‘Have I ever let you down, brother?’ Fidelma replied, with one arched brow.
Her red-headed sibling grinned at her. ‘You have caused me much worry and anguish, but you have never let me down in the end.’
Fidelma’s response was a disdainful sniff as she left.
So now the council chamber was packed. Colgú of Cashel sat with his Chief Brehon Fíthel on his left side. His heir-apparent, Finguine, sat on his right. Next to Finguine was seated the dour, autocratic Cerball, Lord of Cairpre Gabra. Ségene, Abbot of Imleach and Chief Bishop of Muman, was seated on the other side of the Chief Brehon. The elderly Brehon Ruán was seated next to him. Ready to present their report, Fidelma was placed with Eadulf at a table at the left side of the chamber. Nearby sat Ríonach, who had had to leave her dog in the palace kitchens with Dar Luga, the housekeeper. Next to her sat the elderly Brother Conchobhar, the physician and apothecary.
To the right of the chamber stood the prisoners – Failge, Duach, Cellaig and Dar Badh. The entire adult group of Cleasamnaig Baodain, Baodain’s Players, had been brought in and given a place facing the King. Warriors of the Nasc Niadh were stationed at strategic places around the council chamber.
Brehon Fíthel waited until a hush had descended before officially opening the proceedings. As was custom, he acknowledged and welcomed the distinguished guests by name. Finally he turned to Fidelma.
‘Are you ready to make your submission on the matters before this dál?’
‘I am.’ Fidelma quickly outlined the circumstances of the conspiracy.
‘The matter began with a curious fire on the marsh road, the death of a girl dressed as a boy, and the discovery of her companion several days dead in the wagon. It was the second death that led Eadulf and I, and our companions, into the lake of fire and evil that we subsequently encountered. Indeed, we found an evil that threatened the peace of all Five Kingdoms and the New Faith itself. With her companion dead from poison, the girl, also dying from poison, was trying to make for Cashel to meet someone – someone to whom she was determined to make a report even though she must have known she was dying. She knew how important the information was that she carried.’
Fidelma turned her gaze to Cerball. ‘That report was meant for you, Cerball, Lord of Cairpre Gabra, was it not?’
Cerball stirred uncomfortably. If some in the council chamber were expecting an indignant denial, they were disappointed, for he merely inclined his head in agreement but said nothing.
‘We are told that the girl was called Ultana and her companion was Ultan. Were they emissaries from Cairpre Gabra, or from Tethbae?’ queried Fidelma.
‘Cairpre Gabra will suffice,’ Cerball replied without emotion. ‘We owe allegiance to Tethbae, so it makes little difference. I should add, for your record, that their names were, in truth, Ultan and Ultana.’
‘Were they sent here by you?’
This time Cerball shook his head. ‘They were sent by Febal, Abbot and Bishop of Clochar, to whose community they belonged.’
‘Then I presume that you also come here at his request?’
Cerball shrugged indifferently.
‘We’ll take that as confirmation,’ Fidelma observed. ‘By the way, did you know that the girl, Ultana, was pregnant?’
Cerball started visibly in his chair. Then he said quietly: ‘I knew they were married and had decided to undertake this mission together. But we had no idea that the girl was with child. She did not mention it. Abbot Febal would never have allowed them to go on the mission, had he known this. He would not have endangered her and the soul of the unborn child.’
‘The child was only a few months in the womb,’ piped up Brother Conchobhar, from where he was observing proceedings. ‘I doubt whether the sould had entered into it.’
The laws, which all physicians had to obey, differentiated between aspects of an unborn child when considering abortion. There was the establishment of the foetus, then the forming of the flesh of the unborn, rising to the point when it was finally considered that a soul had entered the child.
‘I did not know,’ Cerball repeated softly, his face showing a terrible sadness. ‘She was my niece, the daughter of my own sister.’
‘I believe that they were sent to discover something,’ continued Fidelma in a more gentle tone. This time he did not respond at all. ‘They were sent to discover the location of the Golden Stone, which your people call the Cermand Cestach. It is one of the sacred stones of the Old Religion, through which superstitious people believed that the ancient gods and goddess spoke to their Druids. Will you tell us its story, Cerball?’
