Peter Tremayne - The Council of the Cursed

‘What then?’

‘The knife’s pressure increased and I cried out once more that I could not help them and for the sake of pity to spare my life. I am sure the man holding me down on the bed would have cut my throat. Then another voice, a voice in the darkness behind him, said, “Leave him. He obviously knows nothing.” The person holding me said: “Say nothing of this for if you do, we will return when you least expect it.” I heard them exit my chamber and lay for a long time not knowing what to do.’

‘And what language was this exchange conducted in?’

‘Still in Latin.’

‘Did you report the matter?’

Brother Gillucán shook his head dejectedly. ‘I want to live and return to Tulach Óc. However, I have heard of you and Brother Eadulf, and I knew that I should tell you what I know. That is why I have done so, but with discretion. I want no one to know that I have seen you.’

‘I understand. How will you return home to Tulach Óc?’

‘There are some pilgrims from Mágh Bhíle who are on their way back from Rome. They stayed in this city last night, and leave tomorrow. I shall go with them, and be thankful to do so.’

‘And you cannot describe these missing belongings of Abbot Dabhóc further?’

Brother Gillucán hesitated. ‘As I said, I caught sight of the reliquary box only once.’

‘And?’ encouraged Fidelma.

The young man screwed up his eyes as if to conjure the image before him.

‘It was of copper, some tin, enamel and a wood base. It was in the shape of a hexagonal house, with a pitched roof and gable ends, as is typical of the reliquary boxes made by our craftsmen.’

‘You mentioned jewels?’

‘There are decorative mouldings, mounts with red enamel and settings in which emeralds are cast. I do not think they were coloured glass settings. No, I think they were precious and semi-precious stones.’

‘And the size?’

‘Perhaps fourteen centimetres at the base, perhaps ten centimetres deep and five in width.’

Fidelma nodded, for most reliquary boxes from the five kingdoms were made roughly to those dimensions.

‘Oh, and I forgot-there were words engraved on the lid.’

‘Which were?’

‘One name was Benén.’

‘Just that name?’ queried Fidelma, for it was a popular name used among certain of her people.

‘That is all I remember. But there was another name inscribed on it. I can’t recall it.’

‘Well, little things can mount up,’ said Fidelma. ‘I think you have been very wise in telling me what you know, Brother Gillucán. However, we are dealing with beings in corporeal from and not the legions of the cursed as you have described them. “Souls in torment”, I think you said.’

The young man shook his head gloomily. ‘Truly, Sister, there are souls in torment in this abbey. Voices crying out in pain and agony. I have heard them,’ he added with emphasis.

Fidelma wanted to smile but kept her features controlled, for the young man was in earnest.

‘Perhaps you could tell me what you heard and in what circumstances.’

But Brother Gillucán seemed nervous and was having difficulty in making up his mind to speak further. Eventually he said: ‘I went to the necessarium ,’ and flushed a little.

Fidelma was puzzled, not having come across the word before.

‘ Necessarium ?’ she repeated.

‘The latrina . It was before dawn and I…the call of nature…’

‘Go on,’ Fidelma said impatiently. ‘I am not so sheltered from life that I need protection from natural functions of the body.’

‘I was sitting in the necessarium when I heard a low wailing sound. The cries of souls in torment-that is the only way I can describe the sound. Then cries of terror, wailing in fear and anguish. It was terrible to listen to. I have to admit, I fled from the room and did not stir until well after first light.’

It was clear that the young man had truly heard something that had frightened the wits out of him.

‘Where did these sounds come from?’ Fidelma probed. ‘You say that you were in the necessarium -so were the sounds in the same room?’

Brother Gillucán stared at her for a moment.

‘They seemed to come from the walls,’ he said. ‘That is it! They came from the walls. The voices of the cursed.’

‘Where is this necessarium ?’

‘On the ground floor, beyond the refectory.’ He swallowed nervously. ‘I feel that this place is cursed, Sister. I cannot wait for dawn tomorrow, when I will start back for the kingdom of Ulaidh.’

Fidelma regarded the frightened young man with sympathy.

‘If you wish, you could accompany Brother Eadulf and myself back to the five kingdoms, or even go with Abbot Ségdae and his steward.’

‘After what has happened to my abbot and then to me, the quicker I leave this city, the better I shall like it,’ he said. ‘No, I shall leave in the morning with the pilgrims for Mágh Bhíle, as I have said.’

‘Then God be on every road that you travel,’ Fidelma replied gravely.

Brother Gillucán rose quickly. ‘If you do find the abbot’s reliquary box, please remember it was a gift from Ard Macha to Rome.’

‘I will remember it, Brother Gillucán.’

‘Then may God protect you in this evil place, Sister.’ He moved to the door, halted before it and looked back apologetically.

‘Sister, would you mind checking that the corridor is empty?’

She rose without a word and went to the door to open it. A swift glance up and down the corridor ensured that no one was within sight.

She stood back and he slipped out.

‘ Slán abhaile ,’ she whispered, feeling sorry for the frightened young man. Safe home.

Eadulf had returned frustrated, not having found Abbot Ségdae. The latter and some other delegates were apparently holding a meeting on some of the proposals that would have to be discussed by the council when it was finally convened. The abbot had given orders that they were not to be disturbed. Fidelma was philosophical and decided that they would wait until the next day before going to see the Abbess Audofleda. She took the opportunity to tell Eadulf about her visitor.

‘So now we are told that the abbey is haunted?’ he said, his tone sceptical.

‘The young man heard something. It doesn’t mean that his interpretation is the correct one.’

‘Perhaps I should examine this necessarium ,’ mused Eadulf. The hospitia had its own latrina so he had not seen the one that was for general use. He had not expected to be taken seriously, but Fidelma agreed.

‘Find out its location and make a visit there later tonight when all is quiet. With luck, you may stumble across some reasonable explanation for what young Gillucán thought he heard.’

Eadulf groaned inwardly. Truth to tell, he retained some of the superstitions of his pagan upbringing and still believed in malignant spirits. Fidelma pretended not to notice his woebegone expression.

‘What is of more concern to me is the fact that Abbot Dabhóc was carrying a valuable gift for the Bishop of Rome-this reliquary box. Did whoever killed him steal it?’

Eadulf sprawled into the chair that had been earlier vacated by the young man.

‘Well, if they did, they were certainly not the two men who later visited Gillucán and threatened him with a knife,’ he commented.

‘How do you reach that conclusion?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Simple enough. If they already had the box, having ransacked Dabhóc’s chamber, why would they search Gillucán’s room and then return a second time in the middle of the night to threaten him with a knife, asking the question, “Where is it?”’