Our Lady of Darkness

Chapter Twelve

It was some moments before Fidelma recovered from the unexpected reply.

‘Abbess Fainder, the Abbess of Fearna, is your young sister?’

Deog gave a swift affirmative gesture.

‘Does it surprise you that a powerful, rich abbess should have such a poor relation?’ she demanded, a note of belligerence in her voice.

‘Not at all,’ Fidelma assured her. ‘Talent and ability deserve important rewards, although it does occur to me to ask you — is Abbot Noé related to your family?’

Deog looked bewildered. ‘Why should he be?’

‘Are you sure that he is not related to you? Or is any other member of his family so related?’ she pressed.

‘He is not related. I do not see why you should ask such questions.’

‘Just idle curiosity, that’s all,’ Fidelma assured her. ‘Now, you were telling me that the abbess has wealth?’

Deog seemed mollified. ‘My sister has made a good life for herself.’

‘To be a servant of the Faith is not a usual way of gaining riches.’

‘Perhaps not. But as abbess in the King’s capital, she has to mix with rich and powerful people and it would not be seemly that she should go abroad in threadbare attire. I presume the abbey ensures that she has sufficient for her needs.’

Fidelma decided not to pursue the matter.

‘Why did Abbess Fainder pretend not to know your husband? Why was that? Did she not like her brother-in-law?’

‘We agreed that things were best kept from people until Fainder was settled firmly in her office. You see, she had only returned from Rome three or four months ago to become abbess. That was why she rode covertly each day to meet with me. This was where we both grew up. Luckily, she had been away for so long that many people had forgotten her. We thought it better that way until she had established her position.’

‘Are you saying that Fainder was fearful that she would lose her authority as abbess if it were known that you were her sister?’

Deog hesitated, embarrassed at the truth, then raised her head defiantly.

‘It is not so unusual, is it? If you sit on the council of the kingdom with the King, then the fact that your sister’s husband is merely a watchman could undermine your authority.’ Then: ‘Fainder was too long in Rome, perhaps. She had adopted their ways and not our ways,’ confessed Deog. ‘I am told that the great lords do not mix with peasants there, nor do the great church-leaders come from the peasant people. Apparently it is the position of the family which dictates what a child will be in those lands. Alas, Fainder has become imbued with that snobbery.’

‘But not so much that she turned her back on you.’

Deog smiled cynically. ‘There is an old saying. The thing which grows in the bones is hard to drive out of the flesh.’

‘Tell me about your sister.’

‘You should ask her such a question.’

‘You are her older sister. You will know her best.’

For a moment Deog’s expression softened.

‘It’s true. I am five years older than Fainder. When I was fifteen our father was killed in one of the wars against the Uí Néill and soon after my mother died of grief. I was of the age of choice then and took charge of this cabin and the little bit of land. Fainder remained with me until she reached the age of choice and then she went into the abbey at Taghmon to become a religieuse. I did not see her until she was eighteen years old when she came to me and said she was going away. She was joining a party of religious who were going to Bobbio where Columbanus had built his religious house.’

‘A bird flies away from every brood,’ quoted Fidelma.

‘A fine saying, although there is another; a bird had little affection that deserts its own brood.’

‘Go on. You felt that Fainder had little affection for her home and family?’

‘When she left, it was the last that I heard of Fainder until a few months ago. Then she came riding up to my door and announced that she had returned and that she was Abbess of Fearna.’

‘You had not seen her since she was eighteen years old?’

Deog smiled sadly. ‘She had been ten years at Bobbio and then moved south to Rome. It was at Rome that she attracted the attention of Abbot Noé who happened to be on a pilgrimage there. It was he whoinvited her back to Fearna and persuaded her to become the abbess.’

Fidelma was perplexed. ‘Abbot Noé actually persuaded Fainder to return to Laigin to become abbess in charge of the abbey in his stead?’

‘So she told me and so I tell you.’

‘I believed that Noé was of the creed of Colmcille but Fainder seems to have adopted many of the ways of Rome.’

‘She has become zealous for Rome,’ agreed Deog. ‘She has adopted the austere, high and mighty ways of the Roman clerics. But, I think, that is only on the exterior. She is certainly zealously committed to bringing the ways of our church into communion with the rules of Rome.’

