The Subtle Serpent

Chapter Seventeen

It was dark when Fidelma awoke on her cot. For a while she was disorientated. Then she remembered that she had returned to the guests’ hostel after her fruitless exploration of the cave beneath the abbey and, overcome with sheer fatigue, had gone to her cell, climbed on the bed and had fallen asleep immediately. She glanced through the window. While it was not night, the gloom was the dark of an early winter evening. She assessed that it was still well before the time of the evening Angelus. She splashed her face in the cold water bowl and dried herself. Having slept in her clothes she felt decidedly chilly and stretched and moved her arms to warm her body. She felt hungry. With annoyance she realised that she had now missed the midday meal.

She went out into the candle-lit passage and made her way along to the main room, hoping that no one had noticed her absence. To her surprise she saw a cloth covering some familiar objects on the table and, raising it, saw some food had been placed there.

Sister Brónach!

There was no hiding anything from the doirseór of the abbey, Fidelma reflected. That made her uneasy. Sister Brónach knew that she had been out all the previous night; knew, then, that she had lain in an exhausted sleep most of the daylight hours to recuperate. If Sister Brónach was an innocent party to the planned uprising against Cashel, if she was loyal to Cashel, then there was no cause for alarm. But Fidelma was unsure if anyone in this land of the Beara couldbe wholly trusted. After all, everyone would nominally support their chieftain Gulban.

She sat down and relieved her hunger from the dishes that Sister Brónach had left. Then, feeling better for her rest and food, she left the guests’ hostel just as she heard the gong sounding the hour followed by the bell summoning the community to the evening prayers. It had not taken long for the abbey to get the clepsydra back in proper order, she reflected. That was probably due to Sister Brónach. It would now surely take a brave spirit to stand watch during the night hours in the tower after the death of Sister Síomha.

Fidelma pressed back into the shadows as groups of sisters and one or two isolated figures moved rapidly towards the duirthech, in answer to the summons of the bell. She made the movement to conceal herself automatically and it was only after a moment or so that the idea struck her. She would use this time to sneak away to the Gaulish ship and seek Eadulf assistance. She was already forming an idea in her mind as to the next step in the investigation.

She waited until she heard the voices of the community raised together in the ‘Confiteor’, the name by which the general confession which usually preceded the evening prayers was known. It came from the first word of the confession. Then Fidelma moved through the abbey buildings down to the quay.

She could see two lanterns twinkling out in the inlet on the Gaulish ship. It was fairly dark but Fidelma was not perturbed. She found the small rowing boat and clambered in, untying the mooring rope and pushing off from the side of the wooden quay. It took a moment to unship the oars and ease herself into a steady stroke towards the ship.

The evening was soundless and the darkness made deeper by a low covering of clouds. Not even the noise of nocturnal birds or the splash of some aquatic creature came to her ears.Only the slap of the oars and rippling water as she propelled the boat across the still waters broke the silence.

‘Hóigh!’

She recognised Odar’s hail as she neared the ship.

‘It’s me! Fidelma!’ she called back, swinging the boat alongside.

Willing hands reached down to help her up and secure her boat.

Odar and Eadulf were on the deck to greet her.

‘We were worried about you,’ Eadulf said gruffly. ‘We have had a visitor this afternoon.’

‘Olcán?’ Fidelma was interested.

Odar gave an affirmative gesture. ‘How did you know?’ he asked.

‘He also came to the abbey asking questions. I think he knows that Eadulf and Comnat have escaped. He was particularly interested to know where Ross had gone.’

‘I distrusted him straight away,’ Odar confirmed. ‘We hid Brother Eadulf below when he was aboard.’

‘Did he suspect anything?’

‘No,’ replied Odar. ‘I told him that Ross had gone to do some trading along the coast. He pretended that he was checking about Ross’s right to claim this vessel as salvage.’

‘Excellent,’ Fidelma said approvingly. ‘That fits in with what I told him. I think our conspirators are definitely worried that Eadulf or Comnat may raise an alarm before their plan is ready.’

Odar led the way to the captain’s cabin with Eadulf bringing up the rear.

‘In which case, is it hot wise to leave here at once?’ asked Odar.

