The Leper's Bell (8 page)

Fidelma’s forbidding features softened as the young man stood with reddening face.

‘I presume that you were in love with her?’

The young warrior coloured hotly, dropping his gaze as if he were confessing to some heinous crime.

‘I am … was.’

‘Why does Capa dislike you that you need my intervention with him to ensure you come on this journey?’

‘My youth, I suppose. I think that is why Capa ignores me.’

He hesitated and Fidelma felt that he was holding something back.

That is not the real reason, is it?’ she pressed.

The young man blushed. ‘I am baseborn. My mother was a prostitute.’

‘But you wear the golden torque,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘I thought that…’ He hesitated, feeling awkward. ‘I thought that only nobles could join the élite bodyguard?’

‘Donndubháin, who was heir apparent to Colgú before Finguine, promoted me to the élite bodyguard when I was instrumental in turning back an Uí Fidgente attack at the battle of Cnoc Áine. Capa thinks only sons of nobles should serve in the
Nasc Niadh -
the bodyguard. I want a chance to prove myself to him.’

Eadulf sniffed in dismissive fashion. ‘A young man wanting vengeance to prove himself with his commander disliking him…’ He shook his head. That sounds a recipe for disaster to me.’

Gorman turned pleading eyes on Fidelma.

‘Please, lady…’

‘Gorman!’

It was the stern voice of Capa, who appeared behind them on his way back from Colgú’s chambers. The commander of the guard raised his hand in salute as he recognised Fidelma and Eadulf.

‘I beg your pardon, lady. I wanted a word with young Gorman here.’ He glanced at the warrior, now stiffening to attention. ‘You will be ready to accompany Caol and me within the hour. We are to be escort to the lady Fidelma and Brother Eadulf.’

The young man dropped his jaw in surprise at the announcement. Capa inclined his head in salute again and turned down the corridor.

Fidelma smiled at the confused young man.

There, you did not need to ask for my intercession. Have you heard of the saying
si finis bonus est, totum bonum erit?’

The young man shook his head.

‘If the end is good, everything will be good.’ Eadulf smiled. ‘We will see you at the main gate within the hour.’

Chapter Four

I
t was just before midday when Fidelma and Eadulf, followed by Capa, with Gorman and Caol riding behind, reached the dark flowing waters of the River Suir, west of Cashel, at the point where a bridge crossed to a small island in the middle before continuing on to the far bank. On the island stood a small fortification which served to protect the approaches to Cashel in times of war. Dense woodland grew on either side of the broad waters.

Eadulf recalled the last time he had ridden along this highway with Fidelma. He shivered slightly, for then they had been held up by warriors of the Uí Fidgente when they had been on a journey to Imleach to investigate the mysterious disappearance of the holy relics of St Ailbe and Brother Mochta, Keeper of the Holy Relics. Eadulf glanced nervously about him as they rode up to the bridge. They had been waylaid by enemy warriors at this very spot and he had been forced to swim with his horse, gasping for breath as the icy river clutched at him.

The brooding waters were beginning to reflect the spreading dark clouds coming from the west, which reared up into a flattened anvil shape dominating the sky. Fidelma glanced up.

Thunder clouds,’ she muttered. ‘We might have to seek shelter before we reach Imleach.’

Eadulf recalled that beyond the bridge there was a settlement called the Well of Ara where they had stayed before. A man called Aona who had once commanded the bodyguard of the king of Cashel ran the inn there.

He started nervously.

‘What is it?’ whispered Fidelma, catching his movement.

‘I think that there is someone hidden in the fortress on the island. There is someone watching us.’

Capa edged his horse forward, overhearing Eadulf ‘s alarm.

They should be our warriors, lady. Men were sent out to patrol the roads soon after we discovered the body of Sárait and realised the child was missing. I posted three of my men to check all travellers crossing the bridge.’

He urged his mount forward and led the way across the bridge. Eadulf watched anxiously as a warrior emerged from the small rath ahead of them and made his way to greet them. He saluted Capa and his eyes widened a little as he recognised Fidelma and Eadulf.

‘What news?’ Capa demanded.

‘Little to tell, lord,’ the man replied. There has been nothing out of the ordinary along the road. Soon after we arrived, a band of pilgrims crossed here. Apart from those, only local folk have crossed about their business and they have been well known to us. That is all. No sign of anyone with a baby…’ He cast a look at Fidelma and dropped his eyes awkwardly.

‘Have you watched both day and night?’ Capa said sharply, demanding the man’s attention.

‘My comrades and I have done so most diligently. From the morning that Finguine sent us here, the morning when the alarm was raised, we have maintained a constant watch. We have taken turns on watch - one to watch while the others slept. But no one has ever attempted to cross the bridge at night.’

Eadulf pursed his lips with cynicism. ‘Why cross this bridge at all? There are fords further upstream. Besides, whoever did this deed could have crossed in the hours of darkness on the very night that Sárait was slain and the baby taken,’ he pointed out. This might be a matter of closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.’

‘You may be right, Brother Eadulf,’ Capa agreed with reluctance. ‘But the alarm was raised and patrols sent into the countryside as soon as the facts were learnt. It was better to do something than nothing.’

Tell me more about the pilgrims,’ Fidelma queried, leaning forward slightly to give emphasis to her interest.

The man frowned as if gathering his thoughts, pausing for a moment before replying.

‘Little to tell, lady. We passed them on the road, for they were on foot and we were on horseback. We came here and eventually they caught up with us. There were about six of them. I have seen their sort many times
en route to holy sanctuaries in search of cures for their ailments. There was nothing to distinguish them, one from another. Each one of them was clad in robes, and they had their heads covered in cowls so that we could not tell age or even sex. There were no children with them; any babies, that is.’

Fidelma examined him with a frown.

