Master of Souls Read online

  ‘And did that satisfy this Olcán?’

  Esumaro shook his head.

  ‘He questioned me further on where I had come from, what sort of scholar I was. Who Budoc was and so on. I did my best. But the only scholarship that I knew anything about was how to navigate the oceans by the stars. So I pretended that I was an astronomer and talked of this star and that. Of course, Olcán knew a little but not as much as I did. Do you not have a saying that the blind of one eye is a king among the blind of both eyes?’

  ‘So they accepted you?’

  ‘Not entirely. I think they continued to be suspicious. However, they did not bother me any more, although I was aware, all the time, that I was being watched.’

  ‘So when you reached the island, Seanach’s Island, the religieuse were put to work cleaning the stones and you did fetching and carrying while the original inhabitants of the community were actually cutting the crystals from the rocks on the far side of the island,’ Fidelma summed up. ‘What prompted you to escape?’

  Esumaro continued their story.

  ‘It was an old man who inspired us. I do not know his name, but I think he was the head of the community there. He was a sprightly man in spite of his age. I was taking a box of the polished rocks to the chapel when I heard shouting. I turned and saw that he had evaded his captors and was pushing out one of those canoes into the surf from the beach on the east side.

  ‘The guards had seen him, of course, but the old man could handle that canoe. I admired him. He paddled with the tide so that he had slipped past their advantage points and was heading away out to the sea in the direction of the mainland before they spotted him. Olcán was on the warship when it happened and I heard him shouting in his fury. Then - I think it was at his order - his men began shooting at the old man who was now rowing for all he was worth. Arrows fell on his craft but never seemed to touch him. I thought for a few moments that he might make it. I was rooted to the spot, box still in my hand, and wanting to shout and cheer. But an arrow must have struck him in the back and he gave a scream. I could hear it over the waves. He slumped on to his side.

  ‘Then I was knocked to the ground by one of the guards. I saw no more of the old man and could hear nothing except the guard rebuking me for my idleness because I had stopped to watch. I had to pick up the polished stones that had spilt from the box. When I had done that, I was given to understand, by the coarse laughter and jesting of the guards, that the old man was dead.’

  ‘Which was not true,’ intervened Conrí. ‘Somehow that old man, whose name we discovered was Brother Martan, managed to struggle with the naomhóg and reach the shore on the mainland where, by coincidence, we were. Alas, he died in our arms, having warned us about the island.’

  Esumaro looked impressed.

  ‘So how did you make your escape?’ prompted Eadulf.

  ‘That same evening. I realised from the way the old man had been shot that we could expect no mercy. As soon as they had finished with our labour, they would kill us. I had noticed that there was a second canoe - a naomhóg you call it? Well, there was a second canoe alongside the one that the old man took. If I attempted to run in daylight, I would not get far so I decided to make the attempt at night.’

  ‘The sea had no perils for you?’ interrupted Eadulf, slightly enviously.

  Esumaro laughed.

  ‘I am a son of the sea,’ he said confidently. ‘The sea is my friend and I respect its moods. I have often rowed small boats and know how to handle the canoes that you use. I also knew these islands, having sailed them, and I realised that the only chance was to go south to the mainland where the old man had been going. I also felt that I could not leave Sister Easdan behind. She had been instrumental in saving my life and so I suggested to her that we should make the attempt together and then try to raise the alarm so that the local chieftain could rescue the others.’

  Conrí’s expression was cynical.

  ‘Slébéne would not have been much help to you,’ he muttered.

  ‘Continue, Esumaro,’ Fidelma said, with a glance of annoyance at Conrí.

  ‘Well, it was towards dusk that Sister Easdan and I managed to sneak away. The guards were lax then, eating their meal. Sure enough there was the canoe still where it had been with the paddles and it was light enough for the two of us to be able to launch it. We started to head south-west towards the mainland but there was a high sea running against us and then Sister Easdan called out that we had a leak. Water was coming through the side of the craft.’

  ‘We had forgotten in our haste to depart that the rim of the western sky was still light and we could be seen against it,’ continued Sister Easdan. ‘We heard shouting from the shore for the wind carried it to us. We knew then that we had been spotted. God looked down on us, for at least we were beyond arrow reach.’

