The Seventh Trumpet

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Gelgéis greeted Fidelma and Eadulf with a worried expression as they entered her chamber. Spealáin, her steward, stood to one side with Bishop Daig of Durlus. They obviously shared her anxiety. She waved them to seats without rising herself. That she had forgotten the etiquette of greeting the King’s sister was a token of her concern at the recent news.

‘This is a bad business,’ were her first words.

‘Have you informed Dúnliath?’ Fidelma asked.

‘I have indeed. Bishop Daig has tried to give her comfort but she has withdrawn to her chamber with her grief.’

‘And has Ailill been informed? He is commander of Drón’s bodyguard.’

‘He has, and is making preparations.’

‘What preparations?’ Fidelma was puzzled.

Gelgéis looked at her in surprise. ‘Why, to take the body of Drón back to Gabrán for the aire, the watching, and the funeral obsequies due to a chieftain of Gabrán. Dúnliath intends to join them as soon as she has composed herself.’

It was custom that a day and a night were usually given over to a vigil for the corpse of a noble before burial at midnight on the next available day. Fidelma knew that it would take a few days to reach Gabrán.

‘She cannot leave,’ Fidelma said quietly but firmly.

Gelgéis’s expression now was one of bewilderment mixed with irritation. ‘Who is to say she may not?’ she demanded aggressively. ‘I have agreed to her request to do so.’

‘With respect, lady, the matter is not in your hands. It is a matter of law.’

‘Law? May I remind you, lady, that you are not in your brother’s court now, to dictate what is or what is not the law! This is Durlus Éile and I have my own Brehon by whom I will be guided.’

Fidelma’s eyes narrowed; a sign of warning to those who knew her. ‘I am acting by commission of my brother, the King of all Muman, and believe this is-’

‘Your belief is no concern of mine, Fidelma. My own Brehon will determine the cause of Drón’s death and who is responsible,’ snapped Gelgéis, unnerved by events.

‘Your own lawyer … who is he?’ asked Fidelma mildly.

‘He is named Brocc. He is well-qualified to handle this matter.’

‘Ah, I think I have heard of him. But I am told he is qualified only to the level of cli.’ There was a pause and Gelgéis’s brow furrowed. She sensed what Fidelma was about to say.

‘I suppose you hold higher authority over his qualification?’

Fidelma smiled tightly. ‘I am qualified to the level of anruth, as well you know,’ she said.

Gelgéis sighed with resignation: ‘So, are you assuming authority over this matter?’

‘I am.’

‘Then we must await your orders.’ She glanced at her steward and Bishop Daig, saying with faint sarcasm: ‘We must all cooperate with Fidelma of Cashel.’

The two men shuffled uncomfortably but said nothing.

Fidelma did not even look at them. ‘My orders are firstly that Dúnliath and her retinue must remain at Durlus until my investigation is concluded.’

‘And secondly?’

Fidelma held Gelgéis’s eyes with her sharp gaze as she spoke. ‘Secondly, you will now produce the man called Torna.’

It was Bishop Daig who answered her. ‘I think that you have asked once before about a man called Torna and were told that no one in Durlus knows anyone by that name.’

‘Then perhaps you know him as Tormeid? By whichever name you know him, I want him produced.’

She saw Gelgéis’s eyes widen at the sound of the name. It was only a slight movement before her features tightened into a mask. This time it was Spealáin who spoke. ‘I am confused, lady. When you were here a few days ago I recall that you told us that this person, Torna, had been taken against his will into Osraige. Why would he now be here?’

‘He was taken to the Abbey of Liath Mór across the river in Osraige and made prisoner there. However, he managed to escape. I saw him a short while ago in the passage that runs below Drón’s chamber, just after Eadulf and I found the body of Drón. So please do not waste time playing word-games with me, nor pretend that he is not in this fortress!’

Gelgéis was silent, staring at the floor. The others waited uneasily for her response.

‘The time for prevarication is over, lady,’ prompted Fidelma. ‘I speak not only as sister to the King but as a dálaigh, and there is little need for me to remind you that there are penalties for one who ignores the request to speak the truth. Torna, as I know him, or Tormeid, as I think you know him, is one who, by whatever name he bears, has suffered the events that I have told you about — abduction, imprisonment at Liath Mór, escape and arrival here in your fortress. Do you deny knowledge of him?’

