‘Warriors!’ Conrí snorted. ‘They were brigands from Sliabh Luachra.’
Ceit’s jaw dropped in astonishment. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Continue,’ Fidelma snapped in irritation. ‘They went directly to the abbey, you say? Do you mean that Gormán has been taken there?’
‘He was.’
‘Where is he now?’ she wanted to know.
‘Still in the abbey – they did not bring him here. I alerted Brehon Faolchair, of course. He waited a while, thinking the prisoner would be returned to him, but when no word came from the abbey, he asked me to accompany him there.’ He paused for a moment. ‘It was the aistréoir – the doorkeeper, Brother Éladach – who opened the gates but he said he had strict orders not to admit anyone. I could see that Brother Éladach was unhappy at this for I have known him for some time and know that he is an honourable man.’
‘I presume, Ceit, that you will eventually come to the point.’ Conrí’s voice was slow and studied.
‘I am telling you,’ complained Ceit. ‘Brehon Faolchair demanded to see Gormán as it was his duty by right of law. Brother Éladach appeared to agree with him on his rights as a Brehon but could not let him pass. Abbot Nannid had issued strict orders. He had declared governance of the community by the rules of the Penitentials. Therefore, Brother Éladach said he could admit neither the Brehon nor me.’
Fidelma was almost speechless. ‘He refused a Brehon entrance?’
‘At that moment,’ went on Ceit, ‘the abbot’s steward arrived – a smirking man whom I dislike. He confirmed that Brother Éladach was obeying the wishes of the abbot, who was then resting from the ardours of his journey. When Brehon Faolchair pressed him about Gormán, he replied that – I quote his words – “the murderer was being held under guard until such time as the abbot disposed of him”.’
Aibell almost fainted and would have fallen, had not Eadulf caught her.
Fidelma turned to Eadulf and said, ‘Take Aibell to our chamber and see she is attended to. Don’t leave her.’ She watched as he helped the girl across the courtyard and then turned back to Ceit. ‘In what way did he mean “disposed of”?’ she asked.
Ceit grimaced. ‘I only tell you what was said. The abbot’s steward added that the abbot would explain matters to Prince Donennach after he had rested from his trip. Brehon Faolchair felt there was nothing to be done until the abbot makes an appearance and explains himself.’
Conrí was grim-faced. ‘It seems we must prepare.’
‘Prepare?’ Ceit echoed uncertainly. ‘For what?’
‘You saw the four men who provided escort for Abbot Nannid?’ Conrí said. ‘We have told you they were brigands. Well, Abbot Nannid met with their leader at Sliabh Luachra.’
The guard commander looked from Fidelma to Conrí, an expression of bewilderment on his face.
Conrí put it in simpler terms. ‘I think we are going to be attacked by the men of Sliabh Luachra. We know they are now within the vicinity of this township.’
‘What? You really believe that Gláed intends to attack us?’ Ceit was incredulous. ‘Even my lucht-tighe, the household guard, could defeat the brigands of Sliabh Luachra if they come out of their lairs.’
‘I do not question your training or your courage, Ceit,’ said Fidelma. ‘However, I do question the fact that we do not know exactly how many men Gláed has, nor his exact purpose; nor – which is worse – who else he is in league with in this fortress other than, it seems, Abbot Nannid.’
‘How many men do you have here, Ceit?’ Conrí enquired.
‘The household guard are not currently up to full strength but are a company of maybe fifty. The rest are posted on the hills as sentinels.’
Conrí was worried. ‘And I have fewer than ten fighting men.’
‘Should we ask the prince to issue a summons for a slúagud?’ asked Ceit.
The slúagud was the general summoning of clansmen raised by individual chieftains when the territory and its prince was under threat.
‘I doubt there is time for that,’ Conrí said. ‘But as we know where Gláed’s marauders are, I would advise that sentinels be doubled.’
They left Ceit as the guard commander set about following the orders of the warlord, and they went to the great hall.
Prince Donennach and Brehon Faolchair were just entering the hall as they came in.
‘Have you heard?’ were Brehon Faolchair’s opening words.
‘I have,’ replied Fidelma grimly. ‘Abbot Nannid has imprisoned Gormán in the abbey and refuses to hand him over.’
‘For the time being,’ Prince Donennach added.