  ‘We could not pull back to shore,’ chimed in Esumaro. ‘Anyway, I don’t think we would have reached it alive, after what they did to the old man. Sister Easdan, as we told you before, was busy with the leather apron and thongs in the half-light, but by then I realised that we had no hope of reaching the mainland with the tide running up from the south-east against us.’

  Gáeth made one of his infrequent interpolations.

  ‘That was the same tide which helped us run swiftly to the islands.’

  ‘I was sailor enough to know that I would have to run with the tide,’ continued Esumaro. ‘But I knew that there was another large island to the north-west of Seanach’s Island and hoped that, with luck, the tide would help me and we could be carried there before the leak was so bad that we sank.’

  Gáeth clapped his hand on his thigh in approval.

  ‘Your captors did not give much for your chances, according to what we overheard. They had seen what direction you were going but thought you’d sink long before you reached the island.’

  ‘We nearly did,’ Esumaro admitted. ‘But thanks to Sister Easdan, we came within reach of it. It was while I was trying to estimate the best place to land that I saw the cave entrance and took a chance. We were within a hand’s reach when the canoe cracked against the rocks and began to break up. I grabbed Sister Easdan and we jumped for our lives. We fought the tide for a few moments and managed to scramble up the rocks on to the island.’

  ‘Precious the foot on shore,’ muttered Eadulf reverently, uttering an old landsman’s prayer.

  ‘We were cold and tired and had no means of making a fire on that bare rock. Indeed, I couldn’t see anything, although I knew there were birds about which I could have caught in the daylight, and made something to eat.’

  ‘We simply huddled together from the cold,’ Sister Easdan added. ‘There was nothing else to do.’

  ‘We had dropped off to sleep when I was woken by the sounds of voices and oars,’ went on Esumaro. ‘It could only be Olcán and his men. I knew that if they had knowledge of the island they would come down to the cave where we were sheltering. So we decided to get further on to the island and see if there was anywhere else we could hide. There was the small hill and the ancient stones set up there. We hid there. Then we saw a light and heard people going down to the cave. A few moments later the light returned and the next moment someone came charging up the hill. There was only one thing I could do … I threw myself upon the man …’

  ‘And nearly killed me,’ Eadulf said ruefully.

  ‘You cannot blame Esumaro for trying to protect himself,’ Sister Easdan admonished. ‘Anyway, that is our story.’

  There was a silence until Gáeth rose and put more turf upon the fire. ‘Doubtless when our friends went there this morning and did not find you they would think that you had indeed gone down beneath the waves and drowned,’ he said.

  Fidelma agreed.

  ‘I do not think we need concern ourselves with any immediate pursuit from the people on Seanach’s Island,’ she said thoughtfully.

  ‘At least we have solved the mystery,’ Conrí. observed in satisfaction.

  They
looked at him curiously.

  ‘How do you come to that conclusion?’ There was a dangerous softness in Fidelma’s voice.

  Conrí. looked surprised at the question.

  ‘Why, is it not clear? Uaman and his followers are to blame for all this. He is back to his old ways of trying to gain riches and build up a power base again.’

  ‘As simple as that?’ said Fidelma.

  ‘It is hardly a simple matter,’ protested Conrí.

  ‘In that I can agree with Conrí,’ Eadulf observed.

  ‘You might have to admit that Uaman is still alive,’ Fidelma suggested. ‘Are you certain that you saw him die?’

  Eadulf shrugged. ‘I was. But I cannot go against so many people who claim to have seen him.’ His voice was not emphatic.

  ‘Believe me, this mystery is far from solved,’ she said. ‘We have learned only a few more details to add to our fund of knowledge, that is all. There is much to discover yet.’

  ‘But we know that the religieuse from Ard Fhearta were abducted because they were experts at cutting and polishing precious stones …’ Conrí began.

  ‘And why were we not informed of their expertise at the abbey?’ Fidelma demanded.

  ‘That is a question I cannot answer,’ replied Conrí. ‘Anyway, we know who killed Abbess Faife and abducted them. This man Olcán.’

