Our Lady of Darkness (30 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: Our Lady of Darkness
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Fidelma, Coba, Dego and Enda were left facing Bishop Forbassach, who examined them truculently.
‘Well, Forbassach?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Will you hear me out? Will you allow me to continue the arguments that I was making in the hall of Coba?’
A look of satisfaction spread over his features.
‘You are as wily as a fox, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he said. ‘No, I will not let you spread your lies any further. Abbess Fainder explained to me on the journey what you are trying to do. You are trying to defame this abbey, the abbess, the religious and law of Laigin. It will not work.’
‘You are either foolish or culpable of these crimes, Forbassach,’ Fidelma replied in an even tone. ‘You are either compounding them after the event or are guilty of involvement in them. There is no other explanation for your stupidity.’
The bishop’s eyes narrowed belligerently.
‘I am minded to bring charges against you and your companions, Fidelma. I know well enough that you are sister to the King of Cashel but even the threat of incurring his displeasure does not make me flinch now. You have gone too far. Your brother’s influence will no longer safeguard you. I will discuss this matter with Fianamail before I reach a decision and, in the meantime, you will be imprisoned with your companions here in the abbey.’
Dego stepped forward.
‘You will regret this, Bishop,’ he said quietly. ‘Lay hands on Fidelma and you will find the army of Muman marching on your borders. You are twice condemned by threatening my lady. You are condemned that you dare threaten a
dálaigh
of the courts and you are condemned because you dare threaten the sister of our King.’
Bishop Forbassach appeared unimpressed by the young warrior’s bombast.
‘
Your
King, not
my
King, young man. And your threat to me has also been noted. You will have plenty of time to contemplate that threat and how such a threat is punished in this land.’
Dego was about to make a move when Fidelma laid a hand on his arm. She had seen Forbassach’s warriors ready with their swords.
‘Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem,
’ she muttered
quoting one of Horace’s Odes, to remind Dego to maintain a clear head when attempting difficult tasks.
‘Wise advice, if you want to live,’ smirked the bishop. Then turning to his warriors: ‘Take them away!’
‘One moment,’ Fidelma commanded, her forceful tone causing them to hesitate. ‘What do you plan to do with Coba?’
Bishop Forbassach glanced towards the
bó-aire
of Cam Eolaing. Then he turned back to Fidelma with a malicious grin.
‘What would your brother do to a traitor who has gone against the law and rebelled against his authority? He will die.’
 
Brother Eadulf heard the sound of the shout and he closed his eyes. Then he experienced the sensation of falling and felt a hard thump as his body hit the ground. He lay for a moment, gasping for breath and puzzled until he realised that he had, indeed, fallen on the ground. The rope must have broken as the stool was kicked from under him. His immediate thought was the anguished one that he would have to go through the process all over again. He opened his eyes and peered up.
His first sight was of Brother Cett, standing with an expression of amazement on his features; his arms were spread, almost in a position of surrender. Then he was aware of more shouting. Another figure was bending forward and hauling him to his feet. He saw a young, vaguely familiar face whose features wore a grin.
‘Brother Eadulf! Are you all right?’
He looked blankly at the young man, trying to recognise him.
‘It is I, Aidan, a warrior of the bodyguard of King Colgú of Cashel.’
Eadulf blinked in confusion as he found the young warrior cutting his bonds. He could not speak for the soreness of his throat.
He was aware of several mounted warriors, richly dressed and armed, and a great blue silken banner being carried by one of them. Fianamail and his companions had frozen in shocked surprise at their appearance.
Among the newly arrived horsemen, seated on a powerful roan mare, was a man of indiscernible age clad in robes that denoted some high rank or office. He had a prominent nose, and his eyes were bright, unblinking; and he bore a stern, thin-lipped expression.
Fianamail began shaking with rage. His face was red as blood coursed through his cheeks.
‘Outrageous!’ His voice came almost as a gurgle. ‘This is outrageous. You shall pay for this! Do you know who I am? I am the King. You shall die for this insolence!’
‘Fianamail!’ cried the brittle voice of the man on horseback as he edged forward to where the King sat. ‘Look upon me!’ His tone was not loud but it demanded attention.
The King blinked at him, trying to control his passion.
‘Look upon me and know me. I am Barrán, Chief Brehon of all the five kingdoms of Éireann. These are the Fianna of the High King. And here is my authority which you must now obey.’