‘What makes you qualify your statement?’

The man hesitated and shrugged.

‘I thought one of them might have been a child, a short, almost misshapen poor soul.’

Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘A misshapen child?’ Her voice was sharp.

The warrior shrugged as he considered how best to describe what he had seen.

The pilgrim was not what I would call a child. The figure was quite stocky. And about so high…’ He was a tall man and raised a hand to the level of his waistband.

Capa was looking on with disapproval. ‘You did not check the identities of these travellers, I gather? You surely know that we are looking for the misshapen child who brought the message to Cashel? You should have stopped this pilgrim.’

The man looked unhappy. ‘I was not told about a misshapen child, Capa, only about the baby, Alchú. That is all. Anyway, when we went closer to the pilgrims to question them, this small figure produced a bell - a leper’s bell - and rang it. I noticed the other pilgrims tended to keep their distance. Therefore we did not venture nearer but let them pass on to Imleach.’

Fidelma exhaled slowly. It was her only sign of exasperation. The warrior turned to her with an expression that was almost woeful.

‘Truly, lady,’ he said, speaking directly to her, ‘we were not told to search for a misshapen child - only for a baby.’

Capa looked irritable. ‘Who gave you your orders, warrior?’

‘Why, my lord Finguine did so.’

‘Well, now you know, although I fear it is too late,’ Capa replied. ‘A misshapen child brought the message to Cashel that lured Sárait to her death. Keep a careful watch from now on.’

The warrior nodded glumly.

Low down behind the distant western mountains came a rumble of thunder. Fidelma stirred reluctantly.

‘We should press on to the Well of Ara before the storm breaks.’ Capa turned and led the way across the bridge with Fidelma and Eadulf following and their escort of Caol and Gorman bringing up the rear.

The warrior on the bridge watched their going with a glum face. Then he seemed to relax and pulled himself up with a disdainful gesture of his shoulders. Capa was mad if he expected the men to start searching passing lepers too closely.

The rain was just starting to fall in heavy droplets and the rumble of thunder was growing more prevalent as, some kilometres further on, the party came to a small rise beyond which the road dipped towards another substantial river. On both banks of this river, and connected by a series of easily fordable shallows, lay the settlement of Ara’s Well. In fact, the waters barely came up to the fetlocks of the horses as they splashed through the crossing and halted before a tavern situated exactly by the ford.

A youth, scarcely out of his boyhood, certainly no more than fourteen, opened the door of the inn and came forward to greet them.

‘Welcome, travellers. You are welcome to…’

His eyes suddenly fell on Fidelma and then on Eadulf and a broad urchin grin lit up his features.

‘Greetings to you, Adag.’ Fidelma smiled as she swung down from her horse. ‘Are you well?’

‘Well, indeed, lady. Welcome. Brother Eadulf, welcome. You are both most welcome.’

Eadulf smiled and ruffled the boy’s already tousled hair.

‘Good to see you again, Adag. You have grown since I last laid eyes on you.’

The boy drew himself up. He looked different from the small eleven-year-old whom Eadulf had first seen sitting by the river bank, casting his line into the waters and trying to lift the wild brown trout for the pot.

‘How is your grandfather, Adag?’ asked Fidelma, as the boy took her horse’s reins. The boy paused before he turned to gather the reins of the other mounts.

‘He is inside, lady. He will be happy to see you. I will take your horses to the stable and attend to them. But my grandfather will take care of your wants. Will you be staying? I can look after your horses, if so?’

Fidelma glanced at the sky, just as a lightning flash lit it. She blinked
and silently counted, reaching four before the thunder reverberated in the air.

‘It is near enough,’ she observed in resignation. ‘We will wait out the storm.’ With a smile, she added: ‘How long do you think that will be, Adag?’

The boy tilted his head to one side with a serious expression as he surveyed the sky.

‘It will be gone before the hour is up, but there is time enough to take a bowl of stew and a mug of my grandfather’s
corma.
I will feed and rub down the horses.’

Capa, who had been silent during this exchange, frowned.

‘My men are capable of tending to their own mounts…’

Fidelma raised a hand. ‘Adag can take care of all our mounts, Capa. He is capable enough. Come inside and leave him to do his job.’

She turned and pushed into the interior of the tavern. It was dark inside but a dancing fire provided a curious light, where flames ate hungrily into a pile of crackling logs. There was an aroma of mutton stew simmering in its large pot from a hook above the fire.

An elderly man was placing drinking vessels on the table. He turned as they entered and opened his mouth to welcome them, then halted as he recognised them.

‘Hello, Aona. Are you well?’

‘I am the better for seeing you, my lady. And with our good Saxon friend, Eadulf. Life has been quiet in my tavern since last you visited us.’

‘Ah, I pray that it may continue to be so, Aona,’ replied Fidelma in solemn humour. ‘Better peace than conflict, eh?’

Capa looked irritated at being excluded from this friendly exchange. His handsome features seemed disdainful of the intimacy between Fidelma and the innkeeper.

‘Landlord, fetch us food and drink,’ he said officiously.

Fidelma turned to him and only Eadulf saw the swift look of annoyance cross her features before it was gone.

‘Aona, let me present Capa. Capa now holds the position that you once held.’

Capa frowned, not understanding, colouring at the implied rebuke. Then he peered at the old innkeeper with an expression of surprise as memory came to him.

‘Are you Aona who was commander of the guard of Cashel in the days of my grandfather? Aona whose deeds and combats are still spoken of?’

Behind Capa, Caol and Gorman were regarding the old innkeeper with something approaching awe. They were both young men, full of pride at being chosen to wear the golden necklet of the élite bodyguard of Cashel. But over their fires, at night, they had also heard of the deeds and valour of the great warriors who had gone before them and whose image they wanted to live up to.