The Lord of Cairpre Gabra leaned back in his seat, a resigned expression on his face. ‘The story is well known in the north,’ he countered.
‘But we are now in the south,’ Brehon Fíthel intervened pointedly.
‘Very well,’ Cerball continued, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Our kingdom at the time of the coming of the New Faith was ruled by Cairpre; hence Cairpre Gabra is the name of our territory. Cairpre refused to give up the Old Religion. He and his people guarded this sacred stone of which you speak – the Cloch Ór or the Golden Stone. The immediate guardian of the stone was a noble called Cairthinn. He was loyal to Cairpre. However, Cairthinn’s son, Aedh, met with Blessed Patrick and became converted to the New Faith. Afterwards, he became known simply as the Son of Caithinn, Mac Cairthinn. When he took over his father’s land and became guardian of the stone, he founded his church at the very spot where the Golden Stone rested. Oh, he had the stone sanctified with holy water and symbols of the New Faith, of course, and eventually built his abbey around it. The place was still called Clochar, the Place of the Stone.’
He paused, looked round and found he had an attentive audience.
‘Well, as you know, the Old Faith and the New Faith were in conflict for many years. Many of the Old Faith tried to protect their holy relics. That was when the Golden Stone was taken – stolen from the very cathedral of Clochar. For many years no one knew where it had gone. Then stories circulated, stating that a hundred years ago, the Druids with some of the Old Faith had retreated to the south, down the River An Fheoir, to a hilltop where they tried to continue worshipping in the same way their ancestors had in the time before time. Then a man called Cainnech led a Christian army to that spot, destroyed the Druids’ sanctuary and then set up his church there.’
‘Cill Cainnech,’ muttered Colgú uneasily. ‘We know the story.’
‘It was rumoured that the Golden Stone had been taken there with other symbols of the Old Faith. But after the destruction of the Druids it seemed to disappear. Indeed, all word of it had vanished. Then recently a new rumour began to circulate among the people, saying that the stone survived. It had been hidden, it was said, under the very church that Cainnech had built, and protected by a small group who remained loyal to the ancient beliefs. Of more concern was the unrest among those who claimed that soon the stone would be revealed and those who remained true to the Old Religion would rise up and drive out the Christians.’
‘And was that why you sent the couple called Ultan and Ultana there? To find out whether the stories were true?’ Fidelma asked.
‘Indeed. They were to pretend to be looking for material to write a life of Cainnech. I charged them to report to me if they discovered that there was any truth in the rumours. To stop any suspicion, they were to meet me here during the time of the Great Fair of Cashel.’
Colgú leaned forward a little. ‘And if they had discovered the location of this Golden Stone, what did you intend to do with it? Surely these pagan icons mean nothing to those of the New Faith?’
‘They are beginning to mean more,’ replied Cerball. ‘There is currently much unrest in the north. You already know that the High King Sechnassach was assassinated as part of a conspiracy by those loyal to the Old Faith. Your sister played the prominent role in uncovering this.’
There was a muttering of agreement, for the story was well known.
C
erball went on: ‘Groups of those who still cling to the ancient religion have continued attacking communities of the New Faith: the Abbey of Ard Macha was burned recently; the Abbey of Beannchar and that of Telle – all attacked and burned down within a short period. The word was that the sacred stone would soon be produced and a great Druid would interpret the word of the ancient Goddess Badh, who was demanding vengeance on those who preach the New Faith.’
‘Your emissaries had discovered that a secret group guarded the whereabouts of the stone,’ said Fidelma, taking up the story. ‘A group of fanatics called the Fellowship of the Raven, who held Badh, the old Raven Goddess of Death and battles, as their divine inspiration. They each wore a symbol tied on their wrists by a piece of hemp cord; it was a brass disc with a raven depicted on it. The girl Ultana had found one and tied it to her wrist for safekeeping.’
‘So, if your emissaries had found this Golden Stone,’ Colgú turned to Cerball, ‘what then? What was to become of it?’