She caught sight of Bishop Daig’s glance towards Gelgéis and said, ‘I see that some spark of memory is now awoken in you, Bishop.’

‘I know of no one called Torna,’ he muttered stubbornly.

‘That was not the last question I asked,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘As a Bishop, you will recall that you should not bear false witness. That is part of the Faith as well as our law.’

Bishop Daig flushed. ‘I do not think you need lecture me about matters appertaining to the religious, Fidelma of Cashel. As I recall, you have formally renounced your vows in this matter.’

‘My vow is to uphold truth and the law, and that was made long before I entered a religious community and found it as corrupt inside its walls as the world is outside! So I ask you again — and please consider my question before you answer it.’

Bishop Daig flicked a tongue over his dry lips.

Gelgéis intervened before he could reply. ‘Are you accusing this man, Tormeid, of the murder of Drón of Gabrán?’

‘How can I decide that until I have questioned him?’ Fidelma replied, sensing that she was finally breaking through the barrier of denial.

Gelgéis then said: ‘Can you tell me something of what you know about Tormeid?’

Eadulf groaned inwardly as he recognised another prevarication. Nonetheless, Fidelma stretched almost lazily in her chair.

‘Let us concede that the real name of the man I know as Torna is Tormeid of the Uí Duach. He pretended to be a poet and knew Torna was the name of a famous bard. Tormeid, however, was a warrior. I saw, even in the darkness on the riverbank, how he attempted to fend off the abductors that night.

‘Not everything he said was a lie when we camped with him by the river, and so I have interpreted what he said using some of the information that we have gathered recently. I believe I can recount his background. Cronán is not well disposed to the Uí Duach clan and had asserted his authority over them. Tormeid told me that he had been taken prisoner during warfare between his clan and a powerful chieftain. That powerful chieftain was, of course, Cronán. Cronán had seized many of the Uí Duach and made slaves of them — daer-fuidir.’

She paused. There was a quiet tension in the room as everyone waited for her to continue the story. Gelgéis cleared her throat a little and motioned to her to go on.

‘So there was Tormeid, a prisoner — a slave — in the fortress of the Lord of Gleann an Ghuail … a daer-fuidir. There he fell in love. The girl was called Muirne. Unfortunately, Muirne was Cronán’s daughter. They were about to be betrayed by a fellow prisoner whom Tormeid had consulted and so they eloped. They were crossing a river, which I believe was the Suir, when the girl was drowned.’

Eadulf leaned forward eagerly and added: ‘Hence, when Cronán’s project for the rebuilding of the Abbey at Liath Mór as a fortress was coming to fruition, he insisted that it would be renamed Dún Muirne in his daughter’s memory — even though it was his action that caused her death.’

Fidelma observed from Gelgéis’s expression that she was right. ‘Tormeid reached the far bank in safety. He came here in the land of the Éile but was unable to return to his own clan, the Uí Duach. So he took service with you on this side of the river. Am I correct, thus far?’

The ruler of the Éile blinked rapidly and blushed.

‘You tell a good story, Fidelma,’ was all she replied.

‘I hope it will get better,’ said Fidelma. ‘I have told you that Tormeid was abducted. I was also taken because the abductors thought I was his companion. This was not Muirne, of course, since she was dead. Then who did they mistake me for? I was left for dead by these abductors when they realised I was not Tormeid’s companion. Thankfully, I was rescued by my friends, who had tracked our passage. Tormeid was taken on to the Abbey of Liath Mór. My companions and I followed the abductors there. At Liath Mór, another old friend arrived. This was the person who had called himself Brother Biasta, the man who had murdered Brother Ailgesach. In escaping from Liath Mór, Torna killed Biasta. I had not seen Torna since our abduction until a short while ago when I saw him from the window of Drón’s chamber. In this very fortress.’

Gelgéis’s face was white and strained.

Fidelma smiled without humour. ‘Am I coming closer to an understanding with you, lady? Do you still say that this man, Tormeid — by whatever name he is now called — is not here? He may wish to know that five of his friends and cousins were executed by Cronán as vengeance for his escape and the death of Muirne. I wonder how many will be executed now that he has escaped a second time?’

