The Devil's seal

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Brother Conchobhar was working in his apothecary and looked up with a welcoming smile as Fidelma and Eadulf entered.

‘I received your message,’ he greeted them. ‘I’ve checked my missing medications and it seems that Deogaire took the correct ones for the conditions you described. I plan to check on her condition as soon as I can.’

‘Then Eadulf and I will join you,’ Fidelma told himself, ‘as it will be interesting to see this woman.’

‘Meanwhile, I have some news for you — so I am glad you came by,’ went on the old man. They detected a suppressed excitement in his tone. ‘It is about that band of lambswool. The Keeper of Books finally found a reference to it which confirmed what we had thought: a generation or more ago, it was worn by all the bishops when they performed the rites of the Mass. It then dropped out of use in the churches of the Five Kingdoms as we set more store by our abbots.’

Fidelma’s face fell. ‘Nothing more?’

Brother Conchobhar’s smile broadened. ‘He also told me that it was called a pallium but that its symbolism has changed in the last hundred years or so. The Bishop of Rome, the one they called Gregory, ordered that it could only be worn by bishops of special rank. He wrote to Bishop John of Ravenna nearly a century ago about pastoral rules and mentioned what it symbolised. It is now a symbol given by the Bishop of Rome only to those appointed as Chief Bishops or Archbishops. Its use is limited. No one else is allowed to wear it without the approval of the Bishop of Rome.’

‘You mean that it was used only by an Archbishop such as Theodore of Canterbury?’ asked Eadulf in astonishment.

‘It is apparently the symbol of the new Roman power, to be worn as a liturgical vestment only in the church and during the Divine Mass unless otherwise authorised by the Bishop of Rome,’ confirmed the old apothecary. ‘Our Keeper of Books remembered that he had seen some such reference to its change of use. Apparently we have a copy of that book of pastoral rules in our tech screpta.’

‘So this pallium is a symbol of an Archbishop. .’ Fidelma considered the implications.

‘If Rudgal had stolen it in the attack on the river, what does it mean?’ Brother Conchobhar asked. ‘Was it being brought to a bishop here? The churches of the Five Kingdoms recognise no Chief Bishop over them. Bishops are subordinate to abbots among our churches.’

‘This is what the Venerable Verax’s deputation is discussing,’ Eadulf explained. ‘Apparently, Abbot Ségéne of Ard Macha has petitioned Rome, making the claim for Ard Macha to be the primacy of all the churches in the Five Kingdoms because the abbey was founded by Patricius. This deputation must have come to ask the views of the abbots and bishops before Ségéne was presented with this pallium.’

‘Hardly likely,’ Fidelma declared.

‘Patricius preferred to work at the Abbey of Dún Phádraig, the Fortress of Patricius, where he died and is buried,’ pointed out Brother Conchobhar. ‘Even by citing Patricius, their claim falls.’

‘If Rome has sent the pallium into the Five Kingdoms as the answer to the claim of Ard Macha, why would an emissary from the Bishop of Rome come to Cashel bearing this symbol of authority? Why not travel directly to Ard Macha?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Could this pallium be meant for Abbot Ségdae? That Imleach and not Ard Macha was to be recognised?’ Brother Conchobhar wondered.

Fidelma regarded both men with an expression akin to sadness. ‘I am afraid that you are overlooking several important facts. Firstly, how did we come by this pallium?’

‘It was hidden on the body of Rudgal, a robber, who knew its value because he was going to use it to bargain for his freedom,’ Eadulf replied promptly.

‘And how did Rudgal acquire it?’

‘Why, from the Venerable Victricius when Rudgal and his robbers attacked their boat and-’

‘And who was Victricius? Brother Bosa claims he was a thief without any right to be called a priest of any sort.’

Eadulf thought about it. ‘If so, was Egric his accomplice — or was he duped? My brother said he met Victricius in Canterbury and was employed by him as a translator and companion. He says he was informed that Victricius was on a mission from Theodore, but was never told what it was. Who should I believe?’

‘If we do not believe what Brother Bosa says, then we must assume that he — indeed, this entire Saxon deputation — are not who they say they are.’