‘Are these executions a manifestation of that determination?’

Deog looked unhappy and did not reply.

‘She seems to have exerted her will over Bishop Forbassach and over the King in his turn,’ observed Fidelma after a while. ‘She has persuaded them that the kingdom should adopt the Penitentials.’

‘She has become a very powerful person,’ agreed Deog. ‘I do wish, however …’

‘Yes?’ prompted Fidelma.

‘This harshness, it can be too excessive. Many people — and I have tried to warn her about this — many people are becoming afraid of the abbey of Fearna. That a Brother of the Faith has been executed there, and the punishments that we have heard of …’

‘Punishments?’

‘There was a Brother who was flogged there a few weeks ago.’

‘Flogged?’

‘It is claimed that he lied and so Fainder had him stripped to the waist and flogged with birch rods. I, too, find it hard to believe.’

‘Do you know the name of the Brother who was flogged?’

Deog replied with a shake of her head.

‘You say that people are becoming afraid of the abbey. What are they saying?’

‘They say the abbey has become evil. Have you noticed the statuette, the one of the angel, outside the main abbey door? It is the one that the Blessed Máedóc is said to have made with his own hands.’

Fidelma replied that she had.

‘That used to be called our Lady of Light, and people would make offerings before it. Now it is called by another name.’

‘Which is?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Our Lady of Darkness.’

‘Have you spoken to your sister about the things people are saying?’

‘Oh yes.’ Deog was bitter. ‘She told me to tend to my garden and that I should not speak about religious matters which I did not understand.’

‘Does she not realise that she is causing alarm among the people? Does she not realise the harm she is doing to the Faith?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘I do not think so. She is so used to the ways she learnt abroad, particularly the pitiless forms of punishment and unremitting harshness of life there, that she thinks that it is we, here, who are at fault; who are lax and living without morals. She is determined to impose the rule of the Penitentials over us all.’

‘And the innocent must suffer with the guilty?’

‘Do you believe Brother Ibar was innocent?’

‘Didn’t your husband, Daig, think so?’

‘Daig had his reservations. He felt that there were questions which needed to be asked.’

‘And Daig died before he could ask them at the trial.’

For a moment Deog turned two large shocked eyes on Fidelma.

‘What are you saying?’ she whispered. ‘That Daig … that Bishop Forbassach, the Brehon …?’ She raised a hand to cover her mouth.

Fidelma said swiftly, ‘I am not drawing any conclusions, I am only making an observation on the facts. It seems that Gabrán has some questions to answer. Why didn’t Forbassach ask them?’

‘Bishop Forbassach will do what Fainder tells him to,’ the woman said softly.

Fidelma examined her cautiously.

‘Is there a particular reason why Bishop Forbassach meets with Fainder in your cabin?’

Deog laughed bitterly. ‘Do you really think my haughty and powerful sister comes here most days simply to visit humble little me?’

Fidelma was quiet. She had begun to suspect something of the sort but she wanted Deog to spell it out.

‘My cabin is no more than a convenient place for their assignations.’

‘Did your husband know while he was alive?’

Deog shook her head. ‘I was sworn to secrecy on pain of my immortal soul, by Fainder. Now I see the path that she is intent on, I realise that it is not my immortal soul that is imperilled.’

‘There should be no need for secrets. It is not an offence for religiousto live together and marry, at least not yet, although there is a faction in Rome who argue for celibacy. Was it such people Fainder was scared of?’

‘It was Bishop Forbassach, not Fainder, who demanded secrecy. He is already married,’ Deog admitted. It suddenly occurred to her just how far the conversation had gone. ‘I thought that you had come here to free the Saxon? Fainder told me that you were attempting to prove him innocent but he showed his guilt by escaping last night. Why are you asking me all these questions about Daig, Fainder and Bishop Forbassach?’

‘I would not say that escaping from the abbey showed guilt,’ Fidelma replied sourly. ‘Especially after all that you have told me. It merely showed that he had no desire to be executed like Ibar.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Your husband, Daig, was also involved in the apprehension of Brother Eadulf in the abbey.’

