The Lair of the White Fox (e-novella) (Kindle Single)

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘I do not want to accept that something terrible has happened. How can someone so alive be suddenly so dead?’

  ‘Something has happened to her,’ Fidelma confirmed thoughtfully. ‘Yet it is odd, if she has had a riding accident and a thorough search has been made, that there is neither sign of her nor the horse she was riding.’

  A male attendant knocked on the door, entering apologetically at Muirenn’s summons. ‘The water in the dabach is heated for the lady’s bath,’ he announced before withdrawing.

  Muirenn actually looked relieved by the interruption.

  ‘As I say, should you require it we have sleic, soap, scent and linen cloths for drying, lady. Is there anything else you need?’

  ‘I do not think so. I will take my comb bag with me though.’ She moved to her travelling bag and sorted some clothes to change into after the dust of travel. As she followed Muirenn into the bathing room and began to take off her travel-strained clothes, a thought occurred to her and she asked abruptly:

  ‘You spoke of the Prince’s dálaigh. But Orla referred to him as a Brehon. What do you know of him and his qualifications? Is he someone whose judgement is to be trusted?’

  The girl gave a sad grimace. ‘I feel sorry for him. He has two handicaps. The first is his name. However, it does suit him.’

  Fidelma smiled faintly. When Ossen had announced his Brehon’s name was Dergnat, she also thought that it was a joke.

  ‘I hope his manner does not reflect his name?’

  ‘I would say he is very nervous in character,’ the girl replied. ‘I fear he is far too young and inexperienced in matters.’

  ‘Young? But you said Dergnat had another handicap, aside from his name?’

  ‘He was love sick. He used to follow Lúach around like a puppy dog.’

  Fidelma raised her head with interest. ‘He was in love with Lúach?’

  ‘It was sad to watch,’ agreed the girl.

  ‘How did Lúach feel about him? She never mentioned him to me.’

  ‘I once heard her tell him not to behave like a child. That he was only infatuated with her and he would soon grow out of it.’

  ‘When did he come here as Ossen’s legal advisor?’

  ‘About a year ago. He certainly was not what we were expecting when we heard he was trained at Beannchar, the Peaked Hill.’

  ‘Beannchar? Isn’t that a religious community and ecclesiastical college? I am not familiar with all the northern territories and peoples,’ Fidelma admitted.

  ‘I think it is a community in the north. It is on the edge of a territory where they are fierce fighters and raiders. They dwell on a peninsula called the Airds. In fact, the last time this fortress was attacked was by raiders from that area. But that was in my grandfather’s time and I can’t remember details. Brother Máranáin knows something of the history.’

  ‘You think that Lúach did not reciprocate Dergnat’s love?’

  ‘I am sure of it. She did her best to dissuade him from entertaining such notions. During the time Lúach was away at Brehon Morann’s school, he was wandering around entirely lost. The word “languishing” comes to mind. Whenever she returned, he was always following her about, offering to do this or that for her. It’s sad to see a young man like that. Anyway, he, at least, will soon be out of his misery.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘He has told Ossen that he plans to return to his home and resume his studies. I suppose he finally accepted that he was making a fool of himself after Lúach made her feelings clear.’

  ‘I shall want to speak with this young man,’ Fidelma firmly said.

  ‘His chamber is in this building on the floor above the bath house. But, surely, you’ll see him at tonight’s feast?’

  ‘I will,’ Fidelma agreed, ‘although I suspect the conversation will be limited by the presence of Orla if not of Ossen. How did they feel about Dergnat being in love with Lúach?’

  Muirenn shrugged. ‘I don’t think Ossen noticed and as for Orla, it didn’t even occur to her that he felt anything for Lúach. She was more concerned with her own plans.’

  ‘You say Dergnat only came here a year ago? I don’t suppose you know what his qualifications are? You called him a dálaigh. Who appointed him to be Ossen’s legal advisor, especially when Orla refers to him as a Brehon?’

  ‘I would have said his appointment had more to do with Orla than the Prince,’ she replied with a sour grimace. ‘Lúach actually discussed his qualifications with me a few days before … before she disappeared. He had completed five years of law study and was qualified to the level of Sruth do Aill.’

