A Prayer for the Damned sf-17

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘It was not hard to discover that Muirchertach Nár had a reputation as a philanderer and womaniser. Aíbnat knew it and disliked him. Dúnchad Muirisci knew it and hinted of things that were subsequently repeated in stories that reached even the ears of Abbot Laisran at Durrow. I asked myself this question — why, when Augaire was painting a black picture to persuade me of Muirchertach’s guilt of slaying Ultán, did he not dwell more on this very point? The point that Muirchertach Nár forced his attentions on Searc when she arrived at his fortress in shock and grieving for the loss of Senach. Muirchertach raped her and she, deep in shock and shame, fled to the coast and threw herself from the cliffs. It was Muirchertach’s act that caused her suicide. But Augaire was too much in love with Searc to have her reputation besmirched by revealing it.’

  Brehon Barrán sat back looking even more confused. ‘But we have heard that Augaire did not know this girl before. Why would he be in love with her?’

  ‘Because he fell in love with an image,’ replied Fidelma sadly. ‘It is hard to explain the feelings that motivate a man or woman to this emotion we call love. He saw Searc once in life and then in death and could not get that image from his mind. He did not know who she was. But the image obsessed him. He tracked her identity down and it became a fixation to discover the reasons for her suicide. Ultán’s part in it was fairly clear. But at some stage he learned the reputation of Muirchertach Nár. .’

  ‘I told him.’ It was Aíbnat who spoke. Her voice was quiet and unemotional. ‘Before we set out here, I told Augaire. I knew my husband’s reputation and one night, in a burst of anger towards me, he boasted what he had done with my sister. I told Augaire, knowing that, eventually, retribution would catch up with him.’

  Fidelma turned towards Brehon Barrán and held out her arms in a gesture to show that she could bring no further proof. ‘I have finished except to say that I started to suspect Augaire when he could not refrain from putting a clear sign on each corpse that this was done to avenge Searc.’

  ‘A clear sign?’ The Brehon frowned. ‘What sign? What have we missed?’

  ‘The verse of a love poem written by Searc. It was a symbol of the reason why they died.’

  Brehon Barrán turned to Abbot Augaire. ‘Do you plead a defence? You may choose to be heard with a dálaigh to defend you.’

  Abbot Augaire shook his head.

  ‘Have you nothing to say?’ pressed the Chief Brehon. When Augaire still said nothing, he ordered Caol to take him to a secure room and keep him there until Barrán could speak with him and explain his rights under the law. As Caol was guiding Augaire past where Fidelma was sitting, the abbot paused and smiled down at her.

  ‘Muirchertach Nár thought he had bought me off.’ His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. ‘He offered me the abbacy of Conga as a means of keeping me silent. I took it because I needed time to work out that vengeance. I waited my chance and when it came I took it. I have no regrets.’

  Colgú was sprawled in his chair before the fire, regarding his sister over the rim of a goblet of mulled wine with a quizzical smile.

  ‘I don’t know how you do it, Fidelma. How can you enter the labyrinth of people’s distorted minds and see beyond their lies and deceptions?’

  Fidelma smiled in amusement. ‘I thought that you excelled at brandubh, brother.’

  ‘This is not exactly brandubh, Fidelma.’

  ‘It is the same principle. You have to have a dexterity of the mind. Identify the problem and gather the information and then analyse it. However, I will say this — of all the cases that I have encountered, this one was most frustrating in that there were too many people who had cause to hate Ultán. At first that blinded me.’

  ‘At first?’

  ‘It was only after Muirchertach Nár was killed that I started to see some light. That is not good. I should have been able to solve the first murder without waiting for the second. And then there was the confusion caused by the intrigues of Brother Drón to protect his embassy. I should have seen through that earlier. I had thought that it was Drón tried to mislead everyone with that pagan symbol of the raven’s feather. Of course, it was Augaire who had placed it on Muirchertach’s pillow to make the King look elsewhere for the threat.’

