The Shapeshifter's Lair

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘So you have been this way before? Eadulf asked sharply. ‘I thought you said—’

  ‘As I said, not since I was a youth,’ the hunter replied firmly.

  Eadulf caught the warning look that Fidelma gave him and turned with an apology to the hunter. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘but as your tongue is not my own language, sometimes I am inclined to phrase things wrongly. I was just expressing my own fears.’ Only Fidelma realised the irony in his voice.

  Teimel accepted the apology at surface value. ‘I have seen no sign of any trail yet but the ground here is hard, despite the time of year. I suggest we cut across to those woods to the east and follow the easy path back to Láithreach.’

  Enda had ridden a little way ahead when their exchange began and now he held up his hand to attract their attention. He swung off his horse and peered around at the ground before remounting with a smile of satisfaction.

  ‘There are signs here, although not just two riders. Several riders and a cart have passed this way.’

  ‘That can’t be Corbmac and Aróc then,’ the hunter said defensively.

  ‘How do you read those signs, Enda?’ Fidelma asked quickly.

  ‘They are old, much older than yesterday. So, I agree, they are nothing to do with Corbmac and the girl. It looks like a group that were certainly heading over the western shoulder of the mountain, unless they made a turn further on.’

  ‘It was said by Garrchú that the place was isolated and deserted,’ Eadulf could not help adding with a soft emphasis.

  ‘I want to see this deserted valley,’ Fidelma said firmly. She often trusted Eadulf’s intuition and she felt he was suspicious. ‘So we will proceed towards it whether or not Corbmac and Aróc have gone there.’

  Teimel appeared as if he was going to object but thought better of it. He was silent and there was no disagreement.

  They proceeded slowly, following the track. Eadulf took the opportunity to move closer to Fidelma. He did not look comfortable on his new mount.

  ‘It will take me a little time to get used to this animal,’ he explained loudly to Fidelma. ‘I didn’t realise that horses had different personalities.’

  Fidelma could not help a smile. She knew Eadulf disliked travelling on horseback and had been pleased that he seemed to be growing out of this shortcoming – a shortcoming in her eyes – when he grew used to riding on the placid cob she had given him. He had grown so confident that he was able to take their son, Alchú, for his morning ride without having to ask one of her brother’s warriors to accompany them. But there was little advice she could offer him. She found it surprising that some people did not realise animals, especially such an intelligent species as the horse, were possessed of varied personalities, just as human beings were. Well, Eadulf was doing his best with the fact that his new mount was possessed of more spirit and in need of more guidance than the old cob. However, she guessed he had ridden close for another reason.

  ‘Something worries you?’ she asked quietly, picking up on his mood.

  ‘I think Teimel saw those tracks before Enda did. I also saw them, which was why I pointed out that he had not been here before.’

  She did not reply. She had also detected that Enda had been displaying signs of suspicion about the hunter.

  ‘Enda also saw that Teimel uses his left hand.’

  ‘It proves nothing, as I have told you. I have seen him use both left and right with the same ease. He is what is known as comdelb – ambidextrous.’

  They emerged above the tree line of the hill, whose summit was to their east. Enda, his eyes keenly on the tracks now, followed them as they crossed over the western shoulder, continuing north. He and Teimel were very alert as they were now on the bald hillside without any growth of trees to disguise their movements. At least there was no concealment for an ambush. Enda paused on the brow, saw the tall hills spreading out around them, and immediately below them a small valley with some streams crossing it. In the middle was a tiny hill with some ruins on top. It looked like an ancient farmstead, exactly as Garrchú had described.

  ‘Is this the deserted valley?’ Enda asked.

  ‘This little valley is called An Láithreach,’ Teimel said.

  Eadulf frowned. ‘But that’s the same name as the town near the abbey.’

  ‘It is,’ agreed Teimel. ‘The name means a place with an old ruin. There is an old ruined farmstead that has been there since folk were old enough to remember.’

  ‘For someone who has not been here since a boy, you have a good memory,’ Eadulf observed softly.

