The Devil's Seal (24 page)

Fidelma had barely entered her chamber, sat down on the bed and closed her eyes when the next thing she was aware of was Eadulf coming into the room. Guiltily, she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

‘You’ve been a very short time,’ she said accusingly.

Eadulf regarded her with a tired smile. ‘We’ve been quite a long while. It’s well after midday and we went as far as Rath na Drinne, where we stopped a while at Ferloga’s inn. I swear, our young son has more energy than any of your brother’s warriors; certainly, he has more than I have. I am exhausted.’

‘It’s after midday?’ Fidelma was aghast, and felt twice as guilty for being asleep so long. ‘Where is Alchú?’

‘I gave him back to the care of Muirgen.’ Eadulf looked longingly at the bed. ‘I am going to miss the midday meal and have a nap,’ he decided. ‘I’ll get something to eat later.’

Fidelma rose. ‘I was going to question Deogaire.’

Eadulf was stretching out on the bed. ‘Can’t it be done later?’

‘I promised Gormán that I would meet him at midday. I’ll tell you all I have discovered later.’

But Eadulf was already asleep and, with a shrug, Fidelma left him and went first to check all was well with Alchú, who was being washed by Muirgen the nurse. Having satisfied herself, she hurried on to the Heroes’ Hall to find Gormán. The warrior was just eating a hurried midday meal. Strangely, Fidelma did not feel hungry at all. While he was finishing, she asked if he had any word of Beccan’s return to the palace. Gormán assured her that he had not; nor had he been able to learn anything about the steward having a sick relative in the township. Finally, bringing the iron bar on her instructions, he led her to the room at the back of the warriors’ quarters where Deogaire had been placed. This had been deemed safer than putting him in the outside storeroom where Rudgal had been murdered.

There was eagerness on the prisoner’s face as Fidelma entered the tiny chamber in which he had been held since the previous night. He rose from the makeshift cot, asking, ‘Has Beccan returned yet? Has he confirmed what I have said?’

Fidelma regarded him in silence for a moment and then sat on the single stool in the room. Gormán followed her inside; taking a stance in the doorway, still holding the iron bar. Deogaire suddenly saw it in his hands and took a step backward.

‘You don’t mean to use that?’ There was a tremulous note in his voice.

Fidelma looked at him crossly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘What backwoods do you think we live in?’

Deogaire spread his arms expressively. ‘All I know is that I am being accused of something I did not do, and in a place where there have been two deaths already. What am I to believe? You imprison me and now you come in here with an iron bar. For what purpose?’

‘To ask you if you recognise it, of course,’ Fidelma replied grimly. ‘Now, take a look at it – carefully. Have you seen it before?’

‘One iron bar looks like another,’ Deogaire replied nervously.

‘Not exactly. I am told that this is a tool often used by builders.’

‘I am no builder, lady.’

‘So you have not seen it or a tool like it?’

‘I have seen tools like it used for shifting rocks embedded in the soil or to prepare the ground for planting; maybe even used for moving stones into place when buildings are constructed.’

‘Have you seen it specifically here in Cashel?’

Deogaire shook his head stubbornly. ‘I have no use for tools and weapons. I am a philosopher.’

Fidelma told Gormán to set down the tool outside before turning back to the prisoner. ‘Now, tell me again, how you came to be in the guest quarters.’

‘But I told you last night,’ protested Deogaire.

‘You said you were thrown out of Brother Conchobhar’s house and then went to ask Beccan, the King’s steward, for a room to sleep in – a room in the King’s own guest quarters; in fact, rooms reserved for special guests. Is that the truth?’

‘More or less,’ admitted the man.

Gormán grinned sceptically. ‘How much more?’

‘It is the truth!’ Deogaire said. ‘I was thrown out of Conchobhar’s apothecary, the silly old fool; he was lecturing me on this new morality from the east. I told you that was what we were arguing over. We always argue over it, but last evening, my uncle really lost his temper.’

Fidelma did not volunteer that Brother Conchobhar had confirmed the story.

‘Arguing about what, for example?’ she asked.

‘I told him that at least the old gods, the Children of Danú, made no pretence to omnipotence. They aspired to justice but had all the traits, failings and good points of mortals.’

‘I don’t see your point,’ Gormán intervened. ‘That is not something to lose one’s temper over.’

‘I said that this new God from the east is purported to be the one and only God. Omnipotent, all-seeing, all-knowing. He knows everything that has happened, is happening and is about to happen. It is claimed that He has all the power.’

‘That is according to the Faith,’ agreed Fidelma.

‘So, having the power to prevent war, He permits it. Being able to prevent disease, He promotes it. I asked how people can believe in the goodness of such a God Who permits these things when He could stop them? I said that there is no logic in this eastern faith unless this God is evil or possessed of a sadistic sense of humour. That was when Conchobhar fell into a rage. I had never seen him so angry! He warned me that any attempt to reason along those lines would lead me to eternal damnation: I could end up in this place of eternal punishment –
Ifrenn
– that has become part of your religion.’

‘Did you know Brother Madagan was witness to your argument?’

‘I know he came to collect something from Conchobhar, but he left immediately.’

‘So having quit Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary, you went to see Beccan?’

‘Not exactly. I was wondering what to do when I met Beccan crossing the courtyard. He saw how upset I was and asked me what was wrong. I told him that I had just been thrown out by Conchobhar and would probably have to set out for Sliabh Luachra. He replied that it was late and not the best time to start out on the road. I said there was no alternative as I had no bed for the night. He told me that he could help me – but on certain conditions. If I could return to the apothecary and get some remedies for a sick relative of his – he told me what he wanted – he would find me somewhere to sleep. He asked if I could do this without Conchobhar knowing. I said yes.’

