The Shapeshifter's Lair Read online

  ‘He could just have left the body on the mountainside and not even mentioned it,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘So he had no fear of retribution for taking the body to the abbey.’

  ‘It is all speculation.’ Fidelma was growing tired of the matter. ‘You know my principal rule. No speculation without information. We simply do not have enough information to make any speculation.’

  ‘This has proved a dead end, literally as well as figuratively. Where do we go from here?’ Eadulf sighed.

  ‘To start with, it is our duty to report this death to the local Brehon, otherwise we could start facing charges ourselves.’

  ‘Can’t you take over such a matter, lady?’ Enda asked. ‘After all, you are qualified to exert authority across borders.’

  ‘You forget, the fewer people know the real reason why we are here – that Princess Gelgéis is missing – the better. Perhaps we could appeal to the local Brehon to keep our presence here a secret.’

  ‘Should we not be concentrating on the disappearance of Princess Gelgéis rather than the pedlar?’

  Fidelma hid her impatience. ‘I think the two things are related. Cétach was killed by someone whom he knew. The very act of coming here and killing him in almost the same manner as Brocc means a distinct link.’

  ‘Perhaps he was killed to prevent him speaking to us?’ suggested Eadulf.

  ‘What else could he have to tell us? It is over a week since he found and delivered the body to the abbey. There is also another point that causes me some thought – the killer wanted Brocc’s body discovered.’

  ‘How do you make that out, lady?’ asked Enda, bewildered.

  ‘The physician, Brother Lachtna, said that, though he had been dead for seven days, the Brehon’s body was not in a condition consistent with lying out on a mountainside for that time, exposed to feral beasts and the weather. So it was placed there for someone, perhaps Cétach, to find.’

  ‘Well, I believe Cétach was killed for what he had not yet told the abbot,’ Eadulf declared firmly.

  ‘If the killer knew that Cétach had not told everything, how did the killer know what had been withheld?’ Enda mused. ‘He must have had some link with Cétach to find this out.’

  Fidelma had grown impatient. ‘It is time we pushed on and found the local Brehon to take charge of the body,’ she said. ‘Someone also needs to look after the mule, as it seems to have little fodder enough as it is. We will take it down to the township.’

  They made their way back down to the town’s square and found the óstóir who had served them watching their approach with bemusement.

  ‘You were not long with the pedlar,’ he observed. Then he nodded to the animal that Enda had been leading. ‘Has he abandoned that poor beast?’

  Fidelma and her companions did not dismount but she replied: ‘We found the pedlar dead in his cabin.’

  The tavern-keeper’s eyes widened. ‘So the drink has finally claimed him? Mind you, I would have thought that he might have lasted longer. He was a man of stamina, despite the liquor.’

  Fidelma decided not to correct the man’s assumption that the pedlar had perished of alcoholism. ‘We need to report the pedlar’s death to the township’s Brehon. I presume there is one?’

  ‘There are two now. The senior is Brehon Rónchú, but he is away on his Cúairtugad, visiting outlying hamlets and isolated farmsteads to hear claims and give judgments.’

  ‘Cúairtugad?’ Eadulf frowned.

  ‘A legal circuit,’ Fidelma explained quickly. ‘In rural parts like this, the judge is obliged to make a cuart, or circuit, of local towns and villages twice a year so that those who cannot come into the township for various reasons can present their cases and be heard.’ She turned back to the tavern-keeper. ‘You say there is another lawyer here?’

  ‘He has a female assistant. I forget her name as she has not been long in the township. You will find her down at the river by the jetty.’

  Thanking the man, Fidelma led the way from the main square and down to where the wharfs lined a wide section of the river front. There were several people about. Fidelma turned to a boatman who was sitting on a stone, using a needle and thread with great dexterity to mend a tear in a sail.

  ‘Which is the Brehon?’ queried Fidelma.

  ‘Brehon Rónchú is not here,’ the man replied without looking up.

  ‘I am told there is an assistant Brehon.’

  The boatman did not bother to reply but raised an arm and pointed. They turned and saw further along the quayside a group of two men and a woman standing engaged in an apparently fierce conversation.

