The Devil's Seal (6 page)

‘I think I saw the Saxon entering the chapel,’ he replied. ‘A very unfriendly man,’ he added with a sniff of disdain.

Eadulf was almost resigned to the fact that whether one was an Angle, a Saxon or even Jute, in the minds of the people of the Five Kingdoms of Éireann, they were all regarded as Saxons. Eadulf entered the chapel discreetly, waited a moment for his eyes to adjust, then peered about in the gloomy interior.

A figure was kneeling before the altar in a position of supplication.

Eadulf coughed softly to draw attention to himself. The figure made no motion. It seemed so still: knees and legs drawn up beneath the bent body, the forehead resting on the cold stone floor. Something glinted on the ground beside the figure, and it took some moments before Eadulf realised it was the flickering light of the candle reflecting in a pool of liquid. It was blood!

With a suppressed exclamation, he went hurrying over and knelt beside the body. He reached out a hand to touch the shoulder of the figure, and no sooner had he exerted a slight pressure than it rolled onto its side. The face was white, the dead eyes wide and staring.

There was no sign of a weapon but it was clear from the blood both on the floor and across the man’s throat how he had come by his death. The fact that there was no weapon to hand also indicated that he had not died of his own choice.

E
adulf had seen the dead and slain before, but there was something curiously pathetic about this body that had been crouched in a praying position with its throat cut.

The flickering candles illuminated a man of similar age to Eadulf: thin, almost gaunt-looking, with fair, lanky hair and the tonsure of Rome. He was clad in nondescript woollen robes that were midway between white and grey – the dirty colour of undyed wool. In Eadulf’s eye, this identified him as an adherent to the Rule of the Blessed Benedict, which Rome, at the recent Council of Autun, had decreed all religious should follow. Those adhering to it believed they should use only what they found in nature without adornment in their clothing, and that they should follow the simple life of work and prayer.

There was no doubt that this was Brother Cerdic – and now he would no longer be able to answer any questions.

Eadulf reached forward and touch the man’s neck. It was still warm. He sprang up, suddenly alert, because he now realised that Brother Cerdic must have come by his death only moments before he himself had entered the chapel. He peered quickly round into the dark recesses of the interior. There was no sound save the drip of tallow falling on the stone floor from one of the tall candles.

Eadulf moved swiftly to the chapel door and, opening it, saw the aged Brother Conchobhar, together with a younger man, at the far side of the courtyard. He glanced around but no one else was about.

‘Brother, a moment of your time,’ he called.

Brother Conchobhar raised his hand and then made his way to the chapel door with his companion following. The latter was a stranger to Eadulf – a fellow clad in a bright multi-coloured cloak. He had well-formed, handsome features, a pale skin and long black hair that held a shimmer of blue when the pale sun glinted on it. Yet it was the eyes that held Eadulf’s attention: they were of a curious light blue that seemed restless, like the waters of some ocean which threatened to draw Eadulf into their fathomless depths. It was almost an effort to draw his gaze away.

‘You look worried, my friend,’ the stranger said. When he spoke, the timbre and cadence of his voice were such that Eadulf knew that others would fall silent on hearing its haunting quality. It was not often that he had such a reaction to people.

Brother Conchobhar introduced him, saying, ‘This is Deogaire, a relative of mine. He is right. Something
is
worrying you, friend Eadulf.’

‘Have you seen anyone emerge from the chapel while you have been in the courtyard?’ Eadulf asked.

‘I saw no one,’ answered the old apothecary. The young man also shook his head. ‘Who are you looking for?’

Eadulf simply beckoned the two of them to follow him inside the chapel. Without a word, he pointed to the body lying before the altar.

Brother Conchobhar went directly to the corpse and bent down. His experienced gaze took in the injury and the mottling of the skin tone now visible even in the flickering light.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Frankly, I do not know,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I came into the chapel moments ago in the hope of speaking with this man. I found him crouched here and touched him on the shoulder, thus causing him to slip on his side.’