Eadulf was silent as he considered the alternatives.

‘Another point,’ went on Fidelma. ‘Why would Rudgal know the symbolism of this item when we did not? To most people, it is merely a piece of lambswool, a band or even a scarf. Only certain people would recognise the importance of the pallium. To those few, this piece of lambswool might well seem valuable enough to make a man rich — if he knew how to trade for it. Do you really think that Rudgal would have such knowledge?’

Just at that moment, the door of the apothecary opened abruptly and Enda came in. The warrior’s face was tense.

‘Forgive me,’ he said to them. ‘I was told Eadulf was here.’

‘I am here. What is it, Enda?’ Eadulf said, turning towards him.

‘Brother Berrihert from Eatharlach is at the gates and demands to see you immediately.’

Eadulf was surprised. Three years ago, he had helped Berrihert and his two brothers, Pecanum and Naovan — all brothers in blood as well as in religion — settle in the great Valley of Eatharlach among the Uí Cuileann clan. He had known Berrihert at Streonshalh. After Oswy’s fateful decision to follow Roman rites, Bishop Colmán, rather than change his religious allegiance, had gathered all those who continued to adhere to the teachings of Colmcille, and taken them, first to the kingdom of the Britons called Rheged, then on to his own land of Connachta. Berrihert, with his two brothers, eventually sought out the peace and tranquillity of Eatharlach where Miach, chieftain of the Uí Cuileann, had accepted them into the valley after Eadulf had vouched for them.

‘What does he want?’ Eadulf asked in surprise. ‘He and his brothers hardly ever leave the valley.’

Enda’s voice was troubled. ‘Whatever it is, I think it bodes ill. He came on horseback.’

‘Is it so unusual to see a religieux on horseback?’ Fidelma wondered at the comment.

‘The horse that he is riding is the same one which Dego was riding the other day,’ Enda replied grimly. ‘I recognised it. I asked him how he came by it, but he just demanded that I fetch you at once.’

Eadulf was already out of the door. After swiftly advising Brother Conchobhar to keep the pallium hidden in a secure place, Fidelma hurried after him. They found Brother Berrihert, still covered in dust from his journey, standing by Dego’s horse in the courtyard. He lost no time in polite salutations.

‘I have ridden without stop from Eatharlach, Brother Eadulf, with news that you and your friends here should know.’ The man paused to clear his throat as his voice was cracking with dryness. Enda immediately fetched the man a beaker of water; Brother Berrihert drained it in gigantic gulps before handing the vessel back. ‘Sorry, lady,’ he said to Fidelma. ‘I am unused to such exertions.’ Then, before she could reply, he hastened on: ‘Yesterday, I found this horse wandering loose. It was still saddled and was grazing on the lower slopes of An Starracín.’

‘An Starracín?’ Eadulf gave a puzzled glance in Enda’s direction.

‘It is called the Pointed Peak — is one of the peaks of the Sliabh na gCoillte,’ Enda explained.

Brother Berrihert continued, ‘I began to examine the area. It was not long before I found the rider. . he was a warrior and he had been badly injured. It seemed that he had camped by a stream. There were signs that he had been fishing. I brought him and the horse to my cabin; the one which my brothers and I also use as a chapel. We are nursing him there. I recognised him as a warrior of Cashel since he wore a golden torc around his neck.’

‘He’s badly hurt, you say?’ Fidelma asked.

‘He had wounds to the back of his skull, but the worst wound was in his arm for he had lost blood as if gushing from a fountain. He had also been stabbed in the back — but that was no more than a flesh wound. He managed a period of lucidity, enough to tell me to search out Brother Eadulf.’

‘Dego!’ exclaimed Enda, having his fear confirmed. ‘It must be him.’

‘Dego was hunting in that area in the company of my brother,’ Eadulf burst out. ‘What of Egric? Where is he?’

Fidelma reached out a hand and placed it on Eadulf’s arm to steady him.

‘I saw no other person,’ Brother Berrihert said. ‘The warrior was alone and hardly able to speak. His wounds were grievous. I have left my brothers tending to him. But he was adamant, that I should come to find you, Eadulf.’