  Teimel made no response.

  ‘What’s that large hill on the north side of the valley?’ Fidelma queried in a bland voice. ‘I presume you can remember that?’

  ‘As a hunter in these mountains one has to retain as much local knowledge as one can. That is An Mullach Rua – The Red Top. There’s a river rises on it, which courses down into the valley. As you can see from here, it is a desolate and abandoned place with no sign of any mining activity.’

  ‘We’ll go down and take a look anyway,’ Fidelma decided.

  They descended into the valley and the shadows of the hills seemed to cut out the pale spring sunshine, increasing the odd sombre feelings they had been experiencing since they left Garrchú’s fortress. The valley felt cold and it certainly appeared deserted. It was almost devoid of any springtime growth, which Fidelma put down to the fact that its being surrounded by hills excluded sunshine. It was similar to the feeling she had on entering Gleann Uí Máil. It would take more time for warmth to penetrate and make the spaces of verdure between the rocky areas spring to life. There were just a few trees in the valley, mainly yew. As they descended, there was no sign of any other habitation besides the granite stones of what had once been a farmstead.

  It was Enda, peering upwards in case of another threat, who drew their attention to the hill Teimel had called The Red Top.

  ‘There’s a cave there, not too far up. It looks like some earthworks have been dug along the front of it. That means there is a large shelf of land there.’

  They halted and stared up. Enda was right. They turned to Teimel with questioning looks. He seemed defensive. ‘That’s new since I was a boy visiting here. As I said, this valley was entirely deserted then.’

  ‘We should proceed carefully,’ Eadulf cautioned. ‘If that is a mine that was worked recently then there might be hostile eyes watching us. Would it not be wise to check out the ruined farmhouse first before we proceed across the valley and investigate?’

  ‘Good thinking, friend Eadulf,’ Enda agreed at once. ‘Don’t let your enemy position themselves at your back.’

  Teimel frowned. ‘What enemy? No one has used that place since …’ He stopped, realising that he was making a silly comment.

  ‘If someone has been mining the valley, which Garrchú, as well as you, claimed was deserted, then it is just as likely they would be using the deserted building as well.’

  Without another word Eadulf turned his horse and began to lead the way towards the small circular rise and the deserted grey granite of the buildings. Until they grew closer it was hard to see whether it was a farmhouse or just a construction for animals, the whole place was so old and rotting. If there had been a door then it was long reduced to wood pulp and mingled with the earth. The curious thing was that there was a strong smell of decay about the place, despite there being no roof to ensnare the odours. The main walls of the building were blocks of rough granite, no more than the height of a man’s chest in most places. Even Fidelma and Eadulf could see there was sign of recent human use about the place.

  Enda had taken the precaution of drawing his sword before dismounting and moving cautiously into the small complex. Teimel followed, while Fidelma and Eadulf remained outside to take charge of the horses. It did not take Enda long to assess the ruins hid no dangers.

  ‘There have been people here,’ he announced. ‘I do not think they were just miners.’ He carried in his hand som
e lengths of severed ropes. ‘It looks as if someone has been bound by these.’

  Fidelma frowned, taking them from him and holding them up speculatively.

  Teimel said quickly, ‘Probably shepherds or goat herders used them to keep their animals from wandering.’

  Enda shook his head and pointed to the ends of the rope. ‘Those ends were cut, and with a sharp knife. That is a waste of good rope. And just by the ropes I found this …’

  Like a clesaidhi, a conjurer, producing a prize item, he handed Fidelma a small pin brooch of the sort women used to fasten their cloaks on their shoulders. It was an oval silver-framed piece of white enamel with a small cross depicted in small red stones. Fidelma drew in a sharp breath. She had seen it before, or something very like it. It was something her brother had once bought as a gift.

  She sat staring at it for such a time that Eadulf became concerned.

  ‘I think this might have belonged to Gelgéis,’ she finally said in a flat tone. Then she rose. ‘We best take another look around these buildings. We might have missed something.’

