Master of Souls

by Peter Tremayne

  It was not long before the naomhóg turned and went racing ashore with Gáeth and Gáimredan bringing it almost to the very spot they had set out from. And looking at the eastern sky Eadulf realised that they had set out when the sun had gone down in the west and now there was a light in the east. He was exhausted and wondered how Gáeth, his companion and the warriors who had taken the oars were able to stand.

  With quiet instruction, Gáeth hid the oars at the top of the shore by some trees. Then the men lifted the naomhóg on their shoulders, balancing bottom upwards, and set off down the path to Loch Gile. Fidelma, Sister Easdan and Esumaro came behind while Eadulf was given the task of carrying Gáeth’s leather bag.

  They walked in silence and kept that silence even after they had deposited the boat by the loch shore and moved to the forge.

  As if by common consent, the first task was banking the fires at Gáeth’s dwelling house and then, without more ado, still in their sodden clothing, they spread themselves around it and were all asleep within moments.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It was a little after midday when Eadulf awoke and found the others also stirring from their exhausted slumber. Gáeth and Gáimredan were already preparing food that smelled appetising over the fire while Fidelma was also up and washed. Eadulf excused himself and went to the cold stream outside and splashed his face in a perfunctory manner before rejoining them.

  The winter’s day was bright and sunny, yet the cloudless sky meant that it would be cold again. Snow lay on the mountains and there were still traces of a frost in the shadowy parts of the buildings around Gáeth’s forge. In the paddock at the back of the forge it seemed that the horses had been fed already.

  To Eadulf the previous night seemed like some kind of nightmare. He mentally repeated his oath never to take to the sea again. Apart from a few greetings no one among the company spoke until after the meal was eaten and the fire was stoked and burning brightly again. Then they sat round the central hearth in a circle and finally Fidelma invited Esumaro and Sister Easdan to tell their story.

  It was Esumaro who told his tale first. Of the storm that had driven his ship into the long inlet that would have led him to the safe anchorage outside the abbey of Colmán. But he described how he had been lured on to the rocky shores of the islet by a false signal and his ship dashed to pieces. He went on to graphically recount how the survivors of the Sumerli had been killed on the shore and how he had hidden himself before making it across a sandy strait to the mainland in the darkness and then had fallen into an exhausted sleep. He ended with being woken by a group of religieuse.

  It was then that Sister Easdan took up the story of how they were on their way to the pilgrimage shrine on Bréanainn’s mount when they came upon Esumaro. A short while later, they were taken prisoner by a band of warriors who killed the Abbess Faife.

  ‘Tell us who led these warriors,’ instructed Fidelma, wanting to get down to detail.

  ‘There was a man whom the men called Olcán,’ replied Sister Easdan immediately.

  ‘While my men were being killed on the shore where we were wrecked, I heard the killers speak this name - Olcán,’ added Esumaro. ‘The warriors were the wreckers and they became our captors. I owe my life to the good sisters who disguised me, pretending that I was also one of their religious brothers on the same pilgrimage. I called myself Brother Maros lest they found out the name of the captain of the ship they had wrecked.’

  Sister Easdan was looking troubled.

  ‘While Olcán clearly led the warriors, I don’t think he was really in charge.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ asked Fidelma encouragingly.

  ‘There was a small person among them from whom Olcán appeared to take his orders.’

  ‘Describe this person,’ Fidelma invited, not revealing that she had already had a good description from Ganicca.

  ‘We never saw his features,’ the girl replied. ‘He was on horseback but clad from head to foot in grey robes, rather like a religious, but he wore no crucifix round his neck.’

  ‘Can you describe him further?’

  ‘A slight, bent figure, speaking in a high-pitched, almost whining voice.’

  ‘But you never caught sight of his face once?’ pressed Eadulf. Esumaro shook his head.

  ‘But I can tell you his name,’ he said suddenly, making them all turn to look at him. ‘When we stopped at a village among the mountains after we had been captured, one of the villagers - an old man - pointed to him and called, in my hearing, the name Uaman.’