‘It was our intention to return it to the Abbey of the Stone, to Clochar, to be sanctified again in the New Faith and placed in the porch of the cathedral. In this manner, it could be shown to the populace that the old ways had perished. We felt this would dissuade people from returning to the Old Faith.’
‘A laudable intent,’ Brehon Frithel acknowledged dryly.
‘As I have explained,’ Fidelma continued, ‘Ultan and Ultana believed that the stone was hidden beneath the chapel in the oldest part of the Abbey of Cill Cainnech. They did not realise that the Golden Stone had already been removed to another place by the Fellowship, who now suspected them. Ultan and Ultana in turn suspected Abbot Saran, but it was the steward, Failge, of whom they should have been wary. When the Abbot went to confront the pair, Failge entered the chapel behind him, and knocked him unconscious. He then persuaded the young couple that he was their friend and that they should flee to Tulach Ruán, where they would find safety from the Fellowship of the Raven. By this time, Ruán had been made a prisoner in his own homestead. Feradach was his nephew and had even killed his own father, Coileach, Lord of the Marshes. Feradach was more fanatical than his comrades, for kin-slaying is considered the worst crime of all.’
She paused a moment before continuing. ‘It seemed that Feradach and Failge were able to maintain their deception of being supportive of Ultan and Ultana. A meal was given to the young couple and during that meal they were surreptitiously fed a powerful distillation of hemlock.
‘What the murderers had not considered is the fact that hemlock does not act immediately. The couple had been given a room in Ruán’s homestead for the night, the idea being that by the next morning they would be dead and their bodies would then be disposed of. It is an unpleasant fact that this bizarre Fellowship even kept half-starved ravens, to which they sacrificed offerings to Badh, the Raven Goddess, according to their beliefs. I will allow you to imagine the fate they intended for the young couple.’
She had to wait patiently for the cries of disgust to die away.
‘Feradach and Failge could not stay away from the abbey for long and so they had to return so as not to raise suspicion. Therefore they left their accomplices, Duach and Cellaig and the woman, Dar Badh, to finish their evil work and dispose of the bodies the next morning.’
The portly old woman, standing with hands bound next to Failge, screwed her features up and actually spat towards Fidelma. ‘Badh will come for you soon, my fine lady,’ she cried, her voice trembling with curses.
Aidan started towards her but Fidelma held up her hand. ‘She can do no harm now,’ she said. ‘Her words are as powerless as the goddess she is named after.’
‘What happened then?’ Brehon Fíthel asked.
‘The couple were young and strong. Sometime during the night, they must have realised that they had been poisoned and were in danger. It was dark and I think the household had probably fallen into a drunken slumber. Ultan and Ultana managed to escape in their wagon. We may never know the exact circumstances. They knew they had to reach Cashel to pass on the information to Cerball.
‘It was Ultan who succumbed to the poison first. In desperation, Ultana drove the wagon into the marshlands, where she found a deserted farmhouse and stopped, no doubt seeking sanctuary in order to nurse her husband. Perhaps she hoped he would recover. Sadly, she had to watch him die. Knowing she could do no more, and aware that her own strength was ebbing, the girl determined to drive on to Cashel to find Cerball.’
The Lord of Cairpre Gabra sat with his head bowed.
‘Abbot Ferbal and you should both be proud of her,’ Fidelma told him. ‘She knew she might not make it and so she wanted to pass on the information. She had discovered the emblem of this secret Fellowship, the brass disc that was found on her wrist. She also laboriously wrote a note in Ogham, explaining that the Golden Stone was at the Hill of Ruán. But her mind was confused, and instead of Tulach, she miswrote Tamhlacht, meaning the grave of Ruán and not the hill. In the same confusion, she thought she would disguise herself as a boy to avoid recognition, forgetting that her wagon was distinctive enough. The poison had that effect. Indeed, when she met up with Baodain’s Players on the marsh road to Cashel, it was thought she was drunk or ill. The poison was overcoming her senses.’
‘Ah, now we are approaching the matter before us!’ Brehon Fíthel exclaimed. ‘That matter is the events on the marsh road, the fire and the deaths of these emissaries from the Abbot of Clochar. You have already told us that they were poisoned by the order of this man Feradach, now dead, and of Failge who sits before us. Yet, having been poisoned, they managed to escape and the girl, at least, managed to reach the road to Cashel.’