‘He was. But then it was Mel who was captain of the watch that night and Daig was only following his orders. That was when the young girl was raped and killed.’

‘A young girl killed, a boatman killed and then Daig drowned …’ mused Fidelma. ‘In every case it seems that Forbassach has been persuaded not to ask the right questions and thus ignore the evidence. Is that a matter for concern, I wonder?’

Deog did not understand what she was driving at.

It was Enda who, having sat quietly through all the exchanges, suddenly spoke up, his eyes excited.

‘Didn’t you tell me that Gabrán’s boat was tied up on the abbey quay the night the girl was killed? Isn’t there a link there?’

Fidelma turned to him in annoyance but saw the young warrior was so eager that she felt she could not reprove him for pointing out a fact that she had completely overlooked.

‘We will speak of that later, Enda,’ she said. It was then Fidelma realised that the room had grown dark, apart from the warm light cast by glowing embers of the fire.

Deog stood up and lit a tallow candle and then threw some more wood onto the fire. There was a crackle and soon flames licked at the dry wood, causing a brighter light to chase the gloom.

‘We’d better head back to Fearna,’ Fidelma announced, rising regretfully. She turned to Deog. ‘I am most grateful for everything thatyou have told us, Deog. I am sorry to awaken any chords of anguish in your heart. Sometimes it is best to discuss things so that grief can be exposed rather than bottled up.’

Deog grimaced. ‘I do not mind speaking of my husband. He was a good man and sought to do his best for the community. My great sadness was that he did not get on with my sister. Nor did she like him. Alas, her years in religion have seen her grow bitter with life and harsh in her judgments of people. Yet she does not see her own faults. This relationship with Bishop Forbassach will end unhappily.’

Fidelma raised a hand and touched the woman comfortingly upon the shoulder.

‘They are truly good who are faultless, Deog. Alas, who among us is without faults?’

Deog looked pleadingly at Fidelma. ‘You will not tell anyone about Fainder?’

Fidelma looked impassive. ‘I cannot promise that, Deog. You know that for I, too, have sworn an oath to pursue truth.’

‘Fainder will never forgive me.’

The woman was clearly distressed at the idea of what her sister might do if the truth became known. Fidelma squeezed her shoulder again.

‘Fainder must live with the consequences of her own actions and prejudices. You need not mention the substance of our discussion to her. I promise you this, I will not reveal Fainder’s relationship with Forbassach nor with yourself unless it becomes necessary.’

‘Becomes necessary? I don’t understand.’

‘If this fact needs to be brought to light in the course of my enquiries, then I shall bring it to light. If it is simply irrelevant, then it shall remain a secret between the two of us. Isn’t that fair?’

Deog, sniffing, nodded her head in agreement. ‘I suppose it will suffice.’

‘Good. Now, it is dark and we must return to Fearna.’

They left the woman in her cabin and went to where they had tethered their horses.

The night was dark and chill, the clouds, chasing one another across the night sky, obscured the stars and the moon for the most part, making it almost impossible to see far.

‘It’s best to give the horses their heads,’ advised Enda. ‘In that way, they may tread the path homeward more carefully.’

Fidelma smiled in the shadows. She had ridden almost before she could walk and knew the habits of horses well enough. She rode with a loose rein allowing the horse to pick its way along the track, guiding gently only now and then to keep the beast moving in the right direction. She rode behind Enda, a dark shadow in front of her, knowing that the young warrior was keenly aware of his surroundings, attuned to any sense of danger.

The late autumn evening was really cold. Instinctively she knew that there would be a frost that night, the first frost of the oncoming winter. She hoped that Eadulf was not sleeping out in the open. She shivered at the thought. Yet if he were not hiding in the surrounding forests or hills, where was he? Who would be sheltering him?

She had pondered long on the problem of how he had managed to effect his escape from his cell in the abbey. Time and again she had come back to the conclusion that he must have been helped by an outside force. But who? And why?

‘Not that path, lady!’ called Enda from the darkness ahead.

Fidelma blinked.

She realised that she had fallen so deeply into her thoughts that she had given her horse too much head. As they reached a fork in the track, the horse, with free rein, had begun to turn down the left-hand path. Fidelma hauled quickly on the rein and turned the animal’s path towards the shadow of Enda.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,’ she called. ‘Do you know where that path leads? It seems to go directly south.’

