The Devil's Seal (22 page)

‘Did he say whose school he was teaching at?’ the apothecary wanted to know.

Fidelma glanced at Eadulf and then shook her head.

‘It was his sister’s school,’ Brother Conchobhar said. He saw that they were waiting for him to explain further, so went on: ‘Mella, his sister, had a little school on the right bank of the Siúr not far from the port. She knew your language well, Eadulf, for she had been in the kingdom of Cenwealh and his wife Seaxburh.’

‘That is the Kingdom of the West Saxons,’ Eadulf said immediately. ‘How do you know this?’

‘Because Brother Madagan once told me. That was some time ago. His sister had been a missionary there for a while and then, with her knowledge of the language, she returned to teach our language to those Saxons coming to this land. He went there to help her and thus he also acquired the Saxon tongue.’

‘I did not know he had a sister there,’ Fidelma said, surprised.

‘No longer. Mella is dead.’

‘How did it happen? Was it the Yellow Plague? As I recall, many died in that area during the years it ravaged this land.’

Brother Conchobhar shook his head sadly. ‘No, she was not carried off by plague. One of the Saxon foreigners killed her – after having had his way with her. It was soon after that, Brother Madagan decided to return to Imleach and became steward to Abbot Ségdae.’

‘You learned all this from him?’ Eadulf queried.

‘There were also whispers at the time,’ admitted Conchobhar. ‘But it was several years ago now.’

‘What made you think of this?’ Fidelma enquired patiently.

‘I was reminded of what he told me just the other day. Maybe I should have mentioned it before. Brother Madagan was helping me prepare the body of Brother Cerdic for the funeral rites. I had left him in order to fetch a sheet for the
racholl
to wind the body in. When I returned, I was shocked.’

‘Shocked?’

‘I have rarely seen a face filled with such malignancy as his, as he bent over the body. I heard him curse it and say that all Saxons should be consigned to
Ifrenn
, the infernal regions, and not be allowed redemption in the New Faith.’

‘That doesn’t sound like Brother Madagan,’ Fidelma said.

‘It was as if some serpent spoke from him in that moment. Then he turned and saw me staring in horror at him. His face was pale with hate and then he quickly composed himself. He reminded me about his sister; how she was violated and killed.’

‘Was the culprit ever caught?’ Fidelma asked.

Once again, Brother Conchobhar shook his head. ‘Mella’s body was not found until the next day,’ he said heavily, ‘and then it was presumed that the man responsible had sailed back to his own land on the morning tide.’

‘Why was it presumed?’

‘Brother Madagan knew that a man called Ceolwulf had been paying more than usual attention to his sister. A Brehon had the port of Láirge searched for this man. There was no sign of him, but that morning, a ship set sail from Láirge for a foreign port called Clifadun, in the northern part of the Kingdom of the West Saxons. There was nothing to be done, for the Brehon had no jurisdiction to follow the ship. I wondered if the death of his sister had left Brother Madagan bitter against all Saxons.’

‘He has never shown any animosity to me,’ Eadulf said thoughtfully.

Brother Conchobhar smiled without humour. ‘He keeps his temper under control but I think he was named wisely, for at times he can be a snarling little dog.’

‘It does give us some new thoughts about motives for the attack on Brother Cerdic,’ Fidelma agreed slowly. ‘But it gets confusing when we consider the death of Rudgal and the attack on us.’

‘I know we speak of your relative, but were I to make a wager at the moment, it would be on Deogaire’s guilt,’ Eadulf declared. ‘He had the opportunity and the motive – the motive being to fulfil his threat to Fidelma; to create some fear in this place in advance of the arrival of Bishop Arwald and his party.’

Fidelma was not so certain. ‘But again, it lacks a connection with the deaths of the others. In fact, we can find suspects for each murder – but not one to whom we can attribute all the deaths.’

‘So maybe we are looking for several killers,’ Eadulf shrugged.

