A Prayer for the Damned sf-17

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘True enough. We must also confirm Abbot Augaire’s story that he was playing brandubh with Dúnchad Muirisci.’

  ‘You doubt it?’

  ‘Not at all. But a good dálaigh never assumes anything. Also, it might help us with the time that Ultán went to his chamber and was seen by Augaire arguing with one of the two religieuse in his party.’

  ‘Do we know that it was an argument?’ Eadulf said. ‘The abbot said that when the woman entered, he simply heard Ultán’s voice raised in a hectoring tone. It takes two for an argument.’

  Fidelma yawned and nodded.

  ‘I am tired,’ she said, as if by way of apology for her oversight.

  Muirgen returned carrying a large tray laden with bowls of steaming broth, freshly baked bread and a dish of fruit. She set it down on a table and beamed at them both.

  ‘Get that down, and then get some rest,’ she advised, turning to scoop Alchú up in her broad arms. The child twisted and gurgled happily. Then, with a quick nod at them, Muirgen left them to their meal and rest.

  It was two hours later when Muirgen entered to wake them and tell them that Colgú was waiting outside. They straightened their clothes, rubbed the sleep from their eyes and asked Muirgen to show him in. She did so and then diplomatically withdrew.

  Colgú looked anxious but was apologetic for disturbing them.

  ‘I know that you have not had much sleep, but I wondered how things are progressing?’ he said.

  ‘We need far more time to investigate, brother,’ Fidelma said, while Eadulf poured cider for each of them.

  ‘Do you believe Muirchertach is innocent or guilty?’

  ‘I am prepared to defend him,’ she replied cautiously. ‘We both agree that if he is guilty then he is either a fool or extremely clever. Somehow, I do not think he is either. And as for Abbot Ultán, he certainly seems to have created more than his fair share of enemies and many of them are guests here. There is nothing for it but to postpone the ceremony for as long as it takes.’

  Colgú looked unhappy. ‘I know you have a hard task. I know it is your wedding, Fidelma. However, I also have to think of the guests. The High King, the kings of the cóicead and their nobles. They cannot stay here indefinitely.’

  ‘I cannot force the pace of this inquiry,’ replied Fidelma testily. ‘In spite of the pressure from Brehon Ninnid.’

  ‘I know that,’ replied her brother. ‘But I must think of distracting the High King and nobles for a while. I have an idea. The weather has been brightening and tomorrow morning at first light I thought that I would entertain our noble guests to a hunt.’

  Eadulf looked up in surprise from his mug of cider. ‘A hunt?’

  ‘A wild boar hunt,’ confirmed the king. ‘There have been reports that a herd of boar are creating havoc in the fields of a farmer about five kilometres east of here. What better way to give some entertainment than to allow our guests to hunt the creatures?’

  Fidelma considered the matter. ‘I certainly do not expect the matter to be resolved by tomorrow. Whom do you expect to attend this hunt?’

  ‘The High King is keen on the idea. In fact, it was he who suggested that something is done to entertain the nobles and their ladies while we wait for a resolution.’

  Fidelma pursed her lips.

  ‘I am sorry that Sechnassach finds this matter of law so tedious,’ she said icily.

  ‘You cannot ask everyone to be so patient,’ protested Colgú. ‘If you could even give an indication when you might complete this investigation. .?’

  Fidelma sighed irritably. She could understand her brother’s predicament but it was too early to form opinions. There was no denying her instinct that Muirchertach was innocent of the murder of Ultán, but that feeling was countered by a further suspicion that he was not being entirely truthful with her. There was something that he was holding back.

  ‘You know that is impossible, Colgú.’

  ‘Ninnid tells me that he is ready to prosecute and the Chief Brehon says he is prepared to sit in judgement. They simply await your word.’

  ‘Well, I am not ready. There is more to this than Ninnid will argue.’

  ‘Ninnid seems a pompous ass,’ muttered Eadulf.

  Colgú glanced at him. ‘Pompous he may be, my friend, but I am told that he has an astute legal mind.’

  ‘Even with this pressure, we need more time,’ insisted Fidelma.

  ‘If you delay beyond a reasonable period, Ninnid is within his rights to prosecute without further loss of time.’ Colgú reminded her of the law she knew well. ‘Barrán waits only because of who Muirchertach is and out of courtesy to you. If it had been any lesser person than the king of Connacht accused of this crime, then the trial would have been over by now.’