Fidelma gave a negative shake of her head.

‘I still have my duty to perform at the abbey. And I think that I am near solving this mystery.’

‘But surely we know who is responsible for the murder of Almu?’ broke in Eadulf. ‘Odar here has been telling me of theevents at the abbey and it seems logical that Almu was killed by the young man at the copper mines who helped her escape. That he was able to do so and then stop any search parties indicates that he was someone of rank, perhaps a chieftain. It sounds as if it is Olcán who is the culprit.’

‘Did you see and recognise Olcán, then?’

‘No,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘But it does seem to fit.’

Fidelma grinned impishly at Eadulf.

‘You have been busy,’ she said in amusement. ‘The one problem with your theory, Eadulf, is that there is no motive. Why allow Almu to escape and then kill her? For every action there is a motive, even if the motive is madness. Olcán does not seem insane to me. Also how would you account for Sister Síomha’s death?’

Eadulf shrugged.

‘I confess that I had not worked that one out yet.’

Fidelma smiled briefly.

‘Then perhaps I will be able to enlighten you, Eadulf. In the morning I shall need your help. There is a place of mystery under the abbey which I need to enter and I cannot do that alone. You know my methods. You have worked with me before. Your help will be invaluable.’

Eadulf studied Fidelma inquisitively. He knew her expression. It was clear that he would not get any further information out of her until she was ready. He sighed. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the return of Ross before we embark on this matter?’

‘The longer we leave it, the easier it will be for those responsible for the deaths of Almu and Síomha to make their escape. No, before dawn tomorrow, I want you to meet me under the abbey tower. And be careful. Come before it gets light because there is always a sister in the tower who watches the water-clock there.’

‘Why not do this tonight?’

‘Because I am wary of the doirseór, Sister Brónach. Sheknows that I was out all last night and I think she is suspicious of me and watching carefully.’

‘You believe that she is involved?’

‘Perhaps. Though involved in what, I am not sure yet. Involved in the conspiracy for insurrection? Or involved in the murders? I do not know.’

‘You seem sure that the two things are separate issues,’ observed Eadulf.

‘I am now certain of it. I hope tomorrow that we will know the truth.’

It was still dark when Fidelma rose, bathed her face and hurriedly dressed, throwing on a heavy cloak to warm her against the chill. Outside, across the abbey buildings and courtyard, it was white and Fidelma thought another snow had fallen. It was, however, a frost as she realised from the sparkling glint of the covering. She could also see that high on the mountains snow had certainly fallen and it reflected in the pre-dawn creating a twilight landscape. She paused to examine the sky from the window to estimate the time by the fading stars for the snow clouds had already vanished. Her attention was caught by a couple of dark moving specks on the mountain. Squinting, in order to focus better, she could see that they were two riders and horses, ploughing through the snow at a dangerous pace. So fast and so dangerously did the two horsemen press their steeds that Fidelma found herself fascinated for a moment or two. She noted they were on the road to Adnár’s fortress and wondered what took the early morning visitors there with such urgency.

She turned to the task in hand and left the guests’ hostel as quietly as she could, setting off across the white crisp carpet of frost which lay like slippery ice on the courtyard. The crunch of frost beneath her feet seemed loud as she hurried towards the tower. Eadulf was not waiting for her in its shadows and she halted.

Almost immediately her ears caught the sound of wood striking water and a moment later the tall figure of Brother Eadulf scrambled up towards her. He, too, was wrapped in a heavy cloak.

‘It’s cold enough, Fidelma,’ he greeted.

Fidelma placed a finger against her lips.

‘Follow me and be quiet!’ she hissed.

Eadulf followed Fidelma as she led the way beyond the tower doorway before quietly entering the stone store house. Here she paused and fumbled in the darkness. Eadulf heard the flint strike and the next moment, Fidelma had lit and trimmed a lantern to illuminate the room.

‘What are we going to do?’ inquired Eadulf softly.

‘We are going to explore a cave,’ replied Fidelma in a whisper.

She started down the rough-cut stone steps into the cave store room below with Eadulf following warily.