‘It leads to a place called Cam Eolaing. I was told that it is on the same river that passes by the abbey but it is a longer route to Fearna if we go down to Cam Eolaing and turn along the river track.’

‘Cam Eolaing?’ Fidelma wondered why the name seemed familiar to her. She had heard it recently but could not place where and in what context. ‘And this is the quickest way?’

‘It is. We shall be-’

It was Enda who heard the danger a split second before the cry caused Fidelma to start. Three or four shadows burst through the woods and brush at the side of the road, attempting to grab their horses’ heads. Instinctively Fidelma jerked the reins of her mount, causing it to rear up on its hind legs and lash out with its forelegs in protest as the bit tugged at the corner of its mouth. It was this that caused its flying hooves to connect with the body of one of the forms, knocking itbackwards with a harsh scream of agony.

The figures were men and they were wielding weapons; not sticks or staves but swords, so far as the darkness allowed her to identify them. She tugged at her horse again, as it seemed the only means of protection.

In front of her, Enda had drawn his sword and smashed it down on another attacker.

‘Ride, lady, ride!’ the young man yelled.

It was as she dug her heels into the animal’s flanks to spur it forward, that the clouds parted for a second or so and the bright white winter moon shone down, causing the scene to be lit with an ethereal brilliance. She glanced down and for a moment time stood still.

It was the face of the boatman, Gabrán, which stared up at her in anger.

Then her horse surged forward and she was tearing along the darkened track with Enda at her side.

It was only after a kilometre had passed that they drew rein to allow their snorting mounts to recover from the swift gallop. They were lucky that the track was straight, its surface fairly even, otherwise the precipitous gallop through the darkness might have been extremely dangerous.

Enda replaced the sword that he had drawn. ‘Robbers!’ he snorted in disgust. ‘This country is filled with robbers!’

‘I don’t think so,’ rejoined Fidelma.

Enda’s head came up sharply. ‘What do you mean, lady?’

‘The moon came out for a second behind the cloud and I recognised their leader. It was Gabrán.’

‘Gabrán?’ Enda’s tone displayed his astonishment, mingled with some satisfaction. ‘Didn’t I say that he was the connection?’

‘You did. I had quite forgotten that his boat had been moored at the quay on the night the girl was killed. Then the next night, one of his crew is killed. You were right to point it out. Agnus Dei!’ she ended with an exclamation.

Enda was startled. ‘What is it, lady?’

‘Gabrán’s boat was also there when Daig was found drowned. Didn’t Deog tell us that a boatman from a boat called the Cág found his body? The Cág is Gabrán’s boat.’

Enda let out a low whistle. ‘Are you sure that you recognised him, lady? It was dark.’

‘The moonlight was full on his face long enough for me to recognisethe man, Enda. His is a face that one does not forget.’

‘Then we’d better push on to Fearna in case they have mounts and ride behind us,’ he said uneasily. ‘What do you think his game is, lady?’

They began to walk their mounts quickly along the track, side by side.

‘I’ve no idea. You have done well in making this connection, Enda. It was staring me in the face and I did not see it. There is a big mystery here. It grows each moment and always, as you say, we find Gabrán close by.’

Enda was silent for a moment. Then he said: ‘I must confess that I am at a loss, lady, as to why Gabrán attacked us. Surely he must think we know more than we do?’

Fidelma had been thinking the same thing, turning over the facts as she knew them.

Usually, facts were like a string of beads. There was always a connecting thread between them even if many of the beads were missing and had to be sorted out; there was always some inevitable connection. But this time there was no thread that Fidelma could see; no connection to the facts that she had garnered so far — none except this curious fact that the thin little river boat man was always near-at-hand in every event. Moreover, he traded with the abbey and seemed to have unrestricted access to Abbess Fainder’s rooms, as she had witnessed. He also stayed at the Inn of the Yellow Mountain. Was he the thread that linked everything together? But how?

As they joined the track along the river and came up by the grim, dark walls of the abbey, Fidelma raised her head from her contemplation.

