‘Perhaps your companion,’ the abbess motioned towards Eadulf, who was now much recovered, ‘will help Adnár to remove this body. It has no place in the grounds of this abbey.’
‘Of course, mother abbess,’ Eadulf agreed readily, not picking up the antagonism in the abbess’s voice. But Fidelma held Eadulf back a moment. She was frowning as she bent once more over the body and ran her hand to where herdiscerning eye had marked a bulge under the dead man’s jerkin. ‘Curious,’ she muttered, as she reached forward and drew out some sheets of vellum. The lantern revealed that they were stained with red brown mud.
‘Well?’ demanded Abbess Draigen expectantly.
Fidelma silently folded the pages and put them into her crumena. Then she smiled at the abbess.
‘Now the body can be removed. But perhaps it would be better if Adnár sent some of Torcan’s retainers to dispose of the body? Such a task would be ill befitting for a bó-aire and a brother of the Faith.’
The abbess snorted in annoyance and turned away with an: ‘As you wish, so long as it is removed.’ Then she was gone without another word. Adnár waited until she had gone and then he shrugged.
‘I will do as you say, Sister Fidelma, and send Torcan’s retainers to retrieve his body.’
When Fidelma made no reply he, too, followed his sister from the subterraneus.
It was later in her cell in the guests’ hostel that Fidelma, seated in front of Eadulf, flattened out the sheets of vellum she had recovered from Torcán’s body.
‘What are they?’ demanded the Saxon monk straining forward. ‘The abbess did not like it that you failed to enlighten her about them.’
Fidelma had identified them immediately she had removed them from Torcan’s body.
They were the missing pages from the book Teagasg Ri, the Instruction of the King. The missing pages of the biographical appendix to Cormac Mac Art’s philosophical instructions. She glanced through quickly. Yes; as she had suspected, there was the story of Cormac and the gold calf. The tale went on to speak of the revenge of the priest of the gold calf and how he was supposed to have murdered Cormac by causing three salmon bones to stick in the king’s throat.
‘After this infamy,’ Fidelma read aloud, ‘the ungodlypriest retired, taking with him the fabulous idol which was worth the honour price of all the kings of the five kingdoms of Eireann combined together with that of the High King himself. The priest returned to his own country in the farthest point of the kingdom, to the place of the Three Salmons, and hid the gold calf in the primal caverns to await the time when the new Faith could be overthrown. And for generations after that each priest of the golden calf, awaiting the day of atonement, took the name Dedelchú.’
Eadulf frowned.
‘The hound of Dedel? You mentioned that before.’
Fidelma smiled.
‘The hound of the calf. I checked with Longarad’s Glossary, Dedel is an ancient word, barely used now, meaning specifically a calf of a cow.’
‘Ah, didn’t I say that cave drawing was more like a calf than a hound?’ Eadulf observed brightly.
Fidelma suppressed a weary sigh.
It was on the next day that the sound of a trumpet from Adnar’s fortress caused Fidelma to come out of the guests’ hostel and look across the inlet. Two ships were entering the sheltered harbour. She had no difficulty recognising the barc of Ross. The sleek-looking vessel that accompanied it, trailing in its wake, was undoubtedly a warship, its streamers showing the colours of the kings of Cashel. Fidelma heaved a long sigh of relief. The waiting was over and, for the first time since Ross had departed, she felt no longer threatened.
Chapter Eighteen
They had gone down to the quay to meet the new arrivals. Fidelma and Eadulf, Abbess Draigen and Sister Lerben, whom Draigen had, in spite of Fidelma’s advice, confirmed as rechtaire of the abbey. They stood watching as the small boat from Ross’s barc tied up to the jetty.
Ross came forward accompanied by a tall, silver-haired man of imposing appearance. This elderly man was still handsome and energetic-looking in spite of his apparent years. He wore a golden chain of office over his cloak. Had not his physical appearance distinguished him, his chain proclaimed him as a man of rank.
Ross was beaming with relief as he saw Fidelma among the welcome party. He greeted her first, quite forgetting protocol by ignoring Abbess Draigen.
‘Thanks be that you are safe and well, sister. I have spent several sleepless nights since I left you here.’ He smiled a brief greeting to Brother Eadulf.
Fidelma returned his salutation.
‘We have kept well and safe, Ross,’ she replied.
‘Deo adjuvante!’ muttered the elderly official. ‘Deo adjuvante! Your brother would never have forgiven me had anything happened to you.’
It was Ross who answered the question which came into Fidelma’s eyes.
‘This is Beccan, chief Brehon and judge of the clan Loigde.’
The elderly Brehon held out both hands towards Fidelmawith a grave expression but there was much humour in his eyes.
‘Sister Fidelma! I have heard much of you. I have been asked to stand here in place of Bran Finn, chieftain of the clan Loigde, to judge who is guilty and of what crimes connected with this treachery.’
Fidelma acknowledged the Brehon. She had surmised that Bran Finn would send his chief legal official to sit in judgment on the matter. She now introduced Eadulf.
Beccan was solemn.
‘If there was no other crime, brother, apart from your being held captive, then this matter would be grave indeed. The transgression of the laws of hospitality to strangers in our kingdom is one which is regarded as reflecting on all of us from the High King down to the lowest in the land. For this I ask your pardon and promise you will be compensated accordingly.’
‘The only compensation I require,’ Eadulf replied, with equal solemnity, ‘is to see that justice is done and truth prevails.’
‘Well said, Saxon,’ replied Beccan, his eyes widening a little at Eadulf’s fluency in the language. ‘Your tongue proclaims that you have studied in our colleges. You speak our language well.’
‘I have spent some years studying at Durrow and at Tuam Brecain,’ explained Eadulf.
The Abbess Draigen intervened, vexed that she was being ignored. In normal circumstances, protocol demanded that she should have been the first to greet the Brehon.
‘I am glad that you have come, Beccan. There is much that needs to be sorted out here. Unfortunately, this young dalaigh sent by Brocc does not appear capable of resolving these mysteries.’
Beccan raised his eyebrows in interrogation.
‘This is the abbess of the community,’ Fidelma introduced her, ‘and this is her rechtaire.’
The Brehon greeted them gravely, ignoring the chagrin on Draigen’s face that she had to be announced to Beccan.
‘Come, abbess, walk with me. Bring your youthful steward and we will discuss what is to be done.’
He inclined his head with a half smile towards Fidelma and ushered the abbess and her acolyte away.
‘He is an astute man,’ Ross observed. ‘He knows we need some time to speak without Draigen to overhear us.’ He paused and shook his head. ‘Truly, I was in fear for your life, Fidelma. I thought that you might have been caught up in the insurrection.’
‘What news of that? What has happened?’ Fidelma asked eagerly.
‘I left here to sail to Ros Ailithir with Sister Comnat. We were only half a day’s sail from here when, as luck would have it, we encountered a loyal warship of the Loigde. The captain, whom I knew, took it upon himself to sail directly to the copper mines of Gulban. We went on to Ros Ailithir and sought out Abbot Brocc and Bran Finn who immediately raised his clan and sent messengers to your brother at Cashel. Bran gave me a warship as escort and together with the Brehon, here, we sailed back as fast as we could. Sister Comnat has also insisted on returning.’