  Fidelma was surprised. ‘But that is a degree from an ecclesiastical college not from a secular one.’

  ‘Lúach told me it was the equivalent of the degree of Cana in a secular college.’

  For a moment or two Fidelma felt a sense of satisfaction that she was far more qualified than the Prince’s lawyer. The vanity was prompted more by Orla’s arrogance than knowledge of Dergnat. However, it meant that she had more legal authority and she realised that Dergnat could not be regarded as a Brehon. She pointed out as much to the girl.

  ‘I remember Lúach arguing the matter with Orla, saying that he was only a minor dálaigh and no Brehon. It seems that it was another of Orla’s conceits to regard him as a Brehon.’

  ‘How does he regard himself?’

  ‘He is only a young man and I feel he is overwhelmed by the enormity of the role he has been placed in. Left to himself, he would probably not wish himself in the role. Since Orla married Ossen she expects everyone to respond to her in a submissive, fawning fashion. She expects them all to prostrate themselves before her. At least Ossen does have the odd flash of rebellion.’

  Fidelma was sadly amused. ‘I had noticed. Perhaps there is hope for Dergnat but from what you say there seems little hope that Orla will mend her ways.’

  IV

  A bell had just ceased sounding when Muirenn came to escort Fidelma to the praintech, or meal house, which was only an extension of the same great hall where she had been greeted by Ossen and Orla. The long table had been placed centrally but only five people appeared to be awaiting her arrival. The elderly Ossen with his petulant wife, Orla, were among them.

  Ossen moved forward as she entered, while Muirenn, having performed her duty, left the hall.

  ‘This is my daughter’s friend, Fidelma of Cashel,’ Ossen introduced her. His voice was tired and lacking in any enthusiasm for the task. ‘I believe you have already met my steward, Sranacháin?’

  The fleshy-faced Sranacháin inclined his head to her but greeted her nervously.

  ‘Let me apologise again for not being prepared to welcome you properly, lady. I hope all is satisfactory and that young Muirenn is serving you well?’

  The impatient Orla could not help intervening to introduce the next person. ‘Brother Máranáin who serves me as my chaplain,’ she said.

  A man with dark features and a sombre expression came forward. He was hardly a few years older than Fidelma. He wore the tonsure of St John, his hair shaved back from the forehead to a line from ear to ear with blue-black hair falling to his shoulders behind. His features were not displeasing. In fact, at first glance, she thought he was quite handsome but, in contrast to his looks, his dark eyes seemed constantly moving so that he did not hold the gaze of anyone for long.

  ‘I serve only Christ and the New Faith,’ he said softly as he greeted Fidelma. She was not sure whether Orla realised the meaning of his quiet rebuke. ‘My chapel is, however, attached to this fortress. In greeting you, let me express my condolences for the news that you have been greeted with. The lady Lúach was much loved by us all.’

  Ossen took control once more. A young man, who seemed to be constantly moving his body, balancing from one foot to the other, alternately rubbing one arm with his other hand, and grimacing as though he had little control of his features, was the final person to be introduced. Even if he learn
ed to control his twitching and be more at ease with himself, he could hardly be called handsome. He appeared to be scarcely out of his teens; an awkward bony figure, pale eyes, mouse-coloured hair and flabby lips above a slightly receding jaw.

  ‘This is Dergnat,’ introduced Ossen.

  Fidelma tried to look solemn. He had certainly been given the right name, she thought, but greeted him with the polite traditional phrases.

  ‘I hear from the Lady Orla that you are Brehon to this household?’ she asked, keeping a straight face which hid the mischief of her question.

  She felt some sympathy as well as satisfaction when the young man showed some independence by denying the title. ‘I am not qualified to be a judge, lady. I would need to advance my qualifications. I simply serve this household as a legal advisor. However, I shall not be here much longer. I am merely waiting for a merchant ship to take me up the coast to Beannchar. There is one due shortly that I am told will anchor in the river here. ’

  Fidelma saw that the young man’s words had certainly incurred Orla’s displeasure because the woman gave an exasperated exhalation of breath and turned to the table, ordering them all to be seated.

