The Subtle Serpent sf-4

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘That is what I thought also,’ Eadulf agreed in a rueful tone. ‘But, as Virgil says — dis aliter visum. It seemed otherwise to the gods. There is no escaping destiny.’

  Fidelma felt the old irritation rising in her at his ponderous approach and was about to make a caustic response when she suddenly chuckled at the incongruity of the thought. She had risked much to mount a rescue of Eadulf only to be irritated with him the moment he opened his mouth. Eadulf was regarding her with perplexity.

  ‘Go on, Eadulf,’ Fidelma invited, still smiling. ‘You were in Rome and expecting to stay there for some time.’

  ‘Theodore of Tarsus was preparing for his journey to Canterbury to be installed as archbishop. He had decided to send emissaries to prepare his establishment there. Since the synod at Hilda’s abbey two years ago the Saxon kingdoms have each accepted Canterbury as the seat of their chief bishop and apostle just as you, in this land, have accepted Armagh as the seat of the successors of Patrick.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Fidelma felt a growing irritation again at Eadulf’s lengthy method of reaching the point. ‘But what are you doing here in Éireann?’

  ‘I was just coming to that,’ Eadulf protested in a hurt tone. ‘The archbishop also wanted to send emissaries to the Irishkingdoms to make a peace after the ejection of the Irish clergy from the Saxon kingdoms. He wanted to open dialogue with the Irish churches, especially as he has had communication with many clerics in Ireland who wish to introduce the Roman laws into the ecclesiastical establishments.’

  Fidelma pulled an expressive face.

  ‘Yes; bishops like Ultan at Armagh would welcome such dialogue. But are you saying that you were sent as an emissary to Archbishop Ultan?’

  ‘No, not to Ultan. I was sent as emissary to the new king of Muman at Cashel.’

  ‘To Colgú?’

  ‘Yes, to Colgú. I was to intermediate between Canterbury and Cashel.’

  ‘How then did you land here in this remote part of the kingdom?’

  ‘I travelled from Rome to Gaul. In Gaul I searched the coastal ports for a ship that would take me directly to Muman so that my journey would be that much faster. That was when my luck deserted me. I managed to secure passage with a Gaulish merchant ship which was going to a Muman port where there were copper mines. The ship was going there to trade, as I was told.

  ‘The captain of the merchant ship had a cargo to deliver and swore that when he had done so then he would take me to a place called Dun Garbhán from where I could secure a horse. From there, as I recall, it would have been an easy journey to Cashel. It presented no problem to me for I have spent some years studying in this land and knew vaguely the route …’

  Fidelma knew well that Eadulf had studied both at the great ecclesiastical college of Durrow and at the medical college of Tuaim Brecain and spoke the Irish language fluently for even now this was their common tongue.

  ‘But you said your luck deserted you. What happened?’

  ‘I did not know what cargo was being taken on board. But I noticed that as well as the crew there were many Franks who came aboard. I was speaking with one of them who was quite garrulous. They were, it seems, soldiers but soldiers of fortune, prepared to sell their services.’

  ‘Soldiers?’ Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘What would a Gaulish merchant ship be doing transporting Frankish soldiers to this corner of the five kingdoms?’

  ‘That was also my reaction,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘My Frankish friend was quite boastful of the amount of money he and his friends would be getting. I think he was more open with me because I was a Saxon. It turned out that they were not ordinary soldiers. They were specially trained in the use of artillery.’

  Fidelma looked blank. The word, not existing in Irish, Eadulf had used the Latin word tormenta.

  ‘I do not understand military terms, Eadulf. Explain what this means. Surely a tormentum is an instrument for twisting or winding, a windlass, for example?’

  ‘It is also a military engine for discharging missiles,’ Eadulf explained. ‘The ancient Romans used them quite a lot in their wars. The ballistae was an engine for throwing stones and boulders, so was the catapulta.’

  Fidelma shuddered.

  ‘Thank God such machines of destruction have never been used in Ireland. Here, when warriors fight, at least they stand and face each other with swords and shields, and often the battle has been resolved by single combat between one champion and another. Such machines are an abomination.’ She paused and then looked closely at Eadulf as the implication of what he had said suddenly dawned on her. ‘Do you mean …?’

