‘Angle,’ interrupted Eadulf casually. ‘I am from the kingdom of the East Angles.’
Gadra swore, conscious that he had almost been mesmerised into complying with Eadulf’s wishes. ‘I do not care if you come from Magh Da Chéo …’
‘Oh, I don’t think it would do for a Christian to come from the Plain of Mists,’ chided Eadulf, recognising one of the names for the pagan Otherworld.
‘Silence!’ Gadra turned to the scrawny brugh-fer. ‘I presume that you have a talam here for storage?’
A talam was a large underground chamber, a storage cellar, common in large buildings like this. The innkeeper pointed to a trapdoor in the middle of the floor without comment.
‘Can it be locked?’ demanded Gadra.
‘You can see there it has a bolt to secure it.’
‘And there is no other way out once the trapdoor is secure?’
‘None.’
‘Raise the trapdoor.’
The man did so and Gadra took a pace forward to look down. There was a flight of wooden steps descending into darkness. He smiled and turned back to Eadulf and Enda.
‘Get down there, the both of you.’
‘Oh, can’t we take anything to drink or eat with us?’ Eadulf asked. ‘We are starving.’
‘Get down!’ Gadra shouted in fury.
‘It’s dark. What about a stub of candle? Surely you can give us that?’
Gadra struck Eadulf across the cheek with the flat of his sword. It did not cut but made a nasty red weal on his cheek.
‘Have a care, friend Eadulf,’ Enda muttered. ‘These people do not seem possessed of a sense of humour.’
Eadulf took his les and moved to the trapdoor in the floor. If the truth were known, he had been goading the man so that he would not notice Eadulf pick up the bag. Eadulf knew there were things inside that would be of use. While Eadulf was going down into the talam, Enda was subjected to a quick search for any other weapons he might have had. His sword and hunting knife had already been removed. Then he was pushed down after Eadulf. The trapdoor, pulled by its own weight, crashed shut above them.
The underground chamber was large and one could almost stand up in it. In fact, they did not need a light for the wooden planks of the floor of the inn – the roof of the cellar – were uneven and light permeated through the gaps between the boards so that they could see well enough. They stood for a few moments looking about them in the gloom. Sacks and boxes were piled up everywhere. There was certainly no other means of exit than the trapdoor. That was going to be difficult. Even if they could prise it open, they would emerge into the middle of the inn.
‘What now, friend Eadulf?’ Enda sighed. ‘There is no way out of here without being seen.’
‘Don’t give up so soon, Enda,’ Eadulf replied. ‘Remember what Hannibal said – aut viam inveniam aut faciam? I’ll either find a way or make one.’
Enda sniffed dolefully.
‘I don’t know who Hannibal was,’ he said sourly.
‘As a warrior, you should know who he was,’ Eadulf advised. ‘He was the great general of Carthage who nearly defeated Rome.’
‘Ah,’ Enda sighed, sounding cynical. ‘Nearly? Much sadness in that word “nearly”. It is not much of an achievement in life to nearly do something.’
‘Cairenn!’ Fidelma whispered urgently, bending over the body of the girl. ‘Cairenn! Can you hear me?’
The girl stirred with a groan, turning her head slightly on the bed of damp straw and blinking a little in the fluttering light of the oil lamp that Fidelma held over her.
Fidelma hesitated, then placed the light to one side. She had spotted a water barrel. She reached for the small square of linen she always carried tucked into her criss, or belt. Then she moved to the barrel and immersed it in the brackish water. Returning, she wiped the girl’s face. With the blood wiped away, the bruises and abrasions were not as shocking as they had at first appeared. The girl was slowly coming round.
‘Who are you?’ she finally asked, after Fidelma had found a mug and brought water to wet the girl’s lips, advising her not to drink for the water might be contaminated.
‘I am Fidelma of Cashel,’ she replied, holding the lamp so the girl could see her face.
‘Ah! So you followed me from Finnbarr’s Abbey?’
The answer was obvious, so Fidelma did not reply. Instead she asked, ‘What happened? Who did this to you?’