  Colgú shook his head. ‘You are always too hard on yourself. You have heard that Abbot Augaire has escaped and fled from Cashel?’

  ‘I heard,’ she replied calmly.

  ‘It is believed that he is heading for the coast. Probably to the harbour at Ard Mór.’

  ‘He will doubtless take ship for Gaul or Iberia, and vanish into one of the religious communities there. Ah well, maybe it is for the best.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ agreed Colgu. ‘Certainly, Dúnchad Muirsici saw him as an embarrassment. There is already unrest between his family, the Uí Fiachracha, and lady Aíbnat’s Uí Briuin Aí. They are now contesting the kingship of Connacht.’ He was silent for a while and then said, changing the subject: ‘I noticed that your friend Delia seems to have taken Sister Marga in hand.’

  Fidelma inclined her head thoughtfully. ‘I feel sorry for Sister Marga. She is a real victim in all this. I don’t think she will be able to forgive Fergus Fanat for not believing her and she certainly cannot return to the abbey of Cill Ria.’

  ‘Sister Marga has my full permission to stay here,’ Colgú replied. ‘Either here or at Imleach. Both Cashel and Imleach need someone of her talent, able to write a good hand, to copy and translate. We have enough genuine books to work on without resorting to fake ones. Until she makes up her mind, I hear that she is going to stay with Delia in the township.’

  ‘But what of Drón and Sétach? Has Blathmac mentioned what he intends to do about them and Cill Ria? If I were the king, I would do all I could to have that place destroyed and its community dispersed to religious houses where fear and punishment are not incorporated into the rules and beliefs.’

  ‘As you suggested, Blathmac is taking them back to Ulaidh, to Segene of Ard Macha, and telling him of the facts of the case. I think he will advise the Comarb of Patrick that before he starts asserting Ard Macha’s moral authority over the churches of the five kingdoms, he should be careful whom he appoints as his emissary.’

  ‘I do not think that Ard Macha will be strong enough to insist on that moral authority during our lifetimes,’ replied Fidelma with gravity.

  ‘Speaking of Sister Sétach, you never explained to me exactly what she was doing in Dúnchad Muirisci’s chamber when you and Eadulf went to see him?’

  ‘Exactly what they told us she was doing.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘She had gone to see him on Drón’s behalf, Drón believing he had succeeded as the new abbot of Cill Ria, to reach some sort of truce in the disagreement between Connacht and the abbey. Sometimes, even the most suspicious circumstances turn out to have a simple explanation, and those involved tell the truth.’

  There was a silence between brother and sister for a few moments, and then Fidelma asked: ‘I presume that Brother Berrihert and his brothers still have permission to stay in the glen of Eatharlaí?’

  ‘Miach has given assurances that can do so. They can remain there for the rest of their lives in peace if they so wish. But speaking of life — ’ Colgu suddenly grinned, ‘your life, Fidelma — before everyone disperses, we still have several distinguished guests awaiting a celebration.’

  Fidelma coloured faintly. ‘I had not forgotten. I think that you may safely go ahead with the delayed arrangements for tomorrow morning. I’d better find Eadulf so that we can prepare.’

  Eadulf was not in their chambers when Fidelma returned. Only, Muirgen was there, with little Alchú. Fidelma spent a short time playing with the baby before Muirgen took him away to allow her some time to rest. Moodily, she crossed to the window and gazed down into the courtyard. At that moment, the door burst open and an excited-looking Eadulf hurried in.

  ‘Have you heard the news? Apparently Abbot Augaire has fled the fortress. I’ve just been talking to Caol. He was last s
een heading south. No one seems bothered to go after him.’

  Fidelma turned from the window. ‘I don’t think anyone is unduly worried about Augaire.’

  Eadulf stared at her calm features in disbelief.

  ‘You don’t believe that he should be punished? he demanded in surprise.

  ‘Our system is not about punishment but about recompense for victims and rehabilitation for the culprit,’ she reminded him. ‘You should know that by now, Eadulf.’

