Our Lady of Darkness

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘It all seems very convenient. This Gabrán was the only one who put forward the motive of robbery for the boatman’s murder; he was the only one who claimed the items had been stolen and was the only one who then linked Brother Ibar with the crime. And, on that one man’s testimony, Brother Ibar was hanged. Doesn’t that worry you?’

  ‘Why should it worry me? Bishop Forbassach had no difficulties in accepting that evidence. Besides, it was not simply on Gabrán’s testimony. When Daig was told that Ibar had tried to sell the gold chain, he caused a search to be made of Ibar’s cell here in the abbey and it was there that the chain and money were found. Anyway, the matter of Ibar has nothing to do with the Saxon, Sister. What are you trying to prove? I would have thought that your duty as a dálaigh now lay in helping us try to recapture the Saxon.’

  Fidelma stood up abruptly. ‘My duty as a dálaigh is to seek the truth in this matter.’

  ‘You have heard the facts and the facts are many.’

  ‘Falsehood often goes further than the truth,’ Fidelma said, remembering a comment from her mentor, the Brehon Morann.

  There came the distant chiming of a bell, tolling the midday Angelus.

  Abbess Fainder also rose to her feet. ‘I have duties to perform.’

  ‘One more question first; where might I find the chambers of Abbot Noé?’

  ‘Noé?’ Abbess Fainder seemed surprised at the question. ‘This is no longer the abbot’s main residence, although he keeps an apartment here. He now has chambers in the palace of the King, but you will not find him there. He left Fearna yesterday morning for the north. He is not expected to return for a while.’

  ‘For the north?’ Fidelma was disappointed. ‘Do you know where he has gone?’

  ‘The bishop’s movements are not my concern.’

  Fidelma inclined her head and left the abbess in her chamber. When she reached the small quadrangle, some instinct made her pause in the shadow of a stone recess. After a moment, the abbess emerged from her chamber and went hurrying across the quadrangle. She did not go in the direction of the chapel where the members of the community were gathering for midday prayers, but left through a side gate.

  Fidelma followed at a distance. On opening the wooden gate she found it was a connecting door into another quadrangle, the very one whose gates led out onto the quay. She quickly drew back behind the gate, leaving it slightly ajar, because the abbess was in the middle of the courtyard mounting a horse. No one else was about. Then the abbess walked her horse through the gates. Fidelma was amazed that the abbess would leave her abbey when the Angelus bell was ringing, calling the community to its devotions. She wondered what was so important to draw her away.

  Fidelma walked swiftly across the courtyard to the still-open gate which led onto the quays. She looked up and down but there was no sign of the abbess and her horse. Once beyond the gate, the abbess must have sent the horse into a canter, so quickly had it disappeared. However, to her surprise, Fidelma then saw Enda, on horseback, emerge from the shadow of the abbey walls and send his mount trotting along the riverbank in a leisurely fashion. He was clearly following the abbess.

  A broad smile came to her face. She had almost forgotten that she had asked Dego and Enda to attempt to find out where the abbess went riding, and she had not rescinded that order. At least Enda would be able to follow and resolve the mystery.

  Chapter Eleven

  Fidelma was still thinking about Abbot Noé after she had returned to the Inn of the Yellow Mountain. She was surprised that he had not made a point of being in Fearna during this time. As both abbot and spiritual adviser to Fianamail, Fidelma had expected him to figure more prominently in the proceedings. Eadulf had told her he had sat at the original trial. Apart from his alleged role in supporting the cause of the Penitentials, he had not, however, been prominent in any of the subsequent events.

  Why Fidelma found Abbot Noé a subject for her thoughts she could not really say. From the little she knew of the irascible abbot, she was surprised that he had appointed someone to take charge of his former abbey who sought to change the laws of the land. As she remembered Abbot Noé, he had been supportive of the Fénechus law system. Yet she knew from her past experience with him that he was a devious man and given to intrigue. She could not help wondering if he had played a major role in this mystery.

