Our Lady of Darkness

Chapter Three

Fidelma’s face was white, mirroring the terrible anguish which she felt. It was almost as if the blood had suddenly drained from her body.

‘All over? Do you mean that …?’ She swallowed, hardly able to articulate the question that was uppermost in her mind.

‘The Saxon will be executed at noon tomorrow,’ Fianamail said indifferently.

A feeling of relief surged over Fidelma. ‘Then he is not dead yet?’ The words came out as a shuddering sigh. She closed her eyes with momentary solace.

The young King seemed oblivious to her emotions and kicked at a log which had fallen from the fire.

‘He is as good as dead. The matter is now closed. You have had a long journey for nothing.’

Fidelma bent forward from her seat and stared towards Fianamail.

‘I do not consider that the matter is closed as yet. I heard a story on the journey here. It was a story that I would not countenance about a King of Laigin. I was told that you had rejected the native law and decreed that the punishment laid down in the new Penitentials from Rome should be enacted. Is it true that you have declared this thing?’

Fianamail was still smiling, though without warmth.

‘Execution is the punishment decreed, Fidelma of Cashel. That much has been decided. In this I have been guided by both my spiritual adviser and by my Brehon. Laigin will lead the way in shaking off our old pagan ways. Let Christian punishments fit the crimes of this land. I am determined to show how Christian my kingdom of Laigin has become. Death it shall be.’

‘I think you forget the law, Fianamail of Laigin. Even the Penitentials recognise the matter of appeal.’

‘Appeal?’ Fianamail looked astonished. ‘But the sentence has been passed by my Brehon. I have confirmed it. There is no appeal to be made.’

‘There is a judge higher than your Brehon,’ Fidelma pointed out.‘The Chief Brehon of Éireann can be summoned. I think he will have much to say over this matter of the Penitentials.’

‘On what grounds could you make such an appeal to the Chief Brehon of the five kingdoms?’ sneered Fianamail. ‘You have no knowledge of the case nor of the evidence. Besides, the execution is tomorrow and we cannot wait a week for the Chief Brehon to arrive here.’

His self-confident smile provoked anger in Fidelma and she fought to control it.

‘Until I have investigated this matter, I would appeal to you for a stay of the implementation of the sentence on the grounds that Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham might not have been correctly defended; that his rights might not have been fully considered by the court that tried him.’

Fianamail leaned back in his chair with an expression of open derision.

‘That sounds like the appeal of a desperate person, Fidelma of Cashel. You are clutching at straws. Well, you have no audience to appeal to now. Not like the audience you swayed at Ros Ailithir against me and Bishop Forbassach. I am the sole authority here.’

Fidelma knew she would not successfully appeal to Fianamail’s sense of morality. The young man wanted vengeance on her. She decided to change her tactic and raised her voice sharply.

‘You are a King, Fianamail, and whatever your antagonism to me and to Cashel, you will behave like a King for, if you do not, the very stones you walk on will cry out and denounce you as unjust and evil.’

Fianamail stirred uneasily at her vehemence.

‘I speak as a King, Fidelma of Cashel. I am told that the Saxon was given every opportunity to defend himself,’ he said grudgingly.

Fidelma seized upon the point. ‘To defend himself? Was he not provided with a dálaigh to plead for him — to plead the law on his behalf?’

‘That is a privilege granted to few foreigners. However, it is true that as he spoke our language and apparently knew something of law, he was allowed to offer a defence. He received no less a treatment than we extend to any wandering religious.’

‘Then Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham did not tell you of the rank he held?’ Fidelma demanded, beginning to see a faint ray of hope.

Fianamail stared at her, not understanding what she was driving at.

‘The man is a religieux, a peregrinatio pro Christo. What other rank would he have?’

‘He is a techtaire, not merely a travelling religieux. As a techtaire, one should observe the advice of the Bretha Nemed, for Eadulf travelled under the protection of King Colgú as a member of his household.’