  ‘I understand that, but. .’

  ‘Ultán and Muirchertach should have faced the consequences of their evil deeds before now. Their Nemesis was Augaire. No one is mourning their passing and no one is going to lament the fact that Augaire has escaped to continue the life that was interrupted when he saw that poor girl, Searc, kill herself. He has probably suffered enough.’

  Eadulf shook his head in bewilderment.

  ‘Can a man really feel such strong emotion for someone he does not even know? You said yourself that he saw her once, passing by, and then he saw her again after her death. Can he really have felt such strength of emotion for her that he waited all these years planning vengeance in her name?’

  ‘Love and hate are strong emotions, Eadulf. They strike in different ways. An idea is born in our minds and the idea then persists; it sometimes becomes uncontrollable. We cannot rid ourselves of it. It cannot be suppressed until we find that we are so obsessed that we are compelled to follow that idea wherever it leads us. Augaire fell in love with a shadow. Perhaps to us it was an insubstantial one, but to him it was very real. He became obsessed by it and was driven by his compulsion. To you and me, it was probably illusory. But then a lot of actions that are precipitated in our lives are but the children of dreams — our dreams or other people’s. Maybe that is what is meant when the fathers of the Faith talked about damnation? Well, I think we should all find a moment in our hearts to utter a prayer for the damned.’

  Eadulf was not entirely persuaded by her argument.

  ‘Talking of love and hate, I suppose Marga and Fergus Fanat will get together now?’ he asked. ‘Even after the hearing, Fergus Fanat still pronounces his love for her.’

  Fidelma turned back to the window where she had been looking down on the courtyard of the fortress below.

  ‘He thinks that he loves her,’ she replied. ‘I am not sure that it is good enough for Marga, because at the very moment she needed the great essential quality of love — belief in the beloved’s integrity and support for her against all adversity — he failed her. How can you love someone you think is a liar and a killer? For Marga, to find that the man who claimed he loved her also disbelieved her, even going so far as to denounce her while claiming it was for her own good. . well, how can Marga ever trust that man again?’

  ‘Do you mean that love must be blind?’

  ‘I mean that love is not a superficial emotion. Love is knowing someone, their faults as well as the good, and, above all, understanding them. Fergus Fanat did not know Marga. And Marga, if you recall, finally recognised that fact. No relationship can be built on mistrust.’

  ‘So there is no forgiveness for him?’

  ‘I would say not,’ confirmed Fidelma, glancing down through the window. ‘In fact, Fergus Fanat has missed his opportunity.’

  Eadulf frowned. ‘You sound very positive about that fact.’

  ‘Come here and look down into the courtyard.’

  Eadulf moved across the room to join her.

  Below he could see Sister Marga standing, her head thrown back and apparently laughing at something a tall, broad-shouldered warrior with dark hair was saying. Eadulf raised his brows and glanced at Fidelma.

  ‘Gormán?’

  ‘Why not?’ She smiled. ‘I understand that the girl is going to stay with Delia for a while before considering where her future lies. I do not doubt that Gorman might convince her that she could have a worthy place at Cashel. Our library stands in need of another good scribe, for the girl writes a fair hand and translates in several languages.’

  Eadulf watched the warrior and the young girl turn and, walking close together, move towards the stables. They could hear the girl’s warm laughter answering Gorman’s masculine tones.

  It suddenly reminded him of something and he turned back to Fidelma. Before he could say anything there was a sharp knock at the door. Eadulf groaned. In answer to Fidelma’s call, the door opened, and old Brother Conchobhar put his head round it. He smiled brightly as he saw them standing together by the window.

  ‘The aspects were contrary,’ he said in an apologetic tone. ‘That was why you had the trouble during these last few days. But planets move on. Like time itself. Now all is well. The aspects are very favourable. It is the right time now. I thought that you might like to know.’

  Eadulf grinned, glancing towards Fidelma.

  ‘It was always the right time, Brother Conchobhar,’ he said.

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