was slowly shaking a finger at them.

‘Noise does not drown out truth,’ she remonstrated.

‘Nor words without evidence will make it the truth,’ snapped the Venerable Mac Faosma.

‘Then listen and you will soon hear the evidence that supports the words,’ replied Fidelma, unperturbed. ‘Or is that demanding too much courtesy from this gathering?’

There were still some angry protests from the predominantly Ui Fidgente gathering. Conri rose, facing them, and held up his hands to motion them to quiet.

‘There is a saying — do not bring your reaping hook into a field without being asked.’ It was a reminder to the assembly to behave properly. ‘We will hear what Fidelma of Cashel has to say and we will hear her without insult, jest or clamour. Remember that truth can come like bad weather, uninvited. But denial of bad weather does not make the day fine nor make the truth less than the truth. If I, as warlord of the Ui Fidgente, can bear to listen, then you can also.’

He sat down again, folded his arms, and stared woodenly ahead of him.

The murmurs of dissent subsided.

‘I shall not trouble you with history,’ Fidelma continued. ‘Nor with arguments of who is right and who is wrong in that conflict. We all know the conflict has lasted many generations between U

Fidgente and Eoghanacht. A short time ago, both peoples thought that the conflict was at an end. A new ruler of the Ui Fidgente came to the belief that peace was a better way of life than conflict. We hoped that we had all moved on.

‘However, there were still members of the Ui Fidgente who refused to

This time there was an uncomfortable silence in the oratory. Finally the Abbot Erc spoke with a querulous note.

‘You forget, Sister Fidelma, that Eoganan’s son Torcan was slaughtered as well.’

‘I have not forgotten. Eoganan had more than one male offspring.’

‘She means Uaman!’ called Sister Uallann, and her tone showed that it was meant as a jeer.

‘As a dalaigh, you should know that Uaman could not become chief of the Ui Fidgente,’ the librarian Brother Eolas intervened. ‘Even I know enough law to realise that. It was well known that he was a leper and therefore ineligible to claim the office. He would not be recognised as legitimate even if he arrived at Loch Derg with a thousand warriors behind him to place him on the seat of his ancestors.’

Slebene, the chief of the Corco Duibhne, was nodding slowly.

‘What if Uaman still lives?’ he demanded, causing some surprise among them. ‘We have heard many rumours that it is so.’

Sister Uallann turned to him, exhaling sharply.

‘The stories cannot be true,’ she snapped. ‘Wasn’t it said that before the last Nativity he perished in the quicksand of his own island? Several travellers brought the story to the abbey.’

Eadulf was about to stir when he caught Fidelma’s eye and saw the slight shake of her head.

It was Conri who replied.

‘It was so reported. There was an eyewitness.’ He cast a quick look at Eadulf. ‘But we saw that there are burnt-out villages among the passes of Sliabh Mis, there are mothers who weep for the loss of their sons, wives for their husbands, children for their fathers. We met with people who reported seeing Uaman leading a band of warriors through these passes.

‘And Uaman as well?’ called Brother Eolas. ‘Where is he, then, who would be “master of souls”?’

Sister Easdan now rose in her place.

‘While we did not know who the man was, Olcan took orders from a man clad from head to feet in robes and whom he called “the master”. Esumaro will bear me out. Others identified him as the one they call Uaman the Leper.’

The Gaulish seaman nodded in support.

Brother Cillin called out from his seat.

‘You mean that man you imprisoned here, Olcan, was one of Uaman’s men?’