  Eadulf sat back shaking his head.

  Conrí. let out a long, deep breath.

  ‘It makes sense if Uaman the Leper still lives,’ he observed. ‘Now we know with whom we are dealing.’

  Fidelma did not seem perturbed.

  ‘Esumaro, did any of the company, the warriors, ever address the man as Uaman?’

  It was Sister Easdan who replied.

  ‘It was just as Esumaro said. The old man in the village seemed to recognise him. But Olcán was the only person who was allowed to address him. Olcán simply called him “master”.’

  ‘Master?’ echoed Fidelma. It was an odd form of address in the five kingdoms of Eireann for it meant more of a teacher, a spiritual guide and leader, than one of rank.

  Sister Easdan nodded.

  ‘I think that he was an evil man for, at the village where we stopped at in the mountains, he ordered the warriors to fall on it and sack it. They killed many people.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘There seemed no reason that I could see,’ Esumaro replied. ‘It was done out of sheer ill-will.’

  ‘Where were you taken after that?’

  ‘We were marched north through the mountains until we came to the sea again,’ Esumaro continued. ‘I knew we had crossed the peninsula and had come to the broad bay with the port that lies not far from Ard Fhearta on the northern side. I had sailed several times into that bay.’

  Sister Easdan reached forward and laid a hand on the Gaulish sailor’s arm.

  ‘But don’t forget that before we came to the bay, our party met that other ugly-looking warrior.’

  Fidelma raised her head in interest.

  ‘What warrior was this?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sister Easdan replied. ‘But it was obvious that this man had been expecting us for he was waiting at a spot where there was a memorial stone, a large stone with a cross inscribed on it, not far from a river which we had forded.’

  ‘So you believe that the meeting had been arranged between your captors and this man?’

  Sister Easdan nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘He was certainly waiting for us. He greeted Olcán like an old friend. We were halted and told to rest awhile. I saw Olcán draw the man aside to bring him to this man they called the “master”. They engaged in some conversation and then the master took a small bag from his saddlebag and handed it to the warrior. He seemed to be thanking them and then he turned, mounted his horse and rode away. He took the western road.’

  ‘You seem to have a sharp eye, Sister Easdan,’ Eadulf commented. ‘Are you sure he went westwards’?’

  ‘Indeed, he did.’

  Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment.

  ‘Can you describe anything further about this man? You called him ugly.

  “Ugly is the word I think of.’ replied Sister Easdan. ’He was a tall, burly-looking man. He had a mass of red curly hair and a beard. He also wore something I have never seen before. It was a … like a picture, painted on his arm. His right arm, I think.’

  Fidelma leant forward quickly with a gasp of interest.

  ‘Do you know what sort of picture?’

  ‘I can’t be sure. Only that it was something wrapped round a sword. Creatures. I think.’

  Fidelma sat back and glanced at Eadulf.

  ‘That is a description of Slébéne’s trén-fher, his personal champion,’ he replied in answer to her unasked question.


  ‘This small bag that you say the “master” gave to this warrior … what did it look like to you?’

  Sister Easdan paused and thought carefully.

  ‘Just a small bag, although the contents seemed heavy.’

  ‘Slébéne is involved in this matter,’ Eadulf said. ‘This confirms it. Perhaps he is being paid by this man … the master.’

  ‘I think we can agree that Slébéne has some involvement,’ Fidelma concurred. ‘His champion, whatever his name is, would not be acting on his own. He would do nothing without his chief’s permission. However, in law we cannot find a person guilty on such evidence. But the law will accept that there are grounds for suspicion.’

  ‘But if Slébéne is involved in this matter, it would explain a lot,’ Eadulf pointed out.

  ‘That is true. But first we have to find out what this matter, as you call it, is. What is involved here?’ She turned back to Sister Easdan and Esumaro. ‘What happened next? What happened after this warrior rode off?’

  Esumaro glanced at his companion as if seeking permission to continue with the story.

  ‘It was then that this person called the master also left us.’

  ‘He rode off in an easterly direction along the shore and we saw no more of him after that,’ added the girl.

