Peter Tremayne - Valley of the Shadow

Realising Solin was beyond mortal help, she made a quick search of his body. The piece of vellum which Brother Dianach had given him, and which she had seen him carrying, was nowhere in the vicinity. She held her torch aloft and peered carefully around. There was no sign of anything remotely resembling the vellum. Had Orla taken it? If so, why? And what had Orla’s anger with Solin to do with Solin’s threat of Cashel falling before the summer ended?

Fidelma began to rise, torch in hand, and as she did so she felt a sharp sensation in her back. A harsh male voice hissed: ‘Make no further move, lady.’

She recognised the voice of Artgal.

She stood still.

‘I shall not move,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘What do you want of me?’

The man gave a sharp bark of laughter.

‘You have a droll sense of humour, lady. Stand still.’

To Fidelma’s surprise he suddenly raised his voice in a loud cry for the members of the watch.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, less certain of herself.

‘You may turn and face me,’ Artgal replied. ‘But slowly.’

Fidelma did so, facing the grim warrior-blacksmith who stoodsword in hand, its point towards her. In the distance she could hear answering shouts.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded again.

‘Easy to say,’ Artgal smiled sourly. ‘What does one do when one finds a murderess bending over the body of her victim?’

‘But I did not …’ she began to protest but was unable to finish before Rudgal and another guard hurried into the stable followed a few seconds later by Laisre himself. The chieftain wore a heavy cloak wrapped around his person as if just aroused from his bed. Artgal stiffened respectfully before his chieftain.

‘What does this mean, Artgal?’ frowned Laisre, peering around the stable.

‘I was on night watch, Laisre. I was passing by the stable and saw the torch which usually lit the doorway was gone. There was a light inside the stable. I entered and saw this woman …’

He jerked his head towards Fidelma. Laisre frowned at Artgal’s discourtesy and interrupted.

‘Do you mean Fidelma of Cashel?’

Artgal was not to be put off.

‘I saw this woman bending over the body of the Christian priest, Solin. She is the killer.’

‘That is not so!’ protested Fidelma aghast at such an accusation.

Laisre had now caught sight of the body on the ground. He exclaimed in surprise and bent forward.

‘By the long grasp of Lugh,’ he whispered, ‘it is, indeed, the Christian envoy from Armagh!’ He straightened up and stared in bewilderment at Fidelma. ‘What does this mean?’

‘I did not kill him,’ Fidelma asserted.

‘No?’ Artgal sneered. ‘I am a witness to the deed. Lies will not help you.’

‘You are the liar,’ replied Fidelma, ‘for I defy you to say that you saw me plunge a knife into this poor soul.’

Artgal blinked at the vehemence of her denial.

‘I came in and saw you bending over him. There was no one else here.’

‘What have you to say in reply to this, Fidelma?’ asked Laisre, regarding her in some bewilderment.

‘I was following Brother Solin,’ Fidelma explained. ‘I lost him on the path outside. I was turning back to the hostel when I heard a sound from the stable. A figure came out and disappeared into the night. Then I heard a groan. I went inside and found Brother Solin. He was dying. He whispered something to me that does not make sense. A piece of Latin. Then he expired. I was just aboutto call the watch when Artgal stuck the point of his sword against my back.’

Artgal guffawed in derision.

‘There was no one here except you,’ he repeated.

‘You have the word of a dálaigh of the Brehon courts for the truth of what I say as well as the word of an Eóghanacht princess!’

‘Perhaps that is not enough,’ replied Artgal, refusing to be intimidated by her.

Laisre held up his hand for silence.

‘In this case, Fidelma of Cashel, Artgal is right. Your word is not enough. Why were you following Solin in the first place?’

‘Because …’ Fidelma hesitated, not wishing to reveal her suspicions. If there was some plot to overthrow Cashel, she wondered who else would be involved. Artgal misread her hesitation for guilt and turned in triumphant amusement.

‘Because she was angry at his presence,’ the warrior interposed. ‘We all saw her anger in the council meeting yesterday. There is always some conflict among these Christians. I heard her saying that Armagh and Imleach were rivals, both seeking power over our lives. They are squabbling with one another for the right to dictate to us. That’s the root of this matter, believe me.’

Everyone knew of the animosity between Solin and Fidelma. Laisre cast a dubious look at her.

‘It is a plausible motive.’

‘No. My reason to be suspicious of Brother Solin was a simple one.’ Fidelma had been thinking furiously. ‘He rose in the night and left the hostel. What good intention does someone have for so doing? I was suspicious of that. So I followed him.’

‘You claim that you saw a person standing at the stable door?’ Laisre reflected. ‘I don’t suppose that you could identify who it was?’

‘Of course she can’t!’ interrupted Artgal.

‘Let her reply,’ advised Laisre, gazing intently at Fidelma.

Fidelma felt a conflict, not wishing to reveal Orla’s presence until she had investigated herself, but she realised that she must now justify herself to Laisre.

‘Yes, I can,’ she answered to Laisre’s visible surprise. ‘But I would prefer not to reveal the name until I have had a chance to investigate.’

‘Investigate?’ They were startled by the voice of Murgal who had entered the stable unnoticed. ‘If there is an investigation, it is not you, lady, who shall conduct it. I am the Brehon here.’

Laisre glanced at his Druid as if he would dispute this but then shrugged.

‘Murgal is right, Fidelma of Cashel. You are a suspect in a murder. You can no longer act as a dálaigh. So you must cooperate with us. Tell us the name of the person who you saw outside the stable.’

‘If you can,’ Artgal added with a sneer.

‘I saw the lady Orla,’ Fidelma said quietly.

Laisre gave a sharp intake of breath. There was an expression of astonishment on his face.

‘What perfidy is this?’ demanded Artgal angrily. ‘She seeks to put the blame of her deed on the sister of our chieftain! The wife of our tanist!’

‘I seek only the truth,’ replied Fidelma firmly.

Murgal was staring at her with open suspicion.

‘Will this bring the truth nearer, by insulting your host, the chieftain of Gleann Geis, by claiming the lady Orla is a murderess?’

‘I said that I saw her emerge from the stable …’

‘The lady Orla, indeed?’ snapped Artgal. ‘This is an affront to all our people, Laisre!’

Laisre’s face had grown taut.

‘If you had given any other name but that one, Fidelma, I might have inclined to a lenient approach and might have even believed you.’

Fidelma thrust out her chin defiantly.

‘I can only speak the truth. Find Orla and bring her forth to deny my truth.’

Laisre stood undecided for a moment.

‘This is a bad business, Fidelma of Cashel. But this business is better discussed in my council chamber. Artgal, go to the chambers of Colla and Orla and request my sister’s presence. Do not even hint at what has happened here or why she is summoned.’ He turned abruptly to Murgal. ‘You are my Brehon. You will come with us and advise on procedure and judgment.’

Murgal inclined his head gravely. He signalled to Rudgal and the other guard to come forward.

‘One of you stay here with the body. Ensure that nothing is touched until I say so. The other may accompany us.’