‘What did he say?’ Eadulf asked urgently.

‘All he could manage was “tell Eadulf, tell Eadulf”. Nothing else. So I took his horse and rode here straightway. There was no mention of any companion called Egric.’

‘Dego is at your cabin, you say?’

‘Yes, being nursed by my brothers, Pecanum and Naovan,’ the man repeated. ‘But nothing compares to his agitation in wanting you to be informed.’

Fidelma turned to Enda. ‘See that Brother Berrihert is given refreshment, and can you provide him with a fresh horse? He and Eadulf will return immediately to An Starracín.’ Eadulf regarded Fidelma in surprise but she went on: ‘You must go at once. You’ll be there before nightfall if you maintain a good pace. I think that you should also take Gormán and Aidan with you. Aidan is an excellent tracker and this could be invaluable if you need to search for Egric.’ She added this for Enda’s benefit because he was looking disappointed at not being included. ‘Enda, you must stay here to be in charge of the guard; you are senior in rank after Gormán. Now find Gormán and Aidan, and tell them what they must do.’

It was not long before Fidelma was watching the band of horsemen as they swept down from The Rock and through the township, south-west towards the distant glen of Eatharlach. Then she returned to her chambers to get ready to accompany Brother Conchobhar to the cabin where Beccan had said he had left his woman friend, Maon. Fidelma had barely entered the chamber when Muirgen, the nurse, knocked and entered.

‘Little Alchú is ready for his morning ride,’ she announced

Fidelma flushed. Events had been moving so fast that she had forgotten all about it. Muirgen pursed her lips reprovingly as she read Fidelma’s expression.

‘He likes his morning ride with one or other of you,’ she observed. ‘Brother Eadulf rode with him yesterday, so it is your turn today, lady.’

‘I know, I know,’ replied Fidelma testily. ‘But there is so much to do at the moment.’ Then she sighed. ‘Bring the boy in here.’

A moment later, Muirgen led the little boy in. ‘Muimme says you are busy, so I can’t go riding,’ he said accusingly. The intimate form muimme or ‘mummy’ was always used for a nurse or fosterer, whereas mathair, the more formal ‘mother’, was used for one’s birth mother.

Fidelma bent down to the child. ‘She didn’t really mean that,’ she told her son with a forced smile. ‘I have some terribly important things to do for King Am-Nar so we have a little surprise for you.’

The word for a maternal uncle was amnair which Alchú had not been able to pronounce and so Fidelma’s brother, Colgú, was always simply ‘King Am-Nar’. The boy frowned slightly at her statement, wondering what the surprise could be.

‘I am going to take you to see your Aunt Della and ask her if you can ride in her paddock. She can show you many tricks with horses. You know just how well she feeds you when you visit.’

A broad smile wreathed the child’s mouth and he clapped his hands. ‘Aunt Della! Aunt Della!’

Fidelma looked relieved at his reaction.

In the stables, their horses were waiting and saddled. Fidelma and Alchu were joined moments later by Brother Conchobhar, with his lés or medical bag slung across his back. The rank of a physician entitled him to travel on a good horse, and the symbol of his status as a physician was the echlaisc — a riding whip. It was not for use but carried as a token and valued as part of a physician’s honour price which could be confiscated by law if he was found guilty of misconduct. Brother Conchobar might be aged but he was a good horseman and, indeed, he had often ridden with Fidelma when she was a little girl.

‘It will be good to call on your friend, Della,’ he said when she explained Alchú’s presence. ‘I need to collect some herbs that she has been gathering for me. The cabin that Beccan described to you lies not far up the hill from her place.’

‘It shouldn’t be too difficult to find,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘It is always a pleasure to see Della and find out how that girl Aibell is settling in.’

‘I hear that Gormán is much attracted to her,’ beamed Brother Conchobhar.

Fidelma smiled back. ‘He has been attracted to her ever since we found her hiding out in a woodsman’s hut near Della’s paddock. You may recall that we thought she might have had a hand in the attempted assassination of my brother.’

‘I heard she had a sad life as a bondservant among the Sliabh Luachra. I should have asked Deogaire if he had encountered her in that dark inhospitable country.’