There was a shocked silence. Gelgéis finally turned to her steward. ‘Spealáin, you had best go down and give the order that the Lady Dúnliath and her party are not to depart until I, or Fidelma, have given permission.’

Spealáin bowed his head without comment and left the chamber.

Gelgéis sat staring at the floor for some moments, tapping her foot absently. Bishop Daig stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if awaiting her decision.

‘This puts me in an awkward situation, Fidelma,’ the Princess said after a while.

‘No situation is so awkward that recourse to truth will not remedy it.’

‘Yet the truth is not entirely mine to share.’

‘That needs a better explanation,’ replied Fidelma.

‘I wish I could provide one immediately, but I would ask that you give me some time before I answer you.’

Fidelma raised her brows slightly. ‘Time? When is the telling of truth dependent on time? Anyway, time is not in a plentiful supply at the moment.’

‘If you give me a short time, you shall have your truth. That I swear. And I also swear this: I am a loyal defender of this Kingdom of Muman and of her legitimate Kings. Everything that I have done is in support of that conviction. I am your brother’s truest ally, lady.’

Fidelma searched the woman’s face, seeking any sign of guile or deceit, but found only anxiety.

‘Very well,’ she agreed at last. ‘But I need a response. When you have discussed the matter with Tormeid, or whatever you call him, I hope he will come and supply me with clear answers to my questions.’

Gelgéis met her gaze and held it, realising that Fidelma knew exactly why she was prevaricating. Then she dropped her gaze and indicated her acquiescence with a nod.

It seemed that she was about to say something when a distant shouting came to their ears. Gelgéis rose from her chair and went to the window. Fidelma and the others joined her, looking down towards the main gate of the fortress. Some riders had arrived in the courtyard and one of them had dismounted and was speaking volubly to Spealáin, the steward. They saw Gormán emerge and greet the newcomer.

‘What is this?’ muttered Gelgéis.

As they watched, Spealáin was leading the newcomer and Gormán towards the main building. In expectation, Fidelma and the others turned to the door, and within a few moments there was a quick knock and Spealáin entered, followed by his companions. The first thing Fidelma noticed was that the newcomer wore the gold collar of the Nasc Niadh, the élite warriors of Cashel.

‘A messenger from-’ began Spealáin.

‘I know who this is,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘I remember Aidan very well from when he helped us rescue Eadulf from the evil intentions of Abbess Fainder of Ferna.’

The young warrior cast a smile at Fidelma, pleased by her recognition, but he was obviously still very agitated. As one of her brother’s élite bodyguards, he was certainly no fool, and it was clear that he had grave news.

‘My companions and I have ridden from Laigin. We bring news of serious import for King Colgú, lady. The southerly routes to Cashel have been cut off, so we have had to make our way north across Osraige territory to reach here.’

Fidelma was surprised. ‘Cut off? In what way are they cut off?’

‘By armed bands of Laigin warriors, lady,’ replied the warrior. ‘We had to take the lesser known paths from Laigin through forests, bog lands and remote places of Osraige to reach here.’

‘What news do you bring that causes you to be so disturbed?’

The warrior visibly braced himself. ‘It is bad news, lady. Muman will soon be under attack from Laigin.’

There was a silence as his words registered. Then Fidelma asked: ‘How do you know this, Aidan?’

‘Fianamail, son of Máele Tuile, the King of Laigin, has issued a call to arms. We saw the crois tara, the fiery cross, being carried from settlement to settlement. His main force has marched from Ferna to gather at Dinn Rig on the west bank of An Bhearú …’

‘That’s on the border with Osraige,’ put in Spealáin, seeing Eadulf’s baffled frown.

‘The fortress of Dinn Rig is just north of Gabrán,’ muttered Bishop Daig, with a meaningful look at Gelgéis.

‘You say the Laigin army has crossed the river of An Bhearú?’

‘His main army is on the west bank,’ repeated Aidan. ‘They are not yet crossed into Osraige.’

‘Do you know this for a fact and not from hearsay?’ Gelgéis demanded of him.

‘My companions and I saw Fianamail’s troops gathering there — and they were not there to look at the sunset over the mountains.’ Aidan’s response was cutting.

‘How long ago was this?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Only two days ago, lady. As I say, we managed to cross into Osraige and travelled by the use of new roads that have been built across the bog lands. If Fianamail gives the order for Laigin to march on Cashel, those new roads are going to allow his army a quick passage across Osraige into Éile and Muman.’

