Penance of the Damned (Sister Fidelma)

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Hiding one’s real feelings is called diplomacy,’ admonished Fidelma. ‘Anyway, not all the Uí Fidgente are bad. Look at Conrí, the Uí Fidgente warlord.’ They had shared several adventures with the tall warrior, who had become a friend. ‘Come, Eadulf. Let us say our farewells to little Alchú and then join Enda who, I am told, is even now preparing our horses for the journey.’

  The sun was nearly at its zenith on the day after they had left Cashel when Fidelma halted her grey-white pony, named Aonbharr after the magical horse of the Ocean God, Mannanán Mac Lir. Turning to her two companions with a satisfied smile, she announced, ‘It’s not far now. If I remember this track well, the fortress of the Prince of the Uí Fidgente is beyond those hills across the valley. We’ll soon be there.’

  The midday sun was warm. Glancing around at the scenery, Eadulf said: ‘Perhaps there is a stream where we could stop awhile and take the opportunity of the etsruth?’ The etsruth, sometimes called the middle meal, was the light snack taken when the sun was highest in the heavens.

  Head to one side, Fidelma considered the suggestion. ‘You are right. We don’t want to arrive at the prince’s fortress in a state of hunger and agitation. There must be a stream or spring down in the valley here. We’ll stop the moment we find one.’

  The day was not unduly hot for the time of year but the sky was blue with only a few fleece-like clouds scudding high above, and it was warm enough to wish for cooling water. They had been passing along the high track across the hills, which was intermittently encroached upon by trees and shrubs. Blackthorns formed a boundary to this stretch, while beyond were the straggling shapes of native pine, with areas of alder and hazel, giving way to glimpses of gorse and bracken. Beyond that were some cultivated areas of barley, the crop somewhat yellow and shrivelled after a cold, rainy spring. They saw areas where a lone farmer was cutting grass and trefoil ready to dry and stack as fodder, and once they encountered a couple of men sawing down a tree. Greetings were exchanged but the trio had not stopped in their westward progress.

  As the trees began to thin out into more open countryside, Fidelma recognised the shape of the distant hills and knew they were approaching the southern territory of the Uí Fidgente. Across the valley and beyond the next hill and they would be in sight of the River Máigh and the bend on the river where rose Dún Eochair Mháigh, the fortress of the Prince of the Uí Fidgente.

  Sounds from the nearby grasslands – the loud grating ‘kerrx, kerrx’ cry of the traonach or corncrake, startled Fidelma. She turned to watch it rise into the sky, red-brown, with its weak, floppy flight and dangling legs. Its cry reminded her of two rough sticks rubbing together. As her eyes followed the ungainly flight of the bird, they dropped to what she thought at first was an odd cluster of dark clouds around the top of a hill. She soon realised it was smoke.

  Eadulf had spotted it as well. ‘A farmer must have lit a bonfire atop that hill. It’s an odd time to burn crops.’ Then it occurred to him that no farmer would burn crops on a hilltop.

  Enda chuckled. ‘Breo telchae,’ he grunted.

  Eadulf had not heard the term before and asked what it meant.

  ‘It’s a signal fire on a hill. But what it signals and to whom, I do not know.’

  ‘The smoke seems to rise in regular little puffs,’ Eadulf observed.

  ‘Lady!’ Enda’s cry was a low warning. The young warrior moved forward slightly, his hand falling to his sword hilt as his eyes narrowed to focus down into the valley before them. ‘A rider is coming this way at a gallop. He must have been hidden by those rocks below us.’

  Fidelma and Eadulf peered down the long, low slope into the valley.

  ‘It doesn’t look like a warrior,’ Eadulf said, screwing up his eyes.

  ‘The rider is coming from the direction of Dún Eochair Mháige,’ said Enda. ‘Whoever it is, they are in a great hurry.’

  ‘And certainly punishing that poor horse.’ Fidelma disapproved. As a good horsewoman herself, she knew that forcing a horse to a gallop up a steep hill for no apparent reason was good for neither man nor beast. Why was the rider in such a desperate rush anyway? There were no signs of pursuit; no cause for him to punish the beast to such an extent.

