Valley of the Shadow

by Peter Tremayne

  Ibor halted, accepting that she was right, and ground his sword, calling on his men to do likewise.

  The warriors of Ibor halted and looked helplessly at their leader for guidance. Ibor simply rested his sword point on the ground before him and gave a sigh.

  Laisre grinned triumphantly.

  ‘I am glad that you are so sensible, Fidelma of Cashel. Now, Marga, open the door for me. Quickly!’

  Marga was still standing in shocked disbelief at Laisre as if she could not believe her abandonment by her erstwhile lover.

  ‘Move!’ yelled Laisre in anger. ‘Do as I say!’

  Orla turned tear-stained eyes to the apothecary.

  ‘For the sake of my daughter, Marga,’ she pleaded. ‘Open the door for him.’

  It was the rotund Cruinn who took a pace forward.

  ‘I’ll open the door for him, lady,’ she offered.

  Laisre glanced towards the portly woman.

  ‘Do so then. Quickly!’

  The hostel keeper, her face set sternly, moved to the door. Then she turned swiftly.

  Abruptly Laisre stiffened. His face contorted. The dagger blade fell away from Esnad’s throat as his grip loosened. Sensing his slackening grasp, the young girl broke away and ran sobbing into the arms of her mother. The chieftain of Gleann Geis stood swaying for a moment. It seemed as though he had suddenly acquired a red necklet. The dagger finally dropped from his nerveless fingers and he fell face forward on to the council chamber floor. Blood began to pump from his severed artery on to its boards.

  Marga let out a series of long, shuddering sobs.

  ‘He was going to betray me,’ she whispered almost in disbelief.

  ‘I know, I know.’ Cruinn gazed at her in sympathy. She was still standing before the door, behind Laisre’s body. There was a large knife in her hand, still stained with the chieftain’s blood.

  Ibor ran forward and bent down, feeling for Laisre’s pulse. There was no need. It was obvious that the chieftain was dead. He glanced up at Fidelma and shook his head. Then he slowly stood up and removed the knife from Cruinn’s limp hand.

  Cruinn turned away and, taking Marga by the arm, led her to a seat.

  Colla had his arm around Orla who was clutching at Esnad. The young girl was shivering with shock at what had happened.

  Only Murgal seemed in total control and he was regarding Fidelma with restrained emotion.

  ‘Truly, there is much barbarism here. Was he also responsible for Dianach’s death … ?’

  ‘In a roundabout way,’ Fidelma confirmed. ‘Brother Dianach knew that Laisre was in the plot with his master, Solin of Armagh. Of course, Dianach was also involved but he thought that Solin’s cause was just, not realising just how corrupt and corrupting it was. He was a mere servant of his master. In many ways he was a naive young man. Laisre went to Dianach after I was incarcerated. He knew I was innocent and was afraid that if I was discovered to be so, then suspicion would come his way. Orla could prove her innocence through Colla and eventually I would realise what I had seen. The fact that Orla and Laisre were twins would eventually lead me to him. Laisre felt that he had to ensure I was found guilty. So he instructed Dianach to purchase the cows from Nemon as a bribe for Artgal to maintain his story about me; to make certain that I was blamed.’

  ‘To escape from his guilt? But why did he kill Solin in the first place?’ Murgal was puzzled.

  Fidelma shook her head quickly.

  ‘It was not Laisre who killed Brother Solin. You forget that Solin was his ally. Without Solin the plot would not work.’

  Murgal was totally bewildered.

  ‘But I thought … ?’

  ‘I was not lying when I told Laisre that I knew he had not killed Brother Solin. Laisre only wanted to ensure that I was made the scapegoat because he knew who the real culprit was. The trouble was that Brother Dianach, once I was released, had brought the attention of the real killer on himself. The real killer mistakenly thought that Dianach and Artgal had somehow become a danger to them. The killer was waiting for Dianach and Artgal at Artgal’s farmstead after the farce of my trial. The killer had prepared a poisoned drink for both Artgal and Dianach, to stop them speaking further. But it was a slow-acting poison. It gave the killer time to send Artgal out of the valley on some pretext, perhaps to escape punishment. But the main purpose was to have Artgal disappear. The killer told him to leave Gleann Geis by the second route along the river path, through the caves, knowing that the poison would eventually act and that Artgal would never come out of the caves alive.