The young King was slightly bewildered. He was no dálaigh or Brehon. He did not know the law to which Fidelma referred.

‘Why would the Saxon be under the protection of your brother’s house?’

Fidelma sensed a hesitation in his youthful arrogance.

‘That’s easy to understand. Theodore of Canterbury, archbishop and adviser to all the Saxon kingdoms, sent Eadulf as his personal emissary to my brother. Therefore, he comes with the honour price of eight cumals, half the honour price which you yourself hold as King of Laigin. He has the rights and protection of an embassy. And he is entitled to half the honour price of the man he serves. In returning to Theodore of Canterbury, and bearing messages from my brother, Eadulf continues to bear the same honour price and is therefore in my brother’s service. The law is clear about the protection it affords to members of an embassy.’

‘But he committed a murder,’ protested Fianamail.

‘So your courts have claimed,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But the circumstances have to be examined, for doesn’t the Bretha Nemed claim that the officers of a King may carry out acts of violence in self-defence during the course of their duties without liability? Is it known what reasons lay behind his offence? It may well be that he carried immunity from prosecution. Was this considered?’

Fianamail was clearly confused by her technical knowledge. He was unable to argue and admitted it.

‘I have not your proficiency in law, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he confessed. ‘I must seek advice on this matter.’

‘Then send for your Brehon now; let him stand here before me and argue precedents.’

Fianamail rose, shaking his head, and went to pour himself a glass of wine at the table.

‘He is not here at this time. I do not expect him to return until tomorrow.’

‘Then you must make your judgment without him, Fianamail. I do not lie to you about the law. On my honour as a dálaigh with or without the advice of your Brehon, if this kingdom has given a false or a mistaken judgment, then you may find that you are deemed to be notrue King and you will answer to a greater court which will judge you. No King is higher in authority than the law.’

Fianamail was struggling to see how best he should proceed. He raised his hands in a hopeless gesture and let them fall to his side.

‘What is it you seek?’ he asked, after he had hesitated for a moment or so. ‘Are you telling me that you claim immunity for the Saxon? That I will and shall not accept. His crime was too odious. What do you want?’

‘Ultimately, I would plead with you to return to the laws of our country,’ Fidelma replied. ‘The foreign Penitentials have no place in our thoughts. Killing for the sake of vengeance is not our law …’

Fianamail held up a hand to stay her eloquence.

‘I have given my word to Abbot Noé, my spiritual adviser, and to Bishop Forbassach, my Brehon, that the punishments decreed by the Faith will be carried out — a life for a life. Address your argument for an appeal in this matter of the Saxon but do not attempt to change my edict on the law.’

Fidelma felt a quickening of her pulse as she sensed a breach in his determination.

‘I am asking you to defer the execution so that the facts of this case may be examined to ensure that the law has been served.’

‘I cannot overturn my Brehon’s judgment; that is not in the King’s power anyway.’

‘Allow me a period to investigate this crime of which you claim Brother Eadulf is guilty and let me examine the facts based on a possible submission that he acted under protection as a fer taistil, an officer of the King’s court under immunity. Give me your authority to carry out such an investigation.’

She used the legal term fer taistil which, while meaning literally a ‘traveller’, meant specifically an emissary between kings.

Fianamail returned to his chair. His brow was furrowed as he considered the matter. It was clear that he was worried by acceding to her demands but was unable to find reasons to counter Fidelma’s arguments.

‘I do not wish to quarrel with your brother again,’ he admitted at last. ‘Nor do I wish to do anything which contradicts the protocols and justice of my kingdom.’ He paused and rubbed his chin ruefully. After a while he gave a long, deep sigh. ‘I will give you time to look into the crime of which this Saxon has been found guilty. If you can see anythingin the conduct and judgment of our courts which is not in order, then I will not challenge your right of appeal on those grounds.’

Fidelma suppressed a small sigh of relief. ‘That is all I ask. But I will need your authority.’