  It was not long before Enda appeared around the corner of the ruins.

  ‘We nearly did miss something,’ he said. He beckoned them to join him.

  He walked a short distance to the edge of one of the ruined walls and halted, pointing down in front of him. There was a mound of earth there. It was newly dug. There was no mistaking that the shape and size conveyed what it was: a grave has only one sinister shape.

  Fidelma had paled a little at the possibility that came to her mind. She stood staring at the earth for a little while before looking at her companions.

  ‘I am afraid we need to ascertain who reposes in this grave,’ she said quietly.

  Enda did not hesitate but walked quickly back to his horse. As a warrior he carried certain items that were considered essential on the traditional hosting, or summons to battle. These included a small ernach, a sharp iron digging tool, and a slúasat, a shovel. When the warriors were called to march as a sluagh, an army, with the prospect of a battle in hostile country, they usually went prepared to erect camps or fortify positions. From past experience, Enda, whenever sent to accompany Fidelma on a journey, always included them. Now he returned with the tools and tossed one to Teimel, who caught it deftly. Both men divested themselves of their extra equipment and set to work on the grave mound.

  ‘You really think that this might be the body of Gelgéis?’ Eadulf was horrified by the thought.

  ‘I pray it is not,’ Fidelma replied grimly. ‘But the killing of Brehon Brocc leads me to the conclusion that anything is possible.’

  ‘But it must be some distance from here to the spot where her Brehon was found.’

  Fidelma made no reply. Her face was sombre as she watched Enda and Teimel working at their distasteful task. Knowing how much Gelgéis meant to her brother, as well as the fact that she, herself, liked and had become friends with the girl, she was trying her best to control the premonition of horror that she felt. All Eadulf could do was stand ready in a supportive, sympathetic role.

  With the two warriors working almost in unison it did not seem long before they were well into the grave, which was fairly shallow anyway.

  Enda, who was sensitive to Fidelma’s concerns, called immediately to her: ‘It’s a male.’

  Fidelma heaved a breath of relief. That was not what she was expecting. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘There is one body in the grave, lady. It is a male,’ Teimel echoed Enda.

  ‘Is it her steward, Spealáin?’ Eadulf said, glancing at Fidelma. ‘Don’t forget, Spealáin …’

  ‘I have not,’ she responded sharply. She had realised that only she and Eadulf would know what Spealáin looked like. Resolutely she moved forward to the grave.

  Enda held out his hand as if to stop her. ‘Even if it is a week or more since burial, it might not be a pretty sight, lady,’ he warned.

  ‘You forget I am a dálaigh, Enda, and am used to looking at dead bodies,’ she replied.

  Enda stood aside to allow her to peer down into the shallow defile. It was true that the man who lay buried there was not a pretty sight. Those who had buried him had not been too careful with the blade of their shovel and some of the skull had been smashed and the flesh torn. Fidelma was about to turn away in disgust but then she realised something that caused her to focus on the hair of the corpse. She stood back and motioned Eadulf to come forward.

  ‘When did you last see Spealáin?’ she asked.

  Eadulf was puzzled. ‘Why, the same time as you; about six or seven weeks ago when Princess Gelgéis came on a visit to Cashel and brought her entourage.’

  ‘And you recall the colour of his hair?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She stepped aside. ‘Take a look.’

  His look was brief. ‘That is not Spealáin,’ he declared with some relief in his voice.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Spealáin had greying hair and this man has white hair; white the colour of snow. Also, while the top of this man’s skull has been crushed, I see the jawline is of a rounded shape. I remember Spealáin as having a very pronounced jutting jaw. It was square. No; this man is not Spealáin.’

  ‘Perhaps he is just a goatherd or some such worker?’ suggested Teimel. ‘It is easy to die from some accident or other.’

  Before she could answer, Enda reached forward and began to uncover where he estimated the hands would be under the soil. They watched him in surprise.

  ‘I don’t think he is any type of shepherd, goatherd or even a worker in these mines. Look at his hands.’

