Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

‘It is not clear to me — but then I am a dálaigh ,’ she replied. Then, realising that she had sounded rather curt, she added: ‘He might well be telling the truth.’

‘But if he were telling the truth, then it implies that the murderer, or attempted murderer, if you will, is someone else,’ the abbot said. ‘That someone has to be one of us in the guest chambers, and that-’

‘That means,’ Gormán continued with a grin at their sudden discomfiture, ‘that you have quite a choice. There are four suspects: the abbot’s steward, Brother Madagan; Brehon Aillín; Abbess Líoch and her bann-mhaor Sister Dianaimh.’

‘Each accusation is as ridiculous as another,’ Abbot Ségdae said impatiently. ‘Why, I’d sooner believe in Deogaire’s demon from hell springing into the statue of Aoife. Evil from the east, indeed!’

They sat quietly for a while and finally Fidelma rose.

‘Come, Eadulf, the hour grows late.’

Gormán was on his feet. ‘I will come with you to make sure you get to your apartments safely.’

Fidelma shook her head with a smile. ‘I think we are safe now. Besides, I am told that lightning never strikes in the same place twice. We will be safe.’

They left the King’s quarters but this time Fidelma took a slightly different path around the building to their chambers. When Eadulf commented on the longer route, he heard her chuckle in response.

‘Because I realised after we left that it was a misconception,’ she whispered.

‘What was?’ He frowned.

‘Lightning can strike again in the same place. There was once a shepherd near where I studied at Brehon Morann’s law school. He tended his sheep on the hills nearby and often refused to take shelter during the storms. He was struck four times on four different occasions by lightning and survived each time. However, I do not want to tempt fate.’

‘I am glad that you told me,’ Eadulf grumbled. ‘But why are we going this way?’

Fidelma pointed through the darkness beyond the chapel. There was a light in the building. It was the apothecary.

‘I think we should take the opportunity for a word with Brother Conchobhar.’

‘It’s going to be a late night,’ Eadulf protested, ‘and I promised to take Alchú riding first thing in the morning.’

Fidelma did not respond. She walked to the apothecary’s door and tapped sharply on it. There was only a little pause before there was a movement behind the door and it swung open. The old physician peered at them as the light from the lamp he held shone on them.

‘You are abroad late,’ he observed, before standing back to let them enter. When they did so, he closed the door behind them.

‘And you are up late,’ Fidelma replied, moving through the musty-smelling room to where she knew Brother Conchobhar had some chairs placed before his fire.

Brother Conchobhar shuffled after her, with Eadulf following.

‘You know that it is my habit,’ he said. ‘Late to bed, late to rise.’

‘You don’t believe in the old saying then — sero venientibus ossa ?’ sighed Eadulf wistfully, thinking of his own bed. It literally meant ‘for the latecomer the bones’ but implied that the person who rose early succeeded in life.

Brother Conchobhar regarded him with an expression of amusement.

‘I spend hours on my little roof above watching the movement of the heavens, seeing the bright lights in the night sky moving here and there, and charting the course of our fortunes against the darkness of the canopy. It is not an occupation one can do in the daylight.’

Eadulf had forgotten that the other man was a student of the stars and their motions.

‘And what did you see tonight, old friend?’ asked Fidelma, as she sank down into a chair. The apothecary moved to a table and began to pour them drinks.

‘Mostly the signs show a calm night with the moon in balance and no less than four planets floating on water, including the planet of knowledge. It is from water that we gain knowledge, according to the ancients. Therefore from tonight’s actions much can be learned. That does not mean all is tranquil, for the defending planet stirs to action.’

Eadulf, who half-understood the symbolism, grimaced, saying: ‘Did you see in the skies tonight a flying demon ready to attack Fidelma and myself?’

Brother Conchobhar turned to him with an expression of alarm. ‘Are you joking with me, friend Eadulf?’ he demanded.

‘Alas, he is not, old friend,’ Fidelma said, casting a look of disapproval at Eadulf. ‘But tell me first, what was the cause of your earlier argument with Deogaire?’

Brother Conchobhar did not appear surprised at being asked.

‘I hope he has not been causing problems,’ he muttered. ‘But relative or not, I confess I found myself losing my temper with him. I have accepted his strange views for the sake of my poor sister and our common ancestors, but there are limits to what I should have to put up with. We did, indeed, have a quarrel earlier today. We exchanged some sharp words over our respective beliefs. It came to the point where I could not restrain my temper, for which I am truly sorry. I told him to leave my house and not to return. So he left.’

Fidelma nodded slowly. ‘Who, between you, would you say provoked his leaving?’

‘ Mea culpa . It was my fault and I am heartily ashamed that, even at my age and with my experience, this young man could provoke me into losing my temper. I was made even more ashamed and angry because Abbot Ségdae’s steward was a witness. Brother Madagan had come to get some wild garlic for a distemper he had. But why do you ask this? What has happened to him? What has this to do with flying demons?’

Fidelma explained about the attack on them, quickly and succinctly. ‘He will be all right under guard,’ she added, patting the old man’s hand. ‘Tomorrow we will get down to the truth.’

Brother Conchobhar looked at her sorrowfully. ‘I can believe many things but I can’t believe that my nephew is guilty of an attack on you and Eadulf. For all his mistaken arrogance, he is right in one thing. There is evil here, if it is not among us already. Perhaps we should be fearful. We should fear what is coming from the east.’

‘All we know is that it is supposed to be a peaceful deputation of members of the Faith. There should be no need to fear them.’

‘You choose your words carefully, Fidelma. There should be no need to fear them. That means you have not discounted any such fear.’

Fidelma made a ‘tut-tut’ sound with her tongue. ‘You have a sharp ear, Brother Conchobhar.’

‘I need two sharp ears and sometimes a sharper mind,’ replied the old man. ‘Tell me, Deogaire was not the only one in the guest house, was he — the only one with access to the roof at the moment the statue crashed down on you?’

‘He was not,’ Fidelma nodded.

‘And have you eliminated all the others from any possible involvement?’

‘I have not,’ she replied, much to Eadulf’s surprise.

‘You haven’t questioned the others yet?’ asked Brother Conchobhar.

‘Not yet,’ she confirmed. ‘They are not likely to go far, all being safely abed in the guest chambers. You seem to have something on your mind, old friend.’

‘Wasn’t Brother Madagan there to support my nephew’s claim that Deogaire and I had quarrelled?’

Fidelma realised that it was true: Brother Madagan had remained silent.

‘How much did he hear?’ she asked. ‘Did he hear you telling Deogaire to leave?’

Brother Conchobhar was hesitant. ‘Perhaps not,’ he admitted. ‘But he would have heard our voices raised.’

‘That might not signify anything.’