Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

‘Which means that you are not asking the right questions,’ rejoined the old man.

‘That may well be so.’ Then a thought occurred to her. ‘It must have been only a short time after this encounter with the abbess that you were joined by Deogaire and you were walking around the front of the chapel, across the main square?’

‘That is so. Deogaire had returned and he and I were taking some herbs to the smithy’s forge when Eadulf appeared at the door on the other side of the chapel and called out to us. He asked if we had seen anyone leave the chapel, which we had not. There was no one about. . well, I saw Brother Madagan on the far side of the courtyard, but he was going in the other direction. Then Eadulf showed us the body of Brother Cerdic.’

Fidelma shook her head in frustration. ‘There is something that I am missing. Ah well, it will come back to me soon.’

‘And Deogaire?’ asked Brother Conchobhar. ‘Is your brother thinking of punishing him for his outburst last night?’

‘I would not think so, unless those present felt insulted,’ replied Fidelma.

Brother Conchobhar was unhappy. ‘As you know, Deogaire claims to have the imbas forosnai — the prophecy of the poets. It is not wise to boast of such things nowadays.’

‘Abbot Ségdae says it is forbidden. He claims it is a denial of the New Faith.’

‘True,’ the old man sighed. ‘But forbidden or not, it does not make it vanish as if it has never existed. Many things are forbidden but are none the less true because of it. Did not Fionn Mac Cumhaill often display that talent for such divination? Between us, I believe Deogaire has some gift. He has often proved a worthy sage.’

‘Yet is it not said that a sage is not wise all the time?’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘True once again,’ agreed the old man. ‘And they say that there are times when the silent mouth sounds most melodious. Perhaps Deogaire should have pursued the most melodious course?’

‘Did he ever explain to you what he means about his prophecy?’

‘The prophecy never came to me before.’ The voice cut through the pause before Brother Conchobhar could respond. Deogaire emerged from the back room into the apothecary.

‘And in what form did your prophecy come to you, Deogaire?’ asked Fidelma, undeterred by the sudden appearance of the young man.

‘It came last night, when I was watching the queen of the night rise above the hills. Do we not often call her Aesca, the place where knowledge is found?’

‘And watching the moon, you suddenly saw danger approaching my brother’s palace?’

‘I’ll not deny it.’

‘I know you have little time for the New Faith, Deogaire. But is it wise to boast of the possession of the imbas forosnai ?’

‘Not everyone has forsaken the old paths of knowledge for the new and unknown, lady. You have left the religious yourself in order to maintain our old laws.’

‘I have left the religious — which does not mean that I have left the Faith, Deogaire. And what I was going to say is that while you reject the New Faith, yet your prophecy was laced with images of the New Faith.’

Deogaire chuckled. ‘Should I have placed older images of our ancient faith and culture in my warning? How then would the interpretation of what I said have been made clear? Images, like words in a foreign language, have no meaning unless they are shared.’

‘As a matter of fact, the images were lost on some until I pointed out the meanings of the terms you were using,’ replied Fidelma, amused. ‘Why did you give this warning that Satan was about to descend on Cashel?’

‘I used the images of the Devil because it would have had little impact if I had warned that the messengers of the Fomorii were about to come and sup with the King.’

Fidelma’s eyes widened a little. The Fomorii had been the ancient evil deities of her people; the name meant ‘undersea dwellers’. From their caverns beneath the waves, led by Cichol, Balor of the Evil Eye and the goat-headed Gaborchend, they launched attack after attack on the good gods and goddesses, the Children of Danú. Finally, Lugh Lamhfada and Nuada of the Silver Hand drove them back into the sea.

‘Well, in whatever image,’ Fidelma replied, ‘your prophecy is that evil is about to strike Cashel?’

‘Has it not already done so?’

‘You mean the murder of Brother Cerdic?’

‘I will leave it to you to make your own interpretation, Fidelma of Cashel. All I say is that I feel a chill wind from the east. I would issue you with a warning. Two glances behind you are sometimes better than looking straight ahead. Death can come in many forms — even a winged demon out of the sky. You know that I am not given to idle speculation. I inherited the gift of the imbas forosnai from my mother’s mother and back to her mother’s mother and their line since the dawn of time.’

With that he turned and left the apothecary.

Brother Conchobhar stood a moment in silence and then he coughed nervously, extending his arms in a helpless gesture.

‘I am sorry, Fidelma.’

She had been thinking and now she raised her head with a smile. ‘You have no need to be, old wolf-lover. I have known some with the gift of prophecy — enough to know it would be silly to dismiss it lightly. If there is evil approaching from the east, then we must be prepared for it.’

‘This is my son, Alchú,’ Eadulf declared, after giving the boy a hug. He had brought Egric into the chamber where Muirgen was looking after the child. ‘His name means “little hound”. Alchú, this is your Uncle Egric, my brother.’

Eadulf had taken Egric to meet Alchú as soon as Fidelma had left to pursue her enquiries. It was Muirgen’s task to wash, dress and give their son breakfast and then entertain him until his parents were free. Now Muirgen withdrew to the side of the chamber and busied herself sorting clothes. The red-haired child, who had greeted his father with a smile, now stood gazing up solemnly at the newcomer. Egric seemed stiff and awkward as he stared down into the clear blue eyes that examined him.

‘He looks more like your wife than you.’ Egric spoke directly to Eadulf and made no effort to greet the boy.

‘That is in his favour,’ Eadulf joked. Then he seemed to realise that there was a silence between the two. ‘Say hello to your uncle, Alchú,’ he said encouragingly.

The boy did not reply directly but continued to survey the newcomer with curiosity. ‘Is he truly my uncle, athair ?’ he asked, turning his gaze to Eadulf.

Eadulf felt embarrassed. ‘Truly, he is,’ he replied. ‘And you must greet him nicely. It is. .’ he fought to find the word for ‘ill-mannered’ in his vocabulary. He settled on dorrda , which meant sulky or surly. ‘It is ill-mannered not to do so.’

Alchú said reluctantly, ‘Hello.’

Egric shifted his weight and merely jerked his head in response. ‘I am not at my best with children, Eadulf,’ he finally said.

‘He does not greet me.’ Alchú turned again to his father, speaking sharply. ‘Is that not also dorrda ?’

For a moment or two, Eadulf, with crimson face, was unsure what to do.

‘I see and hear you, child,’ Egric said irritably, clearly understanding the comment. ‘Remember that a sweet voice does not injure the teeth.’

Eadulf compressed his lips as the old saying of his people tripped from his brother’s tongue — a condemnation of the boy’s manners. It was clear the meeting was not a success. He had never thought his brother would be so stiff and unfriendly towards his son. It was obvious that the child sensed it.

Muirgen suddenly came bustling forward. It was clear that she had heard the exchange and felt she should intervene.