Fidelma hid her surprise. ‘Did Beccan know the names of the medications he wanted? What sort were they?’

‘They were remedies for fever and colds. There was nothing that was harmful, if that is what you are thinking.’

‘And when you had “acquired” them, what then?’

‘He said that if I came around to the kitchen door at the time when the King and his guests were sitting down to the evening meal, he would take me to a room in the guest quarters that was not being used that night. All I had to do was stay in the room until after the guests broke their fast the following morning. That was the time when the King’s bodyguards would disperse. He explained that they usually stood sentinel in stairwells and at the doors of the palace. When it was daylight, I could then sneak out and be on my way.’

‘And all this was in exchange for some medication which you provided?’

‘It was.’

‘And after you had left the palace, where were you going?’

‘I intended to return to my home in Sliabh Luchra.’

‘A further question: where were the kitchen servants at this time?’ asked Fidelma. ‘I mean, the time when Beccan let you in?’

‘There was no one in the kitchens when Beccan took me through them.’

‘Isn’t that curious?’ Fidelma mused.

‘I don’t like any of this story,’ Gormán interrupted. ‘Beccan should know more than anyone else that the King’s security is paramount, especially after the attempted assassination of Colgú a few months ago. For that reason, the guest quarters are closely guarded.’

Deogaire bridled, his head rising belligerently. ‘It is not in my philosophy to wish harm to anyone.’

‘That we must prove,’ Fidelma said.

‘You doubt me?’

‘I would doubt even myself until a solution is found,’ Fidelma replied calmly. ‘Beccan will have to explain several things, including his behaviour, which is not consistent with the standard expected of a steward in my brother’s household.’

Deogaire glared at her. ‘I am no liar, lady. I have told you the truth.’

‘Then the lie will pass away and the truth will remain,’ she said confidently, rising from her seat.

Deogaire gritted his teeth for a moment. ‘Isn’t it said that lies often go further than the truth?’

‘Lies only run a short course,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Truth is great and will prevail.’

‘I wish I had your faith in the truth, lady,’ he replied bitterly. ‘Two deaths in this place already, and you and your man have escaped death by a miracle. No one knows who is responsible. Where has the truth been hiding these last days?’

Gormán said stalwartly, ‘Truth will emerge, count on it.’

‘We will wait until Beccan returns,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘That means that you must remain here in the
Laochtech
until he does.’

Deogaire seemed about to make an angry retort, but then he sighed philosophically. ‘At least it provides me with a dry bed and food.’

They left Deogaire and, in spite of his being locked in the room, Fidelma insisted that a guard should continue to remain close by.

Gormán cast a questioning glance at her. ‘You still doubt that he is the guilty one, lady, and fear that someone might attempt to harm him?’

‘Rudgal was certainly guilty of the attack on Brother Egric and the Venerable Victricius. He was under the protection of your warriors, Gormán, and yet he was killed because we were not watchful enough. What if Deogaire is telling the truth – although his story sounds unlikely – and someone else is responsible? He might be in harm’s way. Better we ensure against that possibility.’

Gormán was about to reply when the sound of a warning horn caused them to hurry outside towards the gates.

One of the warriors called down to them from the watchtower: ‘A small party is approaching from the east, lady. Four warriors and three clerics. One of the warriors carries the tree banner of the Clan Baiscne.’

Gormán turned to Fidelma in dismay. ‘The Baiscne, lady – the bodyguard of the King of Laighin! This must be the party of Saxon religious that the King is expecting. And Beccan is not here to perform the ritual welcome and arrange matters.’

I
n view of the distinguished rank of the leaders of the deputation, Colgú received them in his council chamber in the presence of selected members of his household. Fidelma and Eadulf were requested to attend. Fidelma had just time enough to return to their chambers and rouse Eadulf from his nap, and while he was refreshing himself, tell him of her discoveries that morning and the results of her questions.

In the council chamber, they were joined by Abbot Ségdae and his steward, Brother Madagan, Brehon Aillín was already there because he had insisted that his presence was required by protocol as he had not been officially dismissed by the Council of Brehons. It was a fact that Colgú could not refute. Because of the peculiar circumstances in which Abbess Líoch and her steward, Sister Dianaimh, had been summoned by Brother Cerdic before his death, they were also invited to be present.

There was an uncomfortable wait, while Gormán, as Commander of the King’s Bodyguard, received the visitors at the gates of the palace and the usual ritual welcome was enacted before he led them to the council chamber. In view of Beccan’s absence, Gormán also took on the role of the King’s steward in officially announcing the visitors.

Bishop Arwald of Magonsaete strode forward as his name was called. ‘Arrogant’ was the first word that came into Eadulf’s mind. The man was exactly as he had predicted him to be. He was tall, with thin, almost emaciated features, to which was added a disdainful look that appeared to be his natural expression. The dark eyes were set close together under thick brows that almost met across the bridge of his nose. He had a slightly protruding forehead. He halted before Colgú, who was preparing to rise from his chair of office as a gesture of welcome and friendship. But when Bishop Arwald made no indication that he was going to greet the King with the usual respect – not even an inclination of his head, a bow, or even dropping to one knee in token of the rank that divided them – King Colgú decided to remain seated.

Instead, he looked beyond Bishop Arwald to the shorter, grey-haired man who, at first glance, resembled a kindly, elderly uncle. He was almost cherub-like, with olive skin that showed his origins were further south. In spite of the baby-like quality of his face, something unpitying and harsh came through. The corners of the fleshy mouth were stern, revealing a ruthless streak in the elderly, white-haired man. Light-coloured eyes glinted like ice from under shaggy brows. He halted a pace behind and to the side of Bishop Arwald, and gave a slight jerk of his head when Gormán announced the name of the Venerable Verax.