Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

Even before Fidelma and her companions had completed their morning toilette, they had heard a bell ringing frantically from the abbey in the township. Pandemonium had erupted.

‘You had better remain here in this chamber,’ Fidelma told Aibell. ‘Keep the door locked. That is, until we discover what is going on. You will obviously be the first target for Abbot Nannid if he is as angry as I think he will be.’

Fidelma, Eadulf and Enda made their way down to the great hall. They were surprised at how few people were gathered there. The next thing they noticed was that the food, which the attendants had laid on the table, had been left more or less untouched. A worried-looking Prince Donennach was standing having an anxious exchange with Brehon Faolchair, while Conri stood by with a look of suppressed amusement on his face. Prior Cuan and his steward Brother Tuaman were seated with Brother Mac Raith, who was absently picking at a bowl of fruit. All eyes turned on them at their entrance.

The sound of the abbey bell was still resounding in discordant notes. Before they could speak, Prince Donennach burst out: ‘Have you not heard? Gorman has escaped!’

‘We have just risen,’ Fidelma replied blandly, whilst attempting to look absolutely dumbfounded. ‘Gorman has escaped?’

‘Yes, and he has killed his guards in the process.’

Brehon Faolchair intervened. ‘Where is the girl Aibell?’

‘Aibell is upstairs in the chamber I am now sharing with her and where she has been all night,’ Fidelma replied carefully. ‘The poor girl has passed a terrible night. I must run and tell her the news. Why do you want to know?’

‘I was asked to find her and to constrain her,’ explained the Brehon.

Fidelma looked at him coldly. ‘Who asked you to do such a thing?’

‘Abbot Nannid,’ Faolchair said hesitantly.

‘Surely you do not take orders from Abbot Nannid!’

‘You give me your word that she has been with you in your chamber all night?’

‘I am a dalaigh and sister to the King of Muman. Do you doubt my word?’ Fidelma bridled. ‘I shall defend any threat made against her.’ She turned to Enda and gave him instructions in a firm tone. ‘Take some food for Aibell and yourself, and stand guard at the chamber. No one is to enter without my permission … no one .’

Prince Donennach looked embarrassed as Enda hurried away to carry out her orders. ‘There is no need for that, Fidelma. We accept your word.’

‘I am concerned that Abbot Nannid is allowed to make free with his orders, telling your Brehon what he should do.’

‘I merely wondered where the girl was,’ protested Brehon Faolchair. ‘You must admit that it is reasonable for Abbot Nannid to wish to know her whereabouts in the circumstances. The fact that Gorman has escaped again – and this time killed his guards – puts a serious complexion on this matter.’

Fidelma spoke clearly and coldly. ‘I would remind you, Brehon Faolchair, that under our law, Abbot Nannid has acted illegally. Gorman should have been handed back to your custody yesterday until such time as we made a proper examination of the facts. The abbot refused to release him, even when given a clear order and opportunity. He held Gorman illegally and threatened to execute him illegally.’

‘But Gorman killed his guards!’

‘The deaths of two mercenaries – thieves and doubtless murderers themselves, men from Glaed’s bunch of ravening wolves – does not overly excite me. I would argue that these killings were lawful as a means of self-defence. These men were part of the group that killed a peaceful woodsman, his son and the son’s wife. Do not ask me to have sympathy for them. Had there been an opportunity, I would have had them apprehended for the killings under our law and not Nannid’s law. Anyway, under our law, I would argue that by killing them, Gorman, who was going to be illegally executed, was only acting in self-defence, so no crime has been committed.’

Conri had begun to grin in approval at her response but stopped as Brehon Faolchair glared at him.

‘I am sure that Abbot Nannid will bring accusations of conspiracy in this matter,’ the Brehon said heavily.

‘Let him do so,’ shrugged Fidelma. ‘What does he think? That I and Eadulf, Enda and Aibell rose in the middle of the night, went to his so-called abbey, tapped on the door, were admitted, went and released Gorman, killing the guards by the by, and then came back here and went calmly back to sleep again?’

Eadulf erupted in a bout of coughing.

‘No chance of that,’ Conri piped up. ‘I was with Ceit in the fortress last night and know you were all here during the night.’ The warlord actually allowed one of his eyelids to half-close in an approximation of a wink.

‘Personally, I hope Gorman is well on his way to Cashel.’ Prior Cuan spoke for the first time, helping himself to an apple.

His steward, Brother Tuaman, gazed at him aghast. ‘I must ask you to remember that this Gorman murdered Abbot Segdae.’

At that moment, there was a disturbance at the doors of the great hall which were flung open. The gaunt figure of Abbot Nannid stormed in – there was no other expression to describe his entrance, so Eadulf thought. His black cloak was flapping like giant raven’s wings, his thin features were twisted in a scowl. Almost running behind him was his steward, Brother Cuineain, clearly out of breath. Behind them came Ceit, the commander of the guard. Ceit started to make an apology to Prince Donennach but the abbot cut him short.

‘Where is he?’ the man thundered, coming to a halt before Prince Donennach. Brehon Faolchair moved forward to stand between the abbot and his prince as if some physical threat was taking place.

‘Remember that you are addressing the Prince of the Ui Fidgente,’ he warned, but his tone was nervous.

‘The murderer could not have overcome my guards without help,’ the abbot shouted. ‘He is being hidden somewhere and I shall personally track him down. Where is his woman?’

The last question was directed specifically at Fidelma, who decided not to reply.

Brehon Faolchair’s face reddened. ‘I must ask you to speak in tones of respect before your prince, Nannid of Mungairit. As for the wife of Gorman of Cashel, she is in a safe place and has been so since last night.’

The abbot blinked rapidly as if he were not expecting the response.

‘I demand that she be turned over to me,’ he snarled. ‘I’ll soon make her tell me where the murderer is hiding. I demand it by the law.’

‘To which law do you refer?’ Fidelma said. ‘I seem to recall that you have rejected the ruling of our law in favour of your own rules.’

‘What were your rules, Abbot Nannid of Mungairit?’ It was Prior Cuan who met his fellow prelate’s bluster with a raised eyebrow. ‘You held Gorman captive and so you declared it was you who could decide his fate. Qui tenet teneat, qui dolet doleat ,’ he murmured. ‘He who holds may go on holding. He who complains may go on complaining. In other words, the law is with the person who is in possession, not those seeking possession. That is your declared law and you must accept it now that it applies here.’

‘There has been a conspiracy.’ Abbot Nannid’s voice was still high-pitched in anger. ‘I will get to the bottom of it.’

‘Abbot Nannid has finally said something with which I agree,’ Fidelma rejoined. She went to the table and calmly poured herself a mug of apple cider.

Uncertain looks were cast in her direction. Even the abbot seemed confused and his angry rantings died away.

‘What is it that you agree with?’ asked Prince Donennach, puzzled.