Valley of the Shadow

Chapter Nineteen

Fidelma rose from her bed long before the sky began to turn light and was waiting nervously in the main room of the guests’ hostel. She had checked Rudgal and found him still bound and actually sleeping, although his repose did not seem comfortable. Eadulf was also asleep, snoring softly. She listened carefully but could hear nothing stirring outside the hostel. She went to the window and peered anxiously up at the sky as it began to turn grey over the eastern peaks. With a sinking feeling she began to wonder if she had been premature in hazarding all for this dawn rendezvous with Ibor of Muirthemne. What if Cruinn had lied and there had really been no other route into Gleann Geis? Perhaps there was only the one ravine? What if Ibor and his men were not able to get into the valley? What if they had not been able to take over the fortress? What if …?

She paused and tried to still her rambling thoughts. What was it that her mentor, the Brehon Morann of Tara, had once said? ‘With an “if” you could put the five kingdoms of Éireann into a bottle and carry them with you.’

She forced herself to sip a beaker of mead and tackle some dry bread and cheese to fortify herself against what she knew would now be an ordeal that morning … one way or another.

There came a sound nearby and she sprung up nervously. The sound was merely a sleepy yawn and she realised that it was only Eadulf rising. A moment later he came lethargically down the stairs.

‘Have you heard anything yet?’ he whispered, becoming more alert when he saw that she was up and waiting. Fidelma shook her head. They listened together for a moment to the silence. It was broken only when a dog barked in the distance.

Then, shattering the early morning stillness, a cock began to crow nearby.

It seemed as if it were a signal for at that very moment the door of the hostel swung open. They swung round, filled with misgiving. Ibor of Muirthemne stood framed in the doorway, sword in hand, grinning.

‘The ráth is ours, Fidelma. I have rounded up the guards and placed them under the care of some of my warriors in their own dormitory. The gates are now closed and my men are guarding all points, including the council chamber.’

‘Was there any bloodshed?’ Fidelma demanded anxiously.

A grim smile met her question.

‘None that would be noticeable. A bruised skull here and there but nothing worse.’

‘Good. We shall proceed to rouse the people of the ráth and make them gather in the council chamber.’

Ibor hesitated.

‘There is one thing that you should know, Sister. We found the passageway, exactly as you told us we would. It was a rocky path leading up alongside the turbulent river which exits from this glen. Now and then, the path ran through a complex of caves before emerging into the valley. We were traversing this path, as you instructed. In one of the caves we found Artgal.’

She showed no emotion.

‘He was dead, I presume?’

‘He was dead,’ affirmed Ibor. ‘How did you know?’

‘In what manner had he met his death?’ she asked, ignoring his question.

‘That I cannot tell you. He was lying along the path. He carried a bag with him as if he were going on a long journey. There was no mark of any wound on him at all.’

Eadulf looked at Ibor in astonishment.

‘No wound?’ he demanded. ‘No wound and yet he was dead?’

‘Who can say how he died?’ Ibor shrugged. ‘What slays without leaving a wound? When I examined the body I saw a ghastly expression of fear contorting Artgal’s features. The lips were blue and twisted, showing teeth and gums. The eyes were bulging as if he had seen a phantom from hell. I have seen a few such deaths in my time and always among pagans. This is a death inflicted by a Druid. God protect us, Sister. I had to put the fear of my sword into some of my men in order to force them to continue into this accursed valley.’

Fidelma lowered her eyes and was reflective for a moment or two. Then she raised her head and her features showed a tranquillity.

‘I think that the last piece of the puzzle is now complete,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘I am ready. Gather the people of the ráth in the council chamber, leave aside the children. I will be along in fifteen minutes.’

Ibor was already moving to the door when she called him back.

‘Above the stair here, you will find a warrior of this ráth — Rudgal. He is bound. Get two of your men to escort him to the chamber but do not allow them to unbind his hands.’

Ibor looked momentarily astonished, then shrugged and acknowledged her order by raising his sword in salute.

When Fidelma entered the council chamber followed by Eadulf, there arose murmurs of hostility and anger. The leading inhabitants of the ráth had been gathered there at sword point by Ibor’s men. Their own swords had been removed and at each entrance Ibor’s warriors stood sentinel while, by the chieftain’s chair, Ibor himself and two of his men guarded the chieftain of Gleann Geis. In all, a dozen warriors of the Craobh Rígh were placed around the chamber. Fidelma presumed the others were acting as sentinels at the gates of the ráth or on the walls.