  Ossen sat at the head of the table while Orla placed herself at the opposite end. Fidelma found herself next to Brother Máranáin while opposite her was Dergnat seated alongside the steward Sranacháin. It seemed that Ossen and his wife prided themselves on their hospitality for the table was carefully laid. Knives and a lámbrat, a linen table napkin, were provided for each guest. Jugs of water were already placed on the table while a girl, who was the deochbhaire, or cupbearer, came forward to serve stronger drinks. Fidelma noted with interest that she was offered wine as well as mead, the wine showing that Ossen had some degree of wealth. For the moment Fidelma preferred water. She was not so relaxed that she wished to take anything intoxicating. Brother Maranáin, noting her choice, remarked: ‘I must urge you later on to indulge in Ossen’s braccat, a wonderful ale sweetened with honey. It is a good way to finish the meal.’

  The cold dishes had already been placed on the table: some cold meats and the inevitable dish of goose eggs. There were dishes of fruits, mainly apples. Freshly baked corn and barley bread was soon delivered. Then the dáilemain, or carvers, came in carrying the hot meat dishes. Again, the array showed Ossen’s wealth for there was a choice: she saw venison, pork, beef and cutlets of lamb. As dishes were presented, Brother Máranáin was almost overly attentive to Fidelma pointing out the choices to her.

  ‘This is mairt-fheóil, ox meat, which is roasted with wild garlic and basted with honey. I urge you to try it for we pride ourselves in this corner of the world on the excellence of our oxen and cattle herds. You must have heard of our most famous legend of how Medb of Connacht coveted the great Brown Bull of Cualigne and attempted to steal it, which led to the war between Connacht and Ulaidh?’

  Fidelma murmured politely that she knew the story and allowed the carver to place some portions of the meat on her plate. She was then helped to leek and onion mixed with wild garlic and hazelnuts.

  ‘For me, I prefer the pork,’ Sranacháin announced as soon as she was served. The attendant came forward with the appropriate cuts of meat. ‘Pigs are intelligent creatures and I live in hope that one day their intelligence will be transferred to me.’

  There were polite responses at his humour although it was obvious to Fidelma that they had heard his jest several times before. She felt the steward was making the observations to try to cheer the proceedings. But when all was served, a brooding air seemed to permeate the gathering in spite of the steward’s further attempt to lighten the gloom by recounting his whimsical observations on pigs as fractious creatures.

  ‘Is the food to your liking, Fidelma?’ Ossen suddenly asked, in an attempt to stop the continued stories of his steward.

  ‘You serve a well-chosen table,’ Fidelma acknowledged.

  ‘We pride ourselves on such,’ Orla replied regally.

  ‘On my way to my chamber, your cooking house and storerooms were pointed out to me.’ Fidelma thought she should encourage the conversation. ‘They seem quite impressive.’

  It was Brother Máranáin who helped her out. ‘Indeed, the storerooms are well stocked but you should taste the varieties of cheese that our commatóir-maethail produces here. You’ll find the best tanag, the best hard cheese in all five kingdoms. You must get young Dergnat there to take you down to the talam and allow you to sample some of his favourite cheese.’

  Dergnat looked at him with disapproval. ‘It is not my role in this household to make free of the talam and eat the cheeses there.’

  Brother Máranáin laughed good naturedly. ‘Come, young Brehon,’ he chided. ‘Don’t disguise your addiction. Almost since you first came here you have been around the cheesemaker persuading him to teach you how to produce cheese. I swear that you have been in and out of the talam picking away at his produce – goat’s cheese, ox-cheese, cow’s cheese.’

  Orla glanced in annoyance at the religieux. ‘If it is the boy’s interest then it is good to have such additional pursuits, provided it does not interfere with his duties.’

  Ossen decided to come to the matter that was in everyone’s mind. ‘I would imagine that Fidelma, as a law student, has some questions that she wants to ask of Dergnat other than about his interest in cheese,’ he interrupted brutally.

  The young man, Dergnat, glanced up nervously at the Prince and then dropped his eyes.

  ‘It is true,’ Fidelma decided to take her cue, ‘but perhaps it is inappropriate to ask such questions when one is a guest during a meal?’