‘I will call for quill and vellum and set it down,’ he agreed, reaching forward. He took a small silver hand-bell and rang it.

‘Good.’ Fidelma felt a weight dissolving from her shoulders. ‘How long will you give me to make my examination?’

A servant entered and was instructed to bring the writing materials. The young King’s eyes were cold.

‘How long? Why, you have until noon tomorrow when the sentence on the Saxon is to be carried out.’

Fidelma’s momentary surge of relief was halted as she realised the restriction Fianamail had placed on her.

‘There you are,’ Fianamail smiled. ‘You cannot claim that I am disobeying the customs of our land. I have allowed you time to prepare an appeal. That is what you sought.’

The servant re-entered with the writing materials and the King scribbled swiftly on the vellum. Fidelma took time to recover her voice.

‘Are you giving me no more than twenty-four hours? Is there justice in that?’ She spoke slowly, trying to stop her surging anger from erupting.

‘Whatever justice it is, it is still justice,’ replied Fianamail vindictively. ‘I owe you no more.’

For a moment Fidelma was silent, trying to think of some other appeal she could make to him. Then she realised that there was nothing more she could say. The young man held the power and she had no greater power to overturn his desire for vengeance.

‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘If I find the grounds for an appeal, will you halt the execution pending the arrival of Barrán, the Chief Brehon, to hear the case?’

Fianamail sniffed slightly. ‘If you find grounds for an appeal and they are considered worthy by my own courts of justice, then I shall allow a delay until the Brehon Barrán can be summoned. Those arguments of grounds for such an appeal must be substantial and not merely suspicions.’

‘That goes without saying. Will you also allow me to go without let nor hindrance where I will during these next twenty-four hours in pursuit of my enquiries?’

‘It is covered by this.’ The King held out the vellum to her. She did not take it.

‘Then you must append your seal of authorisation showing that I act with your consent and authority.’

Fianamail hesitated. Fidelma knew a piece of vellum giving consent for her to ask questions was worth nothing without the King’s seal.

The King wavered, once again undecided as to how he should act.

‘The killing of a techtaire is a serious offence before the Chief Brehon and High King,’ observed Fidelma firmly. ‘The death of a King’s messenger, whether by murder or by execution, has to be answered for. It is wise that you should authorise me to investigate the matter.’

Fianamail finally shrugged and took from the writing box a piece of wax, melted it over a candle onto the vellum and pressed his signet ring firmly into it.

‘You now have that consent. It cannot be said that I did not allow every possible avenue to be explored.’

Fidelma was satisfied and took the authorisation.

‘I would like to see Brother Eadulf immediately. Is he being held here in your fortress?’

To her surprise, Fianamail shook his head. ‘No, not here.’

‘Where then?’

‘He is held over at the abbey.’

‘What is he doing there?’

‘It was there that his crime was committed and there he was tried and sentenced. Abbess Fainder has taken a personal charge of this matter, for the victim was one of her own novices. It was in the abbey that the Saxon stood trial and where he will be executed tomorrow.’

‘Abbess Fainder? I thought the Abbey of Fearna came under the jurisdiction of Abbot Noé?’

‘As I told you, Abbot Noé is now my spiritual adviser and confessor …’

‘Confessor? That is a Roman concept.’

‘Call him a “soul friend” if you like to stick to the quaint old-fashioned ways of the Church. I have given him jurisdiction on religious matters throughout my kingdom. The Abbey of the Blessed Máedóc is now under the guidance of Abbess Fainder. Her stewardess is actually a distant cousin of mine, Étromma.’ He suddenly seemed apologetic. ‘A poor branch of the family with whom I have few dealings but who, I amtold, is good at running the day-to-day affairs of the abbey. However, it is the abbess herself who has demanded that the Penitentials be used to guide us in our Christian Faith as well as in our daily lives and to be the instrument of the Saxon’s punishment.’