‘Nothing much can be hidden in here,’ he observed, peering over her shoulder. ‘Where do those other steps lead to?’

‘Those? Up into the watch tower. But come across here. This is where I need your help.’

She led the way to the boxes which had defied her attempts to move them on the previous day. She carefully set down her lamp.

‘As quietly as you can,’ she instructed as she motioned him to help her move the boxes. To her surprise, only the top two boxes were heavy. These, in fact, were very heavy and, inquisitively, Eadulf carefully wrenched one of the rotting pieces of wood aside to examine its contents. He stared at them in disgust.

‘Earth? Nothing but earth and bits of rock. Who would want to store earth in a box?’

Fidelma was satisfied that she was on the right track but did not enlighten him, gesturing for him to help her lift the other boxes. They were empty and were easily shifted. AsEadulf pushed one of the lower boxes out of the way, Fidelma smiled in grim gratification.

Behind the box was a hole in the cave wall, a dark aperture some two feet in width and three feet in height. She bent down and examined it. It was a tiny passage which, after only a few feet, seemed to open up a little. The condition of the entrance showed that it had only recently been excavated. Logic indicated that the material from the passage was the excavated earth and stones now stored in the boxes. However, it was also clear that only the immediate entrance to the passage had been filled in with the rubble and that the passage itself was older than the rubble filling. So, at some previous period, someone had filled in part of the passage and, more recently, someone had excavated it.

Fidelma stretched out the lantern as far as she could into the passage. The light did not extend far for the narrow access appeared to bend into darkness. However, she could see that after a few feet the passageway rose in height to some five feet though it did not widen to any greater breadth. She considered the matter cautiously. The air was chill and somewhat fetid. There was a smell like that of stagnant water. But the passage must lead somewhere and someone had been anxious to excavate it.

‘I will have to squeeze through,’ she decided.

Eadulf looked dubious.

‘I doubt there is room. What if you get stuck?’

Fidelma gave him a scornful glance.

‘You can wait for me here, if you will.’

It was cold, icy cold as she squeezed forward. The rocky surface was damp and sharp in places, scratching at her and tearing at her clothes. It was hardly any easier after she had progressed through the first few feet. The passage suddenly turned and then turned again and, with abruptness that was confusing, she found herself in a smaller cave, its ceiling was low, no more than six feet in height. It was also dark andalmost freezing and the air was putrid, it reeked of some foul decay.

She reached forward to raise her lantern, stretching out a hand to steady herself.

The surface that she touched was curious, cold and soft. There was also a sensation of what seemed like wet fur.

She withdrew her hand immediately and held the lantern close to the spot.

She felt the nausea well inside her and struggled to prevent herself from crying out in disgust.

She had put her hand on a head. A severed head placed on a rocky shelf on the cave wall. It was a female head, the long dark hair was plastered about it in dampness. Alongside it was a second female head. One of them had reached the stage where it had begun to decay, the flesh white and rotting. The stench was intolerable.

Fidelma did not need to be a seer to know that these were the missing heads of Sister Almu and Sister Síomha. Sister Síomha’s features were easily recognisable.

Fidelma felt a hand descend on her shoulder and this time the fear escaped as a terrified groan. The lantern nearly dropped from her hand. She swung round to find the puzzled features of Eadulf staring at her.

‘A fox on your fishing hook!’ she snapped vehemently, before giving a breath of relief.

Eadulf blinked, unused to an Irish curse on the lips of the young religieuse.

‘Sorry, I thought you knew that I was following.’

He broke off as his eyes fell on the grisly discovery in the flickering light of her lantern. He swallowed hard.

‘Are those …?’

Fidelma was still trying to regulate her pounding heart.

‘Yes. One is certainly Sister Síomha. The other I presume to be Sister Almu.’

‘I don’t understand. Why would their heads be placed here?’

‘There is much that is confusing at this time,’ responded Fidelma. ‘Let’s explore further.’

Fidelma, with head bent, moved forward a pace into the low-ceilinged cave, holding the lantern before her.

Eadulf’s hand suddenly closed round her wrist and yanked her to a halt, making her gasp for breath.

‘Another step and you would have fallen in!’ he explained as she cast him a startled glance.