  ‘He rode away alone? None of the warriors went with him?’ asked Eadulf.

  ‘None.’

  ‘And what did Olcán do then?’ queried Fidelma.

  ‘He and his men took us to a sandy shore. A short way out we saw a large warship at anchor,’ replied Esumaro. ‘The women and myself were rowed out to the warship. We were brought to an island, the Island of Seanach, as I later learnt, and taken ashore. There we found a dozen or so hermits who used to live on the island. They, too, were prisoners of these men.’

  ‘Was nothing said to you during this time about why you had been made captive? No reason was given for your capture?’

  ‘Our captives spoke not a word to us except to say “do this”, “do that” or to hit us if we moved too slowly. They told us nothing of who they were or what they wanted,’ explained Sister Easdan. ‘We learnt that when we reached the island.’

  ‘I see. Go on, then.’

  ‘With the hermits, there was not enough shelter for everyone and our captors set up tents for us behind the chapel. They gave us hardly any warmth or shelter. Nights were spent in freezing conditions and it was almost joy to be given work during the day. However, it could have been worse. The hermits had built a wall around their settlement and this enclosing wall had been made exceptionally strong - it was seven metres thick in places. That, at least, stopped the harsh winds from blowing us away.’

  ‘There were two small oratories in which the warriors used to sleep themselves. Some of their number remained on the ship,’ Esumaro added. ‘But there was always someone on guard over us to raise the alarm if we disobeyed. Olcán slept in a clochán, one of the small round stone huts near where the old hermits had their souterrain for storing food. There was always someone ensuring that we worked and did not slack.’

  Eadulf was puzzled.

  ‘What work was there to do on that small island?’ he asked.

  ‘It was the reason why these men, these swine, were there,’ Esumaro replied bitterly. ‘We were brought there as slave labour to cut and polish stone.’

  ‘Cut and polish stone?’ Fidelma’s eyebrows arched.

  Sister Easdan was apparently unaware of the surprise the announcement had caused.

  ‘That was the interesting point,’ she said. ‘How did these men know about us?’

  Fidelma looked frankly bewildered.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Sister Easdan realised that she had been assuming knowledge.

  ‘Did you not know that our task at Ard Fhearta was to cut and polish stones that were brought in to the abbey from other parts of the country? Abbess Faife had chosen us to go on the pilgrimage this year because we all worked in the jewellery workshop making necklaces and brooches for the abbey to trade.’

  ‘Ah.’ Fidelma suddenly realised what was meant by the word stone. ‘You mean that these stones were lec-lógmar, precious stones that are cut to shape and engraved for personal ornaments …’

  ‘ … or used by artists in their ornamental works. Red jasper, rose-coloured quartz, jet, amber, diorite …’

  Fidelma’s eyes widened slowly in understanding.

  ‘So are you saying that all the religieuse that accompanied Abbess Faife had worked on cutting and polishing these stones in the abbey?’

  ‘Of course,’ Sister Easdan said. ‘Each year Abbess Faife chose certain groups to go on the pilgrimage. This year she had chosen us workers in stone.’

  Fidelma peered accusingly at Conrí.

  ‘No one told me that those abducted held any special position at the abbey,’ she commented in irritation.

  ‘I did not know this either,’ Conrí. protested. ‘I did not know they were stone polishers. The abbot never told me.’

  Eadulf had turned to the girl. ‘And this was what you were made to do on the island?’

  ‘Even worse, we were made to use, as tables, three of the rectangular burial platforms, quartz-covered leachts, under which the old leaders of the community were buried.’ Sister Easdan shivered and crossed herself. ‘They made us work on their graves as if they had been nothing but slabs of wood.’

  ‘Why not deny that you were workers in precious stones?’ asked Eadulf.

  ‘They had obviously found out who we were and what we did,’ Sister Easdan responded. ‘That’s why they seized us and took us to the island - so that we could work for them.’

  Esumaro leant towards Fidelma.