Laisre, his face white with anger, was slumped in his chair of office. Murgal was seated nearby looking equally unhappy. Colla was standing behind his chieftain, flushed and resentful. Orla was by his side. Her face was filled with antagonism as she scowled at Fidelma. There was no amity or affableness on any face in the chamber with the exception of Esnad. Only she appeared unconcerned by the proceedings.

Fidelma glanced around at the others who had been gathered. There was Rudgal looking wrathful. He had his arms still bound. Ronan and Bairsech, his shrewish wife, were there, along with Nemon, the prostitute, and Cruinn, the portly hostel-keeper, and Marga the apothecary. All these were people whom Fidelma had specifically asked Ibor to ensure were brought to the council chamber of the ráth. The entire assembly, apart from Ibor and his men, focussed on Fidelma with intense hatred as she took her position.

Laisre was the first to speak. He rose to his feet, his body quivering with rage.

‘Well, Fidelma of Cashel, this barbarity can only be expunged with blood,’ he announced. ‘You have transgressed all rules of hospitality, you have used foreign warriors to imprison …’

‘Barbarism is a good word to describe the evil that has permeated this valley,’ Fidelma interrupted him coldly. Her voice cut into his tirade and stilled it before he had time to gather further impetus. ‘And I have come to reveal the truth about the evil which haunts you.’

‘Aided by warriors from the north, Fidelma?’ demanded Colla. ‘How can the warriors of Ulaidh force any truth from the peopleof Muman? Is this how your brother treats his people, by the use of outside force? By mercenaries who do his bidding for money?’

‘I fear you do Ibor and his men an injustice. They are not Muman’s mercenaries. Neither are they here to enforce the truth, merely to protect those innocent among you from any harm and ensure that the truth is finally listened to. And you will listen to me because I speak not only as the voice of my brother the king but as a dálaigh of the degree of anruth whose voice can be heard by kings and to whom even a High King is subject.’

She spoke with such calm assurance that her tone commanded a silence throughout the council chamber.

Murgal broke it after some moments by saying quietly: ‘Tell us your truth, Fidelma of Cashel, and we will answer with ours.’

Fidelma smiled gently at him.

‘If you have a truth left to answer with.’ She made the riposte softly.

She stood for a moment head bowed in silence and let a tension build up among those gathered.

As Eadulf was wondering whether she should be prompted and if he should undertake the task, Fidelma began to speak, quietly at first.

‘I have been presented with many mysteries since I qualified as an advocate in our courts of law. I will not say that these were simple to solve. Brother Eadulf here knows that many were not, for he has been involved in many of these mysteries. What I will say is that the mystery I found here confounded me for a long time. Shall I remind you of that mystery?’

No one responded.

‘On arriving here Brother Eadulf and I were confronted with the slaughter of thirty-three young men in what appeared to have been a pagan ritual; the bodies naked and placed in a sunwise circle. Each one had been killed in a manner known to the ancients as The Threefold Death. Then we were confronted with the death of Brother Solin of Armagh.’

‘For which you were nearly found guilty,’ Orla pointed out sharply. ‘For which you tried to accuse me, and for which you were only released on a technicality of the law in that the Saxon showed that Artgal was an untrustworthy witness. You were not found innocent of the charge. You could still be the killer of Solin!’

Murgal looked uncomfortable at what amounted to a criticism of his judgment. He turned and shook his head at Orla.

‘Orla, my judgment stands. I can only judge according to our law.’

Orla scowled at him but did not reply.

Fidelma spoke directly to Murgal.

‘There is no need to apologise or even justify the judgment you gave, Murgal. But the death of Brother Solin was quickly followed by the death of young Brother Dianach.’

Murgal leant forward.

‘And that is easily explained for it was obvious that Artgal killed Dianach out of revenge or for some other reason once it was discovered that Dianach had bribed him to maintain his evidence against you.’

Fidelma ignored the interruption.

‘And having done so, Artgal fled the valley demonstrating his guilt in some people’s eyes?’

‘Exactly,’ Murgal said in satisfaction.

‘Poisoning himself on the way?’

There was a shocked silence.

‘Yes,’ continued Fidelma keeping her voice even, ‘Artgal was found dead on the tiny river path, having been poisoned.’

‘How do you know this?’ asked Colla.

Fidelma indicated Ibor.

‘Ibor found him. Ibor and his men,’ she corrected pedantically. ‘Ibor, you said that there were no wounds on Artgal’s body when you found it?’