  ‘Why import men trained in the art of using such machines as the tormenta unless they had those engines of destruction to work?’

  ‘Did the cargo contain these machines?’ Fidelma demanded.

  ‘After the Frankish soldier had become so garrulous, I decided to go down into the hold of the ship and see for myself. The hold was crammed with all manner of such engines of war. The main pieces were catapultae.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Special machines which are drawn by horses into battle. A catapulta consists of a great bow mounted on a box on wheels, rather like a cart. It can fire javelins a distance of five hundred yards.’

  Fidelma now recollected the large skein of gut she had found in the hold of the ship.

  ‘Is this large bow operated by gut?’

  ‘Yes. The bow is strung with skeins of hair or gut. The skein is winched into place by large wooden washers and secured by a wooden pin. It can be further tightened by hand spokes fitted into holes in the edge of washers. The skein is tightened and javelins placed ready. Sometimes these can be set alight for maximum damage. The skein is released by a simple mechanism.’

  ‘How many such machines did you see in the hold?’

  ‘Perhaps twenty, certainly no less. And there were about sixty Franks on the ship.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘I was interested, naturally. But it was none of my business at that time.’

  ‘When did it become your business?’ Fidelma caught his emphasis.

  ‘As soon as we landed on this apparently hostile shore.’

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘The journey to the Irish coast was uneventful enough. We came into the harbour by the settlement. Then some young chieftain came aboard. I do not know who he was but he commanded the captain to unload. The Frankish soldiers disembarked and they oversaw the removal of their weapons. Under the eye of the warriors, slaves were brought aboard to do the heavy work of lifting the machines out of the hold.They were a dirty-looking lot, covered in mud. I later discovered that they usually worked in the copper mines.’

  He paused and after a moment or two, to collect his thoughts, resumed.

  ‘Horses were provided on shore and they drew the engines away towards the caverns from where copper is excavated. Apparently the machines were to be hidden there. They are still there.’

  ‘How do you know this?’ asked Ross.

  Eadulf allowed himself a bitter laugh.

  ‘I discovered it by being a fool. No sooner were the Frankish soldiers and their machines taken off the ship than warriors came on board and seized the entire crew and myself. We were told by this same young chieftain that we were all hostages.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘That defies all the laws of hospitality,’ Ross burst out indignantly. ‘It is outrageous. If merchants can’t trade without fear of being made slaves then the world has come to a sorry state.’

  ‘Outrageous wasn’t the word which the Gaulish captain used,’ Eadulf observed bitterly.

  ‘Wasn’t a resistance put up?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘The surprise was total. While the young chieftain told us that we were now all his hostages, slaves would have been a better word. The crew were put to work in the copper mines but as I was a religieux, I was treated with more privileges than the others. I was taken to a cabin where I found Sister Comnat. I was outraged to find her m
anacled like an animal.’

  Sister Comnat broke in for the first time since they had begun to talk.

  ‘Brother Eadulf is right. I had been their prisoner for nearly three weeks and more. Thanks be to God that you came, sister. I was hoping that Sister Almu had managed to find someone to help us.’

  Fidelma held the elderly woman’s shaking hand comfortingly.

  ‘It was not Sister Almu who warned us.’

  ‘Then how did you come to find that place?’

  ‘Again, it is a long story and, at this moment, I am more concerned to know your story for much depends on my knowing. I understand, Sister Comnat, that you and SisterAlmu set out from the abbey of The Salmon of the Three Wells three weeks ago. What happened?’

  The old librarian hesitated.

  ‘Do you know anything of Sister Almu’s whereabouts?’ she insisted.

  Fidelma decided that she must be blunt.

  ‘I believe that Sister Almu is dead. I am sorry.’

  The old woman was clearly shocked. She swayed a little and Brother Eadulf reached forward a hand to steady her.

  ‘You are among friends, good sister,’ Brother Eadulf reassured her. ‘This is an advocate of the courts. Fidelma of Kildare. I know her well. So do not be afraid. Tell her your story as you told it to me.’