  Brother Máranáin gave a ‘tutting’ sound with his tongue. ‘No time is inappropriate in the quest for truth. For myself, I am quite willing to answer questions, any questions, due to the simple fact that I know nothing.’ He signalled to the cupbearer for more wine. ‘Alas, even though I have served here for three years, I cannot say that I knew Lúach very well. When I took over the chapel here she was away most of the time at Brehon Morann’s school in Tara. Somehow I do not think she was at all enthusiastic in learning about the Faith. That said, she was a lovely young woman and much admired.’

  ‘My daughter was more interested in law,’ Ossen said quickly, as if in defence of his daughter.

  ‘You must admit, my husband, that the good Brother has a point. Perhaps if she had learned a little Christian humility then …?’

  Fidelma saw Prince Ossen’s jaw tense and so she turned to the religieux.

  ‘When did you last see her, Brother Máranáin? I mean, before she disappeared.’

  The religieux sipped thoughtfully at his drink. ‘I suppose I saw her on that evening, the evening before she disappeared. It was after the evening meal, which I had not attended. She actually came to my chapel. I thought she was anxious about something.’

  Fidelma stared at him for a moment. ‘I thought that you just said that she didn’t seem interested in the Faith.’

  ‘So I did and she was not. But that evening she wanted to ask me a question. She asked whether the Faith specifically instructed obedience to one’s parents.’ He glanced towards Orla and Ossen and gave a shrug of one shoulder. ‘I do not mean to make any reflection but …’

  ‘It’s an interesting question,’ Fidelma observed hurriedly. ‘Why do you think she asked it?’

  ‘Who knows what passes through the mind of a young girl?’ replied Brother Máranáin.

  ‘She did not explain the reason why she asked?’ pressed Fidelma.

  ‘I can tell you,’ Orla said with icy abruptness. ‘It is no secret that the girl and I have been arguing. She was wilful. She wanted to remain at Brehon Morann’s school studying law.’

  ‘She is of the age of choice so, in law, that was a matter for her to decide,’ remarked Fidelma.

  ‘The wishes of her parents have a bearing on her choice,’ Orla replied.

  ‘We felt it would be for her own good that …’ began Ossen, then paused.

  �
��That?’ Fidelma raised her eyebrows interrogatively.

  Ossen looked embarrassed and Orla answered her. ‘We felt she should marry.’

  Fidelma caught a look, almost of pain, cross the face of young Dergnat opposite her. She turned to Orla.

  ‘Did you have anyone in mind?’ she asked.

  ‘She had an excellent suitor in the person of Suibhne, the Prince of Uí Thuirti.’

  Fidelma knew little of the extreme northern territories and so asked for further information.

  ‘He is one of the Uí Néill,’ Brother Máranáin explained quickly. ‘His fortress is at Tulach Oc – the hill of young warriors,’

  ‘Tulach Oc?’ Fidelma had a vague memory. ‘The name seems familiar but …’

  ‘The Blessed Patrick went there and was said to have blessed the inaugural stone of the Uí Néill kings,’ Brother Máranáin supplied. ‘The Leac na Rí.’

  ‘Suibhne rules an influential principality for it is where the northern Uí Kings are inaugurated on the stone,’ Orla said quickly. ‘The Uí Thuirti are the guardians of the Leac na Rí.’

  Fidelma regarded her thoughtfully for there seemed a curious note of almost adulation in her voice when she referred to the Uí Thuirti.

  ‘He is of a worthy lineage,’ Ossen confirmed softly. ‘Yet he was many years older than Lúach.’

  ‘Maturity in a husband is better as a way to control the waywardness of girlish youth,’ snapped Orla.

  ‘Indeed,’ Brother Máranáin added with heavy emphasis. ‘Lady Orla is wise in her observation.’

  The religieux said it in such a way that Fidelma did not know whether he was making a slighting reference to Orla’s own relationship to the elderly Ossen. She felt that Brother Máranáin had little respect for the wife of his Prince.

  ‘You said that you came here three years ago, Brother Máranáin. Where did you serve the Faith before taking over the chapel here?’

  ‘I had the misfortunate to try to preach the Faith to the ungodly of the high hills of Cualigne.’

  Again she felt there was a look of hatred that passed from Orla to the religieux.