‘Even if it were so,’ smiled the Venerable Mac Faosma sceptically, ‘you have heard that Uaman would have no chance at all of being regarded as ruler. He might force himself upon the Ui Fidgente as their chief by force of arms but then he would split his people — there would be warfare. The Ui Chonaill Gabra would appeal to the Brehons. They would appeal to Cashel. Cashel would intervene with the support of the High King because the law is clear. Blood feuds would rip the Ui Fidgente asunder… parties of avengers would rule the country by fear. We could not have someone unqualified by law force his rule upon us. I freely confess that I was a supporter of Eoganan and all he stood for. I believe that the rule of the Eoghanacht of Cashel is unjust. But I believe in the rule of the law and not of the sword. I would condemn Uaman, if he usurped the power of the Ui Fidgente. Only a ruler qualified by law can take Donennach’s power from him.’

Slebene was smiling cynically.

‘As you all well know, I am chief of the Corco Duibhne and it is against my eastern borders, the valley passes, where Uaman the Leper has been seen. Many times have I sought to confront him and he has outwitted me. Now, there sits Conri, warlord of the Ui Fidgente. I give him this invitation. Bring those men that are loyal to him and his lord, Donennach, and come into the passes of Sliabh Mis and together we will hunt this leper down.’

He sat down and there was a murmur of applause.

Conri was about to rise to accept the challenge when Fidelma motioned him to remain seated. She had been standing with a whimsical smile on her features at Slebene’s suggestion.

‘Well said, Slebene, well said,’ she applauded, but they could hear the cynicism in her voice. ‘But I think you know as well as I do that Uaman the Leper will not be found in the passes of Sliabh Mis. Chasing shadows in the passes of Sliabh Mis would merely take Conri and his men away from the area where the rebellion against Donennach would occur, wouldn’t it?’

Her quiet tone held their attention and for a moment there was total silence.

‘What do you mean, Sister Fidelma?’ Abbot Erc finally demanded.

‘The stories that you heard in the month before the Nativity were true. Uaman, son of Eoganan, was dragged into the quicksand surrounding his own island fortress. Eadulf here was a witness to his death.’

The silence continued as Abbot Erc remained staring at her with a puzzled frown.

‘Then what are we discussing? With Uaman dead as well as his elder brother Torcan, there is no one else of the Ui Choirpre Aedba to claim the chieftainship.’

‘If Uaman is dead,’ called Esumaro, ‘who is this “master” who gave orders to Olcan?’

Fidelma glanced towards the Venerable Mac Faosma.

‘Perhaps you could enlighten us?’ she invited.

As they all turned towards him, the Venerable Mac Faosma leant back and stared at her with growing astonishment.

‘Of course! That is why you were examining the genealogy. Eoganan had three children. But surely that doesn’t help us because the third name was removed from the genealogy?’

The librarian had picked up the train of the argument.

‘You told us so yourself,’ Brother Eolas said. ‘Something had been cut from the page of the genealogy. Was it the name of the third son of Eoganan?’

‘It was the name of Eoganan’s third child. The one who now means to overthrow Donennach and claim the rulership of the Ui Fidgente.’

A whisper of surprise spread like a tide around the oratory with people looking at one another in surprise.

‘I said,’ Fidelma told them, ‘that there were many strands that had to be unravelled. I have given you the motive for the events that have happened here. I have told you who was behind it but have not yet identified that person. So let us now turn to this strand of identity, bearing in

‘One thing, lady,’ Esumaro called out. ‘Was my ship wrecked by accident or design?’

‘It was wrecked by opportunity. Olcan and his men seized the chance to wreck your ship when they saw it trying to weather the island. They were there awaiting the arrival of Abbess Faife and her companions. They saw a rich merchantman and decided, on the spur of the moment, to gather some extra booty. Olcan, as many of you may know

…’ she let her glance linger slightly on the white immobile features of Sister Sinnchene, ‘was one of Uaman’s commanders when he was alive. Now Olcan changed his allegiance to Eoganan’s other child. He had received instructions to go to the island and wait by the ruins of Uaman’s fortress. He knew that his new master badly needed money to pay mercenaries to help them overthrow Donennach. He had been told that Abbess Faife and her companions would be passing by on a certain day at a certain time. Olcan’s orders were to capture the sisters unharmed. However, it did not matter about the abbess. It was her companions who were needed for they had important skills.’