  The old woman managed to pull herself together though she was obviously distressed. She rubbed her forehead with a frail hand as if trying to dredge up the memory.

  ‘Fidelma of Kildare? The Fidelma who solved the mystery of the deaths at Ros Ailithir?’

  ‘Yes. I am Fidelma.’

  ‘Then you are sister to Colgú, king of Cashel. You must warn your brother. Warn him immediately.’ The old woman’s voice was suddenly strident and Fidelma had to place a placating hand on hers.

  ‘I do not understand. Of what must I warn him?’

  ‘His kingdom stands in danger. He must be warned,’ repeated Sister Comnat.

  ‘Let me understand fully; what has happened since you and Sister Almu set out from the abbey?’

  Sister Comnat gathered her wits and took a deep breath.

  ‘Just over three weeks ago I set out with Sister Almu for the abbey of Ard Fhearta with a copy of a book which we had made for them. We reached as far as Gulban’s fortress. We were thinking to rest there for the night. We received hospitality there but the next morning we perceived that there were countless warriors in training around the fort. Moreover, we saw many strange warriors among them.

  ‘Sister Almu recognised Torcán of the Ui Fidgenti in the company of Gulban. We know that the Ui Fidgenti are no friends to the people of Loigde so we asked ourselves what could this mean. Almu found a young woman whom she had once known before she entered the abbey. This woman told us that Gulban had formed an alliance with Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti.’

  ‘An alliance? For what reason?’ demanded Ross anxiously.

  ‘It seemed that Gulban was angered at the decision of the assembly of the Loigde to elect Bran Finn, son of Mael Ochtraighe, as chieftain in the place of Salbach.’

  ‘I know that Gulban argued that he should be made chieftain since Salbach had disgraced the office,’ Fidelma said. ‘I was there at that assembly.’

  ‘Since Gulban did not get sufficient support from the assembly and Bran Finn is now chieftain, it seems that he is resorting to other means,’ interposed Ross.

  ‘Does he plan to launch an attack on Bran Finn with the help of the Ui Fidgenti?’

  ‘Worse still,’ Sister Comnat replied. ‘The Ui Fidgenti princes are very powerful, as you may know. They plan to march on Cashel and overthrow Colgú, the king. In the lands of the Ui Fidgenti, there is an army gathering which Eoganán plans to lead in a direct assault on Cashel. If Colgú is overthrówn, then doubtless Eoganán will reward Gulban by making him ruler of the Loigde and of all southern Muman.’

  ‘Are you sure of this?’ Fidelma was surprised at the duplicity of the Ui Fidgenti even though she knew full well their prince’s long cherished ambition to seize control of Cashel.

  ‘If I did not trust the mouth of the young woman, who had thought we were supporters of Gulban, and if I did not trust the evidence of my own eyes, having seen the warriors of Gulban being trained under the direction of Torcán of the Ui Fidgenti, then my own capture, and that of Almu, was enough to confirm the story.’

  ‘How and why were you captured?’

  ‘Sister Almu and I discussed what we had learned and wondered what best we should do. We are loyal to Bran Finn who, in turn, is loyal to Colgú of Cashel. We realised that we should warn them of this insurrection. But we were stupid for we roused the suspicion of Gulban’s men by setting off back along the road which would return us to our abbey instead of travelling forward on the road to Ard Fhearta, which we had told them was our destination.’

  ‘So Gulban made you both prisoners?’

  ‘Gulban doubtless ordered the deed though we were not confronted by him. We were taken by his warriors to the copper mines where you found me. We were told that we could look after the spiritual and medical needs of the hostages working the mines until such time as Gulban further decided on our fate.’

  Brother Eadulf intervened at this point.

  ‘That is where I met the sister,’ he repeated. ‘It was a week after Sister Comnat’s companion had escaped.’

  ‘Do you know what Eoganán’s plans are against Cashel?’ Fidelma asked Sister Comnat.