He thrust out an ornate wand of office, beautifully bejewelled and scrolled in gold and silver.
Fianamail’s face went from red to white. After some hesitation he muttered in a more controlled voice, ‘What does this mean, Barrán? you have interrupted a legitimate execution. That man is a Saxon who was found guilty of raping and murdering a young novitiate. He is a dangerous man. He has had a fair trail and a fair appeal was heard by my Brehon, Bishop Forbassach, and myself. The execution of this sentence is legal and …’
Barrán raised a hand and Fianamail fell silent.
‘If it is as you say, then you will receive an apology from no less a person than the Chief Brehon. But many things trouble me as they have troubled the High King. It is better to examine matters and rectify the mistakes while the man is alive than attempt to rectify them after he is dead.’
‘There is no mistake.’
‘We will discuss this matter further when we reach your fortress, Fianamail,’ Barrán’s voice was soft yet its quiet tones commanded obedience even from kings and Fianamail was still young and immature. ‘The High King also finds it a matter of great concern that word comes to his court at Tara that our native law system is no longer considered worthy in this kingdom. It is said that you have proclaimed the Penitentials as legitimate law above the Law of the Fénechus proclaimed by the brehons. Can this be true?’
He glanced to where Abbot Noé was standing.
‘Is it also true that you have advised this young King on this matter, Noé?’
Barrán had already clashed with the abbot at Ros Alithir. They were not friends.
‘There are good arguments for adopting the Penitentials, Barrán,’ Abbot Noé replied stiffly.
‘Doubtless we shall hear them,’ replied Barrán dryly. ‘It is strange, however, that the Brehon of Laigin, the spiritual adviser to the King, even the King himself, had not thought to come to Tara and discuss this matter with the other brehons and bishops of the five kingdoms. For the moment, it is the Law of the Fénechus that runs through this land and that is the only law to which its people are answerable. I know of no other law. It would pain the High King and his court if further violations of our laws have been made without our knowledge.’
Eadulf was still standing rubbing his wrists in bewilderment; his throat was paining him from the rope burn.
‘What is happening?’ he whispered to Aidan.
‘The lady Fidelma sent me to Tara to bring the Chief Brehon here with all speed. I thought we would arrive too late. We almost did.’
‘But how did you know where I was? She does not.’
‘We didn’t know, either. We haven’t seen Sister Fidelma yet. We have ridden through the night and an hour ago we were crossing the mountain road below as a short cut to Fearna. The road led past Fianamail’s hunting lodge and we saw some activity there. Barrán had one of his men enquire if Fianamail was present. We were told that he and Abbot Noé had ridden for this place to hang a Saxon outlaw. I thought that it could only be you. We came up with all speed.’
Eadulf felt weak as he began to gather his wits.
‘You mean that it was purely luck that I did not …?’ He shuddered violently at the realisation.
‘We arrived just as the big fellow there,’ he pointed to Brother Cett, ‘kicked the stool out from under you. It was providential that my sword was sharp.’
‘You cut the rope even as I fell?’ asked Eadulf incredulously.
‘I cut the rope and not a split second too late, thanks be to God.’
The Chief Brehon had turned his horse, approaching the spot where Eadulf stood.
‘Are you the one who is called Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham?’
Eadulf gazed up into the bright eyes of Barrán. He felt the personality and inner strength of this man who was probably more powerful than even the High King for he stood at the head of the law system in all the five kingdoms of Éireann.
‘I am he,’ he acknowledged quietly.
‘I have heard of you, Saxon.’ Barrán’s smile was gentle. ‘I have heard of you as the friend of Fidelma of Cashel. She has sent for me to be judge over you.’
‘I am grateful, my lord. I stand before you innocent of all that I am accused of.’
‘That we shall see in due course. Are you well enough to travel directly to Fearna?’
‘I am.’
Here the young warrior, Aidan, intervened.
‘It might be better to allow a moment’s rest so that we can attend to the burn mark on Brother Eadulf’s neck. He had a narrow escape.’
Barrán peered forward at the mark on Eadulf’s neck and then inclined his head in silent agreement.
Brother Martan had come hurrying forward with a jug of mead.
‘I have some knowledge of these things, Lord Brehon. Mead for the stomach and a salve for the burn.’
The stool which would have been an instrument of his death a moment before was now placed upright so that Eadulf could sit on it. Brother Martan bent over him, tutting and making sympathetic noises. He took out a small jar of ointment from the leather satchel at his waist and began to gently massage some of the salve onto the mark made by the rough rope. It stung so much at first that Eadulf winced.