The warrior took a pace forward and inclined his head in confirmation.

‘But you said that the lips were drawn back over the gums in an hideous expression.’

‘They were.’

‘And were the gums coloured a bluish-black?’

‘I did not tell you that. But, yes; they were.’

‘So now we have a total of thirty-six deaths in Gleann Geis,’ Fidelma said softly. ‘Truly, a valley that is forbidden. It forbids life!’

‘So you are intent to blame the people of Gleann Geis?’ Laisre jeered angrily. ‘Your plan is to get your brother to bring punishment on my people as you persuaded him to use the full force of the Eóghanacht against the Uí Fidgente earlier this year.’

Fidelma smiled calculatingly at the chieftain.

‘That is certainly someone’s plan, Laisre,’ she said with intent. ‘But you do me an injustice by suggesting that it is my plan. I do not mean any harm to the people of Gleann Geis. My only concern is to punish those involved with these killings.’

Murgal spoke again quelling the murmur of voices which greeted her statement.

‘Are you implying that the people responsible are here in the council chamber?’ he demanded. ‘That people responsible for all thirty-six deaths are among us now?’

‘I do not imply it. I say that it is so.’

The Druid leaned alertly forward.

‘Can you identify them?’

‘I can,’ she replied quietly. ‘But before I do so I shall tell you how I came to the conclusion that I have.’

The tension among those gathered increased almost perceptibly.

‘My first mistake, for I made a mistake in progressing a line of thought, which kept me from seeing the truth for some time, was to immediately assume that the killing of the thirty-three young men at the entrance to this valley was inseparably linked to the murder of Brother Solin.’

Colla drew a quick breath.

‘Do you say that they are not?’ he asked in surprise.

‘No, they are not,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘Although, to be accurate, there is a link, but not the one I had imagined. It follows, by the way, that the murder of Brother Dianach and Artgal, while linked to Brother Solin’s death, was also not part of the ritual slaughter.’

‘We are waiting for your so-called truth!’ sneered Laisre, above the hubbub which she had created in the chamber.

‘You shall hear it soon. I will deal with the matter of the ritual slaughter first. This was simply a crude and foul means to provoke a civil war in Muman. I lay the blame for this at the gates of Mael Dúin, king of the northern Uí Néill in Ailech.’

Again the murmur of surprise interrupted her.

‘Ailech is far from here,’ Colla pointed out in disbelief. ‘And what good would it do Mael Dúin if there was dissension in Muman?’

‘Apparently Mael Dúin wants to seize the thrones of all the northern kingdoms and then sit on the throne of Tara as High King. He wants to dominate all the five kingdoms. To do so, he knows that there is only one kingdom powerful enough to counter his ambitions.’

‘Muman?’ It was Murgal who made the logical conclusion.

‘Exactly so. The Eóghanacht of Cashel would not allow him to usurp the dignity of the High Kingship which is an honour bestowed not a power to be grabbed.’

‘How does it apply to the deaths of the young men? The so-called sacrifices?’ Colla now appeared fascinated by her story, following it carefully.

‘When Gleann Geis called for a representative of Cashel, of the Church of Imleach, to come here to ostensibly discuss the establishment of a church and school, the enemies of Muman had already planned that a simple cleric coming here would see the ritual slaughter and think it was a pagan ceremony. The pagan community of Gleann Geis would be blamed immediately. No cleric could ignore the affront to the Faith. It was believed that this cleric would race back to Cashel and that the king of Cashel and his bishop at Imleach would pronounce a Holy War of retribution on Gleann Geis. That they would attempt to annihilate the people of Gleann Geis as condign judgment.

‘This would provoke Gleann Geis’s neighbours to rise up to protect their kin against the aggression of Cashel and the one step would inevitably lead to another.’

‘And what prevented this great plan being fulfilled … if such a plan ever existed?’ Laisre sounded unconvinced.

‘I was the cleric but, also being a dálaigh, I believed in proof before action. It threw their plan out of synchronisation.’

‘A weak plan,’ observed Colla, ‘with too many ifs and buts.’

‘No. For the plan itself had adherents here in Gleann Geis, people who did not care how many of their clan were killed if it produced the right results because it was a step for them on the road to the greater power which Mael Dúin had promised them should he become High King.’

Murgal laughed outright in disbelief.

‘Are you claiming that some of us in Gleann Geis have been bribed by offers of power or riches from Mael Dúin of Ailech? Are you saying that we, or some of us, are working hand in glove with Mael Dúin of Ailech to destroy our own people in return for crumbs from his table?’