  ‘The killer was then left alone with Dianach, waiting for the poison to work. It was obvious, by the way, why Dianach had to be killed. But, as I say, the poison was slow working. The killer suddenly saw Rudgal, Eadulf and myself approaching the farmstead which Artgal had recently left. There was only one thing to do. Pretending to take Dianach to a hiding place, pretending that we intended him harm, the killer took the opportunity to cut his throat just as he was bending down to crawl into a shed.’

  Murgal was following her argument keenly, nodding as she swiftly made her points.

  ‘I see no fault with this logic. All right. It brings us back to the identity of the killer. From what you have said – it can be only Marga.’

  Marga was even beyond reacting. Her head was still bent with the shock of her rejection by Laisre. Fidelma surprised them all with a negative gesture.

  ‘You must have deduced by now that Marga was in the plot with Laisre to support Mael Dúin’s bid for power. That we can all agree. She was the emissary whom Laisre sent to meet the men of Ailech. Why was she involved? Because she was in love with Laisre. He had promised her marriage. Promised to share his forthcoming power under Mael Dúin with her. Promised to make her his coequal.’

  She paused to let her words sink in before continuing.

  ‘As part of the plan Laisre was to send someone to meet Mael Dúin’s men and show them the best place at which they were to enact their terrible charade of the ritual slaughter. He could not go himself for obvious reasons. The person he sent would have to be someone of commanding position to deal with the men of Ailech and not a mere apothecary. So he had Marga dress in Orla’s clothes in order to give her an appearance of position and she was told how to act the part. She played that part well, even hunting down an escaped prisoner. Mind you, Marga had no love for Christians and so she was quite happy to do so and was not bothered about the fate of the hostages.

  ‘Now as much as she disliked Brother Solin, the last thing that Marga would do was to kill the ally of Laisre before the plot came to fruition. No, there was too much at stake for her, or, indeed, for Laisre, to kill Solin simply because he had insulted her.’

  ‘Who is this killer then?’ demanded Colla, somewhat petulantly. ‘For the sake of our shattered nerves, tell us and let us have done with this awful business.’

  ‘Will you tell them why you killed Brother Solin or shall I, Cruinn?’ asked Fidelma quietly.

  The rotund woman who was sitting comforting Marga did not even stir. Her face was stony.

  ‘Tell them if you must,’ she finally said without emotion and then closed her mouth tightly.

  Marga had given a sob of heartrending anguish as she clutched at the elder woman.

  ‘You? You killed Solin?’

  ‘How could I not do so, child?’ replied Cruinn calmly.

  Marga swung round, eyes wide, looking at each of the company in turn before finally letting them alight on Fidelma.

  ‘I did not know,’ she whispered.

  ‘No. I did not think you did.’ Then she looked at Cruinn. ‘You killed Brother Dianach with much the same stroke of your knife as that with which you despatched Laisre. And you also poisoned Artgal.’

  ‘What nonsense is this?’ demanded Orla, her old poise somewhat recovered by now but unable to follow these new developments. ‘Why would this old woman kill anyone?’

  Colla agreed. ‘That you must explain, Fidelma. Why would th
is old hostel-keeper commit these murders? It is madness.’

  ‘If madness it was, it was the madness of a possessive mother.’

  Cruinn was implacable.

  ‘How long have you known?’ she asked Fidelma.

  ‘A little while now but I could not be sure what Orla’s part in it was. I was still convinced until last night that I had seen her leaving the stable. Once I knew that it had not been Orla, everything began to come together rapidly and Ibor, this morning, brought me the last piece of the puzzle when he reported that he had discovered Artgal’s body in the caves.’

  ‘Will you tell us why Cruinn did this?’ invited Murgal.

  ‘Cruinn is the mother of Marga.’

  ‘Most people in the valley know that,’ affirmed Murgal. ‘That is no secret.’