  They decided to halt and wait for the rider to come to them. They soon realised that it was a woman – no, more a young girl – crouching low over the neck of the beast.

  ‘That girl seems familiar!’ Eadulf exclaimed as the figure drew nearer.

  ‘It’s the friend of Aibell whom we met at Dún Eochair Mháigh,’ confirmed Fidelma in surprise. ‘What was her name?’

  The girl was almost on top of them when she drew rein on her horse. It came to a halt, rearing back on its hind legs, lashing out with its forelegs before dropping back to the path on all fours, snorting and blowing from its exertions. The rider was little more than twenty years of age and her bare head was a mass of black hair; her skin fair and with pretty features which now seemed to be moulded into an expression of relief. Yet along with that relief was still something tense about her expression.

  ‘God be thanked, lady!’ she cried, moving her horse closer to Fidelma. ‘One of the Uí Fidgente guards told me that the signal fire meant riders from the east were approaching. I was hoping it might be you. I wanted to intercept you before you reached the fortress.’

  Fidelma glanced in astonishment at Eadulf before she replied, ‘Why would you think it was me on this road – and why would you want to meet me before I arrived at the fortress?’

  ‘I was instructed that I should do so.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘By Aibell, of course. We prayed that you would come, lady.’

  Fidelma exchanged another quick look of surprise with Eadulf before turning back to the girl.

  ‘I have no understanding of what you are saying. Aibell and you prayed that I would come – but why?’

  ‘Have you not heard?’ the girl almost shouted in her anxiety. ‘Abbot Ségdae has been murdered.’

  ‘I know – that is precisely why we are on the road to the fortress. What has this to do with Aibell?’

  The girl gave a loud, sobbing gasp.

  ‘Have they not told you? Do you not know who has been judged guilty of the abbot’s murder?’

  ‘No, I have not been told,’ Fidelma responded quietly. A thought suddenly came to her. ‘Are you saying that it was Aibell who killed Abbot Ségdae?’

  ‘Of course it was not Aibell!’ Had the girl not been on horseback, she would have doubtless stamped her foot. As it was she made an expressive movement with her arm. ‘It is Gormán who has been found guilty,’ she snapped. ‘Gormán, the warrior who accompanied you to Dún Eochair Mháigh when we first met. It is Gormán who has been charged with the murder of Abbot Ségdae. Gormán whom they are going to execute.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  They found a small spring by which to rest and water their horses, within the shelter of some woodland not far from the main track. Fidelma, after fighting to control her flood of questions following the shock of the girl Ciarnat’s announcement, had managed to also calm the reactions of her companions and the near hysteria in which Ciarnat had given them the news. No more should be said, Fidelma insisted, until they had found a spot to relax and could hear the whole story from start to finish.

  It did not take Enda long to find the rock pool, fed by a spring and protected on one side by a clump of hazels with their wide green leaves forming a natural windbreak. Most of the nuts had vanished, probably removed by mice, birds or perhaps even passing people, for the nuts had long been regarded as a delicacy as well as the ancient and mystical source of knowledge. This was a good spot because it also gave the travellers a view through the trees of the track across the valley towards their destination.

  Their horses had to be attended to first; given water and something to graze upon. Only when that was done did they turn to their own needs. Fidelma handed the container of strong liquor that Enda carried to the still-shaking young gir
l. She took a long draught and it seemed to steady her nerves. They sat by the spring on convenient boulders and, by common consent, allowed Fidelma to start the questions that needed to be asked.

  ‘Firstly, where is Gormán now and in what condition?’ Fidelma tried to make her voice devoid of emotion but it shook slightly. Gormán was the only son of her friend Della, as well as having served in her brother’s bodyguard for many years. The warrior had faced danger and hardship on many of her travels with Eadulf.

  ‘He is imprisoned in Prince Donennach’s fortress.’ Ciarnat spoke with some hesitation as if first gathering her thoughts. Her mouth quivered but she was able to hold her feelings in check and to answer clearly. ‘He is physically well and has not been ill-treated … well, perhaps a little when he was handled roughly on being taken a prisoner by the prince’s guards. But the prince’s judge, Brehon Faolchair, is a scrupulous man and I think it was he who advised the prince to send to Cashel to report matters before uttering sentence.’