Ciarran eased herself up on the straw. She seemed to quickly recover from her ordeal and take in her situation.
‘He was called Tialláin by his men.’
Fidelma compressed her lips. ‘How did you come to this place?’
‘You saw how I came to flee the abbey. I could not talk to you but I left you a clue in my room. I presume you went to Artgal?’
‘Artgal confirmed you had been there but said you were heading to Cluain. So we followed you here – but I have no understanding of why you have laid this trail for me to follow.’
‘Let me start in this way. I did not murder Abbot Nessán. I am companion to the High King’s wife, Grella. We came to Cluain together, where I left her and, on her instruction, went to see my cousin Nessán, who, I was told, had certain information for me to take back to Grella.’
‘So you were making your way back to Cluain when this happened?’
‘I was taken prisoner by the people here.’
‘Tell me, first, how you arrived with Grella at Cluain initially?’
‘To be accurate, I left the lady Grella at the entrance to the valley in which Cluain lies. Apparently Abbot Antrí is also a cousin to Grella. She was to stay at the abbey of Cluain while I went to see my great-uncle Nessán.’
‘Why did you and Grella leave Tara?’
‘Grella told me she had received a secret message from Abbot Nessán, telling her that there was a plot by the Eóganacht to assassinate her husband, the High King, Cenn Fáelad, and provoke a war. She said she had been instructed to seek refuge with her cousin Abbot Antrí at Cluain and send me to see Nessán, who would then tell me all the details of the conspiracy.’
‘And did he?’ Fidelma asked, thinking that the story seemed a curious one.
The girl shook her head. ‘When I arrived at the abbey, old Nessán was bewildered. When I told him of the message Grella had received, he said that he had sent no message. He told me that you had sent a message telling him that you were coming to see him on behalf of the High King, and said that he would wait until you arrived before he discussed the matter with me. I knew something was wrong but I did not know what.’
‘I had a message from the High King, asking me to go to the abbot,’ Fidelma said. ‘I was placed under a geis not to discuss it.’
The girl frowned. ‘A geis from the High King?’
Fidelma went on: ‘Tara keeps pigeons that are trained to fly to certain places, just as the Greeks and Romans have done – still do. Messages travel fast these days.’
‘Nessán was always fond of keeping rock doves,’ replied Cairenn. ‘That was how he alerted Grella. She said he had written the note in the old language in Ogam script as he could not openly send details of the plot, but he was worried that it could be read by any scholar. So I did not question the wisdom of going to see him in person.’
‘Someone read the messages and therein is probably the motive for his murder,’ Fidelma commented. ‘So what happened when you arrived at the abbey?’
‘I think he was worried. He had an argument with his steward, Brother Ruissine, about why he had not been informed immediately when you arrived. After the meal, he told me to go and find you. So I left him and went in search of you. I saw you in deep conversation with Brother Ruissine and went back to tell Nessán. He was lying on the floor with a cord around his neck but he was not dead.’
‘You removed the cord?’
‘I did. He managed to whisper a few words before he gasped his last breath and died. I heard Brother Ruissine at the door and I panicked and left. Afte
r that, there was uproar. People were calling that the abbot had been murdered and I heard people searching for me. I went back to my room to get some belongings, for I feared I would be accused.’
‘Why leave me the note with the name of the Great Island on it?’
‘Abbot Nessán seemed to trust you. I knew you would think it odd that I left my ciorbholg behind and therefore you would search it. I have heard of your methods as a dálaigh. I thought I could leave further word with my cousin Artgal on my way to meet Grella.’
‘What were those dying words of Nessán?’
‘As I told Artgal. He said to beware of the solar wheel. I don’t know what that means. Anyway, I took my horse and left the abbey in darkness. No one saw me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘It was dark,’ continued the girl. ‘I followed the track to the east, intending to make my way to Ard Nemed and leave a message with Artgal for you.’ She suddenly glanced at the lamp. ‘The lamp is running out of fuel,’ she pointed out practically. ‘Should you not extinguish it to conserve the oil?’
