The Shapeshifter's Lair Read online

  By this time Brother Eochaí had led the way from the outer wall gate, where he briefly halted to ring the bell, before crossing to the inner gate on the far side of the wooden bridge. A tall thin man was already waiting for them and they dismounted, following Brother Eochaí’s example. The man came forward, with a quick nod of his head in acknowledgement to Brother Eochaí, before holding out his left hand in greeting.

  ‘I am steward of the abbey – Brother Aithrigid.’

  ‘An unusual name? Doesn’t it mean a changeling?’ Eadulf could not help observing.

  The man looked displeased. ‘A changer of things,’ he corrected curtly. ‘On entering the religious some of us change our names to signify our rebirth in the New Faith. It was a style set by the Blessed Patrick, for he originally bore the name of the pagan god of war, Succat. When he came to preach the New Faith he adopted the Roman name for a nobleman from “patrician”. I wanted to change, so hence I adopted this name “change”. So, as steward, I bid you welcome. Your reputations go before you.’

  ‘You know us?’ queried Fidelma. Brother Eochaí had performed no introductions.

  ‘This is a small community. A merchant has recently passed by, having seen you travelling in this direction.’

  Fidelma was puzzled. ‘We have come here disguised as religious so as not to excite interest or draw attention to ourselves. However, it seems that our coming is already known so the disguise of religious robes might be superfluous.’

  Brother Aithrigid shrugged before turning to the stable master: ‘You may take the horses to the stables and ensure they are fed, watered and made comfortable. Get Brother Cuilínn to assist you. I will attend to all else.’

  ‘How do you know who we are?’ Fidelma demanded, when the man had left, leading the horses away. ‘We sent no word of our coming. Even when Brother Eochaí arrived in Cashel he carried no request that we should do so. Not even Abbot Daircell could have known we were coming.’

  ‘He is a very clever man, lady, but he is not that prescient. He knew you were on your way here only a short time ago when your party was recognised coming along the Great River. So he bid me prepare for your reception.’

  This did not seem satisfactory. ‘Someone recognised us? Who?’

  The steward shrugged. ‘I have no idea. All I know is some merchant recognised you and sent a rider to tell our gatekeeper. I suggest that you address your further questions to the abbot.’ He seemed to hesitate. ‘I have to mention that our community was founded for the peace and contemplation of the brethren only. We are not a conhospitae, a mixed house. So, as steward, I request all female visitors stay modestly covered and remain within certain confines of our community as prescribed by the abbot or myself. Now, come, we must not keep the abbot waiting.’

  Brother Aithrigid indicated another wooden fence and line of oak trees to his left, which seemed to surround an isolated building.

  ‘This is the abbot’s house and herb garden. I shall leave you with him and then make arrangements for your accommodations.’

  The silver-haired steward was moving swiftly ahead. Members of the community, with heads bowed, covered by their hoods, hands clasped before them, were moving here and there and did not acknowledge even the passage of the steward. The lights – candles and oil lamps – were now being lit throughout the abbey buildings. The steward led the way quickly into the isolated building to a door through which he entered. This was clearly his own workroom and he crossed it immediately to an oak door on the far side. He paused here and rapped loudly three times, waiting until a voice answered, then he threw it open, announcing loudly: ‘Fidelma and her husband have arrived from Cashel, Father Abbot. They are accompanied by Enda, a bodyguard.’

  Having ushered them inside, the steward exited, closing the door behind him.

  A tall figure rose from his chair. Fidelma observed that Abbot Daircell was a man of middle years; thin, with grey hair that had evidently once been blue-black, enhancing the almost white skin with still-black brows that seemed to meet across the brows. His black eyes, in which the pupils seemed entirely lost so that they appeared solid black orbs, darted constantly from side to side in a nervous manner. The cheekbones protruded a little, making the cheeks seem hollower than they actually were. The lips were thin and red. There seemed little to resemble Princess Gelgéis in the man. Although he came forward, he did not hold out his hand in customary greeting. His face was troubled, though the features were hawk-like. The thought came into her mind that Daircell had a face without pity.

  ‘You are most welcome, Fidelma of Cashel, and you also, Brother Eadulf,’ Abbot Daircell intoned. The voice, with its musical quality of a rich baritone, was at odds with his austere features. ‘It is good to meet with you even though it is because of the unfortunate disappearance of my cousin.’ He glanced enquiringly at Enda. ‘And you are …?’

  ‘Enda is a warrior of my brother’s bodyguard. We thought it best to affect some disguise so as not to draw attention. Now I am told there was no need as someone has recognised us and spread the word.’