‘Precisely. Mael Dúin’s plan could not work without such an ally or allies. The subversion of Muman had to come from within if it stood any chance to work.’

‘You’ll have to prove that.’

Fidelma smiled at Murgal and she turned around the room, gazing on them each in turn as if attempting to read their thoughts. Finally she said: ‘That is what I now propose to do. I am able to do so thanks to something else which happened here which, as I have said, I had actually thought was related but which was not. Yet this unrelated matter led me to the guilty ally of Ailech.’

‘Who is it?’ demanded Colla, with tension.

‘Firstly, let me do some reconstruction of these events. The plan isset in motion. Mael Dúin has sent a band of warriors with sacrificial hostages to enact the ritual which is to set in motion the wrath of Cashel and Imleach. So far so good. The ally in Gleann Geis has everything arranged. An invitation has been sent to Imleach to ensure that a cleric is on their way to Gleann Geis and will stumble across the ritual killings. Sentinels are set to watch for the arrival of the cleric so that Ailech’s warriors know where and when to perform their despicable crime.’

She paused for dramatic effect.

‘Now Mael Dúin also has a powerful ally in the north. Ultan, the bishop of Armagh, himself. He has promised to give aid to Mael Dúin in his bid for power. How much did Ultan know of the plan? I cannot say. But he sent his secretary and a young scribe to Gleann Geis. It might be that Brother Solin was sent in order to provide a so-called independent witness to Cashel’s awaited march on Gleann Geis who could then report the matter to the other provincial kings so that Armagh could call for the rest of the provincial kings to march on Cashel. Brother Solin however, was certainly in the plot even if Ultan was not.’

‘How do you know that?’ Murgal asked.

‘The fact was that Sechnassuch of Tara surmised that Mael Dúin was ambitious for power and suspected he was plotting something. He also discovered that Ultan was in an alliance with Mael Dúin but to what extent he did not know. So Sechnassuch asked some warriors to keep an eye on Ultan and they discovered Brother Solin’s involvement. They followed Solin and his young scribe Brother Dianach and saw them meet some of Mael Dúin’s warriors. These warriors were marching thirty-three hostages towards Gleann Geis. Thirty-three,’ she added carefully for effect. After a pause she continued.

‘The warriors of Sechnassuch witnessed a woman meet with the men of Ailech and with Brother Solin and Dianach at that rendezvous. When one of the prisoners escaped, it was this woman who rode out and hunted him down. The woman escorted Solin and his young scribe to the ravine entrance of Gleann Geis.’

‘But Solin and Dianach came into Gleann Geis alone,’ interrupted Orla, with a flushed face. ‘Any of our guards at the ravine will tell you that.’

‘I will not argue,’ Fidelma replied evenly, ‘for you are correct. Brother Solin and young Dianach entered Gleann Geis alone … having left the woman. She showed two of Ailech’s warriors the path which the Cashel cleric was likely to come by, the spot where the bodies must be laid out. Then she entered the valley by anotherway she knew, the secret path along the river where Artgal’s body was found.’

Orla was about to say something when her husband intervened.

‘You say these warriors of Sechnassuch followed these people here? Where are they? What proof do we have of what you say?’

‘You ought to have deduced that the warriors who have secured this ráth are the same men. Ibor of Muirthemne is their leader and not a horse dealer. Ibor is commander of the Craobh Rígh of Ulaidh.’

Ibor took a step forward and bowed stiffly towards Laisre.

‘At your command, chieftain of Gleann Geis,’ he said formally but with humour in his voice.

‘Not my command,’ replied Laisre with distaste. ‘Get on with this tedious tale, Fidelma.’

‘Mael Dúin’s men and their hostages approached Gleann Geis. The men from Ailech, for I will not grace them with the term “warriors” as they were no more than butchers, were watching for the cleric from Cashel. In other words they were watching for me. As soon as Eadulf and I had been spotted, the ritual slaughter began. The bodies were placed in position for me to find. The rest was going to be up to me.

‘I hindered their plan, however, because I did not flee in horror from the spot to raise Cashel’s wrath against Gleann Geis and plunge Muman into civil war.’

‘Yes, yes, yes! You have made your point, Fidelma of Cashel,’ Murgal said hurriedly. ‘But the fact is that once you knew of this matter, it provided you with the best motive for killing Solin. Better than anyone here.’