  Enda said angrily, ‘Whoever he sent failed to tell us that the commander of the King’s bodyguard was being held for murder.’

  Ciarnat turned to the young warrior: ‘He is innocent! He did not do it.’

  ‘I could have told you that without knowing the details,’ growled Enda, who had long admired his comrade and commander. ‘We are warriors of the Golden Collar, sworn to the warrior’s code, not murderers!’

  Fidelma interrupted with a quick gesture of her hand. ‘Ciarnat, I think we had better start from the beginning. You say that you were instructed by Aibell to come and greet us. What has Aibell to do with this matter? A few months ago, just after the feast day of Brigid, Aibell departed from Cashel. She did so at the same time as a young man called Deogaire – the nephew of old Brother Conchobhar, whose sister had married a man from Sliabh Luachra. Deogaire decided to return to the west, and Aibell left Gormán, who was in love with her. Perhaps it is at that point you should commence your story?’

  The girl sat with bowed shoulders and gave a deep sigh. ‘There is little in the telling,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Such as there is, let it be told,’ advised Fidelma.

  ‘As you know, my friend Aibell had reason to be grateful to Deogaire. He helped her escape from the evils of Sliabh Luachra where she had been sold into bondage by her own father. Perhaps because of that, she felt that she owed him something. Perhaps, for a while, she even thought that she was in love with him. But that was a false love, merely gratitude. She did not mean to harm Gormán.’

  ‘What is meant and that which results are often opposite matters,’ Eadulf observed dryly.

  Fidelma stirred uncomfortably, remembering something of her own past relationship. Then she said: ‘Go on.’

  ‘What Aibell told me was that when you came back from the Land of the Uí Fidgente, bringing a resolution to her story, she was never happier. She was living at the farmstead of Gormán’s mother, Della. Gormán and she grew close. Then Deogaire appeared at Cashel. She remembered what she owed him; that she would not be free and happy, had it not been for him. She also had a longing to visit her mother’s home on the banks of the River Máigh. I think she wanted to see where she had been raised, to pay her respects to the shades of her mother. She also wanted to see me again as we had been the closest of friends when we were young. It was wonderful to renew that friendship. In addition, she planned to visit her uncle Marban.’ Ciarnat paused, adding, ‘It is hard to grow up with only distant memories and without truly knowing any members of one’s own family. When Deogaire said he was going back to Sliabh Luachra – since Fidaig, the evil chieftain in whose house she had been in bondage, was dead – Aibell told me that she felt the urge to travel back with him.’

  ‘Do you know if she had explained all this to Gormán?’

  ‘She said tried, but, he was too angry to listen. He did not understand. He thought that she was going with Deogaire because she was in love with him.’

  ‘And she was not?’

  ‘No, she was not. She simply travelled in his company. When they arrived, they came to find me. As you know, I serve as an attendant in the fortress of Prince Donennach. I was so happy to see Aibell again. They then journeyed to the mill of her father’s brother, Marban. She knew, from you, that Marban had killed her father. But she also knew that it was her father who was responsible for the ills suffered by her poor mother, Liamuin – that it was her own father who had sold her as a bondservant to the tyrant Fidaig of Sliabh Luachra. Aibell wanted to know something of her real history. It was only natural. Most of all, she wanted to see where her beloved mother was killed near Rath Menma.’

  ‘Surely Gormán would have understood this if she had explained it to him?’ Eadulf said, puzzled.

  ‘She told me that she did not get beyond the fact that she intended to travel with Deogaire to Sliabh Luachra. Gormán refused to listen to the rest. He had made up his mind that she preferred Deogaire over him and closed his ears to her true reasons for leaving Cashel. She, in turn, became so angry that she did not bother to challenge him. So she left feeling furious and thought that she would take pleasure in punishing him for his arrogance.’

  ‘Did you know that he was desperately unhappy when she left? He could not bear her absence, to the point that he asked permission from the king to set out after her?’ Fidelma said.

  The girl shook her head. ‘She did not know then, but found out later. But I suppose that she had her pride, as did Gormán.’

  ‘So are we saying that pride on both their parts caused his lack of communication between them? That it was all a misunderstanding?’

