Peter Tremayne - The Leper's bell

‘I always leave my door unlocked. Only at night, I draw the bolt shut.’

‘So anyone might have come in at any time and taken the cloak?’

‘I suppose so. Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about?’

Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment.

‘On the night Sárait died and my baby was taken, she was lured from the palace by a false message. A dwarf went to her and told her that her sister wanted to see her urgently.’

‘Gobnat? She hardly spoke to her sister.’

‘You know her that well?’

‘Everyone in the township knows her. Gobnat is one of those righteous women who still refuse to acknowledge my existence. She is supposed to be very moral, a pillar of the Faith.’

Fidelma stretched before the fire.

‘You sound as if you do not like her?’

‘I am merely irritated by her attitude. But then many people are.’

Fidelma looked at Delia curiously. ‘What do you mean?’

Delia shrugged quickly. ‘I mean her inflated self-esteem as if she is far better than other women here. Her conceit has grown immensely now that her husband, Capa, is captain of the élite warriors that guard your brother.’

‘My mentor, the Brehon Morann, used to say that pride is but a mask covering one’s own faults.’

Delia smiled humorously. ‘If anyone has a true reason for pride, it is you, Fidelma. You are wise and learned and your deeds are known in all five kingdoms of Éireann.’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘When I went to attend the law school of Brehon Morann, the first thing I had to do was part with self-conceit. Admitting one knew nothing and would never know more than a fraction even if one spent an entire life in contemplation and study, was the start of learning. Otherwise it would have been impossible to learn even what I thought I already knew.’

Delia tried to bring Fidelma’s mind back to the matter in hand.

‘You mentioned that a dwarf went to the palace. Are you trying to track down this dwarf?’

Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘I have already done so. He told me a story that I believe. I believe it because the poor creature’s brother paid for its veracity with his life.’

‘And that story is?’

‘That the dwarf was passing through Cashel on that night and was asked to deliver the message to Sárait by a woman — a woman dressed in a green silk cloak, enriched with red embroidery.’

She was watching Delia’s face carefully. She was surprised to see a look of relief relax her features.

‘Then the dwarf will be able to identify the wearer of this garment and prove who it was.’

‘Not exactly,’ replied Fidelma. ‘You see, while the light of a lamp fell on the woman’s clothing, it did not reveal her features. All he could see was that she was not youthful but had a good figure. The woman paid him to take the message to Sárait.’

Delia began to look a little strained and pale again.

‘I see now why you have come to me with your questions,’ she said. ‘You think that I am that woman. However, other women could have cloaks of green silk with red embroidery.’

Fidelma indicated the chest of clothes.

‘The fact that you cannot produce your cloak seems to indicate that it was the cloak in question.’

‘It does not mean that I was wearing it.’

‘True. Can you add anything to your explanation of where you were that night?’

Delia hesitated.

‘Fidelma, you have befriended me when others shunned my company. You defended me when others would have condemned me. By that friendship I swear this, that I am not the woman whom you seek. I know nothing of the matter other than that I once possessed a green silk cloak and now it is gone.’

Fidelma looked intently at her for a moment or two.

‘Speaking as your friend, Delia, I believe you. But in this matter, I have to speak as a dálaigh. I have to try to find out when this cloak was stolen from you and have some corroboration of where you were on the night Sárait was killed.’

Delia raised her arms in a helpless gesture.

‘I know nothing of law, lady. You must do as you must. I will answer your questions so far as I am able but I can tell you nothing further that will help you in this matter.’

‘You cannot tell me where you were on that night or provide me with the name of anyone who would vouch for you?’ she pressed.

‘I can say nothing more on that subject,’ Delia replied firmly.

Fidelma sighed deeply.

‘Very well. I do believe you, Delia, but I must do what I must to find my child. You can appreciate that.’

Delia impulsively leant forward and touched Fidelma’s arm.

‘Believe me, I am a mother, too. I would do the same were I in your place. I have not had a happy life. When I was young, I had ambitions to marry and have children. That was denied me. My problem, if you like, was that I always fell in love with the wrong man. I gave love and trust, and those men took them from me and then left me with nothing but angry memories. That was how I was led into being a bé-táide , seeking to revenge myself on men.’

‘I cannot see,’ Fidelma replied with a frown, ‘how prostitution is a form of revenge on men?’

Delia chuckled, a sound without any humour.

‘It makes men come cap in hand, seeking women’s favours and having to pay for the privilege. That is revenge for all those women whom they force their attentions on, whom they claim mastery over, simply because they are their husbands.’

‘Women do not have to put up with men’s pretensions in that field,’ admonished Fidelma. ‘Under law, women have the right to separate and to divorce.’

Delia was still bitter.

‘Law is logical. Sometimes the law is only as good as human nature. What happens between a man and wife within the bedroom is often beyond the reach of the law.’

‘A woman does not have to be afraid. If a man threatens or inflicts physical violence on his partner it is grounds for an immediate divorce. Likewise, if the man circulates lies about his partner and holds her up to ridicule-’

Delia cut her short.

‘You do not understand, lady. I know you have a perfect marriage and I wish you well in it. But the minds of men and women are not always logical. Sometimes a woman will bear ills that logic might dictate are easily curable in law because of her feelings for her partner. Not everything can be cured by logic’

Fidelma felt a sudden overwhelming weariness. Then, she could not help it, tears sprang into her eyes. She tried to blink them away.

Delia gazed at her in surprise.

‘Why, lady, what is amiss?’ she asked, leaning forward, a hand on Fidelma’s arm.

Fidelma found that she could not speak.

‘Oh, forgive me, lady, I am too selfish.’ Delia seemed truly in distress. ‘I forgot this was about your missing child. How can I be so unthinking?’

Fidelma tried to recover her poise. Then she sighed.

‘Oh, Delia, it is not just Alchú’s loss that has cast me into an abyss I can see no way out of.’

The woman stared at her for a moment, lost in thought. Then she shook her head.

The Saxon brother? Your husband? Is he the cause of this grief, lady?’

‘It is more that I have been upsetting him by my vanity, Delia,’ she replied brokenly.

The woman regarded her with an appraising look.

‘Tell me about it,’ she instructed.

At first Fidelma hesitated and then, slowly at first, but with growing abandon, she began to tell Delia about the situation that had evolved between herself and Eadulf. It flooded out. As she spoke, she began to realise that it was a long time since she had talked to a woman, someone she could trust. In fact, Fidelma had not had an anam chara , a soul friend, since the disgrace of her friend Liadin, who had once been as a sister to her. They had grown up together and when they had reached the ‘age of choice’, when they had become women under the law, they had become soul friends, sworn to be spiritual guides to one another as was the custom of the Faith in Ireland. Liadin had married a foreign chieftain, Scoriath of the Fir More, who had been driven from his own lands to dwell among the Uí Dróna of Laigin. Liadin had acquired a lover and become involved in the murder of her husband and son and betrayed her oath to Fidelma. Since then, Fidelma had not accepted anyone as a soul friend.