‘Abbess Fainder?’ Fidelma reflected. ‘I have not heard of her.’

‘She has but lately returned to this kingdom from several years’ service in Rome.’

‘And so she supports the Penitentials of Rome against the wisdom texts of her own land?’

Fianamail inclined his head by way of an affirmative reply.

‘I see,’ Fidelma said. ‘You mentioned that Brother Eadulf was charged with causing the death of a novice in the abbey. Just who is it that he was supposed to have killed?’

Fianamail regarded her in mock reproof. ‘For someone who comes riding post haste from Cashel determined to prove the Saxon’s innocence, I would have thought you might have known of what he was accused,’ he said slyly.

‘Murder, of course. But who is he supposed to have murdered?’ Fianamail was almost pitying. ‘I suspect, Fidelma of Cashel, that you have rushed into this mission with your heart instead of your head.’

Fidelma coloured hotly. ‘My reason is to let justice be served,’ she replied stiffly. ‘Now who was he supposed to have killed?’ she asked again.

‘Your Saxon friend raped a young girl and then strangled her,’ the King said tonelessly, watching her face. ‘She was a novice at the abbey … and she was only twelve years old.’

Even after she had been conducted from the King’s chamber, Fidelma still felt a numbness in her. Of all the crimes, the very idea that Eadulf could have been accused of raping a twelve-year-old girl and then murdering her was abhorrent. How could Eadulf have been adjudged guilty of such a thing? It was something so alien to the nature of the man she knew.

In the courtyard of the fortress, Fidelma, waiting until there were no Laigin warriors within earshot, turned to Dego, Aidan and Enda.

‘I need one of you to ride to Tara and seek out the Chief Brehon, Barrán,’ she said quietly. ‘It will be a dangerous journey through hostile Laigin territory, but needs to be done with all speed.’

Aidan stood forward immediately.

‘I am the best rider here, lady,’ he said simply. It was not a boast and neither Dego nor Enda wasted time by disagreeing with him. Fidelma accepted the truth of his statement without further ado.

‘I need you to persuade Barrán to return with you immediately, Aidan. Explain the situation so far as you know it. Plead in my name if you have to. And, Aidan … be very careful. There may be people who would not want you to reach Tara, let alone return here with Barrán.’

Aidan was confident.

‘I understand and will have a care, lady. It will not take me long to reach the territory of the southern Uí Néill. They are no friends to the Laigin and as soon as I am there, I shall be safe enough. With good fortune I shall return within a few days.’

‘All that falls to me is to prevent this execution tomorrow. Then hope that you can return in time with Barrán to hear what mystery lurks here,’ she said.

Aidan spoke hesitantly. ‘Are you sure that there is a mystery to be uncovered, lady? I mean, could it be …?’ He lapsed into silence under her disapproving scrutiny.

Dego intervened; he was anxious.

‘If you expect Aidan to leave here in broad daylight, lady, it will not give him much of a chance if, as you appear to believe, Laigin warriors will be watching our movements.’

‘We will give them something to watch then,’ Fidelma replied with a sudden burst of her old confidence. ‘We will go into the township to find accommodation for our stay here. Once among the crowds of the town, Aidan will leave us. If he rides west for the Slaney, it might appear as if he is simply heading back to Cashel. There are woods enough near the river and he can use the cover of them to strike north. Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ Aidan confirmed. Then he paused: ‘I am sorry, lady, that I questioned …’

Fidelma reached out a hand and laid it on his arm.

‘You have a right to be suspicious, Aidan. The unthinkable might even be true — Eadulf could be guilty; let us not prejudge matters. But also let us remember that we know the man.’

Dego exchanged glances with his companions.

‘We are with you, lady. Shall we leave now?’

‘At once. Let us walk our horses from the gate, slowly and casuallydown the hill and once we are in among the houses, hidden from the eyes in this fortress, then Aidan can mount up and ride westward.’