‘Eadulf has just told us that Abbot Nannid had a secret meeting with Gláed and his marauders, and that it was Gláed himself who handed over Gormán as prisoner to him,’ said the Brehon.
‘The escort that Abbot Nannid brought into this township were four of Gláed’s men,’ Conrí said curtly. ‘We should prepare for the worst.’
Prince Donennach slumped into his chair. His pale and strained features showed his apprehension.
‘How do you know this?’ he asked.
‘We saw them together,’ replied Conrí.
‘We have witnessed the destruction wreaked by his marauders,’ Fidelma told the prince. ‘A woodsman was killed and his cabin burned. A farm was likewise fired, animals stolen for food for the band, and the farmer and his wife both killed. We managed to rescue Aibell, but Gormán was captured by Gláed and then handed over to Nannid, who seemed most friendly with the robber chief.’
‘And the guard who was bribed to help Gormán escape from here, and then escaped himself, is also one of Gláed’s men,’ put in Conrí.
‘So Abbot Nannid is working in collusion with Gláed to overthrow Prince Donennach?’ It was a terrible shock. Brehon Faolchair was aghast.
‘The abbot has the right to be called to account and explain his own involvement,’ Fidelma stated. ‘He must now release Gormán to the custody of Brehon Faolchair.’
‘I have already been to the Abbey of Nechta to demand custody,’ Brehon Faolchair said helplessly. ‘He refused.’
‘I heard the story from Ceit.’ Fidelma was angrier than she had ever been in her entire life.
Brehon Faolchair’s cheeks assumed a red glow of mortification as Fidelma ignored him and spoke directly to Prince Donennach. ‘I suggest that you send your bodyguard to disturb Abbot Nannid’s rest.’ Without waiting for an answer, she added: ‘I will withdraw so that my companions and I can refresh ourselves after our journey here. On my return I shall expect to see Abbot Nannid and his steward here before you, explaining themselves, and Gormán placed in your custody.’
She did not even wait for an acknowledgement from the depressed-looking prince but stormed out of the hall and made for the guests’ rooms. Eadulf and Aibell were waiting for her; they had been joined by Enda. A young female attendant was standing by, looking nervous.
‘We want water for washing,’ Fidelma demanded in ill-humour and when the girl had hurried off, she said to her companions, ‘Eadulf, you and Enda will share the room next to mine. Aibell will stay here with me. I do not want any of us separated until we have sorted out this mystery.’
They had washed and changed by the time there came a discreet knock on the door of their chamber. It was the young girl attendant.
‘If it please you, lady,’ the young girl mumbled, ‘Prince Donennach requests that you and Brother Eadulf join him in the great hall.’
‘Is Abbot Nannid in attendance?’ she asked.
‘He is, lady,’ confirmed the girl.
‘Is the warrior Gormán there also?’
‘I overheard Ceit saying that Abbot Nannid has refused to hand him to the custody of Brehon Faolchair. But will you come, lady? They are waiting.’
‘We’ll be there directly.’ Fidelma turned to Enda, saying, ‘Aibell had better stay out of the way. If Abbot Nannid has presented himself without Gormán, then he must have some secret plan, so if you think
there is any danger, I’ll leave it to you to exercise good judgement.’
‘You may trust me, lady,’ the young warrior replied.
As they went down to the great hall, Fidelma confided in her husband, saying, ‘I am not sure what astounds me more – the fact that Abbot Nannid has the boldness to present himself before Prince Donennach or that he apparently defies him.’
‘Something is not right,’ Eadulf agreed. ‘As you say, it seems that he has some strategy of which we are ignorant.’
The atmosphere of the gathering in the great hall was tense.
Prince Donennach, still looking exhausted, slumped in his chair of office. His sister, Airmid, sat next to him; Brehon Faolchair in front and just below the dais as protocol dictated. Conrí stood behind his prince as usual, but there were several other warriors stationed in the hall, with Ceit among them. At the table, predictably, were Prior Cuán with his steward, Brother Tuamán, seated to the left, while to the right sat Abbot Nannid and his steward, Brother Cuáneáin. The abbot did not seem a whit abashed and wore a complacent smile on his thin features.
‘Where is Gormán?’ Fidelma demanded immediately, barely glancing at Abbot Nannid.
