Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

Della’s house was on the very outskirts. At the gate to her paddock, Fidelma slid from her horse and helped Alchú dismount. A large dog came bounding towards them, keeping up a series of yelps which Fidelma recognised as being those of recognition and not warning. Della had kept the dog for some time. It was called a leth-choin or ‘half-dog’ — a cross between a wolfhound and a terrier.

She had barely called a friendly greeting when a young woman came running from the house. She wore her hair loose, a blue-black mane which surrounded her symmetrical, attractive features, with their splash of freckles on the cheeks. Her dark eyes flashed and the red lips were parted to show a very white set of teeth.

‘Aibell!’ called Fidelma. ‘Best hold onto the dog lest he knock Alchú over with enthusiasm.’

The girl bent down to catch the dog by its collar and ordered it to sit. The dog obeyed, thumping its tail on the ground.

Aibell then turned to Brother Conchobhar who was still seated on his horse. There was a faint look of disappointment on her face which Fidelma noticed.

‘Gormán has gone with Eadulf to the glen at Eatharlach,’ Fidelma explained with a gentle smile. ‘So I am afraid that he will not return for a while.’

‘You are very welcome here, Brother Conchobhar,’ the girl called to hide her embarrassment, adding: ‘I knew Brother Conchobhar was expected, to collect some herbs. .’

‘We are going to leave Alchú with you and Della, if we may,’ Fidelma said. ‘It is only for a short while. We have a call to make first, and then we will be back. Please explain to Della our discourtesy in not staying to greet her.’

Aibell was surprised but agreed, and came forward with a smile to take the boy by the hand while Fidelma remounted.

With a quick wave, Fidelma and Brother Conchobhar moved around the paddock at the back of Della’s homestead and joined the track leading south up the hillside which, because of its stony nature, was called the Road of Rocks. The road would eventually lead on to Rath na Drinne, where Ferloga kept his tavern, but before that, almost at the edge of the township, the forests and woodlands started. Further to the south stretched the famous Plain of Femen. Fidelma took the lead along the narrowing track through the tall trees.

‘It’s a curious place for Beccan to allow this girl to stay if she was so ill,’ Brother Conchobhar remarked, as the surrounding trees seemed to increase the chilly atmosphere.

‘I expect she was too unwell for him to move her to the town,’ Fidelma replied. However, she was not entirely convinced of her own arguments and it was one of the questions that had already passed through her mind.

‘I think that might be it, just ahead,’ called the physician.

The place was much smaller than Fidelma had remembered. However, she had not been in this area of the woods for many years, and memory often distorted the size of things. In fact, it was hardly larger than the woodsman’s hut where they had found Aibell.

As if reading her thoughts, Brother Conchobhar said: ‘As I recall, it was used as a cabin where the woodsman lived. It must have been deserted for many years. Have you noticed that there is no sign of smoke from a fire, nor a horse or wagon here? In fact, it looks deserted still.’

Fidelma had been thinking the same thing. Beccan had already explained the lack of a horse, even though Dar Luga had suggested that she had once seen a horse outside. Fidelma was more concerned by the lack of smoke, showing there was no fire in the cabin on this winter’s day.

She halted a little distance from the cabin and raised her voice: ‘Maon! Do not be alarmed! It is a physician come to see you. Beccan sent us.’

The only response to her shout was a cacophony of birds rising in alarm into the sky.

They dismounted, tethered their horses to some nearby bushes and walked slowly towards the door of the hut. As Fidelma tapped on it, the rough wooden door, not being latched, merely swung open.

It was very dark inside, but it was immediately obvious that the place was not occupied. The first thing that registered with Fidelma was the stale aroma of alcohol. Looking over her shoulder, to see Brother Conchobhar staring around in disapproval, Fidelma took a hesitant step inside and pulled down a piece of sackcloth which covered a window so that a little more light could creep in.

‘Well, someone has been staying here,’ she observed, pointing to the rough straw mattress that lay in one corner. She bent down and felt it with her hands. ‘But not for some time. The straw is damp and cold.’

‘Then how do you know someone has been here?’ asked Brother Conchobhar.

She pointed to the table on which there were two empty earthenware mugs and, on its side, what was called a lestar , or container for alcohol.

‘If those had been there longer than a week, there would have been some dust across the table. See how the dust accumulates on those shelves.’

Brother Conchobhar sighed. ‘There are no other huts that I know of in this forest. If Beccan was not nursing the girl here, then where?’

Fidelma did not reply but went outside the hut and stood looking about her. Then she made her way around the side of the hut to where there was a level patch of grass. Perhaps it had once been used by the woodsman as a space for his cart or his horse. Fidelma noticed that it had not been overgrown but trampled — and that had occurred fairly recently. An old bucket was standing nearby, against the wall: it still had some water in it. She bent down and immersed her finger in it, drew it out and placed it in her mouth. The water was fairly fresh. Nearby were several ears of oats, spread in a loose pattern. It was obvious that a horse had been stood, watered and fed here. She turned and her sharp eyes examined the surrounding trees. She did not have to look far before she saw what she was looking for. One tree had score-marks on its trunk a few feet from the ground. A rope had obviously been tied around it, and the marks were caused by a restless horse moving at the other end of it.

She returned to the front of the hut where Brother Conchobhar was waiting.

‘We’ve had a wasted journey, I’m afraid,’ she said.

‘Did Beccan mistake the location of the hut?’ asked the old physician.

‘I think not,’ she said dryly. ‘Alas, it is not the first untruth that has been told to me in recent days. Well, there is nothing else to do for the moment but return to Della’s homestead.’

They remounted and made their way back through the woods to the Road of Rocks and came slowly down the hill on the western side of the township. They crossed a field before arriving back at Della’s paddock and outhouses. In the paddock was Alchú, astride his pony, riding in a circle and jumping over small obstacles placed at intervals. The little boy was clearly enjoying himself, shouting with glee at each jump. Keeping a wary eye on him, balanced on top of the surrounding fence, was Aibell.

In a corner of the paddock, Della’s workhorse was munching peacefully at the grass. Usually, Della’s son Gormán, as Commander of the King’s Bodyguard, kept his warhorse there when his duties did not keep him in the palace. Beyond the paddock was Della’s cabin. The boy saw them first and, with a ‘whoop’, Alchú halted his pony, turned it and came trotting across.

‘Hello, mathair . We can’t go home yet. Aunt Della is making cakes. We must eat those first.’

Fidelma smiled. ‘Don’t worry, little hound,’ she told him. ‘There is plenty of time to have your cake before we go.’

Aibell climbed down from her perch and helped Alchú dismount.

Della suddenly appeared on the porch wiping her hands on an apron. She was about forty years of age, of short stature but the years had not diminished her youthfulness or the golden sheen of her hair.