Gormán was grim. ‘I cannot believe it. Muman is at peace with Laigin. It has been centuries since Laigin incurred the wrath of the High King by making an unprovoked attack on a neighbouring kingdom. Have they not learned a lesson from the bórama yet? And why attack at this time?’

‘I don’t grasp the meaning of that.’ Eadulf had not understood the reference that Gormán had made.

It was Gormán who explained to him: ‘Centuries ago, when Tuathal Techtmair was High King in Tara, the avarice of Eochaidh, who was then King of Laigin, caused a great warfare. It resulted in the death of many, including the two daughters of Tuathal. For that crime, as well as others, Tuathal faced Eochaidh with a large army, defeated and killed him. Then the High King imposed a tribute on the people of Laigin, called the bórama — the cow tribute. Five thousand cows had to be paid to Tuathal and to his successors if Laigin ever broke the peace again. The legitimacy of the tribute remains. If Laigin ever breaks the conditions and attempts to go to war with a neighbour, unless that neighbour is invading Laigin, the High King has the right to march his army into the kingdom and demand the bórama fine.’

‘But we have heard that Moling, the Bishop of Ferna, and adviser to Fianamail, King of Laigin, was sent by Fianamail to Tara some weeks ago,’ Bishop Daig said. ‘We were told that he was sent to persuade the High King and his Chief Brehon to declare the tribute as no longer applying.’

‘It might have been a ruse,’ added Gelgéis. ‘We expected as much.’

‘You expected this!’ Fidelma exclaimed. ‘You had knowledge that Fianamail and Laigin were preparing for this invasion?’

‘We had word of a conspiracy,’ said Gelgéis. ‘It was mostly suspicion, but suspicion is not evidence. We needed evidence. We-’

‘“We” meaning you and Tormeid?’ Fidelma’s voice was sharp. With this latest news from Laigin, it was even more important that Gelgéis admitted what she knew. The very matter that had caused Fidelma to start out on this journey was the murder of a young man who bore the symbol of an envoy from Laigin. She was slowly beginning to see how the pieces in this complex puzzle fitted together.

She turned back to Aidan. ‘Is there anything more you can tell us?’

The young warrior shook his head. ‘With respect, lady, we should ride post haste for Cashel and warn the King.’

Fidelma compressed her lips in thought for a moment. ‘I agree. Except that we are unsure where my brother is now. We are told he has raised a battalion and marched to face some rebels in the west.’

Aidan’s expression was one of dismay. ‘Then it means our border is undefended.’

‘Did you pass by Liath Mór when you came here?’ Eadulf asked suddenly.

‘We came within sight of it, but knowing that the Osraige has too many connections with Laigin for my liking I decided to pass to the north of it, using the woods for cover.’

‘A wise precaution,’ replied Eadulf. ‘Did you see any activity in Osraige?’

‘We did see some deserted townships and farmsteads in Uí Duach territory.’

Fidelma had walked to the window and was gazing down into the courtyard again. She was deep in thought. Gelgéis went to join her.

‘What shall we do?’ asked the Princess of Durlus.

Fidelma turned to examine her, gazing long into her eyes. Then she spoke quietly so that the others would not hear.

‘I think the first thing would be for you and Tormeid to tell me what you know. I need to be able to trust you fully, now Muman is under threat.’

‘We suspected that there was some plot involving Cronán and the raiders to the west. We hoped to find some answers from Ailgesach: that was why we went to see him. I swear it.’

The Princess of the Éile seemed badly shaken at the news that Aidan had brought. Fidelma felt confident that the young woman was going to help rather than hinder her, but that was not enough. There were important matters to be considered. She swung back to address Aidan.

‘My brother must be warned, if we can find him. Aidan, you and your men have ridden long and hard to reach us. You need rest. If Gelgéis can provide you with a fresh horse, can you, or one of your number, ride to Cashel and relay this news?’

‘I will do so, lady,’ replied the warrior without hesitation. ‘My men can rest.’

‘Then bear this news back to Cashel. If you can’t find Colgú there, as we have heard, then seek out my brother’s heir-apparent, the tánaiste, Finguine. He should be able to send messengers to alert my brother as well as raise new cath to defend Cashel from any attack from the east.’