  They all dismounted and Fidelma walked towards the group.

  ‘Are you the assistant to Brehon Rónchú?’ she called, as she approached the woman.

  The woman turned with a look of enquiry on her face. She was not much older than Fidelma, slightly plump, with freckled features that looked more comfortable when smiling than frowning. Her dark eyes widened with incredulity as they gazed at Fidelma.

  At the same time, Fidelma halted with a surprised expression, which was quickly replaced by one of recognition.

  ‘It can’t be …?’ she began. ‘Is it Beccnat?’

  The plump girl gasped. ‘Fidelma of Cashel? What are you doing here?’

  ‘Beccnat!’ exclaimed Fidelma, a smile on her features. She moved forward, both arms outstretched in greeting. The woman addressed as Beccnat seemed to stiffen but allowed herself to be engulfed by Fidelma’s enthusiastic salutation.

  Eadulf and Enda exchanged puzzled glances before they went to join them. Enda stood holding the reins of their mounts silently as they both waited for an explanation.

  ‘How long has it been?’ Fidelma had drawn away, noticing the coldness of the other’s greeting. ‘Surely it is not so long that we have become strangers?’

  ‘I suppose it is some twelve years,’ replied the other, still sounding more distant than warm at recognising a familiar face.

  ‘You left Brehon Morann’s law school just before I did,’ Fidelma pointed out, standing back and casting her eye over the woman. ‘You have not aged in my eyes.’

  ‘I was already two years in the college when you arrived,’ the woman replied. ‘So after six years I obtained the degree of Clí, which gave me the authority to be a baran, a steward judge and judge in minor cases. As I had no ambition to be more than a simple lawyer, I did not study after that.’

  In spite of the coolness of the reception, Fidelma was still smiling broadly.

  ‘Ah, those days at Brehon Morann’s college in Teamhair – remember how we shared a dormitory? There was Ainder, Grian, Dubressa, you, Beccnat, together with myself. We were all good friends.’

  ‘We all shared the dormitory,’ replied the other. ‘I doubt we were all good friends. Anyway, Grian was your closest friend.’

  ‘We were all friends,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘The five of us in our dormitory were friends.’

  ‘I grant you that Ainder was certainly no friend,’ the woman accepted dryly.

  ‘Ainder of the Uí Thuirtri – she was just arrogant,’ Fidelma chuckled. ‘That was because she was senior in the dormitory and felt she could order us about like—’

  ‘Like a princess,’ Beccnat intervened sourly. ‘She had to amend her ways when you told her that your father had been King of Muman.’

  ‘I did not tell her,’ Fidelma corrected. ‘It was old Fuicine, the matron, at the college. Anyway, my father had died soon after my birth.’

  ‘And now your brother, Colgú, is king,’ Beccnat pointed out. ‘So I did not expect to find you here.’

  Fidelma frowned slightly. ‘But, tell me, Beccnat, I did not think that you were from this area – is this your hometown?’

  The woman shook her head. ‘I come from a village not far from Darú on the western border of Laigin. I was invited to come here to assist the local Brehon, Brehon Rónchú, only a few weeks ago.’ She regarded Fidelma critically. ‘I had heard that you had left the religious
and were now adviser to your brother in Cashel. What are you doing here in Laigin, especially when there is so much enmity between the kingdoms?’

  ‘I will explain that matter shortly,’ Fidelma replied with a glance at the two men who were spectators.

  Beccnat continued frowning. ‘I have heard many stories about you; you have achieved quite a reputation. I heard you had married a foreigner.’

  Fidelma turned and waved Eadulf forward. ‘This is Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, from the land of the East Angles.’ Then: ‘Eadulf, this is Beccnat, who was a friend and fellow student when I studied at Brehon Morann’s law school.’

  Polite greetings were exchanged, and Enda was also brought forward and introduced. They noticed the woman stared hard at the Nasc Niadh symbol that the warrior wore.

  At this point the two boatmen whom Beccnat had been talking to, standing impatiently by, were beginning to show signs of losing patience completely.

  ‘We have to go about our business,’ one of them scowled.