  ‘Trial?’ Fidelma retorted. ‘And what sort of trial would that be? Is it unreasonable to allow sufficient time for truth to emerge before a person is rushed to judgement.’

  Her brother gave an eloquent shrug.

  ‘Verbum sat sapienti,’ he said simply. ‘A word to the wise. Barrán and the High King will not wait for ever.’

  ‘I will not take for ever, brother. But I will not be rushed to trial before I have discovered the truth.’

  Colgú sighed softly. ‘Anyway, I presume that you have no objection to my distracting our guests?’

  ‘None,’ she replied, ‘if the guests want to be distracted. Do they include Blathmac, the king of Ulaidh? I would have thought that he at least, among the nobles, would want to mourn one of his kingdom’s abbots.’

  ‘I do not think Ultán had any friends to mourn him outside his entourage who came here with him. Even Blathmac seemed to share the common dislike of the abbot. And Muirchertach has offered to extend his parole, his gell, so that he may accompany the hunt. I see no objection to that. I shall go ahead with it. The thought of the sport will at least occupy our guests for another day.’

  ‘Muirchertach wants to join the hunt?’ Fidelma was astonished. ‘He seems very confident in my ability to exonerate him. Ah well, entertain the guests by all means, brother, but in spite of Muirchertach’s parole, I would advise that you keep a close watch on him.’

  ‘So you do suspect Muirchertach?’ Colgú said quickly.

  ‘Not at all. But there may be some who do and wish him harm. It would be foolish to let our guests wander too freely.’

  Colgú grinned. ‘We can hardly make the High King a suspect.’

  ‘I would just prefer that a sharp eye was kept on this hunt. .’ She glanced suddenly at Eadulf, who jerked his head up in dismay. ‘I need to remain here to continue the investigation. .’

  ‘I would prefer. .’ he began to protest.

  Colgú caught her thought and clapped Eadulf on the shoulder with a chuckle.

  ‘An excellent idea. I do not think that you have taken part in one of our boar hunts, have you, Eadulf? You will find it an excellent education.’

  Eadulf’s expression was positively woebegone. ‘I am not a good horseman. .’

  ‘Nonsense,’ interrupted Colgú. ‘Anyway, the huntsmen lead the way on foot with their dogs. Only the nobles, who are the spearmen, follow on horse. Then behind them come the ladies on horseback. So you have a choice. You can go on foot with the huntsmen, of course.’

  Fidelma took pity on Eadulf’s alarmed expression.

  ‘Let young Gormán ride with you to assist you in the task. He can also explain what is happening during the hunt. But keep close to Muirchertach.’

  Eadulf was resigned. ‘What will you be doing?’ he asked moodily.

  ‘We will not be able to speak to everyone today. There are several people that I still need to question, such as the two young religious who accompanied Ultán. They might be able to give more details of the man and his enemies. I also want to speak with Fergus Fanat of Ulaidh and Dúnchad Muirisci before the end of today.’

  Colgú was surprised. ‘What is their involvement?’ he demanded.

  ‘Perhaps none, but their word is nee
ded as witnesses in clarifying some matters.’

  ‘Then be as diplomatic as you can, sister,’ Colgú advised her. ‘These are nobles with much power.’

  ‘And you are not?’ she asked mockingly.

  Colgú shook his head. ‘The art of kingship is to maintain the peace but not to stir up antagonisms.’

  ‘Do not fear, my brother. My intention is merely to search for the truth.’

  Colgú grimaced wryly. ‘There was a line in that play by Terence that was performed here last year — The Girl from Andros — what was it now?’

  ‘Veritas odium parit’ muttered Eadulf.

  ‘Exactly. Truth breeds hate. Be careful when you search for truth that you do not stir up hate.’

  ‘While I am asked to function as a dálaigh, I cannot be stopped from that search,’ Fidelma said firmly.

  Colgú turned for the door, saying over his shoulder: ‘I will go to draw up the list of those who will attend the hunt tomorrow. I’ll let you have it later.’