Aidan was already through the door, before she had finished speaking, with Gormán following to ensure Aidan’s wants were provided for. Fidelma turned back to Gelgéis.

‘I presume you have good horses and good riders here in Durlus?’

‘Of course,’ the Princess replied immediately.

‘Then choose your best rider and horse. They are to set out immediately for Tara …’ She paused as Gelgéis motioned Spealáin to come forward to take notice of the instructions. ‘He is to ride for Tara and inform the Chief Brehon, Sedna, and, indeed the High King Cenn Faelad himself, of what is taking place here. Say that we are threatened by Laigin who are in some conspiracy with Cronán of Gleann an Ghuail and perhaps others in Osraige. We can say no more except that we entreat the High King and Chief Brehon to demand the withdrawal of Fianamail’s army from the border of Muman.’

Gelgéis was shaking her head. ‘Even our best rider and horse, travelling through the night, will not make Tara before midday tomorrow. And if the King and Chief Brehon were to intervene, it will be a few days before they can contact Fianamail.’

Fidelma glanced at Spealáin. ‘Tell, whoever you pick, to do their best,’ she said, adding to Gelgéis as he departed, ‘I do not expect this will save us from attack, but at least we will have the satisfaction of knowing that the High King and Chief Brehon are alerted to the Laigin threat.’

‘But what are we to do?’ demanded Gelgéis.

‘As soon as Spealáin returns, you must post sentinels around Durlus so that we can be warned when Osraige and Laigin start to move against us.’

She suddenly realised that only she, Gelgéis and Eadulf were left in the chamber.

‘Now, lady, I think-’ began Fidelma, when the door was flung open without warning, and Dúnliath stormed in, Ailill following anxiously behind her. She addressed Gelgéis directly.

‘I have just been informed that I and my retinue are not allowed to leave your fortress, lady. We were to accompany the body of my poor, murdered father back to Gabrán for Christian burial. What means this discourtesy to his mortal remains?’

In the excitement of the last few moments, Fidelma had almost forgotten about Dúnliath. Obviously, Spealáin had been distracted by the new arrivals and had not delivered an explanation.

‘The Lady Fidelma will tell you why it is not possible for you to leave Durlus at this time,’ replied Gelgéis.

Gelgéis was clearly waiting for Fidelma to exert her authority as a dálaigh. But Fidelma realised that she now had a better reason for stopping Dúnliath from leaving.

‘You have doubtless heard the recent activity in the fortress, Dúnliath,’ she said mildly. ‘We are under threat and it is not wise that anyone travel east, especially not towards Gabrán.’

The childlike features of the girl’s face seemed to be unusually harsh. Before she could speak, however, Ailill interrupted, his expression one of perplexity.

‘I am not sure that I follow you, cousin,’ he said. ‘We have heard nothing except the coming and going of horsemen. Then we were informed that we could not leave the fortress.’

‘We have just had news that a large army under the King of Laigin is now encamped on the west bank of the River Bhearú, a short distance from Gabrán. They appear on the verge of invasion. The news is that they will start crossing into Osraige soon. Osraige may join them. They mean to invade Muman.’

Ailill’s features were set firm but the girl was blinking in bewilderment.

‘What does that mean?’ Her voice was whiny as she looked up at Ailill. ‘I want to go home to Gabrán.’

‘It means that Laigin’s warriors will soon be sweeping through Gabrán, if they have not done so already,’ Gelgéis explained testily. ‘Now, I suggest you return to your chamber, lady. We will keep you informed if we hear any further news.’

Ailill swallowed hard. ‘Is Cashel in danger, cousin?’ he asked Fidelma. ‘What of this rebellion in the west? You have only to call on my service, although I feel that I should be rallying the men of Gabrán for I am … was … the foster-son of Drón.’

‘You understand that even if the attack does not materialise, you are to remain here until we have determined how Drón came by his death? I have taken charge of this matter.’

There was a slight tension of the man’s jaw and then he nodded. ‘Of course. But shouldn’t we have more concern for the threat to the kingdom?’

‘Do not be concerned. Both matters will be dealt with.’

Ailill took the miserable and still-complaining girl by the arm and ushered her out.

Fidelma turned back to Gelgéis. ‘I think time is running out, don’t you?’ she said.