Sister Easdan was animated.

‘The precious stones. Olcan and his people were mining the crystals but needed experts to cut and polish them so they could sell them to raise money for their cause. That is why they were not bothered about killing poor Abbess Faife. That’s why they took us to Seanach’s Island where the hermits were forced to dig the crystal and we were forced to polish it.’

‘Exactly so,’ confirmed Fidelma approvingly.

‘But what of my crew, my ship?’ demanded Esumaro angrily. ‘What had they to do with anything?’

‘As I have said, you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Olcan must have seen your ship being driven into the bay in the bad weather. He thought it was a godsend to his master. Who knows what goods might be aboard? Olcan was a perverse and evil man. He strung up the light to misdirect you on to the rocks and…’ She shrugged. ‘He stored the goods in the ruined fortress to await a more suitable time to bring his warship around the coast from Seanach’s Island to pick it up. But you survived, Esumaro. You were the only survivor. You brought us a particular piece of important information that helped me reconstruct the story.’

‘What was that?’ demanded the seaman.

‘You heard Olcan telling his men about the rendezvous with the abbess and her companions, showing that he had been informed precisely when they would be passing along that road. In trying to escape from Olcan and his robbers in the early hours after the wreck, you fell in with Abbess Faife and nearly shared her fate. Thanks to Sister Easdan there, and more than a little luck, you survived.’

She had their complete attention now. They were leaning forward in their seats, hanging on her every word. Even the Venerable Mac Faosma was sitting attentive and quiet.

‘The precious stones were going to be the real key for raising money to pay an army of mercenaries, warriors from the north, the Ui Maine and Ui Briuin Ai, the sort of scum that Olcan was leading, to help overthrow Donennach.’

She paused and looked towards Sister Easdan.

‘Now, one thing especially interested me. This abbey was certainly known for producing polished stones and jewellery. For having expert lec-garaid or stone polishers. But Abbot Erc did not like individuals to be named. He wanted the abbey to have the reputation but did not want to encourage individuals to share it because of vanity. So who identified the six workers who went off with Abbess Faife on the annual pilgrimage to Breanainn’s? I found that the pilgrims comprised different groups each year. So who told the so-called “master”, and thereby Olcan, who they were and that they would be passing along that road on that particular day?’

She paused as she studied their upturned expectant faces.

‘Only someone from inside the abbey could have had such information.’

It was the steward Brother Cu Mara who articulated the conclusion. ‘Are you saying that someone here connived in the murder of their own abbess and the abduction of six of our members?’ he demanded.

‘Who?’ demanded Abbot Erc. His features had grown less aggressive.

‘Who else but Eoganan’s third child, the so-called “master” who, having been fostered by Slebene of the Corco Duibhne, then came to dwell in this abbey. When Uaman was killed they realised they might legitimately claim the chiefship of the Ui Fidgente but it needed an army, and an army needed money.’

Slebene had turned pale, his eyes flashing with anger.

Conri was on his feet, slowly moving towards him.

‘Name the man, Fidelma,’ he instructed, hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘Did I say that this “master” was a man?’ Fidelma let her eyes roam the upturned faces before her. Then she said: ‘Stand forth, Uallach, daughter of Eoganan.’

‘Uallach!’ Conri suddenly swung his gaze on Sister Uallann, the abbey physician. He thought that the name was familiar. She was fiercely supportive of the deposed Ui Fidgente chieftain, against the peace with Cashel, and admitted that she had been raised among the Corco Duibhne. Of course, it made sense. The physician did not move, her pale eyes fixed on Fidelma.

‘Not Uallann,’ Fidelma said softly. ‘Someone trying to hide their true name would not choose another so close to it.’

It was then that Conr realised that Fidelma was looking directly at Sister Buan.

‘Stand up, Uallach. You do not have to deny it,’ she instructed quietly. Sister Buan rose slowly to her feet. Her face was contorted with a mixture of emotions.