She looked down at her feet.

Before her was a large dark area. The lamp reflected mirror-like against it. She realised that it was water. Most of the cave was an underground pool. And floating on the water were a couple of apparently empty casks. Now and again there was a ripple and the casks passed perilously close to one another. If they touched, mused Fidelma, then they would produce the hollow, knocking sound. This would undoubtedly resonate with the cave acting like a sounding chamber.

But apart from the pool and the casks there seemed nothing else in the cave. The pool seemed to be fed by some sort of underground conduit from the inlet which accounted for the ripples which appeared every now and then on its surface. But mainly the water appeared stagnant so she presumed the pool was not completely tidal. She was, however, disappointed in the barrenness of the cave for she had been expecting to find more, much more, than simply the desolate pool and empty casks. She saw that amidst the rocks and slabs which made up the floor of the cave, the earth was churned into a brown red mud.

She carried the lantern to the rocky walls and observed traces of a greenish surface film here and there marking indications of a metallic element veined into the rock.

It was Eadulf who asked: ‘What’s that? Shine the light this way.’

He was pointing to something just on the edge of the circle of light from the lantern, something on the cave wall at eye level. Fidelma drew closer.

The scratch marks on the wall resembled those at the foot of the steps on the arch into the storage cave behind them.

‘The hound of Dedel,’ Fidelma said quietly.

Eadulf was critical.

‘A hound? It looks more like a cow to me,’ he objected.

‘Dedelchu,’ Fidelma said, almost to herself. ‘The sign of the hound of Dedel. A pagan priest who …’

Eadulf suddenly grunted, as if in pain.

Fidelma had barely time to turn before the Saxon monk collapsed in a heap, falling against her and sending her staggering back into the wall. For a moment she thought she would loose her grip on the precious lantern but she managed to recover her balance. She did not know what had happened to Eadulf and her first thought was to bend down to see what had made him fall. For a moment, she was bewildered to see blood on his head. Then something made her look up.

A few feet away, just inside the pale rays of the lantern, stood a figure. The light glinted wickedly on the burnished naked sword blade which he held threateningly in his hand.

Fidelma felt a chill run through her body.

‘So it is you, Torcán!’ She controlled her voice, hoping that he would not recognise the tremulous fear in her tone.

The young prince of the Ui Fidgenti had no expression on his face

‘I have come for …’ he began, his blade raised.

Then everything became blurred.

The blade was raised in the confined space on a level with her throat. Torcán, the son of Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti, appeared to have drawn it back as if to throw his weight behind it, and then … Then he seemed to halt and looked surprised. He staggered a pace or two. His mouth opened and something dark began to dribble from a corner of it. He stood swaying, a strange woebegone, almost comical expression, on his face. The sword dropped out of his hand, clanging on to the rocky floor of the cave.

Torcán sank slowly, so slowly it seemed, first to his knees and then he fell abruptly forward on to his face.

It was then that Fidelma saw the second shadow which had been behind him.

The lantern was clasped in her hand so tightly that it would have been impossible to prise it away from her grip at that moment.

The shadow moved forward, a sword was held in one hand. The light caught the dark stains on the blade which had been Torcán’s blood.

There was a silence and then Fidelma heard Eadulf beginning to groan. The Saxon monk rose to his knees and shook his head.

‘Someone hit me,’ he moaned.

‘That much is obvious,’ muttered Fidelma with gentle irony, attempting a sparkle of her old self. Her eyes never left the newcomer.

Adnár of Dún Boí took another pace forward into the circle of light.

‘Are you hurt badly?’ he asked, sheathing his sword.

Eadulf, recovering his senses, scrambled to his feet in dismay. There was still blood on his head but he drew his strength from some hidden reserve. He stared down at the body of Torcán and his eyes widened as he saw the young man’s features. He began to open his mouth to say something but Fidelma jerked at his arm to silence him.

‘I am not hurt but my companion is in need of attention,’ Fidelma replied. She had bent down to examine the body of Torcán but it did not really need a second glance to see that the sword thrust that Adnár had made was fatal. Fidelma raised her eyes to the chieftain of Dún Boí.