Fidelma shrugged. ‘If I put it out, I have no means to ignite it again. I don’t have a tinder box. So tell me, what happened?’
‘I found myself on the north shore of the Great Island. I knew Artgal had his fortress on the southern shore. I had landed, exhausted and tired, crawled into an abandoned bothán and fell asleep. When I awoke, I heard the sounds of conflict. A group of warriors had halted nearby; I recognised them as Uí Liatháin by their emblems. To my surprise, one of them used my name … and instructed the others that I must be prevented from reaching Artgal.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened. ‘He specifically said your name and that of Artgal?’ she pressed.
‘I was fearful,’ Cairenn said, confirming it with a nod of her head. ‘I hid myself as best I could and then when I thought it safe I emerged, determined to make my way south. After a short while, I was surrounded by warriors. They took me to their commander – to my relief, I saw it was my cousin Artgal. They had just driven off the Uí Liatháin and some prisoners had been taken. Artgal had been wounded.’
‘I heard this account from Artgal. So what made you leave the safety of his fortress and chance your life to cross to this place?’
‘My purpose was to meet Grella at Cluain, as we had arranged, and to tell her what Abbot Nessán had said. I found a fisherman who was willing to bring me to this shore in his small boat and was put ashore not far from here. But luck was against me. I had not gone far when Tialláin’s thugs seized me and brought me here. Even before I gave him my name, he seemed to know who I was – and my purpose. I was shocked and alarmed.’
Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘He knew you as the personal attendant of Grella?’
‘He knew me as Cairenn of the Cenél nÁedo, of the Eóganacht Raithlind,’ she confirmed. ‘That dumbfounded me, and he seemed to have no respect for Grella, even though she was a princess of the Uí Liatháinn. Then he told me news that shocked and frightened me.’
The pause was tantalising and Fidelma had to restrain herself from shouting at the girl to urge her to explain.
‘What news?’ she demanded.
‘According to Tialláin, the lady Grella’s carriage was waylaid in Cluain.’
Fidelma was silent for a moment as she considered this. ‘The wife of the High King was waylaid?’ She repeated it slowly, as a question.
‘Abducted,’ explained the girl. ‘The wife of the High King has been abducted.’
‘Tialláin told me her bodyguard had been killed. Did he claim to have had a role in this?’
‘I am not sure. He knew about it, but from the way he spoke it was as if he had heard about it rather than played an active part. Either way, he did not seem to care.’
‘That does not surprise me – he seems a man of no morals. So Tialláin knew about this event at Cluain. Did he have any other information – such as who had carried out this deed, or why?’
‘He made a curious remark about Saxons being cunning lovers. That’s all.’
Fidelma was completely bewildered. ‘Saxons? What do you think he meant by that?’
The girl hesitated and then shook her head.
‘I have no idea. It sounded like some old saying, one I have never heard before. Is not your husband a Saxon?’
‘My husband,’ corrected Fidelma softly, ‘is an Angle not a Saxon.’
‘Isn’t that the same?’
‘Apparently not,’ Fidelma replied with an affectionate smile. ‘And I certainly would not call him a cunning lover.’
There was a sudden flicker and hiss as the oil lamp went out. For some time they sat in the dark. Their eyes slowly adjusted, and Fidelma realised that a faint light permeated the building through cracks and chinks so that it was not completely dark but filled with a soft, grey gloom. Fidelma considered her situation. She could do little other than accept it, though it was not in her nature to submit without trying to find an alternative first.
However, the girl brought her attention back to the puzzle.
‘Do you know what is behind all this?’ she demanded.
‘I am placed under a geis by the High King. I was not allowed to tell anyone until I spoke to Nessán. I could reveal nothing, not even to my companions, who were captured with me. But since you are involved in this, you probably know more than I do.’
‘You have companions with you?’
‘My husband, Eadulf, and Enda, of my brother’s bodyguard, were with me.’
Cairren sighed. ‘I am still confused. I do not begin to understand what has happened. Do you know what Tialláin has in mind for us?’