‘It is a salve made of sage and comfrey, Brother,’ explained the old monk. ‘It will sting at first but later you will feel comforted.’
‘Thank you, Brother,’ Eadulf tried to smile through the stinging sensation. ‘I am sorry that I have brought such problems to your peaceful little community.’
Brother Martan’s expression was one of amusement.
‘The church is the harbour for problems, a place where exchanges should be made – problems for peace.’
Eadulf began to feel in better spirits for the first time in days.
‘What I would not mind is an exchange of my problems for an apple. This hanging has made me feel hungry and while your mead is good it does not make my hunger less.’
Brother Martan turned and made the request to one of his brethren.
Fianamail was still in a controlled rage and his temper got the better of him when he saw mead and an apple being given to Eadulf.
‘Is this murderer to be pampered while we stand about in the cold waiting for him?’ he demanded of Barrán. ‘What is the point of putting
salve on his injury when I shall doubtless hang him later?’
‘I will eat my apple on the journey,’ Eadulf told Barrán as he stood up. ‘I have no objection to speed, if speed will clear me and bring us closer to the truth of this matter. Yet I fear that Fianamail’s speed is only the desire to speed my death.’
Aidan helped Eadulf clamber up behind him on his horse. Two of the warriors took the two young girls up behind them. Muirecht and Conna had remained mute and frightened throughout all these dramatic events. Then, with Barrán, Fianamail and Abbot Noé at their head, the column of riders set out down the slopes of the Yellow Mountain with the white frost now visibly disappearing in the growing warmth of the morning sun.
The great hall of the King of Laigin was filled to capacity. Centre of attention was Barrán, seated in his rich robes of office and carrying his ornate wand which designated that he spoke with all the authority not only of the law but as the personal representative of the High King. By his side, on his seat of office, sprawled Fianamail, looking more like a sulky youth than King of Laigin. By comparison to Barrán he scarcely merited attention for it was Barrán who exuded all the command in the hall from his very poise and natural attitude.
Along the sides of the hall sat several scribes, intent over their clay tablets on which they would make their notes before they were transcribed to vellum as permanent records of the events. There were Brehons, trainees as well as those qualified, all determined to absorb the wisdom of the Chief Brehon. Once word had spread through the township that Barrán would judge the case, everyone who was able tried to squeeze into the King’s hall to hear such important judgments.
On the right side of the hall sat Bishop Forbassach; next to him was Abbot Noé, Abbess Fainder, Sister Étromma, and several other prominent members of the community of the abbey, including Brother Cett and the physician, Brother Miach.
Opposite them, on the left-hand side, sat Sister Fidelma with Eadulf by her side. Behind her sat her faithful companions Dego, Enda and Aidan.
Mel and his warriors seemed to be in charge of the security of the King’s hall, although Fidelma noticed that the Fianna warriors, who had accompanied Barrán from Tara, were positioned strategically throughout the assembly.
It was midday and much had happened that morning. Barrán had resided over several private hearings. Now it was time for matters to be brought into public scrutiny.
Barrán glanced towards his chief scribe and gave a gentle indication with his head. The man rose and banged his staff of office on the floor three times.
‘This court is convened to hear the final submissions and judgment in matters relating to the death of one Gormgilla, of an unknown boatman, of Daig, a warrior of Laigin, of Brother Ibar, a religieux of Fearna and of Gabrán, a merchant of Cam Eolaing.’
Barrán began without further preamble.
‘I have before me a submission from the
dálaigh,
Fidelma of Cashel, for the vindication of Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, a Saxon ambassador in our land. She submits that his conviction by the courts of Laigin, his sentence, and any subsequent infractions of the laws of Laigin in attempting to prove his innocence, be quashed and removed from the record books of this kingdom. Her argument is that Eadulf was innocent of all charges and all else that followed was a pursuit of injustice. The said Eadulf then acted in defence of his life and was within the law in doing so.’
Barrán glanced towards Bishop Forbassach.
‘What do you say in response to that appeal, Brehon of Laigin?’
Bishop Forbassach rose. He was slightly pale and his features mirrored his displeasure. He had already spent several hours in the company of Barrán and Fidelma that morning. He cleared his throat before saying, quietly: ‘There is no objection to the appeal by the
dálaigh
of Cashel.’