‘And you think Deogaire simply acted to justify his prophecy?’ she asked. ‘It is true that he does not accept the New Faith, yet there are little isolated pockets, like Sliabh Luachra, where the old ways persist. But the Five Kingdoms are irrevocably committed to the New Faith. For the last several centuries we have become so much a part of it that we welcome others to our shores to educate them, and we send our missionaries over the seas to encourage the pagans beyond to leave the old ways.’

‘I know this,’ Eadulf replied gruffly, ‘but—’

‘It does not explain Deogaire’s behaviour, even if he seeks to create fear at the arrival of Bishop Arwald and his deputation. Why emerge out of the mountain fastness of Sliabh Luachra into a world already set in the New Faith in an attempt to turn back an unstoppable tide?’

Eadulf lifted his arms slightly and let them fall, expressing that he had no answer.

Finally, he said, ‘Well, if you are looking for suspects other than Deogaire, you might as well say that Brehon Aillín had motive and opportunity. He must dislike me intensely.’

Fidelma did not smile. ‘I have not dismissed that possibility,’ she replied.

Eadulf was slightly surprised at her ready acceptance of the idea. ‘I know he doesn’t like me, and he will not take kindly to your brother’s defence of me, but a Chief Brehon of this kingdom attempting murder out of revenge . . .’

‘All people have it in them to strike out in fury when they are pushed too far,’ replied Fidelma. She had not told Eadulf that Brehon Aillín had threatened to take action against him and had only been prevented by Colgú’s intervention. ‘But you are right: I don’t believe he was the person who pushed the statue down on us. He is a frail, elderly man. You saw the iron bar that was wielded as a lever to shift that statue. It’s heavy. And the statue is large, the size of a child. It would have taken some strength to shift.’

Brother Conchobhar had been sitting listening attentively as they exchanged their ideas. Now he spoke up.

‘Fidelma, as much as I argue with Deogaire, I cannot accept that one of my own family would attempt this deed. I will not believe that he is guilty.’

‘Try not to worry, old friend,’ she replied. ‘He will not be accused without a thorough investigation.’ Fidelma made to rise and then an afterthought came to her: ‘Did you ask the librarian about that ritual wool collar?’

The apothecary paused for a moment. ‘Oh yes. He confirmed that some generations ago, all the bishops wore something similar during the services as a mark of their rank. But he seems to think that this dress fell into disuse when a new design was ordered by Rome. He is going to look up some manuscripts in the archives which he thinks might explain more about it.’

‘Let us know as soon as you hear, my friend.’ She rose and turned for the door. ‘It has been a long day and I, for one, am tired.’

Eadulf had wanted to discuss matters further. He felt irritated and nearly pointed out that he had been ready for bed some time ago. First thing in the morning, he’d be taking his son out riding. This didn’t happen often because Eadulf was not fond of riding as a pastime, unlike Fidelma. He rode only when he was forced to do so, as a means of transport. The idea that one rode a horse for pleasure was beyond his comprehension.

‘Very well,’ he said stiffly, as he followed Fidelma’s example. ‘We will talk more about this in the morning. But as you said earlier, there will be little time to reach any solution before Bishop Arwald and his party arrives. I do not think we have to fear Bishop Arwald, however. It is the fact that he is accompanied by the Venerable Verax, brother of the Bishop of Rome, which gives me concern.’

They wished Brother Conchobhar good night and left him to his studies. It was as they were entering their chamber that Eadulf suddenly asked: ‘Do you believe what Brother Conchobhar was saying about Brother Madagan?’

Fidelma stared at her husband in surprise. ‘I have never known him to lie. Is there a reason why we should disbelieve him now?’

‘I find it curious that he comes out with this suspicion about Brother Madagan killing Brother Cerdic at the very moment that he learns that his own nephew has been imprisoned as a suspect.’

T
he morning was dry and the dark stormclouds had vanished, but with the clear blue skies had come a cold and chilly wind whipping across the plains from the north-east. Eadulf felt exhausted already; he had barely slept. But a promise to his son was a promise – and he felt the guilt of too many times when he had followed Fidelma on missions that had taken them to many distant places, so that they had barely seen the early months and years of their son’s growth to boyhood.