‘No more than you do,’ Fidelma said. ‘I suppose that will depend on his involvement in this conspiracy – whatever it is. I presume the root of it is the kidnapping of the wife of the High King … but for why? What is the purpose of abducting her?’
‘Abbot Nessán denied sending her the message, as I told you. It was that message that brought her back to the Uí Liatháin territory. So who would send a false message to lure her here and then abduct her? Perhaps to coerce the High King into doing something?’
‘A possibility,’ acknowledged Fidelma. ‘But we don’t have enough information. If the false message was to lure Grella to Cluain, then sending you to see Nessán was equally false.’
‘Perhaps it was to separate us,’ replied the girl. ‘I was a friend to Grella when she was just a princess of the Uí Liatháin. When she married, I went with her as her companion to Tara.’
Fidelma was still puzzled. ‘And I do not understand why Abbot Nessán would not send his message directly to Cenn Fáelad, the High King. After all, the High King has his own carrier pigeons. Why send word to Grella? And why instruct Grella to leave Tara, if the assassination plot was against her husband?’
From her silence it seemed the girl had not considered that before. Then she said: ‘It might be that Abbot Nessán thought the message more likely to fall into the wrong hands if addressed to Cenn Fáelad. Perhaps he assumed that no one would notice if the message came to Grella?’
‘A good logic except, of course, Abbot Nessán denied sending the message to Grella.’
‘Then who …?’
‘Did it not strike you as curious that, having received a message warning her that her husband was about to be assassinated, Grella got into a carriage and headed south, away from her husband and from Tara?’
There was another pause and then the girl replied: ‘Perhaps she was anxious to get the full facts before she accused anyone to her husband?’
‘Perhaps, but I was told that she did tell him. The High King’s message to me mentioned that she had alerted him. That’s why he sent me to Abbot Nessán, to learn the facts.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Grella had warned her husband – but you did not know that? She sent a note before she left Tara telling him that she had heard of a plot, and she specifically said the Eóganacht were involved. She wanted time to see Abb
ot Nessán and find out the truth.’
‘She wanted to see Nessán … then why send me?’ The girl was clearly bewildered.
‘The Cenél nÁedo are of the Eóganacht Raithlind,’ Fidelma pointed out heavily. ‘Grella, you say, was instructed to send you to see Nessán – and you were close by when he died.’
The girl gasped. ‘Do you mean she sent me there on purpose so that I would be a suspect?’
‘Not necessarily. If Grella has been abducted, it could be that she, too, was a victim in this matter. If she was lured here by a false message and manipulated into sending you so the Eóganacht were blamed … that would make some sense.’
‘I can only tell the truth as it is known to me,’ the girl said, sounding exhausted. ‘I merely followed the instructions Grella gave me.’
‘And she thought those instructions came from Abbot Nessán. But then wouldn’t she wonder why Abbot Nessán would send her to seek refuge in Cluain?’
‘Part of the conspiracy to lure Grella to a place where she would be abducted?’
‘It sounds too complicated. If the aim of the conspiracy is to assassinate Cenn Fáelad and seize the High Kingship, then it is far too complicated.’
‘But it does look as though the message to Grella and its instructions were faked. And Grella fell for them.’
Fidelma nodded, frowning a little. ‘One thing more, though. When you heard the abbot was murdered, why did you not wait and try to see me?’
‘I told you – I did not know what to do, I was confused. I panicked because I heard my name being summoned. I was afraid and felt I had to report to Grella.’
‘You could have appealed to me as a dálaigh,’ pointed out Fidelma. ‘And there were enough suspicious circumstances for me to question things and offer you legal protection.’
‘I was merely a messenger from the lady Grella. I had no experience of such things as murder. As I say, I panicked and fled. Because Abbot Nessán trusted you, I did leave you a clue as to where I was going, but I did not want to reveal that Grella was at Cluain.’
‘Well, I found the message. But someone wanted to ensure you would be blamed and did not escape. On the road south, across the river, we were ambushed – but I think that they were waiting for you, in case you went in that direction. One of them carried a seal with the emblem of the solar wheel.’
Bloodmoon Page 16