There was an audible gasp of astonishment among those in the hall as they realised what had been said. Bishop Forbassach sat down abruptly.
Barrán’s chief scribe banged his staff for silence. Barrán waited for the murmurs to die away before he spoke again.
‘I now formerly declare as invalid and void that conviction and sentence against Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. He leaves this court in innocence and with no stain upon his honour.’
On the benches, Fidelma reached impulsively over and caught Eadulf’s hand and squeezed it while Dego, Enda and Aidan clapped the Saxon monk on the back.
‘It is further declared,’ went on the Chief Brehon, ignoring their demonstration, ‘that the Brehon of Laigin must pay compensation to the said Eadulf in the term of an honour price fixed at eight cumals. The amount is fixed in law because Eadulf is an emissary between Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Colgú, King of Cashel. He carries the honour price equivalent to that of half the man he serves. Does the Brehon of Laigin raise any objection to this?’
‘None.’
The reply was almost missed, being a quick and embarrassed response. Yet another gasp went round the hall as it was realised that Bishop Forbassach was agreeing to compensate Eadulf to the amount of the value of twenty-four cows. Even Eadulf looked bemused at the munificence of the sum.
‘There is an end to Eadulf’s guilt,’ announced Barrán. ‘But let it be recorded why this verdict and sentenced is revoked. I, and other witnesses, made a preliminary examination before entering this court. What we learnt there was a matter which horrified us and caused great sorrow.
‘The river-boat captain, Gabrán, was engaged in a degenerate and perverse trade. He played on the suffering of needy families by persuading them to sell their young daughters to him. He took these frightened children, for none were of the age of choice, from places in the northern mountains of this kingdom and brought them down to the river. He placed them in his boat and transported them along the river to the sea port at Loch Garman. There he sold them to slave ships which transported them beyond the seas. Yes, he sold these young girls into slavery.’
There was an icy silence in the hall, a sense of shock and horror at what the Chief Brehon was telling the people.
‘We heard from the witness Fial, one of the young girls who survived this ordeal, that Gabrán had sunk to the level of an animal and actually used his captives for his own sexual appetite. This he did, even though they were not of age.
‘We have heard that on the fateful trip, from which Eadulf became an innocent victim, Fial’s companion, a girl called Gormgilla, was taken by the drunken Gabrán, while his boat was tied up at the quay of the abbey here. We may guess the details. Gabrán raped the girl and she fought back. In a drunken rage, he strangled her. It was decided to put the blame on Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. Those who thought up this evil scheme arrogantly presumed that he was merely a passing foreign pilgrim and that no one would notice if he were sacrificed to cover up the murder. They had been forced to find an explanation for the murder because of the arrival of the abbess and Mel before the body could be disposed of.
‘It was a wicked scheme but one which nearly worked. Luckily, they had not realised that Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham was not someone
whose death could be so lightly passed over. Their haughty presumption was their undoing.’
Barrán looked towards Fidelma.
‘I believe, Fidelma of Cashel, that you have some observations that you wish to make at this time?’
Fidelma rose in the expectant silence of the hall.
‘Thank you, Barrán. I have much to say for this matter cannot simply rest with the exoneration of Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’
‘Why not?’ snapped Bishop Forbassach from across the hall. ‘That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? He has been compensated.’
Fidelma turned a glinting eye on him.
‘What I wanted from the outset was for the truth to be made known.
Veritas vos liberabit
is the basis of our law. The truth shall make you free – and until we know the entire truth of this business then this kingdom dwells in darkness and suspicion.’
‘Do you now seek vengeance on our mistakes?’ demanded Forbassach. ‘Gabrán, the slave trader, is dead. That is surely vengeance enough?’
‘It is not that easy,’ replied Fidelma. ‘And while we have heard of Eadulf’s innocence, what of the innocence of Brother Ibar? What of the death of Daig? What of the innocence of Gormgilla and countless young girls whose lives are now beyond recovering? It is not vengeance that is needed to explain these tragedies but the truth.’
‘Are you saying that the death of Gabrán, the man who engineered this evil trade, does not satisfy you, Sister Fidelma?’ It was Abbot Noé who spoke. His tone was measured and it was clear that he shared Bishop Forbassach’s unhappiness with the developing situation.
‘I will be satisfied with the truth,’ she repeated. ‘Have you forgotten the testimony of the young girl Fial? It was not Gabrán who asked her to give the false testimony against Eadulf. He was drunk or knocked unconscious. Nor was it the boatman who was subsequently murdered on the following day. You will remember how Fial described what happened?’