At least the cold breath of the wind seemed to be easing his throbbing headache. He rode awkwardly on his sturdy cob, just in front of Alchú who followed on his small pony. Even at his young age the boy seemed totally at ease on his mount; the master of the animal. Eadulf envied him. Beside the boy came the watchful Luan, one of the King’s warriors. Knowing Eadulf’s limitations as an equestrian, Fidelma always insisted that Alchú be accompanied by one of her brother’s bodyguards.

Eadulf had chosen the easy path from Colgu’s fortress palace, moving south via a track that led through the forest that spread before them. Tall yews, birch and elm predominated among the trees. Apart from the evergreens, the forest still had its gaunt and withered winter look, although here and there along the track were clumps of snowdrops, whose appearance usually foretold the end of winter. Now and then they mingled with the small white flowers of
lus an sparáin
, rising from their sprawling green leafy growth. What was it he had learned about those flowers while studying the art of apothecary? The juice of the flower dropped into the ear would ease earache and pain. He tried to remember what the plant was called in his own language – Shepherd’s something? He gave up almost immediately. There was evidence of the gorse preparing for the day when it would burst into bright yellow flowers, but that day was several weeks away yet.

From the thickets he could hear the ‘tit-tit-tit’ explosive cry of the tiny and inconspicuous wren, and glimpse it briefly before it fell silent while a songthrush with its white speckled belly suddenly darted from one patch of undergrowth to another. Then the sudden silence, the abrupt quietness of the birds, caused him to look around for a reason. Not far away was a solitary bird of ill-omen – the black raven – but that was a scavenger and certainly not enough to threaten the small active birds. Then he caught sight of a pair of kestrels hovering in the sky above the path. There was the female, with her rusty brown-coloured tail, and the long pointed wings of the male, with chestnut-coloured back and grey tail with black band. No wonder the smaller birds had fallen silent, for the kestrels were deadly hunters – birds of prey. The black raven was waiting for the kestrels to make their kill and then, when they had fed, it would pick up what was left.

Eadulf shuddered, reminding himself that it was a cruel world and, try as he might to disassociate himself from the idea, man was part of it. Man could be just as cruel and unforgiving as the hovering kestrels, watching for a tiny wren or songthrush to make a mistake and then—

He glanced behind him and saw the grinning face of little Alchú, staring innocently up at the birds above him. He wondered whether the boy would ever see them as he did: recognise this scene for the unforgiving cruelty that it demonstrated. Or did he see it as simply a ride among the whispering trees, lit by a pale sun?

Eadulf did not intend to ride a long way; perhaps as far as Rath na Drinne where Ferloga and his wife Lassar ran an inn. He and Fidelma had often halted there. It was close by an ancient enclosure, converted into a fortified farm. Its name meant ‘Fort of Contentions’. Ferloga had once told him that in ancient times it had been so called because it was there that great contests were held. Contests like
immán
or
camán
, with players driving a ball with sticks of ash, over the grassy field, trying to get the ball between two poles. Then there were athletic contests, foot racing, wrestling and disc throwing.

It was just beyond Rath na Drinne that the forest eventually ended on the edge of an extensive grassy plain – the Plain of Femen which reached all the way to the Field of Honey by the side of the River Siúr. It was why the Eóghanacht, centuries before, had chosen their capital overlooking the plain controlling the wealth and security of the kingdom. To the south-west on the horizon rose the Sliabh na gCoillte, the Forest Mountains, and among them the strange waters of the Lake of the Dragon’s Mouth. It was here that the old God of Love, Aonghus Óg, found the tall maiden, Cáer, whom he had sought because she had appeared to him in a dream. On declaring their love, the pair had transformed into swans, circling the lake symbolically three times before disappearing off to the Land of Enchantment. Eadulf smiled. He had heard these tales many times from the old storytellers in Cashel. They were the legends of Fidelma’s people – her ancestors.