‘There is no sign of a weapon,’ Deogaire said, gazing about thoughtfully. It was a statement, not a question.

‘I saw none,’ agreed Eadulf.

‘Yet death was caused almost instantly,’ Brother Conchobhar announced, rising to his feet. ‘I would say a slash across the throat which prevented him from crying out, and then a single blow to the heart which caused immediate death.’

Eadulf’s lips compressed a moment. ‘It indicates that whoever did this was skilled in the use of weapons.’

‘With knowledge of anatomy,’ Deogaire added dryly.

‘He is not long dead,’ Brother Conchobhar said. ‘Is that why you asked if we had seen anyone leave the chapel just now?’

‘It was.’

‘Well, there is hardly a place to hide in the chapel,’ Deogaire said, looking around. ‘They must have left just moments before you came here.’

‘This bodes ill for Cashel, my friend,’ Brother Conchobhar said heavily. ‘You obviously know that this was a Saxon religieux, newly arrived here?’

‘Colgú and Abbot Ségdae have told me all about him. Apparently we are expecting a deputation of Saxon clerics to arrive soon, to take part in some council. That is why I was asked to have a word with him.’

Brother Conchobhar grimaced sadly. ‘I was told that this man, Brother Cerdic, was causing some upset here with his attitude.’

‘Who told you that?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Brother Madagan, the abbot’s steward.’

‘Upset enough for someone to kill him?’ Eadulf mused.

Deogaire was shaking his head. ‘There are bad times coming to Cashel – evil times. I feel it.’

Eadulf found himself averting his gaze from those bright, deep-set eyes. ‘I must inform Colgú about this,’ he murmured.

Brother Conchobhar was nodding. ‘We shall take care of the body.’ The apothecary usually took charge of the bodies of anyone who died within the confines of the fortress and prepared them in his rooms for the rites of burial.

Eadulf left him and his relative, Deogaire, with the body of Brother Cerdic. He was making his way towards the King’s chambers when Fidelma came hurrying towards him.

‘What news?’ she demanded without preamble. ‘Did you get anything out of your compatriot?’

Eadulf’s expression was grim. ‘He is dead. Murdered.’

Her fiery green eyes widened as Eadulf told her briefly what had happened.

‘That bodes ill for Cashel,’ she said, almost repeating Brother Conchobhar’s words. ‘You saw no one in or around the chapel? No, I know,’ she went on before he could reply. ‘A stupid question to ask since you have already answered it.’

‘We must inform Colgú and Abbot Ségdae about this.’ Eadulf hesitated. ‘By the way, do you know much about Deogaire? I have never heard him mentioned before today.’

‘Deogaire?’ Fidelma was dismissive. ‘He has always been a strange one. Strange but harmless, unless one really believes he has the power of prophecy. Now and then he comes to Cashel to visit his uncle, old Conchobhar, but he likes to be among people who believe in his predictions.’

‘Such as those in Sliabh Luachra?’

‘Exactly so.’

‘He has a powerful personality,’ Eadulf admitted. ‘Even I felt that he has some kind of magnetism.’

‘That, I will not deny. If it were otherwise, he would not be able to fool the people that he does. Oh dear . . .’

Eadulf had barely wondered at the reason for her comment when he caught sight of the elderly and sharp-featured figure of Colgú’s Chief Brehon, Aillín, hurrying from the direction of the chapel. His features were drawn into a belligerent scowl as he came up and halted before them.

‘I have just seen Brother Conchobhar,’ he snapped at Eadulf. ‘I am on my way to inform the King.’

‘So were we,’ rejoined Fidelma – and received only a glance of irritation in response.

‘I am told Brother Eadulf was a witness to the murder of his fellow countryman,’ the elderly judge replied. ‘I shall need to know what the Saxon said to you before he died.’

Eadulf’s eyes widened with astonishment. ‘He said nothing to me,’ he protested. ‘He was dead when I found him, so I was
not
witness to his murder. I did not even know the fellow.’

‘Then why did you seek him out? You are both Saxons. What was he to you?’ The older man almost spat out his questions.

