Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

‘I meant, by which route?’

Brother Mac Raith was still puzzled. ‘There is surely only one path from the township to the fortress. We walked up through the main gates.’

‘I see. And who was at the guest-hostel when you returned?’

‘There were many people milling around in great consternation. Prior Cuan was among them. Brother Tuaman, Brehon Faolchair, some attendants, some warriors and the female physician – I do not know her name but think she is related to the prince – they were all crowding around the hostel. The Brehon was trying to gather all the relevant facts, I think.’

‘Where was Gorman at this time?’

‘He had already been taken to the cells. I heard afterwards that his wife had also been taken to a cell in case there was some conspiracy. It is little enough that I can tell you. Neither of us can provide any details connected with the event as we were not here.’

Fidelma finished the conversation by thanking the young scribe. She and Eadulf left him at the guest-hostel and made their way across the courtyard. A flight of stone steps led up to one of the walkways around the walls of the fortress. ‘Let’s catch some of the breeze that is blowing. I need to clear my head,’ Fidelma said. She went ahead up the steps to the parapet and rested against it, looking down at the River Mhaigh below them. A gentle summer breeze ruffled their hair.

‘It is best,’ Fidelma murmured to her husband, ‘to gather one’s thoughts in a place where one is not overheard.’

‘My thoughts are now concerned with the loyalties of the prior,’ Eadulf said. ‘We must check that he was with Brehon Faolchair at the time of the murder.’

‘That should be easy,’ she agreed.

‘What of the book of Penitentials inscribed as a gift from Theodore of Tarsus?’

‘More important is to know how, less than six months ago, he was able to come to Imleach from Cluain Eidnech and persuade Segdae to make him Prior. That’s a short time to establish himself.’

Eadulf said, ‘I had forgotten your tradition that abbots and bishops are usually appointed from the ruling families, and that the communities they form usually follow the tradition of electing the officials of the abbey from those appointed.’

Fidelma nodded. ‘It may be of concern that this Cuan comes from a territory that has no connection with my brother’s kingdom let alone the Abbey of Imleach itself.’

‘And what about his steward, Brother Tuaman? He said he came from an abbey on a lake west of here.’

‘Inis Faithlinn, in Loch Lein,’ Fidelma sighed. ‘But the territory is an Eoghanacht one. Congal, son of Mael Duin, is ruler of the western peninsulas of the kingdom.’

‘Yet we have just been told that someone called Cuimin had a chapel there and wrote a text of these Penitentials which Abbot Nannid now quotes.’

‘You mean that Loch Lein is where Brother Tuaman also comes from?’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘The connection is so obvious that it probably means nothing. Don’t worry – there are so many strands to this mystery and all of them appear so inviting to follow.’

‘At least Prior Cuan stood up for the law while Brother Tuaman claims Abbot Segdae was preparing to compromise on it. Surely that is another mystery to follow?’

They were interrupted by Conri calling up to them from the courtyard. By his side was a warrior they had not seen before. They went down the steps to join them.

‘I thought you might want to have a word with Ceit here.’ Conri indicated the man at his side. ‘Ceit was the commander of the guard on the evening that the abbot was murdered. In fact, Ceit is the cenn-feadhna , commander of the Lucht-tighe , the household guards of Prince Donennach.’

The stocky warrior had thick, curly black hair and a beard to match, yet his eyes were a sparkling light blue in a weather-tanned face. He inclined his head towards Fidelma. ‘Can I be of service to you, lady?’ His tone was a deep bass that seemed to rise from the pit of his stomach.

‘Indeed you may,’ she told him. ‘I was going to seek you out later but it is opportune that we meet now. Do you remember the events of the evening that Abbot Segdae was killed?’

‘It is not often we have an abbot stabbed to death in this fortress, lady,’ replied the man. ‘The events are embedded in my mind.’

‘But this may be difficult as I am searching for information about people coming through the main gates.’

‘I have a good memory, lady.’

‘Do you remember, for example, the two religious from Imleach leaving the fortress?’

‘My duty started just before the evening meal, lady. They must have left before I went on duty. I first remember Abbot Segdae returning. It was still light then for, as you know, the feast of the Grientairissem is not far off. However, the two religious returned after dark.’

Eadulf knew that the feast of the Grientairissem or sun-standing, marked the longest day of the year and therefore darkness fell late in the evening.

‘Did they need permission to leave?’

Ceit shook his head immediately. ‘They had no reason to seek it, lady. I was instructed to give our guests from Imleach every consideration. I was here when they returned after dark and was able to tell them the news about the murder of the abbot.’

‘You were not at the guest-hostel? I understand there were a lot of people there.’

‘I had been there earlier, just after Lachtna raised the alarm. Brehon Faolchair had arrived and he took command so I was superfluous. However, I was there when Prince Donennach and the lady Airmid arrived. Lachtna was well able to take charge of any service warriors could give at that stage. Gorman had already been taken to the prison house, so I returned to my post at the gates. Brother Tuaman and Lachtna were the only witnesses to what actually took place.’

Fidelma thanked the man, who continued on his way across the courtyard to the main gate. Conri, who had remained, asked: ‘Is there anything else I can help you with, lady?’

‘I am very interested in this side gate. Would you show it to me?’

The warlord smiled ruefully. ‘I suspected it would play a prominent part in your thoughts, lady. I am still wondering how Gorman could have been so foolish as to destroy any hope he had of defending himself.’

They followed Conri in silence across the courtyard to the stone block that housed the cells. It was a squat building squeezed between the stables and the Laochtech or warriors’ barracks. Just by the side of it was a pair of large solid oak doors. While they were not as tall and wide as the main gates they were certainly tall and wide enough for a mounted rider, ducking over the neck of his horse, to pass through. They were now shut and secured by bolts. Fidelma also noticed that a large lock served as extra security. She glanced around.

‘The big iron key,’ she pointed to the key hanging on a hook on a wooden pillar by the right side of the gate, ‘I presume that fits this lock? Does it always hang there?’

‘It does,’ Conri confirmed.

‘If the bolts were undone, it would require no great feat of strength to take the key and unlock the gates?’

‘No strength at all,’ confirmed Conri. ‘But, as you say, the iron bolts that also secure the doors would have to be released first.’ One was at the level of Fidelma’s waist and the other was just above the top of her head.

‘Yet we are told that Gorman’s wife had two horses, saddled and ready beyond the gates – which had been opened by her,’ Fidelma observed. ‘It needed a taller person to remove the top bolt. Even with bribing the guard, it would be difficult to accomplish everything that was needed. And I doubt the guard would risk deserting his post to perform those tasks.’