  ‘I have been captain of a merchant vessel for many years. I know the trade between here and Gaul. I can tell you that the stones I saw on the island - what do you call them, lec-lógmar? - were valuable beyond anything I have seen elsewhere. Amethyst, topaz, emerald and sapphire … never have I seen such riches before.’

  Eadulf looked doubtful.

  ‘Where would such precious stones come from?’ he demanded. Gáeth the smith, who had been listening intently to the questioning, smiled gently.

  ‘Do not be surprised, Brother Saxon. Such stones as these are to be found, often in abundance, in these mountains and the coastal areas. They are extracted from clefts between the great rock surfaces, tiny shining crystals in the sandstone cliffs. They are difficult to find but now and again a rich seam of them comes to light. They are very expensive for artisans to use. I know that Ard Fhearta has its own craftsmen who use the stones that these sisters cut and polish to embellish crucifixes and chalices and other icons for your Christian church.’

  ‘But emeralds, sapphires …’ began Eadulf sceptically.

  ‘Believe me, Brother,’ Esumaro said earnestly, ‘I tell you I have seen several boxes of those glittering gems. The unworked crystal was brought to the sisters and when they had done with it the stones were stored in boxes in the chapel. The man, Olcán, and his master are amassing a fortune.’

  ‘So these stones are local? Do you know where exactly they came from?’ asked Fidelma in curiosity.

  ‘They would not tell us,’ Sister Easdan said, ‘but we found out that some of the hermits had been made to work on the far side of the island. We believe that there was a seam there where the crystal was plentiful. It was clear purple stone, amethyst. I am not sure where they brought the other in from. But as Esumaro says, there were some sapphires and emeralds and a few topazes.’

  Eadulf glanced at Esumaro.

  ‘You did not possess the cutting and polishing skill of the sisters, so what did you do?’

  ‘I simply acted as a general handyman,’ the sailor replied. ‘I lifted and carried. Towards the end, though, I think they suspected that I was not really a religious.’

  ‘Why was that?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘Well, when I was first taken captive Sister Easdan intervened after th
ey recognised me as a Gaul. She explained that I was a noted scholar, and I gave them the name of Brother Maros. When our captors pointed out that I wore no tonsure, Sister Easdan’ - he smiled quickly at her - ‘claimed that I was a follower of the Blessed Budoc of Laurea, and his followers did not wear tonsures. She said I had been with them some time at the abbey of Ard Fhearta.’

  He paused.

  ‘Very well, go on,’ Eadulf said encouragingly.

  ‘At first they seemed content enough with that explanation. Truly, I had never heard of Budoc of Laurea. Sister Easdan quickly instructed me on the march through the mountains. Budoc had apparently become Bishop of Dol over a hundred years ago. That is in Armorica - which we are now calling Little Britain because of the countless refugees from Britain who have come to live in there since they were driven out by you Saxons.’

  A colour sprang to Eadulf’s cheeks.

  ‘I am not responsible for what my ancestors did,’ he protested.

  Esumaro chuckled. ‘Is there not a saying about the sins of the fathers?’

  Fidelma laid a hand on Eadulf’s arm.

  ‘We are in Muman, not Britain, Esumaro. Let us concentrate our minds on the immediate matter. You said that your captors were initially content with the explanation that you were a member of the religieux. This implies that they were not content later. What happened?’

  ‘I had the feeling that this strange person, the one called the master, was watching me for some time after we were captured. It is hard to explain. Several times I glanced in his direction but it was difficult to see anything with the hood of the robe drawn down. There was nothing to show which way his eyes were turned. But I had this feeling …’ He paused and shuddered. Then he continued: ‘I saw this Olcán talking to him and soon after, when we had paused on our march, Olcán came over to me and started asking me questions.’

  ‘Such as?’ prompted Fidelma.

  ‘Such as how long did I claim I had been at Ard Fhearta. Whom did I know there and so on. I presumed that one of the sisters had slipped up and told them that I had not been at Ard Fhearta. I said that there must have been a mistake about what had been claimed. I said that I had been at the abbey of Colman and after the pilgrimage I would be going to Ard Fhearta.’