It was the steward, Brother Cuineáin, who replied. ‘Where he should have been all this time. In a cell awaiting punishment.’
‘You have no right to hold him in the abbey,’ Brehon Faolchair told them. It sounded as if he had raised the point before.
Abbot Nannid rose to his feet. ‘Since you have been negligent in pursuing the interests of justice by allowing a base murderer to escape, it behoves me to protect our people, both physically as well as spiritually,’ he declared.
‘Does your spiritual and physical protection involve dealing with a bunch of brigands, thieves and cut-throats?’ Fidelma decided to get straight to the heart of the matter. ‘There are witnesses to your meeting with Gláed of Sliabh Luachra at the Hill of Truth. Following that meeting, Gláed handed you his prisoner, Gormán, and you came here with four of Gláed’s ne’er-do-wells as your escort.’
There was a moment’s silence and then, to everyone’s surprise, Abbot Nannid started to chuckle. Even Brother Cuineáin looked puzzled for a moment and then, as the abbot continued to laugh, he seemed to feel that he should join him with a wan smile.
Brehon Faolchair finally leaned forward and said firmly: ‘This is a serious charge, Abbot Nannid. Gláed is not only a thief and killer but he is an enemy to the Uí Fidgente and a threat to the peace of this princedom. Do you admit that you met with him and his marauders and had dealings with him?’
Abbot Nannid said, ‘I mean no disrespect to you, Prince Donennach. I am simply amused by the feeble attempts of the sister of the King of Cashel who, a few years ago, waded in the blood of the Uí Fidgente on Cnoc Áine, to claim that I am an enemy to my own people!’
Prince Donennach raised his head to look long and hard at the abbot. ‘You deny that you met Gláed and had dealings with him?’
‘I have every intention of telling you the truth of that encounter.’
‘Then before you do,’ intervened Brehon Faolchair, ‘let me say that it is not merely the lady, Fidelma of Cashel, who brings evidence of this event but Conrí, warlord of the Uí Fidgente, who was with Fidelma and her companions as a witness.’
Brother Cuineáin made a lewd sound. ‘It is well known that lord Conrí of the Ford of Oaks has been an intimate of the lady Fidelma for many years.’
Eadulf was on his feet amid the gasps of disapproval from those present. He was so enraged that he ignored the protocol that he could not speak until invited.
‘I could forget I wear the cloth of the New Faith long enough to disobey the ruling of Our Lord and not turn the other cheek,’ he snarled.
Abbot Nannid rose to his feet and threw out a protective arm as if to shield his steward from attack.
‘Peace, Brother Eadulf,’ he said mockingly. ‘You misinterpret the words of poor Brother Cuaineán. Let us put it down to your Saxon lack of fluency in our good tongue.’
It was Conrí himself who responded. ‘I did not misinterpret the words, Nannid, so do not accuse me of a lack of fluency in my mother’s speech. Also, friend Eadulf speaks our tongue as well as any native of the Five Kingdoms.’
‘I would also point out once more that I am an Angle, not a Saxon,’ Eadulf hissed. ‘I am an hereditary gerefa of the Land of the South Folk in the Kingdom of the East Angles.’
At this point, Abbot Nannid gave his steward a slight but meaningful nudge and the man reluctantly stood up.
‘Forgive me for my poor use of words, Conrí of the Ford of the Oaks,’ he said, trying to sound sincere but only succeeding in sounding sycophantic. ‘I meant no offence to you. But is it not well known that you have often helped the dálaigh from Cashel? Did she not win your friendship when she solved the murder of your brother, Dea, and the murders at Rath Raithlen many years ago? Did you not help her when the Venerable Cináed was murdered in the Abbey of Ard Fhearta? And were you not on hand when she came here in pursuit of a would-be assassin of her brother, the King—’
‘Whose assassin came from the Abbey of Mungairit,’ Eadulf interrupted, angered further by being omitted from the apology.
‘… when she discovered a conspiracy against Prince Donennach,’ Conrí continued. ‘A conspiracy that came out of Mungairit and involved Gláed.’
Abbot Nannid’s eyes narrowed at the implication but he allowed his steward to respond.
‘The point I was making in my own clumsy fashion,’ he blustered, ‘is that you may be considered biased under law.’