‘You consider that you are very clever, Fidelma of Cashel. My regret is that I failed in both my attempts to kill you. That was remiss of me.’

There was a gasp from the assembly.

‘For my part, Uallach, I am grateful that you did not succeed,’ Fidelma replied calmly.

Abbot Erc was regarding them both with utter bewilderment on his features.

‘I think we deserve some explanation, Sister Fidelma. I have no idea of how you can make this accusation. We have known Sister Buan for many years. She has been trusted with trading for this abbey. She was… she was the Venerable Cinaed’s companion and he would hardly support the aspirations of a child of Eoganan!’

‘I shall show that the person you knew as Sister Buan was, in reality, Uallach, daughter of the late ruler of the Ui Fidgente, sister to Uaman the Leper. It was Buan who arranged for the abduction of the six gem polishers from this abbey. Buan was one of the few people in the abbey who had the freedom to move about the country in her position of trader. Olcan and his men worked for her. Because she was in many ways like Uaman, her brother, she donned a robe and people thought she was Uaman still alive. She was responsible for the death of the Abbess Faife and what

‘Only Olcan knew that Uaman was not the “master”. He told me so on the night before Buan, whom he trusted, murdered him…’

The murmur erupted into a chorus of angry voices.

Abbot Erc had to raise his voice to make himself heard.

‘You will have to prove these accusations,’ he said, still filled with doubt.

‘Oh, indeed, I shall. I shall take you through it with each piece of evidence.’

Conr had nearly reached Slebene but the chief of the Corco Duibhne was on his feet.

He drew a short sword, which he had hidden under his cloak.

‘Time for a strategic withdrawal, Uallach,’ he called.

‘Don’t be stupid, Slebene!’ Conri cried, his own sword drawn. ‘You have no chance of leaving here.’

‘Do I not?’ sneered Slebene. ‘Then look to the windows, my friend. There are arrows aimed at Fidelma of Cashel and at the abbot. If anyone moves against us to prevent us leaving here, then they will be the first to die. Conri, put down your sword now and tell you warriors to stand aside from the door and do the same. Do it now or Fidelma dies!’

Eyes had flitted to the windows on either side of the oratory. Through the slits two of Slebene’s warriors with drawn bows, arrows steadily pointed at their targets, could be seen. One of them was the red-haired champion. The chief of the Corco Duibhne had not told lies. The arrows were well aimed.

Conri, with a hiss of anger, dropped his weapon and stood back.

‘Now tell your man to move away from the door!’

Conr did so and Socht and his companions reluctantly discarded their weapons and stood aside.

Sister Buan, the woman Fidelma had identified as Uallach, was staring at her with features contorted with hate. She did not seem in a hurry to leave.

‘Come, Uallach!’ cried Slebene. ‘There is no time-’

‘Kill them!’ the woman suddenly screamed. ‘Kill them all!’

The abbot flinched and closed his eyes waiting for the impact of the arrow but Fidelma stood firmly returning Sister Buan’s malignant gaze.

Luckily it was Slebene who was in command of his warriors and they waited for his orders. He realised that if his men loosed their arrows, Fidelma and Abbot Erc might die but he would have no chance of escape from the oratory. The threat that his own death would almost certainly result prevented him from giving the order.

The chief came forward and gripped Sister Buan’s arm tightly. ‘Think, Uallach! Think! If we kill them, we will never get out of this abbey. We must leave, get to An Daingean and raise our army. It is the only way. Come quickly while my archers can cover us. These others can be dealt with later.’

Reluctantly, Sister Buan, or Uallach, allowed herself to be drawn back along the aisle to the door of the oratory.

‘Tell your man to open the door,’ yelled Slebene as they backed towards it.

Conri signalled to Socht to do so.

The warrior turned in disgust and opened the door. While he was still bending to swing the door back, Slebene brought the pommel of his short sword down on the man’s unprotected head and he fell with hardly a sound.