They ordered their horses from the stable and the guard commander came forward as the stable boys were leading them out.

‘Are you not staying here, lady?’ he enquired in surprise. It was usual for visiting dignitaries to be offered hospitality at the King’s court.

‘We will find accommodation within the town,’ she assured him. ‘It is better that I and my escort do not impose ourselves on the hospitality of your King.’

The man looked perplexed. It was unusual but he knew something of the enmity between Fearna and Cashel and put their departure down to this reason.

‘Very well, lady. Is there any further service that I can render?’

‘Perhaps you could recommend an inn in this town.’

The guard commander replied immediately. ‘There are several, lady. I have a sister who runs the Inn of the Yellow Mountain just beyond the main square. It is named after the place we came from, seven kilometers north-east of here. Her place is clean and quiet. She allows no rowdiness there.’

‘We shall look out for it then,’ Fidelma assured him with a smile of gratitude.

‘She is called Lassar. Tell her that her brother recommended the inn.’

The four of them, reins held over their arms, walked their horses through the fortress gate and down the sloping path to the sprawl of buildings below. It was midday and the streets were thronging with people. There was a market in the main square around which everything centred, crammed with food stalls selling all manner of fish, poultry and meats as well as fruit and vegetables. The noise of the traders trying to outbid each other in attracting custom made an ear-splitting cacophony of sound to rise over the township.

Fidelma led the way through the crowded square and across to the entrance of a side street, where she glanced round. They were out of sight of the sentinels’ posts on the fortress and she turned to Aidan.

‘You know now what you must do?’

The young man grinned and sprang up into his saddle. ‘I will see you here within a few days and bring Barrán with me, lady. If I do not return, it will be because I am dead.’

‘Then make sure that you return.’

He raised a hand in salute and dug his heels into the sides of his horse.

They watched him move along the street as rapidly as the people allowed. Then he disappeared beyond the buildings. Fidelma sighed deeply and turned to her two remaining companions.

‘Where to now, lady?’ asked Dego. ‘Will we go to the abbey to find Brother Eadulf?’

‘Firstly, we should take up the suggestion of the commander of the guard and find his sister’s inn,’ smiled Fidelma. ‘Then I shall go to the abbey.’

‘Isn’t that a dangerous thing? I mean, going to an inn recommended by a Laigin warrior?’ Enda asked.

‘Perhaps not. The connection might prove useful. I do not think that the recommendation was made through any guile. I believe the man was honest.’

‘A Laigin warrior … honest?’ Dego sounded as if he doubted such a thing could be so.

Fidelma did not expand on her opinion but instead hailed a passerby with an enquiry as to where the Inn of the Yellow Mountain might be found. It turned out to be but a street away, just off the main square but protected from the hubbub of sound by other buildings. The Inn of the Yellow Mountain announced itself by a signboard bearing the image of a yellow triangular shape which was clearly meant as a mountain. The inn was large; a two-storey wooden structure with its own yard and stables. It seemed popular for there were several people coming in and out of it.

They led their horses into the yard and Dego took Fidelma’s reins as she moved forward to the door of the inn. A large woman came bustling out as Fidelma approached. She had a kindly face and Fidelma could see some resemblance between her features and those of the guard commander.

‘Rooms for the night?’ greeted the woman. ‘We have the best prices in Fearna, Sister. And you will certainly do better here for comfort and food than seeking free lodgings at the abbey …’

She broke off with a frown as she suddenly recognised the accoutrements of the two warriors as being those of Muman.

‘Are you Lassar?’ asked Fidelma pleasantly, claiming her attention once more.

‘I am.’ The woman turned back, a look of suspicion on her face as she scrutinised her questioner.

‘It was your brother, the warrior at the fortress, who recommended your inn to us, Lassar.’

The woman’s eyes widened with some respect. ‘You have been to Fianamail’s fortress?’

‘My business brought me here to speak with Fianamail,’ Fidelma confirmed. ‘Have you rooms for my companions and myself?’