It had never occurred to Fidelma to ask Deogaire about that connection. Now she was reminded that it would be a good opportunity to reassure the girl in case she encountered Deogaire and recognised him as being from the clan — the clan that had once held her as a bondservant after her father had illegally sold her to Fidaig, the Chief of the Luachra.

Mounted on her stallion, Aonbharr, with little Alchú on his pony at her side, and followed by Brother Conchobhar, the three set off at a sedate pace. Fidelma was keeping the pace slow not only because of her young son, but in order not to tax the old physician. While he was a good horseman, she knew that his age wearied him. Even so, it was not long before they crossed the main square of the township where, she could see, the warrior escort of the curious deputation were still passing the time with their dice games.

Della’s house was on the very outskirts. At the gate to her paddock, Fidelma slid from her horse and helped Alchú dismount. A large dog came bounding towards them, keeping up a series of yelps which Fidelma recognised as being those of recognition and not warning. Della had kept the dog for some time. It was called a leth-choin or ‘half-dog’ — a cross between a wolfhound and a terrier.

She had barely called a friendly greeting when a young woman came running from the house. She wore her hair loose, a blue-black mane which surrounded her symmetrical, attractive features, with their splash of freckles on the cheeks. Her dark eyes flashed and the red lips were parted to show a very white set of teeth.

‘Aibell!’ called Fidelma. ‘Best hold onto the dog lest he knock Alchú over with enthusiasm.’

The girl bent down to catch the dog by its collar and ordered it to sit. The dog obeyed, thumping its tail on the ground.

Aibell then turned to Brother Conchobhar who was still seated on his horse. There was a faint look of disappointment on her face which Fidelma noticed.

‘Gormán has gone with Eadulf to the glen at Eatharlach,’ Fidelma explained with a gentle smile. ‘So I am afraid that he will not return for a while.’

‘You are very welcome here, Brother Conchobhar,’ the girl called to hide her embarrassment, adding: ‘I knew Brother Conchobhar was expected, to collect some herbs. .’

‘We are going to leave Alchú with you and Della, if we may,’ Fidelma said. ‘It is only for a short while. We have a call to make first, and then we will be back. Please explain to Della our discourtesy in not staying to greet her.’

Aibell was surprised but agreed, and came forward with a smile to take the boy by the hand while Fidelma remounted.

With a quick wave, Fidelma and Brother Conchobhar moved around the paddock at the back of Della’s homestead and joined the track leading south up the hillside which, because of its stony nature, was called the Road of Rocks. The road would eventually lead on to Rath na Drinne, where Ferloga kept his tavern, but before that, almost at the edge of the township, the forests and woodlands started. Further to the south stretched the famous Plain of Femen. Fidelma took the lead along the narrowing track through the tall trees.

‘It’s a curious place for Beccan to allow this girl to stay if she was so ill,’ Brother Conchobhar remarked, as the surrounding trees seemed to increase the chilly atmosphere.

‘I expect she was too unwell for him to move her to the town,’ Fidelma replied. However, she was not entirely convinced of her own arguments and it was one of the questions that had already passed through her mind.

‘I think that might be it, just ahead,’ called the physician.

The place was much smaller than Fidelma had remembered. However, she had not been in this area of the woods for many years, and memory often distorted the size of things. In fact, it was hardly larger than the woodsman’s hut where they had found Aibell.

As if reading her thoughts, Brother Conchobhar said: ‘As I recall, it was used as a cabin where the woodsman lived. It must have been deserted for many years. Have you noticed that there is no sign of smoke from a fire, nor a horse or wagon here? In fact, it looks deserted still.’

Fidelma had been thinking the same thing. Beccan had already explained the lack of a horse, even though Dar Luga had suggested that she had once seen a horse outside. Fidelma was more concerned by the lack of smoke, showing there was no fire in the cabin on this winter’s day.

She halted a little distance from the cabin and raised her voice: ‘Maon! Do not be alarmed! It is a physician come to see you. Beccan sent us.’

The only response to her shout was a cacophony of birds rising in alarm into the sky.

