Peter Tremayne - Valley of the Shadow

Eadulf swallowed hard as he recalled the incident.

‘So it was you?’ Eadulf focussed on Laisre for a moment before turning quickly to Fidelma. ‘But how did you know that it was Laisre, you weren’t there?’

‘Rudgal told you who was walking along the wall at that time. Once Laisre was connected with other parts of the puzzle his role became obvious. Do you deny it was you, Laisre?’

Laisre remained silent.

‘Now, do you want to tell us why you chose to meet Brother Solin that night in the stable?’

The chieftain of Gleann Geis continued to sit as if he had been carved from stone.

‘Then I will do so,’ continued Fidelma, after he made no reply. ‘You and he were fellow plotters, or allies, if you like. You were the one who was in league with Mael Dúin of Ailech. You took and destroyed the incriminating vellum message from Ailech. Is that not so?’

Laisre laughed, perhaps a little too hollowly.

‘Are you saying that I would betray my own people? That I would sacrifice them to gain personal power?’

‘That is precisely what I am saying. You need not deny it. It occurred to me during that first council meeting, when you were supposed to negotiate with me, that it had been you who had made the decision to send for a religious to come here. I learnt that most of your council had been in opposition to that decision which you had made quite arbitrarily. Now, why would you, who still clung to the old faith, and who, according to Christians like Rudgal there, was so obstinate about recognition of the Church here, suddenly go against the wishes of your council to send such an invitation? The answer becomes obvious. You had to send the invitation to ensure a cleric came here to see the ritual slaughter. No other person at Gleann Geis could have had the authority to make that decision.

‘I was confused when I realised that you stood alone against Colla and Murgal and your sister as well as other members of the council in this matter. Why were you putting your chieftainship in jeopardy by refusing to accept their will in council? The reason was because you had your sights on other power. Mael Dúin had obviously promised you better things than the chieftainship of Gleann Geis.’

Colla, Murgal and Orla were staring at Laisre in horror as they began to follow the irrevocable logic of her accusation.Laisre’s features reformed in an expression of defiance; almost contempt.

‘You would have destroyed Gleann Geis for ambition?’ asked Murgal amazed. ‘Deny it and we will believe you. You are our chieftain.’

‘You are right. I am your chieftain.’ Laisre rose suddenly, his voice stentorian. ‘Let us make this day ours. There are only a few of them if we act together. Mael Dúin will still succeed with his plan in spite of this woman. Join me, if you want to be on the winning side. Declare for Ailech against Cashel. Take hold of your destiny.’

Colla stood facing Laisre, his face white and strained with disbelief.

‘I will take hold of the only destiny that honour now demands,’ he said quietly. ‘You are no longer chieftain of Gleann Geis and shame is your portion for that which you have tried to do to them.’

Laisre was momentarily angry.

‘Then you will have to live with your shame in denying your lawful chieftain!’

Even before he had finished speaking he had sprung forward, taking a dagger from his belt. Before anyone could move he had dragged young Esnad from her chair, drawing her in front of him as a shield, placing the blade of the dagger across her throat. She screamed but the pressure of the sharp blade caused the cry to be stifled. A thin line of blood showed on the whiteness of her throat. The girl’s eyes were wide and staring in fear. Laisre began to back towards the door of the chamber.

‘Stay still if you do not wish to see this girl killed,’ he called as Ibor and a couple of his warriors began automatically to move towards them.

Orla screamed sharply.

‘She is your niece, Laisre. She is my daughter! Your own flesh and blood!’

‘Keep back,’ warned the chieftain. ‘I am going to leave this ráth in safety. Do not think I will hesitate to use this dagger. The bitch from Cashel will tell you that I was prepared to sacrifice the people of this valley to ensure my ambition and I shall not hesitate to sacrifice even this indolent child — flesh of my flesh or not.’

Marga then started forward towards him with a joyful cry.

‘I am coming with you, Laisre.’

Laisre gave her a cynical smile.

‘I cannot have you as well as my hostage delay me now. I musttravel alone. Fend for yourself until I return here with Mael Dúin’s victorious army.’

The girl stepped back as if she had been slapped in the face.

‘But … you promised … after all we have been through … After what I have done for you.’ Her voice became inarticulate as she understood his rejection of her.

‘Circumstances alter cases,’ the chieftain replied easily, his eyes still warily watching the warriors of Ibor. ‘Clear the way. The girl dies if anyone tries to follow.’

Orla was almost in hysterics. Colla tried to comfort her.

Fidelma, scrutinising him, realised that the chieftain of Gleann Geis was totally insane. She also realised that Esnad would be discarded as soon as he secured a fast horse and reached beyond the gates of the ráth. Not even his own niece meant anything more to him other than a means of gaining what he coveted. Power was his god. Power was a desolating pestilence polluting everything it touched.

‘He will do it,’ she warned Ibor who was still edging slowly forward. ‘Do not attempt to detain him.’

Ibor halted, accepting that she was right, and ground his sword, calling on his men to do likewise.

The warriors of Ibor halted and looked helplessly at their leader for guidance. Ibor simply rested his sword point on the ground before him and gave a sigh.

Laisre grinned triumphantly.

‘I am glad that you are so sensible, Fidelma of Cashel. Now, Marga, open the door for me. Quickly!’

Marga was still standing in shocked disbelief at Laisre as if she could not believe her abandonment by her erstwhile lover.

‘Move!’ yelled Laisre in anger. ‘Do as I say!’

Orla turned tear-stained eyes to the apothecary.

‘For the sake of my daughter, Marga,’ she pleaded. ‘Open the door for him.’

It was the rotund Cruinn who took a pace forward.

‘I’ll open the door for him, lady,’ she offered.

Laisre glanced towards the portly woman.

‘Do so then. Quickly!’

The hostel keeper, her face set sternly, moved to the door. Then she turned swiftly.

Abruptly Laisre stiffened. His face contorted. The dagger blade fell away from Esnad’s throat as his grip loosened. Sensing his slackening grasp, the young girl broke away and ran sobbing into the arms of her mother. The chieftain of Gleann Geis stood swayingfor a moment. It seemed as though he had suddenly acquired a red necklet. The dagger finally dropped from his nerveless fingers and he fell face forward on to the council chamber floor. Blood began to pump from his severed artery on to its boards.

Marga let out a series of long, shuddering sobs.

‘He was going to betray me,’ she whispered almost in disbelief.

‘I know, I know.’ Cruinn gazed at her in sympathy. She was still standing before the door, behind Laisre’s body. There was a large knife in her hand, still stained with the chieftain’s blood.

Ibor ran forward and bent down, feeling for Laisre’s pulse. There was no need. It was obvious that the chieftain was dead. He glanced up at Fidelma and shook his head. Then he slowly stood up and removed the knife from Cruinn’s limp hand.

Cruinn turned away and, taking Marga by the arm, led her to a seat.