Gelgéis obviously knew what she meant and, without a word, turned to a curtained alcove, drawing back the drapery to reveal a wooden door beyond. She opened it and gestured for Fidelma and Eadulf to follow. A steep wooden stair led below. Oil lamps lit the depths into which they descended. They came to another wooden door. Gelgéis paused and rapped on it.

‘It is I,’ she called softly.

There was a movement from beyond and a bolt rasped in its metal holder before the door swung inward.

Whoever opened it was standing back and Gelgéis led them into a chamber which was surprisingly filled with natural light as one side seemed to open on to grounds at the back of the fortress. Fidelma had a glimpse of a vegetable and herb garden beyond. Then she turned to face the person who was just shutting the door behind them.

‘Well, Torna? Or should I say Tormeid?’ She smiled thinly. ‘We meet once more.’

Tormeid, whom she had last seen briefly under Drón’s window, stood before them. He looked at Gelgéis with a question in his eyes.

‘Events are fast moving,’ she told him. ‘Fianamail of Laigin has gathered an army to invade Muman. I had to bring Fidelma to you.’

The man they had known as Torna turned back to Fidelma and Eadulf. ‘It is good to see you alive and well,’ he said. ‘I feared for your safety when we were captured on the riverbank.’

Gelgéis indicated some chairs. The room was apparently an antechamber to the garden, filled with numerous tools, plants and boxes. Neither Fidelma nor Eadulf spoke.

‘Forgive my receiving you in these conditions,’ the erstwhile poet continued. ‘Once you saw me from the window, I suspected that it would not be long before you found me.’

‘I have been trying to track you down since Cronán’s men took you. We followed you to Liath Mór.’

‘So I heard. Gelgéis has told me who you thought I was. It was well worked out, lady.’

He sank into a chair, and only then did Fidelma and Eadulf seat themselves as well.

‘Was I right?’ enquired Fidelma.

The young man smiled again. ‘Your reputation has not been acquired for nothing, lady. You were right in most particulars. I am Tormeid of the Uí Duach. I may also add that I was one of a group of so-called hot-headed young warriors who went to demand reparation from Cronán of Gleann an Ghuail. I was captured and deprived of my liberty along with others.’

‘And all else was correct?’

‘It was.’

‘But it leaves many questions to be answered.’

‘Of course it does.’

‘These questions might have been answered more rapidly had you both been honest with me from the start,’ Fidelma observed sharply.

Gelgéis was shaking her head. ‘We could not answer your questions before we knew if we could trust you.’

Fidelma’s eyebrows arched a little. ‘If you are loyal to Cashel, as you claimed, why couldn’t you trust me?’

‘The fact that you were the sister of King Colgú,’ Gelgéis said simply. ‘You might have been part of the conspiracy to overthrow him.’

For the first time, Eadulf saw Fidelma rendered speechless for a few moments. Finally she said: ‘I think an explanation is in order. Why should I be planning to overthrow my own brother?’

‘All in proper order, lady,’ Tormeid replied. ‘Your actions have now shown that you are to be trusted. We are satisfied that you are not part of this conspiracy.’

‘Well, that is something,’ she replied dryly. ‘Very well. All in good order as you say. Let us finish the story of how you came here, Tormeid. You escaped from Cronán’s fortress together with his daughter, Muirne. Is that correct?’

There was a slight tightening at the corner of his mouth but he nodded.

‘You have just escaped a second time from Cronán’s fortress of Liath Mór,’ said Eadulf. ‘By the same method?’

The young man nodded again. ‘Indeed. Both times it was by the same method.’

‘Through the underground vaults you yourself helped to construct?’

‘When I was a prisoner, a daer-fuidir, I was set to work on the vaults of Cronán’s fortress. I think you will have seen enough of it to realise that it is a massive construction. Those of us who were forced to build those cellars and fortifications made sure that we created a means of exit unbeknown to those overseeing the work.’

‘It was by that method that some of the daer-fuidir, the Uí Duach slaves, also helped us escape,’ Eadulf commented.

‘We were helped by a girl called Ségnat,’ Fidelma added. ‘She told me that it was Tormeid who had escaped with Cronán’s daughter, so then I realised your true name. I tried to persuade her to escape with us. There were reasons why she stayed.’