  She sat in the main room of the inn turning the matter over in her mind. Then, eventually, she returned to the matter of Eadulf’s disappearance from the abbey. She was careful in her choice of the word ‘disappearance’ because she did not trust either Forbassach nor the abbess. Had he really escaped? Too many people seemed to have ‘disappeared’ who were key witnesses in the events. She shivered suddenly. What was she saying? That Eadulf had simply disappeared along with the others?

  The warmth of the fire and the fact of her disturbed night caused a drowsiness to overcome her and, almost reluctantly, she found herself lulled by her thoughts, slipping into inertia. Before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

  She did not know how long it was before the sound of a door opening awakened her. Enda was entering: he looked satisfied with himself. She smothered a yawn, stretched, and greeted him.

  ‘Well, Enda?’

  The young warrior came immediately to her side and took a seat. He lowered his voice, having glanced quickly around to make sure they were alone, and said: ‘I followed the abbess without her observing me. She rode north …’

  ‘North?’

  ‘Yes — but for no more than five or six kilometres. Then she went up into the hills. There is a settlement there called Raheen. She went to a small cabin and was greeted by a woman there. They seemed very friendly.’

  Fidelma raised an eyebrow slightly in query. ‘Friendly?’

  ‘They embraced each other. Then the abbess and the woman went inside the cabin. I waited for an hour or so before the abbess came out.’

  It was then that Fidelma realised that the best part of the afternoon had gone. She had slept several hours.

  ‘Go on,’ she said, trying to hide her annoyance at the wasted time. ‘What then?’

  ‘While she was there, she was joined by our friend, Forbassach. The woman left the two of them alone for a while. Then Forbassach departed and, a short time later, so did Fainder. She began to ride back towards Fearna so I did not bother to follow her.’

  ‘What did you do instead?’

  ‘I thought that you would want to know who the woman was, the one whose cabin they visited.’

  Fidelma smiled in approval. ‘You learn quickly, Enda. We’ll make a dálaigh of you yet.’

  The young man shook his head, taking her light-hearted comment seriously.

  ‘I am a warrior, the son of a warrior, and when I am too old to be a warrior I shall take to my farm.’

  ‘Did you discover who this woman was?’

  ‘I decided not to ride directly to her cabin but to make some enquiries from other inhabitants in the vicinity. I was told that her name was Deog.’

  ‘Deog? Did you discover anything else?’

  ‘Only that she was recently widowed. Her husband was a man called Daig.’

  Fidelma was silent for a moment or two. ‘Are you sure that was his name?’

  ‘That was the name I was given, lady.’

  ‘If she is recently widowed, he must be the same man.’

  Enda looked uncertain. ‘I am not sure that I understand.’

  Fidelma found that she did not have the time to explain to him. Why would Abbess Fainder and Bishop Forbassach be visiting the widow of the watchman who was drowned? Fainder had given Fidelma the impression that she had hardly known the man, so why visit the widow? Not only that but, as Enda reported, they seemed good friends. Now here was yet another mystery.

  ‘I don’t suppose you asked if the abbess was a frequent visitor to the woman, Deog, did you?’ she asked.

  Enda shook his head. ‘I did not want to attract too much attention,’ he explained. ‘So I did n
ot press too many questions.’

  In that, Enda had behaved correctly, Fidelma conceded. Too many questions might put people on their guard.

  ‘How far from here did you say this woman lived?’

  ‘Less than an hour’s swift ride, lady.’

  ‘It will be dark in a few hours,’ mused Fidelma, looking thoughtfully up at the sky. ‘Nevertheless, I think I should speak with this Deog.’

  ‘I know the path now, lady,’ Enda said eagerly. ‘We should have no problems riding there nor returning even in the dark.’

  ‘Then that is what we shall do,’ Fidelma decided. ‘Where is Dego?’

  ‘I think he was in the stables rubbing down the horses. Shall I go and fetch him?’

  She shook her head. ‘The sooner we leave the better. We will go to find him.’

  It was true that Dego was rubbing down Enda’s horse after its journey. He looked up as they entered. He appeared nervous as he greeted Fidelma.