  In spite of the burial, the hands were obviously well manicured. They were not the hands of a person who had done any manual work at all.

  ‘Anyway, we can see that this man did not die of some careless accident,’ pointed out Fidelma wearily. ‘He was killed and buried purposefully. But this does not help in his identification. There is not even a ring to identify him.’

  Eadulf was peering closely at the hands, although his expression showed he would prefer not to.

  ‘There is the mark that shows he did wear a ring on the left hand at some time. It must have been pulled off before they buried him. The wearing of such a ring indicates he was a man of some position, although not necessarily a noble who would usually have a chain of rank.’

  ‘Well spotted, Eadulf,’ she smiled. ‘But knowing that does not help us much. So is there anything else?’

  Eadulf shook his head. ‘The clothes he is buried in are of good quality. Certainly he was a man of rank. Interesting that those that buried him did not take those garments off first. That tells us that they were not mere thieves or brigands who would have sold them. The clothes fit in with the appearance of the hands. He was a person of some means.’

  ‘Little point in standing here guessing,’ Fidelma said. ‘Whoever he was, he is not Spealáin and, apart from the brooch, there is no sign of Gelgéis.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you would recognise the body?’ It was Enda who asked the question of Teimel.

  The hunter shook his head. ‘It could be anyone,’ he replied. ‘I don’t recognise him. Not in that mutilated condition.’

  Fidelma thought about it. ‘We can’t even be sure of the man being local. What do we have? A brooch that I think I remember seeing Gelgéis wearing, and some cord that is cut and could have been used to tie the hands of someone. We have the body of someone of status but can’t identify him. So, we have to be careful of making facts out of our suppositions. That is not the way to resolving this riddle.’

  Eadulf looked disappointed.

  ‘It does not alter the fact that something went on here. I don’t mean just this murder.’

  It was Enda who pointed out the obvious. ‘Perhaps the answer lies in or around that cave we can see on what Teimel here calls Mullach Rua.’ He pointed to the dark hill opposite.

  The gruesome find had almost pushed the idea of the mine workings from their thoughts.
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  ‘You are right,’ Fidelma replied shortly and decisively, putting the brooch in her marsupium. She led the way back to their horses and was the first to be mounted.

  ‘Be cautious, lady,’ Enda warned. ‘I should lead the way. We do not know what awaits us there and should be careful.’

  ‘If there is anyone up there who means us harm then they will have seen us by now,’ she replied. ‘Anyway, while we can be vigilant, I don’t see a likely ambush spot ahead of us.’

  Enda insisted on riding ahead in spite of her protest. He was concerned that the route across the valley lay over a stream and through a copse of trees. These were likely spots if anyone contemplated an ambush. They were the only places of concealment for anyone keeping down below the bank of the stream. This stream led straight up to the hills ahead, but Enda soon discovered that another stream lay ahead before the ground rose up the facing hillside. He hoped Fidelma had not noticed his oversight in checking it. Since he now blamed himself for the previous two ambushes, he was conscious of every action that could rebound on him. But Fidelma made no comment as the horses waded across. It was not deep and flowed over a rocky, quartz bed. Here were the first signs of some human occupation and that an area had been used to wash rocks, ridding them of clinging mud in the shallow flowing waters of the stream. Nearby, flattened grass and piles of twigs showed where people had camped and made a fire.

  The cave entrance was not too far above them and, in spite of Enda’s caution, it seemed quiet and desolate. The entrance itself was a ledge from which a wide track descended at an angle towards the east and a high mountain range that led eventually to the valley where the Abbey of Cáemgen was situated and the town of Láithreach beyond.

  There was no doubt that there had been a camp on this little plateau, with signs of campfires and more extensive habitation. There were also abandoned broken tools: picks, axes and shovels. Piles of broken granite and other smashed rocks showed working at extracting the metal ore.

  The riders halted and dismounted. Enda, as cautious as ever, had drawn his sword and approached the entrance of the cave. Then he stood back and sounded disappointed.