  Beccnat turned with a quick apology to Fidelma. ‘Let me deal with these boatmen first. Then we will talk about what you are doing in Laigin. It is not a place I would expect to find representatives of Cashel.’

  ‘I am sure we have much to talk about,’ Fidelma agreed in a serious tone. ‘Murder, for an example.’

  Beccnat’s eyes narrowed. ‘Murder?’ Her voice was sharp. ‘Let me finish dealing with this matter on hand. It is a simple affair.’

  ‘Simple?’ one of the men protested angrily. ‘Not for us, it isn’t.’

  Beccnat turned to face him. ‘Simple,’ she repeated flatly. ‘The judgment in your case I give under the Mur Bretha, the Sea Laws. On the river, as on the sea, that which is found floating and abandoned, with no one in sight, is the property of he who takes it out of the river.’

  ‘I claim it is mine!’ scowled one of the men. ‘It was knocked over the side of my boat into the river and not noticed until I had moored here.’

  ‘As you have told me. But how can you prove this?’

  The second man was scowling. ‘He cannot! When I picked up the box there was no other boat in sight in either direction. It was only after I tied up here that this man came by and claimed the box was his. He said that he had lost it overboard.’

  ‘You told me these facts before,’ Beccnat nodded, then turned to the protester. ‘Did you report this loss to the master of the wharfs when you arrived here? Do you have a witness who saw the box fall from your boat?’

  There was a silence.

  ‘A substantial wooden box fell from your boat without anyone noticing. What is in it?’

  The claimant hesitated. ‘It was something I was asked to transport.’

  Beccnat’s expression was icy. ‘So what were you asked to transport and by whom?’

  The man looked around as if in desperation to find the person he claimed had given him the mission.

  ‘Clothes.’

  It was a good guess but incorrect, for the Brehon Beccnat had apparently already taken the opportunity to inspect the contents.

  ‘The content was a single book.’ She turned to the second man, who had found the box. ‘I will allow you to claim the contents of the box, on condition that you take it to the abbey where, I have no doubt, it was intended to be delivered. You may not have noticed the abbey’s name is inscribed in Latin on the wood of the box.’

  It was clear from their expressions that neither man had noticed, or probably neither could read nor write.

  Beccnat continued: ‘You may not sell its contents but you are at liberty to accept any reward for delivery if the Abbey is of a mind to offer one.’

  The man was not exactly pleased that he was not given ownership of the box and able only to accept a finder’s fee, if offered. Still, it was better than nothing.

  Beccnat then turned to the other man. ‘You will pay me a fine of one screpal for my judgment and then I suggest you get in your boat and get about your own business.’

  Scowling, the man handed over the coin and turned for his own boat.

  Fidelma watched the ending of the affair with a grim smile.

  ‘An interesting division,’ she said, as Beccnat joined her. ‘Out of interest, what book was in the box?’

  ‘A small vellum book,’ Beccnat replied. ‘It looked religious in tone with the title Altus Prosator. It seems to mean the “writer of high prose” and was a poem attributed to the Blessed Colmcille. Now you wanted to talk to me about murder. Let us go to my house. It is just over there, behind the main square.’ Beccnat’s face was grim.

  As Fidelma and companions led their horses to follow her, Beccnat noticed the mule was part of the company. She stopped and frowned.

  ‘I know that animal. That belongs to an old pedlar. What are you doing with it?’

  Fidelma looked grim in acknowledgement. ‘It belonged to the murdered man, whose name was Cétach.’

  Beccnat raised her eyebrows but she made no other comment as they walked the short distance to her house. They tied up their mounts and the mule, and followed her into the cabin. It was warm and a fire crackled in the hearth. They were soon seated and enjoying the strong, sweet liquid she had poured for them, as the traditional token of hospitality.

  ‘And now, what of this murder?’ Beccnat prompted. ‘You say it is the pedlar named Cétach who has been killed?’

  ‘I do.’

  Beccnat sniffed disdainfully. ‘He is not one of our better citizens. I have not been long in this township but already his name is known to me as a drunkard, a liar and a wife beater. So why does this matter bring you out of your jurisdiction?’