  Fidelma had decided that they should first follow up the intriguing reference that Abbot Augaire had made to Fergus Fanat of Ulaidh but, by chance, they encountered Dúnchad Muirisci, the tánaiste to the king of Connacht, as they were crossing one of the courtyards. He was young, sandy-haired and handsome, with a ready smile and large blue eyes. He carried himself with the bearing of a warrior.

  ‘Abbot Augaire? Indeed he was with me last evening for some time. He left late. We were playing brandubh. He is a very determined player. Eventually I had to accept the loss of the High King.’

  Brandubh, black raven, was one of the most popular board games in the five kingdoms. The board was divided into forty-nine squares, the centre square symbolising Tara, the centre of the cosmos, and the four squares round it the capitals of the provincial kings. Here the four defending kings had to keep the invading force at bay without leaving the High King on the centre square unprotected. Eadulf found it too slow and cerebral for his taste.

  ‘So Abbot Augaire won the game?’ he said. ‘Do you know, roughly, when the abbot came to your chambers?’

  ‘Not long after the evening meal. Many of the nobles continued to drink and listen to the bards and storytellers. But Augaire and I had agreed to match our minds across the gaming board. Indeed, we had a wager on it, and’ — he shrugged ruefully — ‘I confess I lost and he has my silver piece to prove it.’

  ‘When did he leave?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘Towards midnight, I think. I know that I had retired to bed sometime after he left but was disturbed by shouting in the corridor. I had already been disturbed once that evening so I ignored it. It was only this morning that I realised that it must have been when the body of Ultán was discovered.’

  ‘What did you think when your king, Muirchertach, was accused?’

  ‘Shall I be honest?’

  Fidelma gazed at him with steely eyes.

  ‘That is the purpose of my questioning,’ she said sharply.

  ‘I was excited. I am his heir apparent and if he were to be guilty of this murder, then I would automatically succeed and be king of Connacht.’

  ‘That is being honest indeed,’ muttered Eadulf.

  Dúnchad Muirisci laughed as if it were a joke.

  ‘You cannot make emotions illegal,’ he said.

  Fidelma’s lips thinned for a moment. ‘So long as they remain emotions and hidden rather than being given physical substance.’

  Dúnchad Muirisci continued to smile. ‘Come, lady, you do not suspect that I slunk into Abbot Ultán’s chamber to kill him, then put the blame on Muirchertach in order that I could succeed as king?’

  ‘Stranger things have happened,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘In this case, I do not suspect that. However, how well did you know Abbot Ultán?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Fidelma raised her eyebrows. ‘With all the intercourse between the court of Muirchertach and the abbey of Ultán on behalf of the queen’s sister, Searc, that comes as a surprise.’

  ‘Yet it is true. The business was between Muirchertach and Aíbnat and later involved Cathal of the Uí Briúin Aí. But I never once laid eyes on Ultán and would have passed him by in the corridor without knowing him. It was Augaire and one of our brehons who conducted the intercourse with Cill Ria.’

  ‘So what did you think of Muirchertach’s attempt to seek compensation for his wife, Aíbnat, over this matter?’

  Dúnchad Muirisci considered for a moment. ‘I will admit that I found it strange. Aíbnat was never really close to her young sister and, in truth, I did not think she was much affected by the poor girl’s death. But the fact that she pressed the claim against Ultán. .’

  ‘Aíbnat did not insist on seeking compensation, according to Augaire. It was your cousin Muirchertach who was the instigator of the claim.’

  Dúnchad Muirisci’s eyes suddenly widened. ‘Muirchertach?’ he demanded sharply.

  ‘You did not know?’

  ‘I did not. I assumed it was Aíbnat for she was the next of kin.’

  ‘How well did you know Searc?’

  ‘Not well at all. I met her only a few times at Durlas. She was a dreamy, romantic young girl. I was not surprised when people started to acclaim her poetry. It was of the dántaigecht grádh variety, love poetry. That is not really my style. You know the sort of thing?’ He screwed up his face and recited in a falsetto voice:

  Cold are the nights I cannot sleep,

  Thinking of you, my love, my dear. .

  ‘How well is not well?’ interrupted Fidelma with some irritability in her tone.

  ‘When she came to stay with her sister Aíbnat at Muirchertach’s fortress at Durlas, I saw her more. . that was in the weeks before her death.’

