Peter Tremayne - The Leper's bell
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- Название:The Leper's bell
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Fidelma did not bother to reassure him.
‘I am concerned with the woman who gave you the message to take to Sárait.’
‘I told you, she was Sárait’s sister. It is she that you should be questioning.’
Fidelma regarded him thoughtfully.
‘Sarait’s sister has denied that she sent any such message. Describe this woman, so that I may compare the description.’
‘I have said, it was nearly dusk and she kept herself in the shadow of the inn.’
‘She kept in the shadows the entire time?’
Forindain considered.
‘She did come nearly into the circle of light once. That was when she gave me the note. But she had a cloak with a hood covering her features. I had the impression that she was shapely, small of stature… for a woman of normal growth, that is,’ he corrected himself. ‘Her voice was not that of a young girl. I remember…’ Forindain was suddenly excited. ‘In the light of the lantern I had a momentary glimpse of the colours of her cloak, which I thought unusual for someone to wear in such a time and at such a place.’
‘Unusual?’ queried Eadulf. ‘How so?’
‘It was a long mantle of green silk with a hood that covered her features, as I have said. And the green silk was enriched with red embroidery. The cloak was fastened with a clasp that seemed to be silver and bejewelled. I noticed she had rings on her fingers when she handed me the money but I felt those by touch and did not see them.’
Eadulf glanced questioningly at Fidelma but she seemed lost in thought.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘that certainly is not a description of Sárait’s sister. She is rather dowdy in her dress.’
Fidelma looked up from her reverie, returning his gaze for a moment.
‘Did you expect that it would be?’ she asked.
‘It merely eliminates her from involvement, that is all,’ he protested.
‘I had nothing to do with any murder, lady,’ Forindain was saying again. He was nervous and kept clutching his hands together in front of him.
‘This woman was waiting in the shadows to get someone to take a message to the palace,’ Fidelma mused. ‘It seems that it was fortuitous that you happened to come along and be willing to take the message.’
‘Fortuitous? What do you mean?’
‘How would she know that you would be there?’
The dwarf grimaced sourly. ‘Maybe she was a fortune teller,’ he snapped. ‘How would I know that?’
Suddenly Fidelma gently smiled at him.
‘Will your band of players, the crossan , continue on your travels?’ she asked, apparently changing the subject. ‘Will you now go on to Cashel?’
Forindain sighed. ‘My brother was a good player but we must go on.
There is no other means for us to make a living. We have only the play and the fairs. We will follow our original plan.’
‘So we may expect you to return to Cashel?’ she pressed.
There is a fair at Cashel at the end of next week. We shall be there, lady, unless we are forbidden because of what has happened.’
‘You are not forbidden.’ Fidelma rose from her seat. ‘In fact, I would welcome you there. You may return to your comrades, Forindain, and please accept that I am sorry for your loss.’
Forindain rose uncertainly. ‘And my brother Iubdán? Will he have justice, lady?’
‘I would advise you to adopt another name, another character. Your brother was clearly mistaken for you. Keep the fact a secret. Though I believe you might be clear of danger now that you have spoken to me. I believe it was your information that the killer wanted to suppress. Still, take no chances. Be Iubdán from now until you come to see me at Cashel.’
The dwarf hesitated. Then he gave a little bow and left the tent.
Fiachrae was shaking his head.
‘I understand nothing of this, cousin.’
‘That is best, cousin,’ replied Fidelma solemnly. ‘Nothing of what has passed here must leave this tent. I will keep you informed as I find out more. Now, as it is approaching midday, perhaps we can trouble you for some refreshment…er, of the edible kind,’ she added as Fiachrae’s gaze went to the table on which the jug of corma sat. ‘After we have eaten, we will be on our way back to Cashel.’
Fiachrae looked puzzled.
‘But the killer of the dwarf…?’ he protested. ‘Won’t you want to stay in order to find him?’
‘The person behind the killing of Iubdán will not be in Cnoc Loinge but will be found in Cashel. Do not worry, cousin. I will inform you when I have caught him.’
After Fiachrae had left to organise a meal for them, Eadulf turned with a puzzled look to Fidelma.
‘What did you mean by that?’
Fidelma looked at him with a bland expression. ‘By what, exactly?’
‘That the killer of Iubdán will be found in Cashel.’
Her lips thinned a moment. ‘I said the person behind the killing would be found in Cashel.’
Eadulf exhaled sharply. ‘So far as I can see, we have come to a dead end. Someone went to great lengths to disguise themselves and send the innocent dwarf up to the palace to inveigle Sárait out into the night to meet her killer. But at least we now learn that it was not the intention to kidnap Alchú, otherwise the message he was sent to deliver would have requested her to bring the child. It was pure chance that she could not find anyone to look after our baby and had to take him with her.’
Fidelma looked thoughtfully at him.
‘It is a good point and one that could be overlooked,’ she observed.
‘But there is now no lead. No lead at all.’
‘On the contrary,’ Fidelma contradicted. ‘I believe the description of those clothes will lead me directly to the person who wears such distinctive garments.’
Chapter Eight
Fidelma and Eadulf rode the entire way back to Cashel without exchanging more than a few words. Although they had been more at ease at Cnoc Loinge, the underlying tension between them remained. In addition, Fidelma had not been open with Eadulf about who it was in Cashel who wore such distinctive clothing as had been described by Forindain the dwarf. The knowledge had made her reel inside for she had counted that person as a friend. She felt she could not reveal this knowledge to anyone as yet, least of all to Eadulf. That made her feel doubly guilty about the argument they had had at Imleach. She glanced at him once or twice in surreptitious fashion as they rode along. Eadulf, his brow drawn in a permanent frown, appeared to have sunk deep into his own thoughts. Apart from her astonishment at hearing Forindain’s description of the woman who had sent the dwarf to the palace to persuade Sárait to meet her killer, Fidelma was still feeling slightly shocked at Eadulf’s outburst. Perhaps she had taken his placidity too much for granted. She had long ago realised that she was too used to having her own way, exerting authority not simply thanks to her privileged background but more to her own hard-won status as a dálaigh. The very thing that she had liked most about Eadulf was that he had accepted her faults. He seemed to absorb snappishness and outbursts of temper. That he had suddenly turned in such a fashion had astonished her, almost driving her preoccupation with her lost child momentarily from her mind.
She realised, as if it were a sudden revelation, that she needed to question herself more rigorously.
She had never really looked on herself as a religieuse. Her passion was law. It was a distant cousin, Abbot Laisran of Durrow, who had persuaded her to join the double-house of St Brigid at Kildare, for practically everyone involved in the professions and arts was to be found among the religious as had, a few generations before, their predecessors been part of the druid orders. She had not been long in learning that life in an abbey was not for her, and when the abbess of Kildare placed herself above the law Fidelma had left and returned to her brother’s capital of Cashel.
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