  A puzzled expression momentarily crossed Fidelma’s face as she heard the implied criticism in the other’s words.

  ‘As you know, I hold a qualification that allows me to be consulted in any territory, and kingdom, and have several times been consulted by High King at Tara,’ she pointed out.

  Beccnat hesitated and then amended her words: ‘I meant it is unusual to see you here in Laigin. Especially because of the tensions between our two kingdoms. Yet I suppose it has something to do with the body that Cétach found?’

  ‘So you know the story?’

  ‘Cétach did not have a silent tongue,’ replied Beccnat. ‘So how did you come to find him murdered? Do you know who killed him?’

  Her tone was not exactly one of boredom but certainly not one of alarm or surprise. Fidelma remarked on the fact.

  Beccnat sniffed as if dismissing the subject. ‘If there was a man destined to be killed, it was that little weasel. As I said, he was a member of this township that brought little credit to it. I would say that there were many who would cheerfully have volunteered to eliminate the man. What does surprise me was the man was still alive, judging by the amount he drank. He was not a successful pedlar and yet he continued to subsist by selling his discarded goods and rubbish.’

  ‘Well, this time he did not survive,’ Fidelma said grimly. ‘But you said you had not been long in this township. How did you form this opinion about Cétach?’

  ‘I heard much from Brehon Rónchú. He is the senior Brehon. It was he who judged the matter of the petition for divorce by Cétach’s wife. Cétach was found guilty of beating her, especially when he got drunk. Brehon Rónchú tried to get her due compensation but found that the man had even kept the returnable coibche or dowry for himself. All Brehon Rónchú could do was reduce the man’s rights in the society until he paid.’

  Fidelma nodded. ‘Or until he was murdered. Every dead person removes their liabilities.’

  Beccnat examined her former fellow student thoughtfully.

  ‘In the absence of Brehon Rónchú, the legal jurisdiction is mine,’ she pointed out abruptly.

  ‘That is why we sought you out,’ Fidelma confirmed quietly.

  ‘Then you must tell me the story from the start. You are your brother’s legal adviser in Cashel and yet here you are in Laigin, and in this township. Is it that the body Cétach discov
ered was a Brehon of Osraige, which territory now has to pay tribute to Cashel?’

  Fidelma settled back in her chair and recited the story swiftly, but she was frugal with the details, making no mention of Princess Gelgéis, saying only that they had come to the abbey and learnt that Cétach had found the body of Brehon Brocc. They had gone to see Cétach to learn how he had found the body but on arriving at his cabin they had found him obviously murdered.

  ‘So you see, my friend,’ Fidelma concluded, ‘it is firstly a matter of proprieties and procedure that, as a stranger in this territory, I should give this matter to the local Brehon but – importantly – I do have to ensure my role is not at all compromised.’

  Beccnat was thoughtful. ‘Even with your legal standing, I think certain nobility in Laigin would not like to see a Brehon from Cashel involved in any matter that should be in the hands of a local Brehon.’

  ‘I have no intention of interfering in the jurisdiction of another Brehon,’ Fidelma assured her patiently. ‘That is why I came to you, as I said. I presumed that you would take up this investigation.’

  ‘So far as I am concerned, my interest is the law, its jurisdiction here in Laigin and obedience to King Fianamail. I am very aware of territorial jealousies even as I am aware of territorial tensions. My duty is to take charge of this matter.’

  Fidelma nodded in sympathy. ‘We took an oath, when we were in Brehon Morann’s school, to maintain that principle that law does not stop at a border. And so far as Cétach’s murder is connected with my inquiry, I am happy to concede the investigation of his murder to your jurisdiction. But I must also be allowed to conduct my own inquiries because, as you seem to know, the body of the man Cétach found was a Brehon from Osraige.’

  ‘I have no objections but I would have to insist that you share all information with me while pursuing such an investigation.’

  Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘Of course. You have my word all relevant information will be shared.’

  ‘Very well,’ Beccnat said rising. ‘I will see to it that the practicalities are observed and arrange for someone to bury the pedlar’s body.’