They dismounted, tethered their horses to some nearby bushes and walked slowly towards the door of the hut. As Fidelma tapped on it, the rough wooden door, not being latched, merely swung open.

It was very dark inside, but it was immediately obvious that the place was not occupied. The first thing that registered with Fidelma was the stale aroma of alcohol. Looking over her shoulder, to see Brother Conchobhar staring around in disapproval, Fidelma took a hesitant step inside and pulled down a piece of sackcloth which covered a window so that a little more light could creep in.

‘Well, someone has been staying here,’ she observed, pointing to the rough straw mattress that lay in one corner. She bent down and felt it with her hands. ‘But not for some time. The straw is damp and cold.’

‘Then how do you know someone has been here?’ asked Brother Conchobhar.

She pointed to the table on which there were two empty earthenware mugs and, on its side, what was called a lestar, or container for alcohol.

‘If those had been there longer than a week, there would have been some dust across the table. See how the dust accumulates on those shelves.’

Brother Conchobhar sighed. ‘There are no other huts that I know of in this forest. If Beccan was not nursing the girl here, then where?’

Fidelma did not reply but went outside the hut and stood looking about her. Then she made her way around the side of the hut to where there was a level patch of grass. Perhaps it had once been used by the woodsman as a space for his cart or his horse. Fidelma noticed that it had not been overgrown but trampled — and that had occurred fairly recently. An old bucket was standing nearby, against the wall: it still had some water in it. She bent down and immersed her finger in it, drew it out and placed it in her mouth. The water was fairly fresh. Nearby were several ears of oats, spread in a loose pattern. It was obvious that a horse had been stood, watered and fed here. She turned and her sharp eyes examined the surrounding trees. She did not have to look far before she saw what she was looking for. One tree had score-marks on its trunk a few feet from the ground. A rope had obviously been tied around it, and the marks were caused by a restless horse moving at the other end of it.

She returned to the front of the hut where Brother Conchobhar was waiting.

‘We’ve had a wasted journey, I’m afraid,’ she said.

‘Did Beccan mistake the location of the hut?’ asked the old physician.

‘I think not,’ she said dryly. ‘Alas, it is not the first untruth that has been told to me in recent days. Well, there is nothing else to do for the moment but return to Della’s homestead.’

They remounted and made their way back through the woods to the Road of Rocks and came slowly down the hill on the western side of the township. They crossed a field before arriving back at Della’s paddock and outhouses. In the paddock was Alchú, astride his pony, riding in a circle and jumping over small obstacles placed at intervals. The little boy was clearly enjoying himself, shouting with glee at each jump. Keeping a wary eye on him, balanced on top of the surrounding fence, was Aibell.

In a corner of the paddock, Della’s workhorse was munching peacefully at the grass. Usually, Della’s son Gormán, as Commander of the King’s Bodyguard, kept his warhorse there when his duties did not keep him in the palace. Beyond the paddock was Della’s cabin. The boy saw them first and, with a ‘whoop’, Alchú halted his pony, turned it and came trotting across.

‘Hello, mathair. We can’t go home yet. Aunt Della is making cakes. We must eat those first.’

Fidelma smiled. ‘Don’t worry, little hound,’ she told him. ‘There is plenty of time to have your cake before we go.’

Aibell climbed down from her perch and helped Alchú dismount.

Della suddenly appeared on the porch wiping her hands on an apron. She was about forty years of age, of short stature but the years had not diminished her youthfulness or the golden sheen of her hair.

‘Fidelma, have you come to collect the child already? I was just about to serve some hot cakes. Ah, and Brother Conchobhar is with you. Welcome, Brother. I have all your herbs ready. So come in, come in. Taste some of the cakes I have just taken from the oven and I have good cider to wash them down with.’

Like a mother shepherding her young, she drew everyone into the house. Aibell had calmed the dog, once more excited by the arrival of visitors. It took its impatient post just outside the door. Alchú was placed at the table with a cake and a beaker of the crushed juice of apples.

After the formalities of tasting the delicious cakes and sipping strong apple cider, Fidelma asked: ‘Have you seen Beccan in these parts recently?’