  ‘Not in the specific,’ she replied with regret. ‘Sister Almu and I were shackled at the end of each day, just as you found me. Sister Almu, being younger and more vigorous than I, decided that she would attempt to escape. I supported her decision and urged her to take whatever opportunity presented itself for her to escape. If she could return to the abbey and alert the community, that was the most important thing. My rescue could come later.’

  ‘And she was able to escape?’

  Sister Comnat gave a long sigh.

  ‘Not at first. She made one attempt but was recaptured and flogged to ensure we all learnt a lesson. She was beaten on the back with a birch rod! Words are not adequate to describe that sacrilege. It took her several days to recover.’

  Fidelma remembered the welts on the back of the corpse. She needed no further identification now.

  ‘Ten days ago,’ continued Sister Comnat, ‘at the end of the work day, she did not return to the cabin where we were shackled for the night. I later heard that while she had been tending some of the sick, she had, apparently, disappeared — she had escaped into the woods. There was a great furore. However, I believe that she had help in this escape for she told me that she had now made friends with a young man of the Ui Fidgenti who was in a position to help her.’

  ‘That might imply that he had some authority among them,’ Fidelma observed cautiously. ‘You had no warning that she was going to make an attempted escape?’

  ‘A sort of warning, I think.’

  ‘A sort of warning?’

  ‘Yes. As she left that morning she smiled at me and said something to the effect that she was going to hunt wild boar. I can’t quite remember exactly what she said. It didn’t make sense.’

  ‘Wild boar?’ Fidelma was perplexed.

  ‘Anyway, she did not return. I was told that the guards did not even bother to send out search parties after her. Each day I prayed for the success of her escape, although a rumour was spread that she had probably perished on the mountains. Yet I hoped. I hoped for the coming of a rescue party.’ The old woman paused for a moment: then continued: ‘Then, alas, more prisoners arrived, Gauls, and also this Saxon monk, Eadulf, who speaks our tongue so well.’

  ‘What Sister Comnat says makes sense of what happened to me,’ Eadulf added. ‘The capture of the Gaulish ship with the tormenta aboard, that is. I judge these were arms bought by Gulban on behalf of the Ui Fidgenti.’

  ‘Weapons to help Eoganán overthrow Cashel?’ queried Ross, wide-eyed.

  ‘They are good siege weapon
s,’ Eadulf confirmed.

  ‘A score of these terrible engines of destruction, togetherwith warriors from Frankia trained in their use,’ muttered Ross, ‘would rain terror on Cashel. I see it. Such weapons have never been seen or used in the five kingdoms before. Our warriors fight face to face, sword, spear and shield. But with these weapons Eoganán or Gulban thinks to take an advantage.’

  ‘Could the Franks and their tormenta really have such an advantage?’ asked Eadulf, ‘These weapons are well known among the Saxon kingdoms and in Frankia and elsewhere.’

  ‘I have been a merchant for many years,’ replied Ross, solemnly, ‘but when the fiery cross has been sent out by the king of Cashel, I have answered. I was a young man when I fought at the battle of Cam Conaill during the feast of Pentecost. I don’t suppose you recall that, Fidelma? No? It was when Guaire Aidne of Connacht tried to overthrow the High King, Dairmait Mac Aedo Slaine. Naturally, Cúan, son of Almalgaid, the king of Cashel, led the host of Muman, in support of the High King. But his namesake Cúan, son of Conall, the prince of the Ui Fidgenti, supported Guaire. The Ui Fidgenti were perverse even then, always looking for a short cut to power. That was a bloody battle. Both Cúans were slaughtered. But Guaire ran away from the battlefield and the High King was victorious. That was my first taste of bloody warfare. Thanks be to God, it was my last battle.’

  Fidelma was trying to keep her patience.

  ‘What has this to do with the tormenta?’ she challenged.

  ‘Easy to see,’ replied Ross. ‘I have seen slaughter. I know the damage that could be inflicted with such machines. Warriors could be slaughtered in their hundreds and Cashel would have no defence. The fortifications of Cashel itself could be breached. The range of such machines of destruction is, as the Saxon says, over five hundred yards. I know from what I have heard while trading in Gaul, such engines of war made the Romans almost invincible.’

  Fidelma regarded them all sombrely.