  ‘Did she give any indication that she would take her own life when she came back from Cill Ria having found that her love had been sent to his death at sea?’

  Dúnchad Muirisci shook his head. ‘In fact, while she was upset, she did not really believe that this lad — what was his name? Senach? — she did not believe that he was really dead. She was determined to pursue him.’

  Fidelma exchanged a sharp look with Eadulf. ‘What do you mean?’ she demanded.

  ‘When she came back she talked about finding a ship to go to Gaul and to the abbey to which the lad had been sent. She even knew the name of it. She believed that he would be waiting there for her.’

  Fidelma leaned forward in surprise. ‘How long was this before she took her life?’

  ‘I saw her about three days before it happened. Augaire witnessed the event, you know. He didn’t know who it was — it took him a day or so to discover it and so come to Durlas. Muirchertach was called upon to identify the body.’ He paused and rubbed his chin reflectively. ‘It is strange, now I think of it. She was talking about sailing after Senach and then, shortly after, she tosses herself from a cliff.’

  ‘Strange, indeed,’ muttered Eadulf.

  ‘Did she tell anyone else about the voyage to Gaul she was planning?’

  ‘I would have presumed that she told her sister Aíbnat as well as Muirchertach.’

  ‘It seems strange that it was not mentioned,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully. ‘I will see what Muirchertach and his wife have to say later.’

  Dúnchad Muirisci smiled knowingly.

  ‘I am not sure that the truth will come out,’ he said. ‘Muirchertach never did like people knowing what was in his mind. Not even me.’

  ‘But you are his tánaiste — his heir apparent. Who runs the kingdom if he will not discuss the affairs of the day with you?’ inquired Eadulf.

  ‘The truth? The tribes of Connacht are descended into anarchy. Muirchertach has brought the line of Fiachra into disrespect. Thank God that I am only a cousin, for I am of the tribe of Muaide.’

  ‘If this is so, has no one recourse to the law, to declare Muirchertach incapable of his office?’ Fidelma asked.

  Dúnchad Muirisci shrugged. ‘The time will come. He has few friends now, not e
ven his own wife.’

  ‘That is why I am interested in the reason he pursued this affair of compensation with Ultán,’ Fidelma replied.

  ‘Well, if Aíbnat did not press for it, then I cannot say. Maybe he wanted to impress her by doing so in order to win back her regard?’

  ‘Perhaps. Yet if Aíbnat was not close to her young sister, as we have been told, it does not appear to be a sufficient reason.’

  Dúnchad Muirisci shook his head. ‘That is a matter that you’d best pursue with Muirchertach.’

  ‘And I shall do so.’

  The tánaiste suddenly looked seriously at Fidelma. ‘I said that I would be honest. There is no love lost between Muirchertach and myself. I even avoided him as a child. He had a spiteful nature and later he had a reputation among women. I was surprised when Aíbnat and he were married, but then Aíbnat was of the Uí Briúin Aí and ambitious.’ He stopped speaking when he caught sight of a woman crossing the courtyard. ‘Ah, the lady Fína. You will excuse me? I have promised to go riding with her this afternoon while the light is still with us.’ He hurried after the figure that was disappearing towards the stables.

  Fidelma turned to Eadulf with a long face. ‘This is irritating,’ she said. ‘There is something here which does not seem right.’

  ‘You have said that before,’ commented Eadulf.

  ‘And I say it again now. Alas, I think we still have much to learn.’

  ‘And much to do. We’d better go in search of Fergus Fanat.’

  It was the commander of the guard who told them that Fergus Fanat was in the town below the fortress playing immán, or driving, with two groups that had been formed from the more active guests. Caol seemed more cheerful now that he had been assured by Colgú that he was not being blamed for removing the guard from Ultán’s chamber.

  Although the day continued to be cloudy, at least it was dry and Fidelma suggested they walked down to the playing field, the faithche, a level grassy meadow just beyond the last buildings in the town that was set aside for such games. Eadulf made no objection, so they walked down into the town, aware of some stares as people recognised them. Most were aware that this should be the day of their official wedding and some seemed to wish to commiserate while others were embarrassed as to how to acknowledge them. Fidelma seemed oblivious of the little huddled groups that formed in their wake, the whispered conversations and the looks of sympathy, as if it were some funeral cortége that had passed.