  ‘But who is Olcán and whom does he work for?’

  ‘We must accept that Uaman the Leper is alive. He is this mysterious “master”. Also Slébéne is in his pay.’

  ‘Uaman has miraculously returned from the dead?’ smiled Fidelma. ‘Remember that no one has yet positively identified the man except Ganicca. I have enough trust in Eadulf to accept that when he claims to have seen something, he has seen it. No one has gazed upon the man’s face clearly enough to identify him. They have seen a shadow and that is all.’

  She looked from one to another.

  ‘Certainly, whoever is behind all this, they have found rich seams of the lec-lógmar, and have abducted those who know how to work the stone to make it saleable to merchants. We know this man Olcán is ruthless. So is the person he works for - whoever he is. I agree that they probably pay a bribe to Slébéne in order that he will not interfere in what they are doing. But there is another question that preoccupies me. Why did Sister Sinnchéne want to accompany Abbess Faife and the others when she was not a stone cutter and polisher? And was that why Abbess Faife refused to take her?’

  They waited in uncomfortable silence for her to continue.

  ‘What can we do now, lady?’ muttered Conrí.

  Fidelma glanced towards the sky. The short winter day was darkening yet again.

  ‘Little enough today.’ She sighed. ‘We will have to impose on Gáeth and Gáimredan for another night of hospitality. But at first light, we must set out for Ard Fhearta again. I believe that it is there that these strands will intertwine.’

  Conrí could not control his expression of surprise.

  ‘Why at Ard Fhearta?’ he demanded.

  She shook her head sorrowfully at him.

  ‘Have you forgotten about the murder of the Venerable Cinaed?’

  There was a soft gasp of horror from Sister Easdan who had not, of course, heard the news.

  Fidelma turned to her with a quick look of apology.

  ‘Ah, I had forgotten that you did not know of his death. Did you know him well?’

  The girl shook her head sorrowfully.

  ‘Not well. He was a friend of our mentor, Abbess Faife. Some time ago he spent a little while in our workshop talking about what we did. He was writing some tract about it.’

  ‘About the working of stones?’

  ‘About the lec-lógmar,’ confirmed the girl. ‘He was a nice old man. A wise old man. He was not arrogant, like the Venerable Mac Faosma. He would speak to anyone on equal terms no matter what rank they were. How was he murdered, Sister?’

  Briefly, Fidelma told her the facts.

  ‘Who could have done such a thing?’

  ‘I cannot tell you yet. But I think, finally, I might see a light on the path ahead.’

  Conrí. gave her a curious look.

  ‘So we start back to the abbey tomorrow?’ he asked after a moment or two.

  ‘Indeed we do,’ she replied. ‘But you, Conrí, do not. Eadulf and I will go to the abbey with Sister Easdan and our friend Esumaro here. You, Conrí, will have to raise a band of warriors and warships to go back to Seanach’s Island and rescue the others there. Try to take the man called Olcán captive; take him alive. We need him to unravel the thread that will lead us to this man “the master”.’

  ‘And then? If we succeed?’

  ‘You will succeed,’ she said with emphasis. ‘You will bring all the prisoners back to the abbey. By which time I hope I shall have sorted out this conundrum.’

  ‘What about Uaman?’ demanded Conrí. ‘If it is Uaman he will have gone back to his fortress on the south side of the peninsula. Even if he has not, then he will be in hiding somewhere. We need to search for him.’

  Fidelma smiled with calm assurance.

  ‘You will be wasting your time, Conrí. All the strands of this mystery will entwine with one another at the abbey of Ard Fhearta.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The journey back to Ard Fhearta took the best part of a day but seemed very rapid. The day was still cold and the pale sun hung in a limpid blue sky but the winds had apparently died away. Fidelma, Eadulf and their companions took the coast road. Sister Easdan and Esumaro were mounted behind Socht and the other warrior as Gáeth was unable to supply them with extra horses. They came to the end of the Corco Duibhne peninsula in hardly any time at all before turning north to take the ford across the River Lithe. Then it was a short ride north-west towards Ard Fhearta. Within sight of the abbey buildings, with the sun resting on the western horizon far out to sea, Conrí. and one of his warriors parted company from the rest. It had been agreed that Fidelma and Eadulf would take Esumaro and Sister Easdan back to Ard Fhearta and Conrí. insisted that they be accompanied by his warrior Socht.