  ‘Assumption can create secrets,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I am a stranger here. I did not know. Had I known, perhaps some deaths might have been prevented. I had to reason this out for myself. I should have listened more carefully when Cruinn said that she went picking healing herbs with her daughter. Then she later mentioned that she picked herbs for the apothecary. It took me some time to make the link. The apothecary was her daughter. Then I remembered that when Murgal made an advance to Marga at the feast Marga had slapped him and walked out. It was Cruinn who went after her to comfort her, casting an angry look at Murgal.’

  ‘Marga is a beautiful woman,’ confessed Murgal, embarrassed. ‘No harm in paying tribute to beauty.’

  ‘It depends how that tribute is paid. And harm might have been your lot if you had been as blatant as Brother Solin was. You might have ended your life as Solin did if you had pressed your unwanted attentions further. Cruinn wanted to keep her daughter pure for the marriage to her chieftain.

  ‘I should have paid more attention to Cruinn when she was asking about the marriage laws to chieftains. I thought she had some fantasy of her own. In fact, Marga had told her mother that Laisre had offered her marriage. Cruinn was pleased, for she was ambitious for her daughter. But she was slightly concerned and asked me about the law of marriage, especially between chieftains and commoners. Cruinn was protective of her daughter’s interests. Hence her anger at you, Murgal, for insulting her daughter in front of Laisre. Then, when she found out that Brother Solin had tried to force himself on her daughter, her fury was absolute. Not realising that Brother Solin was essential to Laisre’s plans, she saw Solin creeping from the hostel one night and thought she had found her chance for vengeance. She followed him into the stables and killed him. Just then Laisre entered to keep his assignation which concerned their plot.’

  ‘You are right,’ the pudgy-faced woman intervened diffidently. ‘Absolutely right. Laisre came in, even as Solin was falling to the ground. I told him that I had done it for Marga and for their future happiness. He was agitated for a moment or so but then told me to leave, taking the knife with me. He ordered me to clean it so that I would not be suspected.’

  Fidelma took up the story.

  ‘He left the stable immediately and there I saw him wrapped in his cloak and I mistook him for his sister. Now Laisre could not accuse Marga’s mother. He was wondering what to do when I fell by chance into the situation. How perfect it would be if I, of all people, could be successfully accused of Brother Solin’s murder. If I were charged with the murder of Ultan of Armagh’s secretary, it would cause the same friction which Mael Dúin has sought. My brother might even send warriors to secure my release. It would make up for my not responding to the ritual killing in the way he had initially hoped.’

  Cruinn stared at Fidelma dispassionately.

  ‘How did you connect me with the killing of Artgal and Dianach?’

  ‘You left the poison beakers in the cabin. I scented the poison hemlock that had been left in them. You knew enough from your daughter’s apothecary about preparing such a poison. Once I saw blue on Dianach’s lips I knew that he had been poisoned. But you also left an apron in your haste to get out of the cabin with Dianach once you saw us approaching. Even if Artgal had been the sort of person fastidious enough to use such a garment, the apron was too large. Besides I had seen you wearing a similar garment in the guests’ hostel. Then when Ibor told me that Artgal’s body had been found in the very passage which you had told me of, I realised that you had poisoned them both.’

  Not for the first time there was a total silence in the council chamber as those gathered contemplated her horrendous story.

  Murgal spoke quietly to Colla.

  ‘You are now our chief-elect, Colla. The decisions are yours to make.’

  Colla stood uncertainly. He exchanged a glance with his wife Orla before he turned with a questioning expression to Fidelma. ‘Is it true that I am to make the decisions at Gleann Geis now?’ he asked, looking meaningfully towards Ibor and his warriors.

  ‘Now that this mystery has been solved, Ibor of Muirthemne and his men will await your decisions,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘You are still chieftain-elect of Gleann Geis.’

  Ibor brought his sword smartly up to salute the new chieftain.

  ‘Yours to command, Colla,’ he said.

  ‘Then Cruinn and her daughter must be restrained until such time as they can be brought to trial for what they have done; Marga for plotting the betrayal of her people in league with Laisre; and Cruinn for her cold-blooded murders. I would have been inclined to treat Cruinn with leniency due to the passion of her crime had she not gone on to encompass the deaths of the boy Dianach and Artgal.’

  Colla took hold of his wife’s hand.