There came a sigh of exasperation from Bishop Forbassach.
‘We do not have to rely on the word of a young murderess.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow in quickening anger.
Abbot Noé spoke before she could. ‘The girl, Fial, obviously killed Gabrán and it is clear that she did so in a state of great emotional stress.
We understand that and no blame is placed on her for it. My friend, Forbassach, does not mean to condemn her; nevertheless, it is the truth. Be content with that, Fidelma.’
‘This morning, before the Chief Brehon, we went through all the testimony that was heard in Coba’s hall,’ Fidelma returned. ‘I thought it was clear then that Fial had
not
killed Gabrán.’
Bishop Forbassach almost exploded with anger.
‘Another innocent for you to defend?’ he sneered.
Barrán leaned forward in his direction. His voice was flat and assertive.
‘I would advise you to be more considerate with your words and manner of using them, Brehon of Laigin. I remind you that this is my court and the rules of courtesy between those who plead before me apply.’
Fidelma glanced with gratitude towards Barrán.
‘I am willing to answer Forbassach. Indeed, Fial is another innocent —and I am ready to defend all who are innocent of crimes against which they are unjustly accused.’
‘If you are willing to state the truth, you will acknowledge that you only wish to defend Fial because you want to lay the blame on Abbess Fainder for the murder of Gabrán!’ Forbassach had risen angrily to his feet, his face flushed. The abbess, pale, tried to grab at his arm to pull him back to his seat.
‘Bishop Forbassach!’ Barrán’s voice cracked like a whip. ‘I have warned you once before. I shall not warn you again to moderate your behaviour towards a respected
dálaigh
of the courts.’
‘As a matter of fact,’ intervened Fidelma mildly, ‘I have no wish to accuse the abbess of Gabrán’s murder. It is obvious that she did not carry out that killing. You seem determined to cloud the real issues here, Forbassach.’
Bishop Forbassach dropped back to his seat deflated and abashed. Fidelma continued: ‘The person who killed Gabrán was part of the slave-trade conspiracy and was ordered to do so because Gabrán had become a liability to that conspiracy. His increasingly corrupt behaviour was endangering the whole enterprise. Too many deaths were occurring around Gabrán and bringing unwelcome attention.
‘The rape and murder of a young girl on the abbey quay by Gabrán and the stupid attempt to shift the blame on an innocent passer-by was what led to the subsequent mayhem. The person for whom Gabrán
worked, the real power behind this evil enterprise, finally came to realise that it was time to dispense with Gabrán’s services – and in a permanent fashion.’
The silence in the hall was absolute. It was some moments before Abbot Noé decided to intervene.
‘Are you claiming that all the deaths are connected?’
‘The murder of the crewman followed in the wake of Gormgilla’s death. Now, what was Fial’s evidence which we listened to again this morning?’
Barrán turned to his scribe.
‘Correct me if the record speaks against me,’ he instructed. ‘As I recall, when she was taken from her confinement by one of the crewmen, in the next cabin she saw Gabrán unconscious either in a state of intoxication or having been rendered unconscious. There was a hooded figure in that ill-lit cabin dressed in the robes of the religious. This was the person who instructed her to identify the Saxon as the same who killed Gormgilla. Do I have it correctly?’
The scribe, who had been referring to some notes before him, muttered, ‘
Verbatim et litteratim et punctatim,’
to confirm that it had been accurately rendered.
Fidelma thanked Barrán for reminding them of the record.
‘The crewman who released Fial was actually the same man who was murdered the next day. I must make some conjectures now but they are threaded together by facts – information that Daig passed on to his wife. I acknowledge that no surviving witnesses can confirm each detail independently. May I do so?’
‘Providing it elucidates the mystery,’ Barrán said, ‘but I will not take conjecture alone as evidence towards convicting any individual.’
‘You do not have to. I would imagine that the crewman, who was, of course, of the same low morals as Gabrán, saw his involvement in the covering up of his captain’s crime as a great chance to make some extra money by blackmailing Gabrán. They had a row in the local inn – the Inn of the Yellow Mountain. The row was witnessed by Lassar, the innkeeper. She also saw Gabrán giving the crewman some money to keep him silent. Gabrán later explained this sum by claiming it was the man’s wages. The sum that was passed was a large one, however – too large for the wages of a boatman.

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