Tormeid’s face was a white mask of guilt. ‘Gelgéis has told me. Believe me, I did not know until now that I had cost the lives of five of my good friends and cousins. When I escaped with Muirne I knew the secret way in and out of those dark vaults,’ he said softly. ‘I did not think Cronán would be so cruel and vindictive to punish others for my actions.’

‘So you escaped with Muirne and were trying to cross the Suir. But the river was in flood and she drowned, just as you told me. Is that correct?’ pressed Fidelma.

The young man lowered his gaze. ‘It is.’

‘How did you come to Durlus?’

‘Gelgéis and Spealáin happened to be passing along the river road, north of here. They found me more dead than alive on the riverbank. They also found the body of Muirne. They brought me to the fortress where I was nursed and revived. I told them my story and Gelgéis gave me shelter and promised not to inform Cronán. The body of Muirne was buried by Bishop Daig.’

‘How long have you sheltered here in Durlus?’

Tormeid actually forced a smile. ‘Ever since that day I was dragged from the river. I now serve among the warriors of Gelgéis here in Éile.’

‘How did you learn about this conspiracy? From Brother Ailgesach?’

Tormeid and Gelgéis exchanged a glance.

‘You seem to know much,’ Tormeid remarked softly.

‘And deduce much,’ Fidelma smiled confidently. ‘Brother Ailgesach, when he came to Durlus, told Gelgéis that while he was an attendant to those afflicted in the Gleann na nGeilt, the Glen of Lunatics, he had come across some frightening information. The years he had spent there among the insane had driven him to drink; but even with his drink problem he had learned something that he needed to tell someone, hadn’t he? He had learned about a conspiracy.’

Gelgéis spoke quietly: ‘When he left the Glen of Lunatics, Abbot Ségdae appointed him to run the chapel at Fraigh Dubh. But he came here first. He had discovered that someone was being paid to persuade people to join a band who would attack religious communities and isolated settlements in the west. This person was a religious fanatic who had been recently incarcerated in the Glen of Lunatics because of their religious madness. Ailgesach kept the name of this person a secret because he wanted to gather more information. He told me that a relation of this person was due to visit the latter at the Glen of Lunatics. Ailgesach had contacted this relative, who had promised to find out what information they could uncover.’

‘So you and Tormeid arranged to visit Ailgesach at Fraigh Dubh when this person returned from the Glen of Lunatics with the information. Correct?’

‘We did.’

‘Brother Ailgesach had already told you that the conspiracy concerned a noble of Osraige. That person was none other than Cronán, and presumably that was why Tormeid was an enthusiastic ally in this venture. You both went to stay at Brother Ailgesach’s cabin, waiting for the man with his information.’

‘He did not show up,’ Tormeid said. ‘But while we were waiting, Brother Ailgesach did reveal his name. It was Bran Finn, the Prince of the Déisi Muman.’

‘So the fact that he did not show up was worrying to you both. Gelgéis had to return to Durlus to host the big harvest festival that had been arranged. That was why you parted company.’

Tormeid agreed. ‘We had gone a good way back to Durlus when I decided that I should return to Imleach, even to the Glen of Lunatics, to find out if I could get some news of Bran Finn. We met a merchant who told us about a place where I might get a boat back downriver. I thought I would travel that way in the guise of an itinerant bard. This would allow Gelgéis to take the horses back to Durlus. Alas, the ferry, with the tavern and chapel, had been destroyed. That spot was where you met me.’

‘What you did not know was that Bran Finn was already dead,’ Fidelma said sombrely.

Tormeid’s astonished expression confirmed it all.

‘His body lay not far from Fraigh Dubh,’ she went on. ‘He had been travelling there when he encountered his killer. The conspirators had learned that Bran Finn had visited his relative and was planning to take some evidence to Brother Ailgesach. They knew that this information — evidence of their conspiracy — would be passed on, so they had to make sure of two things. One, that Bran Finn would not supply the evidence he had discovered and, two, that Brother Ailgesach would pass on nothing else of what he knew about the Glen of Lunatics. Biasta was sent to Fraigh Dubh to ensure that Ailgesach’s voice was silenced. He succeeded, in spite of our being there, and he escaped with final instructions to the conspirators in Laigin.’