‘You appear to have saved my life, Adnár.’

Adnár looked concerned as he stared down at the son of the prince of the Ui Fidgenti.

‘I did not mean to take a life in doing so,’ he confessed. ‘Iwas hoping that I might gather some further information from Torcán.’

‘Information?’

‘I have just learned some grave news, Fidelma.’ Adnár paused and glanced quickly at the tall Saxon. ‘Doubtless this is Brother Eadulf? You are wounded, brother. Perhaps it would be best if we removed ourselves from this unhealthy place and got your wound attended to.’

Fidelma examined Eadulf’s head by the lantern light.

‘A superficial wound,’ was her verdict. ‘Nevertheless, he should have it dressed. I think Torcán must have hit you with a well-aimed rock rather than his sword. Come, we must bathe it immediately. Lead the way back into the other cave, Adnar.’

The chieftain squeezed back through the twisted aperture with Eadulf following and then Fidelma.

In the subterraneus of the abbey, where either Torcán or Adnár had left a second lantern, Fidelma bade Eadulf sit on one of the wooden boxes while she took a strip of cloth and indicated that Adnár should hand her one of the jugs stacked along one side of the cave whose odours announced them to contain cuirm. She dampened the cloth in it and began to apply the alcohol to Eadulf’s wound.

‘What is this grave news that have you learned, Adnár?’ she demanded as she worked, ignoring Eadulf’s soft moan of protest as the fiery spirit reacted on his grazed skin.

‘You must send a message to your brother, Colgú. He is in danger. Torcán’s father, Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti, is organising an insurrection against your brother at Cashel. Torcan was in on the plot for I heard him speaking of it. I believe that Olcán is also involved as his father, Gulban the Hawk-Eyed, was also a conspirator. His reward would be that Eoganan would make him chieftain of the Loigde. I have placed Olcán under guard. I followed Torcan here thinking that he was coming to meet fellow conspirators. Then I saw him about to strike at you and so I struck first. I meant only towound him so that he would be able to tell us more about this plot.’

Fidelma’s surprise was not feigned. She had been certain that Adnár had been part of the Ui Fidgenti conspiracy. Adnár’s statement dramatically overturned her suspicion.

‘Gulban is your chieftain, Adnár,’ she pointed out. ‘Surely your first loyalty is to him?’

‘Not when he plots against the Loigde and my rightful king. Why,’ he frowned abruptly, ‘do you disapprove of my loyalty to the Loigde and to Cashel?’

Fidelma shook her head.

Adnár continued: ‘I cannot understand what Torcan could achieve in killing you. It would have been better for him, and his fellow conspirators, if he had taken you hostage in case some negotiations were needed if their attack on Cashel failed.’

‘There is more to this matter than that,’ Fidelma made the comment softly. ‘In that cave yonder are the heads of Sister Almu, who escaped from the copper mines of Gulban, and who, I believe, was trying to warn the abbey of the uprising. There is another head, that of Sister Siomha.’

Adnár looked at her in astonishment.

‘I did not understand. Do you suggest that Torcan killed them as well? But why? Perhaps to prevent them revealing this conspiracy?’

Fidelma had finished cleaning Eadulf’s wound. It was merely an abrasion and confirmed her judgment that it had been caused by a stone. Torcan must have either thrown it or used it to crash against the side of the Saxon monk’s head.

‘If what you say is true, as magistrate here, I must be witness to this find.’

When she did not object, Adnár disappeared back through the opening into the next cave.

‘You’d better tell me what is going on,’ groaned Eadulf, one hand holding the side of his head.

‘What is going on,’ whispered Fidelma, ‘is that the mist of confusion is beginning to clear.’

‘Not for me,’ Eadulf sighed in perplexity. ‘But the boy who was killed just now was our captor at the copper mines.’

‘Ah, I thought you were about to reveal as much,’ Fidelma said. ‘Stay silent awhile.’

‘Who is this man, then?’

Fidelma relented a little and explained. By that time Adnár had returned. His face was grim.

‘I have seen them, sister. This is a bad thing. As dálaigh, you have higher jurisdiction than I do. What do you mean to do about this matter?’