  ‘I came back to the inn just after noon, lady,’ he said, ‘just as you instructed. However, I saw you fast asleep by the fire. I thought you might need your sleep more than hearing that I had nothing to report anyway. I hope I did right in letting you sleep on.’

  For a moment Fidelma did not know what he was talking about until she remembered that she had said that she would meet him at the inn after her return from the abbey to decide on the next strategy. She smiled apologetically at his worried features.

  ‘You did right, Dego. I am the better for the sleep. Enda and I are going for a ride. We shall probably be gone some hours.’

  ‘Should I come with you?’

  ‘It is unnecessary. Enda knows where we are going. While we are away I want someone here just in case Brother Eadulf tries to make contact with us.’

  Dego helped her saddle her horse while Enda re-saddled his mount.

  ‘Where shall you be,’ Dego asked, ‘just in case anything happens?’

  ‘We are visiting a woman called Deog who lives in a place called Raheen some six kilometres north from here. But do not let anyone know.’

  ‘Of course not, lady.’

  They mounted, setting off at a brisk walk through the streets of Fearna. Enda led the way underneath the towering grey walls of the gloomy abbey buildings, past the walls along the banks of the river as it twisted northwards. Then he took a fork in the road which led up a slow incline over a hill and through a small wooded area, no bigger than a copse.

  Here Fidelma called on Enda to halt for a moment. She turned back to the edge of the trees and shrubs which afforded a view of the road behind them and waited quietly for some time, leaning forward in the saddle, just behind the foliage of the trees.

  Enda did not have to ask what she was doing. If anyone was following them they would soon be seen from this position. Fidelma waited a long while before letting out a sigh of relief. She smiled at Enda.

  ‘It seems my fears are groundless. No one is tracking us at the moment.’

  Without a word, Enda turned and set off again through the copse and then along a track between a series of cultivated fields towards a more densely forested area which covered the rising hills beyond.

  ‘What is that big hill in front of us, Enda?’ asked Fidelma, as they moved upwards on the track.

  ‘That’s the very hill after which our host’s inn is named. That is the Yellow Mountain. We turn more easterly in a moment and come round the shoulder of the hill before turning north again towards Raheen. It stands at the head of a valley and is not a long ride away at all.’

  Within a short time, as the bright autumnal sky was beginning to cloud and grow dark, showing that late afternoon was creeping on, Enda halted and pointed. They were at the head of a valley stretching southwards towards the river. Here, dotted across the hillside, were several cabins with dark smoke ascending. It was obviously a farming community.

  ‘Do you see that far cabin, lady?’

  Fidelma followed the line of his pointing finger.

  A small cabin clung to the precipitous slope of the hillside. It was not an impoverished place but neither did it speak of any degree of wealth or position. It was made of thick grey granite stone and covered by a heavy thatch that was badly in need of renovation.

  ‘I see it.’

  ‘That is the woman Deog’s cabin; the cabin that Abbess Fainder and Bishop Forbassach visited.’

  ‘Very well. Let us see what Deog has to contribute to our enquiries.’ Fidelma nudged her horse forward and, with Enda following, she rode directly for the cabin that he had indicated.

  The occupant of the cabin obviously heard their arrival, for as they were dismounting and hitching their horses to a small fence which marked the boundaries of a vegetable garden in front of the building, the door opened and a woman came out. She was preceded by a large hound who ran towards them but was checked by a sharp command from the woman. She was not yet of middle age but her face seemed so etched with lines of worry and concern that at first glance she seemed older than her years. Her eyes were pale, probably grey rather than blue. She was dressed simply, as a countrywoman, and her appearance was that of someone hardened to the elements. To Fidelma there seemed something curiously familiar about the features. But Fidelma’s scrutiny was swift and also encompassed the dog who, she discerned, was elderly but keen to defend his mistress.

  The woman came forward in concern as her eyes fell on Fidelma.