Slebene and Uallach were gone through the door. Outside, Slebene drew it shut behind them. Those inside heard the door slam shut and something placed against it. Then the two archers at the windows withdrew without releasing their arrows. With the threat that confined his actions now gone, Conr sprang forward, grabbing his fallen sword, and shouting to someone to attend to Socht who was trying to staunch the blood on his head. Conr tried the door. Socht’s two companions joined him but their assault on the door was useless. It had been well jammed from the outside.

There was a general hubbub in the oratory and Fidelma called in a loud and clear tone for order and quiet. They heard the sound of horses from outside. She and Eadulf hastened to Conr’s side.

‘They’ll be heading for their warship,’ she told Conri. ‘Will Tadcan be able to deal with them? Is there a way to warn him?’

Conr grinned and took from his belt a small horn, which had been hanging by its thongs. He went to the window and raised it to his lips. The blast was long and shrill and he sounded it three times. By this time, other members of the community had come to the oratory to see what the commotion was and removed the obstacle, which turned out to be a couple of poles, that had held the door fast.

Conr seized a red-faced and bewildered brother. The warlord demanded to know where Slebene and his companions had gone.

‘Lord, they left by the main gate. They all went on horseback and seem to be taking the road to the coast.’

‘Then it is up to Tadcan,’ muttered Fidelma.

Conr once more raised his horn and blew the three sharp notes into the still winter air. He paused and then, faintly in the distance, they heard three answering blasts.

The warlord turned to Fidelma and Eadulf with a smile of triumph. ‘Tadcan has heard, lady. He will be waiting for them.’

Fidelma peered round and caught sight of Brother Cu Mara.

‘Get our horses, quickly!’ she called.

The steward was looking confused. However, Socht, having partially recovered from the blow, was coming out of the oratory with his two fellow warriors helping him. Hearing Fidelma’s order, they ran towards the stables. While Fidelma and Conri fretted impatiently, moments passed, and then the warriors returned leading their horses.

A short time later, Conri, followed by Fidelma and Eadulf, swept out of the gates of the abbey at a canter. Eadulf was hanging on for dear life, unused to the pace. Socht and his companions were left behind trying to organise horses for themselves.

Fidelma, keeping pace alongside the warlord, shouted across as they rode along the path to the coastal port.

‘What if they stand and fight before we reach the coast?’

‘That is not Slebene’s style, by all accounts,’ cried Conr. ‘He’ll make for the protection of his ship and his men.’

‘But he must realise that Tadcan has been forewarned.’

Conr did not bother to reply. They rode on in silence. It was soon evident that Tadcan and Slebene were in conflict. As they neared the port of An Bhearbha they saw smoke rising. A moment or two later they swung over the hill and down into the bay.

A warship was burning in the harbour. It was tied close to the quayside. A few other merchant ships were being towed away from the quays by small craft, apparently drawing them out of harm’s way. Two more warships were stationary some way off near the entrance of the bay but they could see warriors milling about the quay. Some bodies lay nearby.

Conri called to Fidelma to hold back while he investigated. She halted her mount reluctantly and allowed Eadulf to catch up with her, reining trot down towards the quayside, his sword unsheathed.

A warrior came running up on foot towards him, sword in hand. But Conr halted and seemed to greet the man. The warlord turned and waved them forward.

‘This is Tadcan, lord of Baile Tadc,’ he grinned. ‘Good news, lady. Tell her, Tadcan.’

The warrior, a broad-shouldered, well-built young man, with a shock of fair hair and a pleasant grin, saluted her.

‘It is a story that is easy in the telling, lady,’ he said. ‘We heard lord Conr

’s signal which had been arranged with Socht. We knew something was up. And we decided to pre-empt the danger by seizing Slebene’s warship. His captain decided to fight, so we had to set fire to it. I know Slebene of old. He doesn’t believe in fighting fair, so I decided not to give him the benefit of the doubt. I wasn’t wrong, as it turned out. There were many armed warriors waiting below decks but we bested them.