Lassar glanced dubiously at the warriors again before turning back to Fidelma.

‘I have a room that they can share and a small room that you can use on your own — but it will cost more than sleeping in a shared room,’ she added defensively.

‘That is no problem.’

Lassar raised a hand and, as if from nowhere, a stable boy appeared and took charge of their horses. Dego retrieved the saddlebags from the steeds before they were led away.

The fleshy-faced woman gestured them inside. ‘So, Mel recommended the inn, eh?’

‘Mel?’

‘My brother. I thought that he might be too grand to think of my business, now that he is commander of the guard at Fianamail’s palace.’

‘Now?’ Fidelma picked up on the slight emphasis. ‘He has only just become commander there?’

‘Oh yes. He has only just been raised to the guard as well as made captain of it.’

Lassar led them up the stairs to the second storey and conducted them to a door, which she flung open with the air of someone about to reveal a priceless treasure beyond. It was a dark, narrow little room, with a tiny window. It looked fairly claustrophobic.

‘There is your room, Sister.’

Fidelma had seen worse and at least it appeared warm and the bed was comfortable.

‘And the room for my companions?’

Lassar pointed along the corridor.

‘There is one they can share down there. Will you want food as well?’

‘Yes, although our plans might change.’

Lassar frowned slightly. ‘Then you plan to be here for some time?’

‘For about a week, probably,’ Fidelma replied. ‘What are your prices?’

‘Since there are three of you, and if you can guarantee me a week,then I will charge you a pinginn each a person. That is a screpall a day. For that you have the freedom of the inn, coming and going as you like and meals as you like. There will be hot water for baths in the evenings. So you see, I am not wrong. You will do better by staying here and not seeking the hospitality of the abbey.’

It was the second time that the woman had referred to the abbey in disparaging tones and it drew Fidelma’s interest. It was true that a travelling religious would normally expect to obtain free lodgings at an abbey. But Lassar’s opinion of the abbey and its hospitality seemed surprisingly low even for an innkeeper who must see the abbey as a rival.

‘What makes you say that?’ she asked.

The fleshy-faced woman grimaced defiantly. ‘It is clear that you are a stranger here.’

‘I have not denied it.’

‘Times have changed, Sister. That is all I say. The abbey has turned into a place of misery. Once I was hard pressed to attract travellers to the inn here, for many sought the hospitality of its walls. Now, no one wants to enter. Not since …’ She suddenly paused and shuddered.

‘Not since …?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘I will say no more, Sister. A screpall a day for all three if you want the rooms.’

Fidelma realised that Lassar would not be forced to say anything more about her views on the abbey.

‘A screpall a day is fine,’ she agreed, glancing at Dego and Enda. ‘I will give you three screpalls in advance for the rooms and we would like to wash first and have a meal as soon as possible.’

‘If you wish for a cold wash, then there is no problem. Hot water, as I say, is only provided at night for a bath. I have little help here now that my brother has become so grand a person up at the palace.’

‘There is no problem,’ Fidelma assured her, taking out some coins from her marsupium, the leather purse at her waist, and handing them to her.

The woman paused for a moment as if counting the coins in her hand. Then she smiled in satisfaction.

‘I will send water to your room and you may come down and eat when you like. It will only be cold fare. Hot meals may be had in the evening because …’

Fidelma smiled indulgently. ‘I know. We appreciate your help, Lassar.’

The innkeeper disappeared down the stairs. Dego let out a breath of relief.

‘What now, lady?’ he asked. ‘What shall we do next?’

‘After we have refreshed ourselves, I suggest that you make yourselves inconspicuous around the town and see what gossip you can pick up with regards to the events here. Find out what people feel about the imposition of the Penitentials as law and punishment instead of our native laws.’

‘What will you be doing, lady?’ asked Enda. ‘Should we not go with you?’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘I am going to the abbey. I want to see Eadulf.’