  ‘Put like that, it sounds silly now, but—’

  ‘It is not uncommon,’ Eadulf observed. ‘Many of the disputes between men and women begin the same way. Misunderstanding followed by pride. Lacking the ability to climb down and admit to one’s own faults. Each one seeking to hurt the other in retaliation for his or her own hurt.’

  Fidelma made a familiar impatient gesture with her hand. ‘So she left with Deogaire. We know that Gormán decided to follow her. You said that she found out about Gormán later. I presume that means that they must have met up with one another?’

  Ciarnat smiled brightly and nodded. ‘Yes, they did. Aibell and Deogaire set out for Marban’s mill, and none was more surprised than I when, nine days ago, Aibell and Gormán arrived at the fortress of Prince Donennach, reunited and happy in each other’s company.’

  ‘Did she tell you how this came about?’ Fidelma queried.

  ‘Aibell told me that she arrived at Marban’s mill in safety. The old man was pleased to see her and had a lot of stories to tell about her mother, Liamuin, and her family and that of her father, Escmug. I understand that most of it confirmed what you had told her when you returned to Cashel.’

  ‘So she stayed with her uncle. What happened to Deogaire?’

  ‘He left her to travel on to his own home in the mountain fastness of Sliabh Luachra.’

  ‘Was it at Marban’s mill that Gormán caught up with her?’ prompted Fidelma.

  ‘Aibell told me that one day, Gormán came riding up to the mill,’ Ciarnat said. ‘Aibell was beside herself with joy. When I saw them together, I could see that the hurt and anguish between them was soon mended.’

  ‘Then why did they not return to Cashel?’ intervened Enda.

  ‘Simple enough. They were married.’

  ‘Aibell and Gormán are married!’ exclaimed Eadulf.

  The girl glanced at him defiantly. ‘Was there any reason why they should not be?’

  ‘Except that Della, Gormán’s mother, and his close friends and comrades would have liked to have been there to wish him well,’ Enda said crossly. ‘It is unlike Gormán to ignore his family and friends.’

  Fidelma found herself in agreement with him. ‘Gormán is Della’s only son,’ she added gently. ‘It is unusual.’

  Ciarnat nodded slowly. ‘I do not think that Aibell and Gormán made their decision lightly. Yet Ai
bell felt it right and Gormán has a great heart and believes deeply in the spirit of place.’

  ‘I am not sure what you mean.’ Eadulf was trying to understand. ‘Marriage is marriage. What has spirit of place to do with it?’

  ‘They decided to go up to Rath Menma, where Aibell’s mother, Liamuin, hid for a while and then met her death. Old Marban went with them to show the way – although, of course, Gormán had also accompanied you there when you went to investigate. They found the farmer and his wife, the old couple, Cadan and Flannair, whom you met. They even found the half-crazy woman, Suanach, who had witnessed Aibell’s mother being killed. The couple sought a local Brehon, and it was there in the ruins of Rath Menma, before those witnesses, that they were joined. I am sure Aibell’s mother in the Otherworld looked down and gave her blessing.’

  Ciarnat’s eyes were unusually bright with emotion as she recounted this. After a moment’s pause she continued: ‘Aibell told me that they had spent some time exploring the territory of her ancestry. Finally Gormán announced that they must return to Cashel. He had his duties to fulfil with King Colgú and Aibell wanted to start a new life as his wife to help his mother, Della. Gormán also felt they should receive a blessing at the chapel in Cashel in front of his mother and his friends. He hoped that they would understand why the ceremony at Rath Menma had been so important.’

  There was a short meditative silence before Eadulf asked: ‘How did things go wrong? How is it that Gormán is now claimed to be guilty of Abbot Ségdae’s murder – and what is Aibell’s role in this?’

  Ciarnat took a deep breath. ‘It was after they left Rath Menma that they encountered some merchants on the road and heard some news from them which was apparently so disturbing to Gormán that he decided to head for the fortress of Prince Donennach to warn him before he journeyed on to Cashel.’

  ‘To warn him of what?’ Fidelma asked. ‘What news was it that so disturbed him?’

  ‘He was told that someone called Gláed was leading the hordes of Sliabh Luachra and intent on vengeance.’