‘Anyone except the killer. The fact is, I did not know about this plot at the time of Solin’s death nor his involvement in it. The fact of his involvement was only later revealed to me by Ibor of Muirthemne. That was when I realised there were two different affairs taking place. The barbarous, to use Laisre’s well-chosen word, plot against Muman and a simple murder … though murder is never simple.’

She paused and shrugged.

‘Before I go further I should present the evidence of who in Gleann Geis was involved with the terrible plot of the king of Ailech. I would remind you of the woman who met Mael Dúin’s men. Ibor and his warriors saw her …’

Fidelma turned directly to Orla.

‘The person was a woman, a woman of commanding appearance.’

Orla suppressed a cry of rage.

‘Do you see what she is doing? This is the second time that she has accused me of murder. Not content with claiming that I killed Solin of Armagh, she would now accuse me of a heinous crime against my people. I shall destroy you for this, Fidelma of Cashel …’

She tugged out a knife from her belt and made to spring forward.

Ibor had moved towards her but Colla already stood in her path, placing himself defensively in front of his wife. He reached forward and took the knife gently but firmly from her hand.

‘This is no answer, Orla,’ he said gruffly. ‘No harm will come to you while I defend you.’ He rounded on Fidelma, his eyes blazing in anger. ‘You will have me to deal with, dálaigh,’ he told her menacingly. ‘You will not escape the penalty for your false accusations against my wife.’

Fidelma spread her arms nonchalantly.

‘So far, I do not recall having made any accusations, false or otherwise. I am simply stating facts. You will know when I have made accusations.’

Colla grew bewildered, he took a step forward but Ibor touched him lightly on the arm with his sword point and shook his head, reaching out a hand for Orla’s dagger. Automatically, Colla handed it to him without thinking or protesting. Ibor then motioned him to resume his place.

‘Let us return to what became a weak link in this terrible tragic chain. Brother Solin of Armagh. Brother Solin was a man of ambition. He was ambitious and sly, a worthy plotter in this affair. But he had a weakness. He was, in a word, a lecher. He made a lewd suggestion to you, didn’t he, Orla?’

The wife of the tanist’s face went crimson.

‘I could take care of myself,’ she muttered, ‘especially with such a man.’

‘Indeed, you could. You hit him once.’

‘I dealt with him,’ replied Orla softly. ‘He did not lay a hand on me. He just made a lewd suggestion. A thing he swiftly regretted. He learnt his lesson.’

‘No, he didn’t,’ contradicted Fidelma. ‘He was an incurable lecher. He lusted after someone else. Someone else not only slapped him but threw wine over him. You will recall, Orla, that I asked if you had thrown wine over Solin?’

Orla was still suspicious.

‘I told you I did not and I did not.’

‘True. You see, there is another attractive woman in the ráth,isn’t there, Murgal? In fact, a woman who has some resemblance to Orla, tall and with a commanding appearance.’

The Druid frowned, trying to understand her path of thought.

‘You found out that she was unappreciative of your own advances, didn’t you? At the feast, Marga the apothecary slapped you across the face.’

Murgal blinked with embarrassment.

‘Everyone saw it,’ he muttered uncomfortably. ‘Why should I deny it? But I do not understand where you are leading us.’

Fidelma now faced Marga. The apothecary’s face was an interesting study of emotions.

‘Brother Solin had not only made a lewd suggestion to you … he came to your chambers and tried to force himself on you.’

Marga raised her chin aggressively.

‘I threw wine over him to quell his ardour. I slapped him. He did not bother me again. I did not kill the man.’

‘But he had made advances to you, Marga,’ insisted Fidelma quietly. ‘And for that reason Brother Solin was murdered.’

There was a sudden quiet in the chamber broken only by a sob of denial from the apothecary. Everyone was staring at Marga. The pudgy figure of Cruinn moved forward and put an arm around the girl.

‘Are you telling us that Marga killed Solin?’ gasped Murgal.

‘No,’ Fidelma replied immediately. ‘What I said was that Solin’s attack on Marga was the triggering point for his murder.’

‘Are you also claiming now that it was not Orla but Marga whom you saw at the stables?’ pressed Colla.

Fidelma shook her head negatively.

‘It was someone who looked exactly like Orla, and that misled me. They were clad in a cloak and hood so that I saw only the top part of their face as the light fell on them.’

She turned to Laisre.

‘It was not until I saw the top part of your face above the wooden screen last night, Laisre, in just such a light, that I realised the mistake I had made. It was you, Laisre of Gleann Geis, who came out of the stable, not your twin sister, Orla.’