Eadulf exhaled slowly to calm his rising temper. He knew that Brehon Aillín had always resented Fidelma, especially when she had offered herself before the Council of Brehons of Muman for the role that Aillín now held. He seemed to have taken a personal dislike to Eadulf – probably because of his relationship to Fidelma.

‘I am from the Kingdom of the East Angles, while Brother Cerdic was from the Kingdom of Magonsaete. So, if you wish to be accurate, we are
not
Saxons,’ Eadulf replied, his voice slow but with emphasis.

‘Angle! Saxon! What does it matter?’ Aillín replied aggressively.

Before Eadulf could respond, Fidelma had intervened.

‘Eadulf went to see this religieux on behalf of my brother, in order to discover his purpose in coming to this place. My brother specifically invited Eadulf to meet with him and Abbot Ségdae this morning in order to ask his advice about the matter. It was the King himself who suggested Eadulf seek him out. So if this does not answer your question, any further information on the matter should be addressed to my brother, the King.’

Brehon Aillín blinked; the muscles in his face tightened a little.

‘I am your brother’s Chief Brehon,’ he said slowly. His voice seemed to be propelled like a harsh breath through an almost closed mouth. ‘It is my task to investigate this death. I will
not
have my rôle usurped.’

Fidelma actually smiled, albeit without humour. ‘I know of no one who is seeking to usurp your rôle, Aillín. Therefore I suggest you accompany us to consult my brother, who would be anxious to hear what has transpired from Eadulf’s own lips. My brother will be most anxious about this entire matter.’

With a quick glance at Eadulf, she turned and led the way towards her brother’s council chamber. Eadulf immediately fell in step with her and, after hesitating a moment, Brehon Aillín scurried after them.

Colgú greeted the news glumly. ‘We must inform Abbot Ségdae. Now we know nothing of this Brother Cerdic. How do we begin to cast around for suspects?’

Brehon Aillín cleared his throat. ‘There is one person of his nation in the palace . . .’ he began.

Colgú turned to him expectantly and then realised what the man was about to say.

‘Oh, you mean Eadulf here? Well, that doesn’t help, does it? I am talking about the person responsible for his death. We have no suspects.’

‘But Brother Eadulf was with him when he died,’ Brehon Aillín persisted. ‘Therefore . . .’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Aillín,’ Colgú said irritably. ‘It’s no joking matter. We must think sensibly about it.’

Brehon Aillín’s mouth closed in a thin, bloodless line. Colgú had interpreted the man’s words as a joke. However, Eadulf knew that the elderly, prejudiced Brehon was far from saying it for amusement. He would have to be careful of the man.

Fidelma had moved on rapidly. ‘Brother Cerdic and Brother Rónán called on Abbess Líoch and invited her to this council. She has apparently decided to stay in the township instead of coming to the palace. As I know her, I shall ask her if she was already acquainted with this Brother Cerdic and whether he said anything specific when he called at her abbey at Cill Náile.’

Colgú shrugged. ‘If you think it worthwhile, then by all means do so. You should also persuade her that we have better guest facilities here than any lodging down in the township.’

Brehon Aillín intervened with another dry cough: ‘May I remind you that as your Chief Brehon, it is
my
duty to conduct all these enquiries.’

Colgú turned to the man with a look of irritation. ‘I was not overlooking that fact. But now you will be faced with more important tasks, for I wish you to liaise with Abbot Ségdae over the matter of this forthcoming deputation. That is a priority. The death of this religieux can be handled by Fidelma, as she is used to such matters.’

‘But . . .’ Brehon Aillín began to object.

Colgú held up his hand to silence him. ‘I suggest that the sooner you consult with Abbot Ségdae, the better. Of course, if you hear anything that you think pertinent to Fidelma’s enquiry about Brother Cerdic, you will naturally inform her.’

The Brehon stared sullenly at the King for a moment and then, with a brief inclination of his head, turned and left.

There was a palpable relaxation between them as the door closed behind him.