  ‘If I am approved by the council to be chieftain of Gleann Geis, I will denounce and repudiate Laisre’s pact with Mael Dúin of Ailech and pledge anew this clan’s allegiance to Cashel and its lawful kings.’

  Ibor of Muirthemne was smiling with satisfaction.

  ‘Excellent. That is the report I shall be pleased to take back to Tara. Sechnassuch will be delighted. But be vigilant for this is nothing but a check to Mael Dúin’s ambitions. The northern Uí Neill will not discard their objective. While Muman presents the only obstacle to their dominance over the five kingdoms, Mael Dúin will try to devise new ways of overthrowing Cashel. So be warned.’

  He turned to his warriors.

  ‘Release the men of Gleann Geis and tell them that they have a new chief in Colla. We will then begin our journey north back to Tara.’

  He glanced across to Fidelma.

  ‘It has been … perhaps “pleasure” is the wrong word, but it has been “rewarding” to work with you, Fidelma of Cashel.’

  ‘And for me, with you, Ibor of Muirthemne.’

  Ibor saluted the company again by raising his sword with a flourish before he followed his warriors from the council chamber.

  Colla suddenly pointed to Rudgal, who still stood in the background, wrists tied behind his back.

  ‘And what of him, Fidelma? What charges do you bring against Rudgal?’

  She felt a twinge of guilt for she had almost forgotten the fair-haired lovelorn warrior. She turned to Eadulf.

  ‘That is up to you, Eadulf. It was your life that he threatened.’

  Eadulf asked Colla for the loan of his knife. Hesitantly, Colla drew it out and handed it to the Saxon, hilt first. Eadulf then called to Esnad, who seemed to have recovered from her ordeal quite quickly.

  ‘Take this, Esnad,’ he instructed her, ‘and release Rudgal. Then take him away and speak earnestly with him. Above all, try to explain that you do not care for me any more than I care for you.’

  Esnad coloured a little, her eyes meeting those of Eadulf for a moment before falling away a little in shame. She simply inclined her head and took the knife to Rudgal.

  Ronan had taken charge of Marga and her mother Cruinn and ushered them away. Nemon had departed in the company of Bairsech who seemed almost friendly towards her neighbour.

  Eadulf gave a wry grimace towards Fidelma.

  ‘I was wondering how you would lead us from the maze that I thought I s
aw before me. I think you dumbfounded me as much as anyone here.’

  Fidelma responded with a swift gesture of deprecation.

  ‘You exaggerate, Eadulf. It only seemed complicated because we were dealing with two separate motivations for the wrong doing.’

  Orla came forward, her face still strained from the shock of her brother’s perfidy. She was doing her best to control it and was also a little embarrassed as she stood before Fidelma.

  ‘I just wanted to ask your forgiveness for my attitude when I thought …’

  Fidelma held up a hand to silence her.

  ‘You had every reason to think of me as you did for there is always indignation when innocence is accused. I regret that there was no love in your brother’s heart for you or yours.’

  ‘Poor Laisre.’ The woman forced a reflective smile. ‘Yes, I can say poor Laisre even now. He was ill. I believe this powerful madness was just that – an insanity like a disease, like a cold that one cannot fight. He was still my brother, and I knew him before the disease warped his mind. I shall remember him from that time and not this time.’

  Colla came forward to take his wife’s arm and he smiled contritely at the dálaigh.

  ‘You have taught us many things, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he observed quietly.

  ‘Some that you may profit by, I hope?’

  ‘The meaning of Christian love and forgiveness, perhaps?’ Eadulf intervened brightly. ‘That would be a good lesson to have learnt.’

  Colla roared with mirth so heartily and unexpectedly that Eadulf felt offended.

  ‘No, no, Saxon! That is the last thing that I would have learnt here. Is not Mael Dúin of Ailech a Christian? Were not his warriors who conducted that terrible massacre of the hostages Christian? Were not Brother Solin and the man who sent him, Ultan of Armagh, Christians? Ha! Christian love is the last thing that has been demonstrated here.’

  Colla resumed a more serious expression.

  ‘No, what I have learnt here is something about perseverance in the face of adversity.’

  Taking his wife by the arm, he made for the door of the council chamber. There he paused and glanced back.