Baodain abruptly stood forward, unbidden. ‘We have heard that the girl was poisoned before she joined my wagons. She wasn’t thinking straight, so that was why she set her wagon on fire by accident. I said so all along. That fire and her death have nothing to do with us. We have nothing to answer for. We can go!’
‘I’ll say when and if you can go!’ Brehon Fíthel shouted angrily. ‘Return to your place.’ He addressed Fidelma. ‘Do you have any comment on this?’
Fidelma acknowledged that she did. ‘Failge admitted that Baodain’s Players had passed through Cill Cainnech after Ultan and Ultana had managed to escape from the clutches of the Fellowship of the Raven. Failge had asked them to be on the look-out for the couple, saying that they must be eliminated to protect the secret of the Golden Stone.’
Baodain was on his feet again, protesting, ‘We were not told anything of the sort! True, we saw the steward of the abbey. He sits there before us and I recognise him. But all else is a lie.’
Brehon Fíthel looked troubled. ‘Did Failge actually tell you that he asked Baodain to eliminate the couple?’ he asked.
‘His words were that he asked Baodain’s Performers to be watchful for Ultan and Ultana.’
‘That does not mean that the performers were part of this conspiracy, nor that they sought to harm the couple,’ Brehon Fíthel stated.
‘It does, because there is more to it,’ Fidelma argued. ‘Duach admitted to Eadulf that he and Cellaig had been instructed to come to Cashel to seek out someone in the Cleasamnaig Baodain who would give them further orders. Eadulf asked Duach and Cellaig how they would recognise this person as a member of their Fellowship. Cellaig managed to silence Duach, but not before he told us that all members of the Fellowship wore a distinctive badge – the brass disk with the raven symbol.’
‘So you are saying that someone among the players is a member of the Fellowship of the Raven?’ Brehon Fíthel clarified.
‘I am saying that two members of the Fellowship were among Baodain’s Players. Not realising that Ultan had already perished and that Ultana was near death, their intent was to stop them reaching Cashel. So they decided to kill the girl, secure the doors of the wagon, so that anyone inside could not escape, and set fire to it. Thus it would look as though the girl had set fire to it by accident.’
&nbs
p; ‘But I don’t see how anyone could set fire to the wagon with impunity while the wagons were moving along the highway,’ Brehon Fíthel objected.
‘I was initially misled by the picc that was splattered on the wagon. True, some of it had caught alight and was difficult to extinguish until it was beaten out. But it could not have been the means of the fire. Picc has to be heated and give off fumes before it becomes combustible. As it was already on the wagon, it was too dry. No,’ Fidelma said, ‘it was alcohol that was the incendiary. The two conspirators worked in harmony. They would stop their wagon while one rushed back to kill the girl while the other secured the doors in case her companion was inside. In fact, only one door needed securing and this was done with a quick bowline knot. Then the incendiary material was thrown over the girl and wagon with the bucket of picc placed nearby to mislead people as to the cause of the fire.
‘That was when they found that Ultana was already dead. The poison had finally worked. Time was of the essence and in their panic they decided to carry on with their plan. Having secured the door, the jug of alcohol was thrown towards the driver’s seat, catching the girl’s body on one side. They ignited it. The girl’s body, however, fell from the wagon and the flames of her clothing were extinguished. Improvisation was called for. One of them dragged the body a little way away; giving the impression that she had jumped from the wagon to avoid the flames.
‘The other wagons were still proceeding, with no idea of the drama being enacted behind them. Again, time was against the murderers. They should have let matters take their course once they found Ultana dead. Had they done so, they would not have been implicated.’
Baodain had turned, a look of anxiety on his face. ‘But the only people in a position to do this without being seen were …’
‘Ronchú and Comal,’ agreed Fidelma.
‘It is lies!’ Ronchú took a few steps forward, his voice raised in angry rebuttal. ‘All lies and speculation. Let this woman prove it.’
The Second Death (Sister Fidelma Mysteries) Page 33