‘Under whose law?’ Conrí asked pleasantly. ‘The law of the Five Kingdoms – or that of Abbot Nannid?’
Abbot Nannid turned to Prince Donennach with a smirk on his face that Eadulf would have liked to remove with his fist.
‘I am sure that this company will accept that my steward spoke without thought,’ he said in oily fashion, ‘not realising his words could be misinterpreted.’
Prince Donennach waved an impatient hand. ‘Nevertheless, Abbot Nannid, it does not answer the fact that Conrí was a witness. Do you deny that you met Gláed, leader of the brigands of Sliabh Luachra, and from him secured the prisoner to bring him back to Dún Eochair Mháigh with the help of his men?’
‘I do not deny it,’ replied the abbot, unperturbed.
Fidelma felt Eadulf look at her. It was obvious that the abbot had some excuse ready but she could not see what, and this put her at a disadvantage.
Brehon Faolchair was clearly troubled. ‘As you do not deny this, perhaps you will explain.’
‘Of course,’ the abbot said coolly. ‘That has been my intention all along until we were sidetracked on a matter of ego.’
‘Proceed,’ Brehon Faolchair instructed quickly, aware that Conrí had clapped a hand to his sword hilt.
‘When I left this fortress, after the murderer of Abbot Ségdae demonstrated his guilt by absconding from his cell and fleeing with the woman, Aibell, my only intention was to go to Cnoc Fírinne, the Hill of Truth, on a church errand to meet with a Brother Feradach. He has a chapel on the slope of the hill.’
‘What urgent need did this Brother Feradach have that you had to leave here with your steward?’ Fidelma asked.
Abbot Nannid hesitated but Brehon Faolchair said: ‘It is relevant information to your story.’
‘Brother Feradach served me at the Abbey of Mungairit. You may know that I have remained here, at the Abbey of Nechta, for a while. I have presided over its transformation from a loose group of believers in the New Faith to an enclosed community which will one day become influential and will bring prestige and wealth to this place. However, I am still aware of my duties as Abbot of Mungairit. Therefore, I have been collecting the dues owed to my abbey and took a small amount of gold and silver to Brother Feradach, who was going to carry it on safely to Mungairit. This was to save me making the arduous journey myself.’
It was Fidelma’s turn to sound am
used. ‘Are you trying to tell us that you went to this Brother Feradach’s chapel on the Hill of Truth bearing gold and silver for him to take on to Mungairit? That, purely by chance, you fell in with Gláed, whom you already knew from the conspiracy at Mungairit? Gláed with forty or fifty marauders from Sliabh Luachra whom you just happened to meet? Did they greet you as an old friend and give you charge of their prisoner with warriors to guard him because they believed in the law?’
‘It does not sound plausible,’ Prince Donennach sighed.
‘Put in such a way as the honey-tongued advocate from Cashel likes to paint the story – and, of course, she does it for effect – it is not plausible,’ Abbot Nannid agreed carelessly. ‘Nevertheless, truth is often implausible. But it is a simple story. While I was at the Hill of Truth, Gláed and his warriors did arrive by chance. They had a prisoner, Gormán of Cashel, whom they were determined to kill. I intervened, explaining the circumstances as to why I sought him, and asked that the prisoner be released into my custody.’
At this Conrí gave a low chuckle. ‘And did Gláed say – “Of course you may have my prisoner, Lord Abbot. I have always obeyed the Church and the law.” Then you bade each other farewell and went your respective ways?’
Abbot Nannid was unruffled. ‘You have obviously learned the art of tábhachtach …’ He paused to savour the word which Eadulf knew meant the art of sarcasm. ‘No doubt you picked it up from your friend, the dálaigh. The truth is that we had a long negotiation and we were able to make a bargain. I bought the prisoner and the services of four guards for a period of three days.’
‘You use the word “bought”. You have proof of this exchange?’ enquired Brehon Faolchair.
‘My steward here was witness to it.’
‘He would be,’ muttered Fidelma in a low voice but one which everyone heard.
‘As good a witness in truth as your own,’ Brother Cuineáin replied angrily.
‘May we ask what sum did Gláed settle for, in exchange for handing Gormán over to you and for hiring out the services of his killers?’ Fidelma wanted to know.
Penance of the Damned (Sister Fidelma) Page 25