Fidelma did not reply directly. Instead she helped Eadulf get to his feet.

‘Firstly, you may assist me in taking Brother Eadulf to the guests’ hostel,’ she instructed. ‘He has had a bad blow. I think he needs to have some herbal dressings and some rest. Then, Adnár, we shall talk.’

Later that morning Fidelma and Eadulf headed a small group returning to the cave. Abbess Draigen, who ignored her brother with studied coldness, came with Sister Brónach. Each, in turn, identified the terrible remains of Sister Almu and of Sister Síomha. Two sisters then placed the remains in a sack and carried them away under the direction of Sister Brónach, ready to be interred with the rest of their corpses.

Draigen was gazing down disdainfully at the body of Torcán, still lying as he had fallen.

‘Perhaps your companion,’ the abbess motioned towards Eadulf, who was now much recovered, ‘will help Adnár to remove this body. It has no place in the grounds of this abbey.’

‘Of course, mother abbess,’ Eadulf agreed readily, not picking up the antagonism in the abbess’s voice. But Fidelma held Eadulf back a moment. She was frowning as she bent once more over the body and ran her hand to where herdiscerning eye had marked a bulge under the dead man’s jerkin. ‘Curious,’ she muttered, as she reached forward and drew out some sheets of vellum. The lantern revealed that they were stained with red brown mud.

‘Well?’ demanded Abbess Draigen expectantly.

Fidelma silently folded the pages and put them into her crumena. Then she smiled at the abbess.

‘Now the body can be removed. But perhaps it would be better if Adnár sent some of Torcan’s retainers to dispose of the body? Such a task would be ill befitting for a bó-aire and a brother of the Faith.’

The abbess snorted in annoyance and turned away with an: ‘As you wish, so long as it is removed.’ Then she was gone without another word. Adnár waited until she had gone and then he shrugged.

‘I will do as you say, Sister Fidelma, and send Torcan’s retainers to retrieve his body.’

When Fidelma made no reply he, too, followed his sister from the subterraneus.

It was later in her cell in the guests’ hostel that Fidelma, seated in front of Eadulf, flattened out the sheets of vellum she had recovered from Torcán’s body.

‘What are they?’ demanded the Saxon monk straining forward. ‘The abbess did not like it that you failed to enlighten her about them.’

Fidelma had identified them immediately she had removed them from Torcan’s body.

They were the missing pages from the book Teagasg Ri, the Instruction of the King. The missing pages of the biographical appendix to Cormac Mac Art’s philosophical instructions. She glanced through quickly. Yes; as she had suspected, there was the story of Cormac and the gold calf. The tale went on to speak of the revenge of the priest of the gold calf and how he was supposed to have murdered Cormac by causing three salmon bones to stick in the king’s throat.

‘After this infamy,’ Fidelma read aloud, ‘the ungodlypriest retired, taking with him the fabulous idol which was worth the honour price of all the kings of the five kingdoms of Eireann combined together with that of the High King himself. The priest returned to his own country in the farthest point of the kingdom, to the place of the Three Salmons, and hid the gold calf in the primal caverns to await the time when the new Faith could be overthrown. And for generations after that each priest of the golden calf, awaiting the day of atonement, took the name Dedelchú.’

Eadulf frowned.

‘The hound of Dedel? You mentioned that before.’

Fidelma smiled.

‘The hound of the calf. I checked with Longarad’s Glossary, Dedel is an ancient word, barely used now, meaning specifically a calf of a cow.’

‘Ah, didn’t I say that cave drawing was more like a calf than a hound?’ Eadulf observed brightly.

Fidelma suppressed a weary sigh.

It was on the next day that the sound of a trumpet from Adnar’s fortress caused Fidelma to come out of the guests’ hostel and look across the inlet. Two ships were entering the sheltered harbour. She had no difficulty recognising the barc of Ross. The sleek-looking vessel that accompanied it, trailing in its wake, was undoubtedly a warship, its streamers showing the colours of the kings of Cashel. Fidelma heaved a long sigh of relief. The waiting was over and, for the first time since Ross had departed, she felt no longer threatened.