  ‘Have you come from Fainder?’ she demanded without preamble, obviously taking in the fact that Fidelma wore the robes of a religieuse.

  Fidelma was surprised at the anxiety in her voice.

  ‘Why would you imagine that?’ she parried.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘You are a religieuse. If Fainder has not sent you here, who are you?’

  ‘My name is Fidelma. Fidelma of Cashel.’

  The woman’s features visibly hardened and her mouth tightened. ‘So?’

  ‘It seems that you have heard my name,’ observed Fidelma, interpreting the other’s reactions correctly.

  ‘I have heard your name spoken.’

  ‘Then you know that I am a dálaigh.’

  ‘That I know.’

  ‘It is growing dark and cold. May we come into your cabin and speak with you for a while?’

  The woman was hesitant but finally inclined her head in invitation to the cabin door.

  ‘Come in then, though I am not sure what we can speak about.’

  She led the way into the large single living room of the cabin. The hound, seeing no danger threatened, went quickly before them. A log fire snapped and crackled in the hearth at the far corner of the room. The old hound spread himself before it, head resting on his paws, but a half-closed eye was still fixed warily on them.

  ‘Sit yourselves down,’ invited the woman.

  They waited until she had chosen a seat by the fire and then Fidelma sat opposite her while Enda perched uncomfortably on a stool near the door.

  ‘Well now, what do you wish to talk about?’

  ‘I am told that your name is Deog?’ Fidelma began.

  ‘I will not deny it for that is the truth of it,’ replied the woman.

  ‘And was Daig the name of your husband?’

  ‘May the good Lord be merciful to his soul, but that was his name. What business had you with him?’

  ‘He was one of the watch on the quays in Fearna, I believe?’

  ‘Captain of the watch, he was, after Mel received promotion to the royal guard of the King. Captain of the watch, though he did not live long to enjoy it.’ Her voice caught and she let out a sniff.

  ‘I am sorry for your trouble, Deog, but I need to have some answers to my questions.’

  The woman controlled herself with an effort. ‘I have heard that you have been asking questions. You are a friend of the Saxon, I am told.’

  ‘What do you know about … about the Saxon?’

  ‘I know only that he was tried and sentenced for killing a poor young child.’r />
  ‘Nothing else? Not whether he be guilty or innocent?’

  ‘Would he be innocent when he has been condemned by the Brehon of Laigin?’

  ‘He was innocent,’ Fidelma replied shortly. ‘And there seem to be too many deaths on the quays by the abbey to be a coincidence. Tell me about the death of your husband, for example.’

  The woman’s face was immobile for a moment or two and her pale eyes searched Fidelma for some hidden meaning to her words. Then she said: ‘He was a good man.’

  ‘I do not question it,’ replied Fidelma.

  ‘They told me that he had drowned.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘Bishop Forbassach.’

  ‘Forbassach told you, in person? You move in illustrious circles, Deog. Exactly what did Bishop Forbassach say?’

  ‘That during the night watch, Daig slipped off the wooden quay and fell into the river, catching his head on one of the piers and knocking himself unconscious. He was found next morning by a boatman from the Cág. They said that he …’ her voice caught and then she went on, ‘that he drowned while he was unconscious.’

  Fidelma leaned forward a little. ‘And were there witnesses to this?’

  Deog regarded her in bewilderment. ‘Witnesses? Had anyone been nearby, then he would not have drowned.’

  ‘So how are these details known?’

  ‘Bishop Forbassach told me that it must have been that way, for that is the only way it could have happened consistent with the facts.’ She said the words as a formula and it was clear that she was repeating what the Brehon had told her.

  ‘But what do you think?’

  ‘It must have been so.’

  ‘Did Daig ever talk with you about what happened on the quays? For example, about the death of the boatman?’

  ‘Fainder told me that they executed poor Ibar for that crime.’

  Fidelma frowned. ‘Poor Ibar? Did you know the Brother then?’

  She shook her head. ‘I know his family. They are blacksmiths on the lower slopes of the Yellow Mountain. Daig told me how he had found him out.’