Peter Tremayne - The Seventh Trumpet

‘It is I, Fidelma of Cashel,’ Fidelma said softly.

The woman tried to raise one of her manacled wrists in salutation but she could not lift it very far. She gave a deep sigh. There was an elaborate dignity in the gesture.

‘I regret that I have to receive you thus, lady.’

‘Are you able to answer some questions?’

‘Questions? There are no questions to be asked. Just believe and all will be well. Caeli enaran gloriam Dei! ’

‘Indeed, the heavens do bespeak the glory of God, but we must also ask questions that are unrelated to matters of the Faith. I would speak about your cousin, Cronán.’

Colgú and Eadulf both started at the information. Eadulf dimly remembered that Cronán had said something about a cousin of his marrying a noble of the Déisi, but …

‘He is your cousin, isn’t he?’ asked Fidelma.

The woman was almost whispering now. ‘He is a grand abbot. He told me the truth about the seventh angel. I shall soon mount to the throne of this world, for it is my destiny to ensure that all see the glory of God and the truth of His message.’

‘I would like to know how you and Cronán set about this task,’ Fidelma said.

A sudden flash of recognition crossed the woman’s face, and her eyes changed from pale to bright blue. She was staring malignantly at Fidelma as if seeing her for the first time.

‘I recognise you, Whore of Babylon!’ Her voice grew harsh and venomous. The malevolent face then turned to Eadulf, causing him to take a step backwards. ‘This woman is responsible for the death of the Prophets and Apostles!’ she shouted. ‘She is a dwelling place of evil, a cup full of iniquities.’

Caol made to go towards Étain as she writhed and twisted against her bonds. Fidelma reached out a hand to stay him.

‘She is quoting from Scripture,’ she explained quietly. ‘It signifies nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ Étain was slobbering, the spittle on her lips. ‘And their dead bodies shall lie in the streets of their great city … and the people and the clans … they shall see the dead bodies … but they will not be able to put the dead into graves, for there will be so many.’ Her voice rose to a croaking crescendo. ‘The seventh trumpet sounds; the kingdom of this world will become the kingdom of our Lord.’

‘The seventh trumpet,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘So that was the code of their conspiracy?’

Fidelma glanced sadly at the woman who had collapsed back in the chair after her violent tussle against her bonds. She was muttering and weeping. But there was nothing else they could do. They left and went outside. When Caol bolted the door, there was a troubled look on Fidelma’s face.

‘Is there nothing we can do? No balm that will keep her quiet?’ Her question was directed at Eadulf.

‘For such a state as that woman is in, it is hard to say what will help her. We could try lily of the valley, maybe fennel, or a mixture of both in an infusion.’ He spread his hands almost helplessly. ‘Perhaps the best thing is to induce sleep.’

‘I am sure Gelgéis has an apothecary here,’ Colgú said, turning to Caol. ‘Go and ask for such potions as Eadulf suggests. But ensure that the woman remains restrained.’

‘I have seen enough not to be reminded of that duty,’ muttered Caol as he left them.

‘And now we must have some answers, Fidelma,’ Colgú said briskly. ‘You started off with the death of an unknown Laigin noble outside Cashel. How has it developed to this …?’ He spread his arms to encompass everything.

‘That I believe I can now answer. Let us see if Gelgéis will allow us to meet in her personal reception chamber again, this time with her advisers and with Brehon Áedo and Bishop Ségdae.’

The chamber seemed crowded. It was not made to accommodate the nine people who filled it. Gelgéis had vacated her usual chair of office for Colgú to sit in while she had taken a chair close by Áedo, the Chief Brehon of Muman. The latter sat next to Gelgéis’s own Brehon, Broce of the Éile. Next to him was Abbot Ségdae and Bishop Daig. Spealáin stood by the door which he closed after attendants had brought refreshment for everyone.

‘So where shall we start in unravelling this mystery?’ Colgú asked the question directly of his sister.

She said: ‘Let us start with the decision of Brehon Áedo …’

The Chief Brehon of Muman glared at Fidelma. ‘What do you mean?’ he growled. ‘What have I to do with this conspiracy?’

Fidelma answered with a reassuring tone. ‘Let us hope that you have nothing to do with it, except indirectly. But cast your mind back a few months. We were all at the Abbey of Lios Mór, investigating a particularly gruesome murder. I presented the case. You will recall?’

The Chief Brehon uttered a curt, ‘Of course! It was shown and judged that the Lady Étain of An Dún was guilty of the murder of her own son and, indeed, of others.’

‘Exactly so,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘It was a bizarre case and the Lady Étain was so deranged that you agreed that she was a dásachtach , suffering the worst condition of madness. She was sent to Gleann na nGeilt, the Glen of Lunatics, which is under the authority of the Abbey of Imleach.’

‘Lady Étain was the leader of the uprising in the west. Are you saying that was a continuance of what happened at Lios Mór?’ demanded the Brehon.

Abbot Ségdae shifted uneasily on his chair. ‘I hope there is no reflection on how my abbey oversees its duties in the matter of Gleann na nGeilt?’

‘As we understand it,’ continued Fidelma, ‘because of Lady Étain’s rank and position, one third of her lands were used to provide for her upkeep and care during her lifetime. Two thirds were reverted to her family and to the payment of compensation to her victims and for fines.’

‘That is the law,’ agreed Brehon Áedo.

‘And her family were …?’ prompted Fidelma.

It was Abbot Segdae who answered. ‘You know well, Sister …’ He paused, remembering her previous rebuke. ‘You know well, Fidelma. She was of the Déisi Muman, the widow of a prince of that clan.’

‘And thus related to the late Bran Finn, Prince of the Déisi?’

‘Of course.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you saying it was Bran Finn who brought the funds so that she could employ her mercenaries?’

‘Not at all. He went to the Glen of Lunatics to discover who was involved in this plot. The funds actually came from Cronán, the Lord of Gleann an Ghuail, who was Étain’s cousin. He had inadvertently told me that he had a cousin who married a noble of the Déisi.’

Eadulf nodded slowly. Before Fidelma had questioned Étain, he had entirely forgotten the exchange at the meal in Liath Mór.

Light was beginning to dawn on their faces. Colgú leaned forward in his chair. ‘So this unrest in the west — Étain’s raids against farms and settlements, particularly religious houses — they were master-minded by Cronán?’

‘Those who were at Lios Mór will bear witness that the Lady Étain’s crimes were inspired by a religious fanaticism. It was that which motivated the murder of her own son. When Cronán was devising his plot, he played on this. He sent to Étain, pretending that he was speaking as an abbot, and telling her that the seventh angel, a figure from the Holy Scriptures, had appeared and said that she was to lead an army to cleanse the land of the impure of faith.’

‘But she was supposed to be confined in the Glen of Lunatics. How would she get the money to pay her band of cut-throats and escape?’ Brehon Áedo stopped at a gesture from Fidelma.

‘The Glen of Lunatics is no prison, and while the most dangerous are closely watched by the religious of Imleach, it would be easy for someone aided by outsiders to escape. Her own cousin, Cronán of Gleann an Ghuail, sent her money and support, probably via his son, Sillán, or one of his men like Biasta. I shall come to them later. Brother Ailgesach had become aware of the conspiracy during his last days working among the unfortunates in the Glen of Lunatics, and he warned Gelgéis — is that not so, lady?’