Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

Crawling flat on their stomachs they left their shelter and moved slowly and diagonally up the hill towards the boulders and gorse. The sloping hill was not even and there were many bumps and ridges, even molehills that, with odd clusters of gorse and tufts of tall grass, actually made excellent concealment from anyone looking down the hill. Conri knew that, even in daylight, someone peering down a hill slope with such a terrain would not be able to see very much. High ground was not always the best ground to observe someone approaching so close. Luck was on their side. They reached the boulders without any alarm being sounded.

Now they could see the area between the fire and the entrance of the wooden chapel. The first person she saw, seated on a chair just outside the door of the chapel, was the gaunt figure of Abbot Nannid. The sight took Fidelma’s breath away. He seemed relaxed and held a pottery mug in his hand. To one side of him stood the easily recognisable form of Brother Cuineain. In front of him was a strange, bearded man, hands on hips, who looked vaguely familiar.

Fidelma peered, searching for Deogaire, but there was no sign of him. She felt Conri tap her arm and allowed herself a soft gasp, for into the firelight strode a man she recognised immediately. Even in the flickering light he was still as she remembered him with his youthful air and confident stance. It was Glaed; Glaed the Howler, Lord of Barr an Bheithe, the murderer of his father and of his brother. Glaed, who now called himself Lord of Sliabh Luachra.

As they watched, the brigand chief seated himself in front of Abbot Nannid, and the other familiar-looking man stepped forward and filled the goblet Glaed held and then stepped respectfully back. There was nothing menacing between Glaed and the abbot. Both seemed relaxed. At one point, Abbot Nannid even laughed, an unusual event for him. For a while they engaged in some deep conversation. Then Abbot Nannid turned to his steward and gave him instructions. The steward nodded and disappeared into the wooden chapel. More drinks were poured and consumed as the two men seemed to wait for the reappearance of the steward.

Eventually, Brother Cuineain came out of the building with a small sack in his hand. Abbot Nannid motioned towards Glaed who set aside his goblet, took the sack and peered into it. He nodded slowly as he examined the contents. Then he stood up, as did the abbot. Glaed’s hand thrust out to take that of Abbot Nannid in a firm handshake. Then they turned together and walked out of sight towards the main encampment. Left alone, Brother Cuineain lowered himself into the chair vacated by the abbot and stretched his legs before the fire. Then he peered around surreptitiously and reached down to the ground. When he straightened, they saw he was holding the goblet discarded by Glaed. He wiped the lip with the sleeve of his robe and tilted it back, swallowing back the contents with an apparent smack of his lips that they could almost hear.

A long time passed and it seemed that Brother Cuineain had fallen asleep in the chair. Then the abbot returned alone. The steward came awake with a start. The abbot said something, pointing to the night sky, before the two of them entered the wooden chapel. More time passed, and finally Conri touched Fidelma’s arm and motioned back to the forest. She gave a nod of her head. There was not much more they could observe, though unfortunately they had not seen Gorman. Back in the cover of the forest, they paused to catch their breath.

‘Well, at least we have seen some sort of bargain being made between Abbot Nannid and Glaed,’ Conri commented.

‘But what bargain?’ queried Fidelma. ‘By the way, the man who was pouring the drink seemed familiar but I can’t place him.’

‘No? That was the guard who was bribed to let Gorman escape.’

They finally decided that the only thing to do now was to return to the others and then work out a plan of action after they had rested. Aibell was distressed that there was no news of Gorman, but Eadulf was excited to hear about the involvement of Abbot Nannid and his steward.

‘The trouble is,’ Fidelma observed as they prepared to snatch some rest, ‘there are questions. The merchants told Gorman that Glaed was hiring himself as a mercenary to a powerful person who intended to overthrow Prince Donennach. Is that person Nannid?’

‘It seems obvious to me,’ Conri said.

‘The fact that Abbot Nannid is involved with Glaed and his murdering cut-throats is good enough for me too,’ agreed Eadulf.

It was well after first light when they were sitting down to a simple meal. Eadulf heard it first. The cry of the nightjar again; the curious ‘churring’ sound. There was a pause and then the call was repeated – this time closer to hand. Conri turned, hand cupped to his mouth, and imitated the call. A short while later, they heard a figure approaching through the undergrowth and Socht emerged. His eyes widened in surprise on catching sight of Aibell and then Fidelma and her companions. Quickly composing himself, he took Conri aside and had a swift exchange with him. The warlord listened with a stony expression.

A few moments later, he turned to them, addressing Fidelma.

‘I have good news and bad news, lady.’ It was obvious that he was trying hard to control his feelings.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Socht and his companion have just spotted Gorman alive and looking comparatively well.’

Aibell gave a little scream, hand to mouth.

‘That is, indeed, good news.’ But Fidelma did not give way to relief. ‘So let us have the bad news?’

‘Gorman was seen on the road back to Dun Eochair Mhaigh. He was a prisoner on horseback. Abbot Nannid and Brother Cuineain were leading the escort, which comprised four of Glaed’s men.’

‘Then the abbot is making no secret of his connection with Glaed by openly riding with his men?’ Fidelma was clearly puzzled.

‘It seems that Glaed has handed Gorman over to Abbot Nannid to take back to Prince Donennach’s fortress as a prisoner,’ Conri said.

It made no sense. ‘Why would he do that!’ Eadulf exclaimed. He received no answer but Conri and Fidelma exchanged a worried look.

They arrived back at Dun Eochair Mhaigh, exhausted in the heat of the late afternoon. Ceit, the commander of the fortress guard, came running forward to greet them as they dismounted. He was obviously bursting with news, but Fidelma got in first.

‘Has Gorman been taken back to the cells?’ she demanded.

The expression on his face told them that Gorman’s recapture was part of his news. Then he surprised them by shaking his head. ‘He has not, lady.’

She stared at him. ‘Where is he then? I presume that he has been brought back to the fortress?’

‘I was about to tell you,’ Ceit replied with dignity. ‘It was at noon that we saw Abbot Nannid and his steward returning to the Abbey of Nechta. He was escorted by four unknown warriors …’

‘Warriors!’ Conri snorted. ‘They were brigands from Sliabh Luachra.’

Ceit’s jaw dropped in astonishment. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Continue,’ Fidelma snapped in irritation. ‘They went directly to the abbey, you say? Do you mean that Gorman has been taken there?’

‘He was.’

‘Where is he now?’ she wanted to know.

‘Still in the abbey – they did not bring him here. I alerted Brehon Faolchair, of course. He waited a while, thinking the prisoner would be returned to him, but when no word came from the abbey, he asked me to accompany him there.’ He paused for a moment. ‘It was the aistreoir – the doorkeeper, Brother Eladach – who opened the gates but he said he had strict orders not to admit anyone. I could see that Brother Eladach was unhappy at this for I have known him for some time and know that he is an honourable man.’