Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

Fidelma swung round. ‘I thought you meant just for the evening?’

‘I have allowed him to be absent for two days. He said he had a relative who is sick in the township, and that he needed to visit them.’

Fidelma made a soft noise in her throat expressing displeasure and asked: ‘Was that wise, now that we are expecting the deputation any day?’

‘He should be back before they arrive. He is only in the township,’ Colgú assured her.

Fidelma was still frowning. ‘I didn’t know he had a relative here. And what illness do they have? Should we not be alarmed in case it is a contagion that communicates itself to Beccan and thence to us?’

‘I have thought of that.’ Colgú bore Fidelma’s irritation patiently. ‘I am not as incompetent as you seem to think, little sister. I have his pledge that it is not contagious. And as for his duties, Dar Luga has served my house longer than Beccan has served as my steward. If she cannot see to the wants of my guests, then who else is more competent?’

As Aidan left, Gormán entered the council chamber, bringing with him the airnbertach or housekeeper, Dar Luga, whose rôle was to attend to the domestic chores of the palace and see to the comfort of the King’s guests. The plump housekeeper came into the chamber, rubbing her eyes. It was obvious that she had been roused from her sleep.

‘We are sorry to disturb you,’ Fidelma reassured the elderly woman. ‘Can you tell me if all the guests retired to their chambers tonight?’

The woman looked puzzled and took time to gather her thoughts. ‘Only Abbot Segdae has not been in his chamber. Everyone else has retired for the night and there has been no call for any servant to be summoned. Is something wrong?’

‘Abbot Ségdae has been with me in here since you left, Fidelma,’ Colgú said immediately. ‘So that’s one suspect less.’

Fidelma did not respond to his humour. ‘So now we must search the guests’ rooms and ask whether they have left them since they retired,’ she instructed Gormán. ‘As far as I recall the layout of this building, there is the main door, which is always attended by a doorkeeper, one of my brother’s bodyguards. There is the exit from the guest quarters, across the roof, and. .’

‘The door in the kitchen and storage quarters,’ finished the plump housekeeper. ‘That leads to the back.’

‘Is it bolted?’

‘There are no bolts on the door but it is locked.’

‘Who usually locks it?’

‘Why, the steward, of course.’

‘But Beccan was not here tonight.’

‘Indeed, lady. So I locked it.’

‘So while Gormán checks the guests, Dar Luga and I will check the rear exit,’ Fidelma declared.

With Dar Luga leading the way, Fidelma and Eadulf followed her along the passages that eventually led into the kitchen area of the King’s quarters. The cuchtar or kitchen was a large room, full of cupboards and tables where all the food of the palace was prepared. There was a stone hearth with a spit at one end built onto an outside wall, but most of the heavy cooking was done in stone houses outside the palace, a little way removed from them in case of fire. There were two, in fact, one housing the áith or kiln for drying grain, and the other the ovens for cooking. A lamp had to be fetched now that the kitchen was in darkness. It did not take long to confirm that the great wooden door was securely fastened and that the metal echuir or key was hanging in its rightful place inside the door.

It was obvious that no one had left through the rear door. Fidelma finally instructed Dar Luga to return to her bed and herself went back to the council chamber. They had now been joined by Brother Madagan, Abbess Líoch, Sister Dianaimh and even a sour-looking Brehon Aillín. Colgú had already explained matters to them.

‘I hardly think we can level suspicion on any of these guests,’ Brehon Aillín said stiffly. Each had already protested that they had only just retired to their rooms and not moved since.

‘Perhaps not,’ Fidelma replied. ‘But that statue did not topple by itself, nor did the iron lever-’

There was a sudden shouting outside and they turned to the door. It burst open and Enda came stumbling in. He had clearly emerged from a struggle and was breathing heavily.

‘I have the culprit,’ he announced in a triumphant gasp. ‘After the guests were brought down, Aidan and I decided to examine the guest chambers that were not being used. We found an extra guest.’

He turned and motioned through the doorway. Three men entered the council chamber.

One of them was Aidan and the other was Luan. Between them, they held a writhing dishevelled figure. It was Deogaire of Sliabh Luachra, Brother Conchobhar’s nephew.

‘Hold still, Deogaire!’ Fidelma commanded. ‘You are in the presence of your King.’

Something about her cold command caused the man to stop struggling.

‘Then tell these brainless idiots to release me,’ he grunted.

‘These are warriors of the Nasc Niadh, my bodyguard.’ Colgú’s voice was sharp. ‘They will not let you go until you have calmed yourself and ceased fighting with them.’

‘I am not the one who attacked them. I was asleep, when I was leaped upon and dragged from my bed. How else should I respond to physical violence but to protect myself?’

‘No violence will be offered to you if you calm down,’ Fidelma assured him.

‘Do I have Colgú’s word as King?’ Deogaire sneered.

‘You have my word as dálaigh ,’ snapped Fidelma.

‘Then I will struggle no longer, providing the King’s yelping dogs obey you.’

Fidelma glanced at Enda and his companion and motioned them to stand aside. They released their hold cautiously and stood back, ready to move forward again if Deogaire did not keep to the agreement. Deogaire drew himself up with a curious dignity and began to rub his wrists where red marks were already showing from his handling. He bowed towards Fidelma with a cynical smile.

‘You will forgive me, lady, for appearing in this state of undress. I was not allowed time enough to clothe myself before I was dragged into your presence.’

‘You say “your bed”,’ Fidelma replied, ignoring his disrespectful tone. ‘Yet there is no record of you having been invited to stay in the King’s guest quarters.’

The man actually smiled. ‘When I say, “my bed” I did not, of course, mean complete ownership of it. I have not slept in a bed that truly belonged to me since I left Sliabh Luachra. But is it the law that I must now prove ownership of the bed in which I sleep?’

‘You take me too literally, Deogaire. To put it more clearly: what are you doing in the guest chambers of the King?’

‘Why, sleeping — until I was rudely awoken.’ The man adhered to his bantering tone.

‘Matters are too serious to play semantics with us, my friend,’ interposed Colgú. ‘You will answer the lady Fidelma’s questions without prevarication. There has been an attempt on my sister’s life and that of her husband. Any further show of levity must point to your guilt, even if we have not proof enough.’

For a second Deogaire’s eyelids fell like a bird of prey, hooding the sharp blue of their intensity. Then he made a motion with his shoulders, a kind of shrug, although those watching were unsure of its meaning. ‘I had a row with my uncle, the pious Brother Conchobhar, who told me never to cast my shadow across his portal again. Therefore I was in search of a comfortable bed.’

‘And somehow you just happened to wander into the King’s apartments, in spite of the guard, find your way into the guest chambers to choose a conveniently empty room and then climb into bed?’ Gormán challenged.