‘Beccan? I don’t really know him,’ Della replied with a shake of her head. ‘He’s the new steward at your brother’s palace, isn’t he? A strange little man, I am told. I gather he’s very proper, very courteous, but he surrounds himself with a wall so no one ever gets to know him.’

‘Ah, I thought you might have known Beccan and seen him passing here.’ Fidelma was disappointed.

‘Dar Luga told me that Beccan was given a job in your brother’s kitchens and then, scarcely a full moon or two went by before he rose to become steward of the King’s household.’

‘That was because of the unexpected death of the previous steward,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘I thought it strange that your brother did not choose a steward from one of the Eóghanacht clans rather than a man of the Déisi. At least, Dar Luga said he was from that clan.’

Fidelma’s head jerked upwards. ‘The Déisi?’ Of course, she had been overlooking the fact that Beccan came from that territory.

‘Now why would you think Beccan would be coming around here?’ Della asked comfortably.

Fidelma explained the story Beccan had told her about Maon, and where she and Brother Conchobhar had been and what they had seen.

‘Odd you should mention that hut,’ Della commented. ‘The other day, Gormán had an errand which took him through the woods, along that very path. When he came back, he asked me about the woodsman’s cabin and whether it was used. I said it had not been used, so far as I could recall, since I was a young girl — and that is certainly not yesterday. When I asked my lad why he was enquiring, he said he had seen a horse tethered outside.’

Fidelma sighed. ‘Dar Luga said the same to me. She had also passed along that path.’

‘Shame on Beccan if he took a poor sick girl to nurse her there,’ Della sniffed. ‘There was room enough here, had he sought my hospitality.’

Fidelma exchanged a meaningful glance with Brother Conchobhar. ‘Somehow, I do not think that we need fear for her health just yet,’ she said dryly. ‘Anyway, we must return to the palace and have a further word with Beccan to find out where the girl has gone.’

‘It seems strange that she should have gone anywhere, immediately after a fever. It usually takes a few days to recover one’s strength,’ Brother Conchobhar observed.

Fidelma silently agreed with him. Then she remembered the other matter she wanted to raise with Aibell.

‘Aibell, I need to prepare you. . Brother Conchobhar here has a relative who has been staying at the palace. He is of the Luachra and from Sliabh Luachra.’

A scowl formed on the girl’s face. ‘I hoped never to hear the name of those people and that place again.’ She looked accusingly at the old physician. ‘I did not know you were from Sliabh Luachra?’

‘I am not,’ replied the old man. ‘But I had a sister who married a man of the Luachra. She died many years ago, but now and then her son passes through Cashel and insists on visiting me.’

Despite being of the age of choice, Aibell had been sold to Fidaig, the chief of the Luachra, as a bondservant in an act of petty revenge. Her father had been an evil lout and wife-beater, and when his wife had fled from his home, he had carried out the illegal transaction of selling his own daughter into bondage. She had remained trapped in that position among the Luachra until she had seized a chance to escape.

‘I thought I should mention this to you in case you encountered the man and recognised him, or he recognised you,’ Fidelma said gently. ‘At the moment, he is under guard as a suspect in the deaths that have occurred. But I thought it best to forewarn you.’

‘I shall do my best to avoid any member of the Luachra,’ the girl shuddered.

‘Indeed. Anyway, you have nothing to fear now from any member of the clan Luachra.’

‘We have heard gossip of deaths in the palace,’ interposed Della. ‘Is this man responsible?’

Brother Conchobhar broke in here, on the defensive. ‘I refuse to believe it. Even though I disagree with my nephew’s views and way of life, I know he would never raise a hand in anger to anyone.’

‘Who is this relative of yours, Brother Conchobhar?’ asked Aibell. ‘Would I have known him in Sliabh Luachra?’

‘Perhaps not. His name is Deogaire.’

The effect on the girl was remarkable. Her mouth opened with a loud gasp and her eyes widened.

‘Do you mean Deogaire the soothsayer?’ she breathed.

‘Indeed, I do. Deogaire is my sister’s son.’

The girl took a pace backwards and sat down abruptly.