‘How did Cronán’s men find us on the riverbank and abduct us — and why did they think you were Gelgéis?’

‘Durlus is not isolated, my friends. Doubtless there were people willing to pass information on to Cronán. Spillán came here and was told that you had both gone south to Fraigh Dubh. He was riding south. In fact, you had turned off the main highway to get to the river and he nearly missed you. Sillán was told by the same merchant who had directed you where you had gone. The same merchant misinformed us about the location of the tavern by the river. Sillán did not know that you would part company with Gelgéis, who would go back to Durlus with the horses. But he did know that you would have to camp by the riverbank at that point because there would be few boats downriver until the next day. Sillán rode directly to a place where he had left some of his men and instructed them to abduct you and Gelgéis. They were to bring you to the sheds in Durlus where he waited. They were then to return with the captives to Cronán. The men were looking for you, whom they knew, and a female companion. They made an obvious mistake when they found us.’

‘It sounds complicated,’ commented Tormeid.

‘Events in life can be complicated,’ Fidelma sighed. ‘But this became simple once we found the thread to unravel it. Sillán’s men just made a mistake.’

‘Bran Finn was bringing proof of a conspiracy,’ Tormeid said. ‘Of a rising against Cashel — but by whom?’

‘By someone able to start a minor uprising — something that would distract attention away from what would eventually take place here in the east.’

‘When Bran Finn did not appear on the appointed night, Gelgéis had to return to Durlus otherwise questions would be asked, rumours would be spread,’ agreed Tormeid. ‘I decided to turn back to search for Bran Finn. When I met you, I was aware that the only other thing that Brother Ailgesach had told me about the conspiracy was that whoever was involved in overthrowing Colgú was someone close to the King. That was why I lied to you about who I was and, indeed, that was why Gelgéis did not help you at first.’

‘We needed to know who was leading these raids in the west and the links between them and Cronán. All Ailgesach could tell us was that a strange religieux from Osraige had been reported in the Glen of Lunatics,’ Gelgéis said. ‘He thought this person had brought gold to help recruit the raiders.’

Fidelma exhaled slowly. ‘That makes sense. And so this religieux, who was doubtless one of Cronán’s men, perhaps even his son, Sillán, supplied money to help start the unrest there.’

‘But all Brother Ailgesach could tell us was that there was some religious involvement. Sometimes, when he was in his cups, he said things which did not make sense. He talked about someone who had been chosen by the seventh angel to drive the impure of Faith from the land. He spoke much about the seventh trumpet, until we finally realised that it was a password among the conspirators.’

‘Why did he not reveal the name of the person who would lead the rebellion in the west?’ Gelgéis asked.

‘We did not even know at that time that Bran Finn was the person who would bring us information. We were not told by Brother Ailgesach until we went to Fraigh Dubh,’ said Tormeid. ‘As I say, that is why I lied to you and why Gelgéis was unhelpful, because you were the sister of King Colgú.’

Fidelma felt almost amused. ‘And you both suspected that I might be involved in this conspiracy?’

‘You would not be the first sibling to covet the other’s power and position,’ replied Gelgéis.

‘Why did you not go directly to Colgú with your suspicions?’ asked Eadulf.

‘And give warning to the conspirators who were trusted by him so that they had time enough to hide their tracks?’ Tormeid replied scornfully. ‘We needed more information.’

‘Now that you have confirmed that it was Bran Finn whom you were due to meet, I can tell you why he was involved,’ Fidelma announced.

They all regarded her with surprise.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps hurrying down the stairs. A voice was calling for Gelgéis. The door burst open as Tormeid sprang to his feet, but it was Spealáin the steward who entered, followed by a breathless Éile warrior.

‘It’s one of our sentinels,’ gasped Spealáin. ‘He comes bearing alarming news.’

‘What news?’ snapped Gelgéis and Fidelma, rising in unison.

For a moment the man hesitated, glancing from one to another in surprise.

‘Speak, man!’ prompted Spealáin.

‘There is an army heading in this direction,’ the man gabbled. ‘I came to warn you.’

‘An army … from the east?’ demanded Gelgéis. ‘From Laigin?’

The man shook his head, rushing on: ‘Not from the east, lady; from the west. We think it is the rebel force that we have heard so much about. They will soon be in Durlus — and at the gates of the fortress.’