‘We will have to find out more about Gabrán,’ she finally spoke aloud, realising immediately that she was stating the obvious.

‘Do you think he realised that you recognised him?’ asked Enda.

‘I am not sure. See if his boat is still alongside the abbey quay. I suspect it is not. It would probably be moored close to the spot where we were attacked. But it is worth a look.’

They were passing the quays now and Enda swung down and handed his reins to Fidelma while he went to check on the river boats.

‘His boat was called the Cág, wasn’t it?’ Enda asked.

‘The Jackdaw, that’s right.’

Enda went to where there was a dark shadow of a boat tied up on theabbey quay. She saw a shadow emerge on the deck and heard voices. Then Enda came back, shaking his head.

‘Was that Gabrán’s boat?’ Fidelma asked.

‘No, lady,’ Enda said, remounting. ‘The man said that the Cág pulled out earlier in the evening, heading upriver.’

‘Did the man know where Gabrán comes from?’

‘I asked him that. He did not. But surely Lassar, at the inn, will know where his home port on the river is. She seemed to know him well enough.’

‘I suppose that you are right.’

They skirted the abbey walls and rode into the township straight to the Inn of the Yellow Mountain.

A stable lad came to take their horses and, as they entered the warm main room of the inn, Dego came across to them. He seemed relieved to see them.

‘I was going to ride out in search of you both,’ he said. ‘It has been dark for ages and this is not the countryside to ride freely about in the dark.’

Fidelma was reassuring.

‘I think that we would agree with you, Dego. Let us find a table near the fire and see what food Lassar can offer us this evening. Not that I feel particularly hungry tonight.’

Lassar had come bustling out of an inner room with a tray of drinks. She saw them, served her customers, and then came across with a smile of welcome.

‘I was wondering whether you would be back for an evening meal, Sister. You are late this evening. Have you been searching for the Saxon? I am told there is no news of him at all.’

Fidelma pulled off her travelling cloak and indicated a table near the large fire that was now crackling away in the hearth.

‘We have been out riding,’ she confirmed shortly. ‘We’ll sit there and you may tell us what you can offer us this chilly night.’

Lassar followed them to the table and waited as they seated themselves.

‘For the main dishes, there is a choice tonight of lonlongin, the gullet of an ox filled with minced meat and cooked like a sausage. It is a delicacy of the area. Or there is fish — salmon — or I still have some sea-calf which I serve with duilesc and butter.’

‘This meat pudding sounds fine for me,’ Enda said enthusiastically.

Fidelma wrinkled her nose a little in distaste. ‘I’ll have salmon and the duilesc.’ She had a liking for the red, edible seaweed.

‘There is the hair-onion, leek, if you like it, with goose eggs and cheese,’ added Lassar.

‘I’ll remain with the salmon but the hair-onion sounds good.’

Dego decided to accompany Enda with the lonlongin served with root vegetables. For the next half an hour or so, a silence fell on their company. For Fidelma, each mouthful was an ordeal as her thoughts returned to Eadulf and how he might be faring that cold night. Concentration was better when she had some task to fulfil; some objective. Left to her own thoughts, she fell into a morbid frame of mind. She broke the silence by turning to Dego.

‘Did you find out any more about Coba?’

Dego paused while taking a sip of wine. ‘Not really. He has a fortress not far from here, a place called Cam Eolaing. He is a minor chieftain and magistrate, well-respected and not a supporter of Fianamail’s introduction of the Penitentials.’

Fidelma was irritable. She could have told Dego as much.

‘But would he go against Fianamail to the extent that he might help Eadulf escape?’ she asked.

Dego shrugged but was silent.

‘We will go to see this chieftain tomorrow,’ Fidelma decided.

When Lassar reappeared to collect their dirty plates, Fidelma took the opportunity to ask her about Gabrán.

‘Gabrán? Why do you ask about him?’ The woman looked suspiciously at her.

‘I am interested in this river-boat trade, that is all.’

‘He has gone away for a few days now.’

‘Gone?’ asked Fidelma innocently. ‘Back to his home port? Where is it that he comes from — somewhere upriver?’

‘Not far from here — Cam Eolaing. Beyond that place the river is not really navigable for any length.’