  ‘I shall go on to Tadcán’s fortress at the north end of the bay,’ Conrí. said. ‘Tadcán is loyal to me, one of our best chieftains, and he has three good warships. We could sail tonight and be able to raid Seanach’s Island at dawn tomorrow. You can expect word of the outcome by tomorrow evening at the earliest. We could sail directly back to An Bhearbha.’

  ‘May God go with you, Conrí,’ Fidelma replied softly. ‘Remember, we need Olcán to be captured alive.’

  ‘If I fail it will not be for want of trying,’ returned the warlord of the Uí Fidgente with a grim smile.

  He raised his hand in farewell and disappeared swiftly, with his companion, along the road that led northwards. Fidelma led the rest of the party towards the abbey on the hilltop.

  Someone must have seen their approach long before they arrived for the young rechtaire, Brother Cú Mara, was at the open gates and waiting impatiently to greet them.

  He immediately recognised Sister Easdan, staring at her in amazement before his eyes swept round the rest of the company.

  ‘What has happened?’ he demanded excitedly. ‘Where is the lord Conrí? Is he dead? How did you find Sister Easdan? Are the others dead?’

  His questions came out in a nervous tumble.

  Fidelma slid from her horse and bade him calm himself.

  ‘There will be plenty of time for explanations later.’

  Undeterred, Brother Cú Mara turned to Sister Easdan.

  ‘You must tell me what happened, Sister,’ he demanded. ‘The abbot will want to know at once. Come, I shall take you to him.’

  Fidelma frowned at his attempt to override her instructions.

  ‘You have not listened to me. The abbot will know everything in good time. Sister Easdan and Esumaro are here as witnesses and will not be questioned until I say so. They are now under a prohibition forbidding them to speak about what has happened these past few
weeks. I will give them such permission when I am ready to do so.’

  Fidelma used the old word of urgarad to explain the importance of the prohibition, which meant they were forbidden under ancient law to disobey her on pain of dire misfortune. They knew it was very dangerous to break such a prohibition. The High King Conarí, who reigned in the first century of the Christian era, had broken such a prohibition and his peaceful reign descended into violence, plunder and rapine before culminating in his assassination.

  Brother Cú Mara grew angry. His face reddened.

  ‘This is a very high-handed way of going about things,’ he said stiffly. ‘I am steward of this abbey and it is my right to know what has happened to the members of its community.’

  He paused, finding himself staring into the narrowed, glinting eyes of Fidelma.

  ‘You know who I am, rechtaire?’ Her voice was soft but sharp as a needlepoint. ‘I do not have to remind you. Therefore, do not speak to me again of your office and its rights. I know them well enough. Just as you know mine.’

  Brother Cú Mara’s face was bright scarlet. He hesitated and then gave a sour grimace.

  ‘Abbot Erc will want to see you immediately,’ he persisted stubbornly.

  Fidelma glanced at the darkening sky.

  ‘We will see him later. I want hot baths to be prepared for all of us. Then we shall eat. After that Brother Eadulf and I will attend the abbot. Do I make myself clear, rechtaire?’

  Brother Cú Mara was about to say something more when he appeared to have second thoughts. He seemed to realise that he had come up against an immovable object.

  ‘Abbot Erc will be displeased,’ he muttered audibly as he turned away.

  ‘And his displeasure will be matched and made insignificant by my own annoyance if we are kept arguing at the gate in this fashion,’ Fidelma snapped after him.

  Brother Cú Mara turned back.

  ‘It shall be done as you say, Fidelma of Cashel.’ He placed heavy emphasis on her title. ‘I will order Sister Sinnchéne to prepare baths for you and Brother Eadulf and … and this man.’ He nodded towards Esumaro. ‘Sister Easdan can join her sisters at their evening ablutions and—’