‘While we were thus engaged, along comes Slebene with two of his warriors and a religieuse. They fell on us and so we fell on them.’

He laughed a little harshly.

‘In truth, lady, the lord of the Corco Duibhne was no great warrior, and when we had dispatched his men, especially the red-haired warrior, he seemed to go berserk in fear. He leapt for his ship’s rail from the quayside rather than surrender. He did not make it. He slipped into the harbour waters and when the tide caused the ship to nudge against the quay he was crushed between them. We hauled his body out of the waters and his men, realising their chief is dead, are even now surrendering to us.’

He jerked his thumb to the burning warship.

‘His ship is well alight and it is beyond our abilities to douse the flames.’

Conri was smiling approvingly.

‘You have done well, Tadcan.’

Fidelma, however, was looking about with a frown as if not interested in the warrior’s report.

‘Where is Uallach?’ she demanded.

Tadcan looked bewildered.

‘Who, lady?’

‘The woman who was with Slebene. The religieuse.’

A look of understanding crossed Tadcan’s features.

‘When we attacked her companions, she ran into one of the buildings

‘That is Mugron’s house,’ muttered Conri.

Already Fidelma and Eadulf had dismounted and were heading in its direction. Crying to them to be careful, Conri also jumped from his horse and followed them. He called to Tadcan to follow him.

‘We must capture her or she will remain a rallying symbol for the Ui Fidgente dissidents,’ Fidelma told Conri as he caught her up.

They came to the house and halted before the door.

‘Tadcan, you and Brother Eadulf go round the back,’ hissed Conri.

Then, waiting for a few moments until he judged they had taken up their position, Conri ran swiftly at the door and thrust against it with his foot. The door went flying from its hinges and he was inside with Fidelma at his shoulder.

The first thing they saw was Mugron lying on the floor, his upper body propped up against a wall. Blood was spreading over one shoulder. His eyes were wide open with pain. His features were greying.

There was a crash as Tadcan and Eadulf entered through the back door. Conri looked swiftly round in the shadows of the room. Apart from Mugron’s body there was no sign of any other occupant.

Eadulf bent to the merchant and quickly examined the wound. ‘Painful, but he will survive. The blade has penetrated the shoulder muscle.’

The merchant licked his lips and then indicated with his head towards a closed door that led to an adjoining room. He frowned and indicated again.

Conr raised a finger to his lips before motioning Tadcan forward. The fair-haired warrior took two swift steps and then kicked the door in.

Sister Buan, or rather Uallach, was seated in a chair, facing them. Her face had a wild-eyed, angry expression that was not pleasant to look upon. She saw Fidelma at Conri’s elbow. Her face was screwed into a picture of hatred, the eyes flashing darkly.

‘Eoghanacht bitch!’ she spat. ‘You will never take me to be a slave at Cashel! Fidgennid go Buadh!’

Before they realised what she was doing, she had jerked in the chair, given a gasp and fallen sideways.

Eadulf pushed forward and knelt beside her.

He removed something from her lower chest. It was a tiny white bone-handled dagger.

‘Dead?’ asked Fidelma.

Eadulf felt for a heartbeat and looked up in surprise.

‘Not dead,’ he said. He turned quickly and eased the unconscious form into a more comfortable position.

‘Can you save her?’ Fidelma peered over his shoulder.

‘I can try. It looks like a clean wound. She did not make a good job of it. I don’t think the blade dug deeply enough to be mortal. I’ll do my best.’

Fidelma glanced at Conri. ‘I didn’t understand what she shouted before she dug the knife in.’

The warlord grimaced.

‘It was the barran-glaed, the old Ui Fidgente war cry — Fidgente to victory. If nothing else she believed in the Ui Fidgente.’