  Abbot Daircell’s face expressed no humour when he said, ‘The disguise is not well suited to this young man. I cannot say that the wearing of robes to disguise a man of violence as a man of peace is consistent with the morality of this abbey.’

  ‘Disguise was thought necessary,’ answered Fidelma, hearing the disapproval in the abbot’s tone. ‘You will recall that this kingdom of Laigin and my brother’s kingdom have long been an enmity. I thought it better to maintain the fiction we are religious visiting your abbey, although that depends now on how many know we are here.’

  Abbot Daircell’s expression was sour. ‘There is no need to continue with the disguises now that you have been seen and identified. And since you have been recognised it seems that you may be of no help at all.’

  FIVE

  ‘Why would our recognition exclude our being of help?’ Fidelma demanded.

  ‘I suspected that Colgú would send you when I sent to him. But I was hoping that no one would know of your coming,’ explained the abbot. ‘Now you have been recognised, I do not doubt the word will spread of your coming. Most people know the role you played in thwarting King Fianamail’s attempt to annex Osraige. Your own lives may now be in danger.’

  ‘That was unfortunate,’ she admitted. ‘Let us hope this merchant who recognised us will not be so free with the information as to spread it widely. If he did, I am here as a dálaigh, protected by the laws of the Five Kingdoms, under the authority of the Chief Brehon of the High King. I do not have to hide from any authority.’

  Abbot Daircell blinked at her directness. ‘I understand, but will the people of Laigin accept it?’

  ‘They should know that they will have to answer if harm befalls me or my companions.’

  ‘Yet it is obvious that harm has befallen my cousin, Princess Gelgéis. Very well, I have heard Gelgéis speak highly of you and your skills. Let us hope you will be able to sort matters and for that, it is good to welcome you here to the Abbey of Cáemgen.’

  Fidelma hesitated only a moment and then shrugged. ‘We thank you for your welcome and presume that there is no further news of the Princess Gelgéis or her steward?’

  The abbot waved them to be seated and resumed his own seat, shaking his head at the same time. There was a knock on the door at that moment and, in answer at the abbot’s command, Brother Aithrigid entered with a tray on which was a flagon and bronze drinking vessels with little handles decorated at the top with curious animal heads.

  ‘To welcome you to the abbey,’ the steward announced solemnly, while pouring a small portion of golden liquid for each of the three of them. ‘We forgot the ritual of hospitality to a visiting noble. This is intoxicating liquor that we distil from our apple trees. It is made with a local ancient method of distillation. The mountain folk hereabouts have an unfortunate name for it. They call it lind dermait Dé – the liquor that causes forgetfulness of God.’

  ‘Then we ha
d best take only a symbolic taste,’ Eadulf grimaced with wry humour, before putting the bronze vessel to his lips. It was a strong cider made thick and sweet with honey.

  The ritual over, Abbot Daircell dismissed his steward, who was obviously annoyed at being excluded but declared he was finalising the guests’ accommodation. As the door closed on Brother Aithrigid, Fidelma put down her cup.

  ‘You were about to tell is whether there has been any further news?’ she prompted.

  The abbot gave an eloquent shrug. ‘I wish I could tell you something positive. However, in the days since my stable master has been absent, riding to Cashel and back, there has been no news indeed. Two merchant groups have passed along the trail on which Cétach found the body of Brehon Brocc but nothing else has emerged.’

  ‘I have an immediate question,’ Fidelma said. ‘When the body of Brocc was discovered, what raised your anxiety about the princess? Was it only the word of the pedlar who had seen her leave Durlus Éile in Brocc’s company? You seemed to know she was coming here. How did you know that for certain?’

  ‘She communicated to me by carrier pigeon; I keep a loft for important communications.’

  ‘But you did not think the disappearance of Princess Gelgéis was important enough to use this method to inform my brother? Instead you sent a messenger by horse with a few days’ ride ahead of him.’

  ‘I wanted to be sure that the message reached your brother. Pigeons can be at risk from falcons, and many local nobles now train birds for the purpose of intercepting messages.’

  Fidelma glanced meaningfully to Eadulf. ‘Can you confirm that the message she sent to you by pigeon was securely received? That it was not seen by anyone else?’

  ‘Brother Dorchú, who looks after our pigeons as well as myself, brought it straight to me.’

  ‘Did Gelgéis give a reason why she was coming here when she knew Laigin was not the most welcoming place for her, particularly after her association with my brother?’

  Abbot Daircell shrugged. ‘She said it was a matter to do with the security of Osraige. That was all. Now she and her steward are vanished as if the Púca had thrown a mist over them and caused them to disappear.’

  Fidelma raised an eyebrow slightly with a disapproving expression. ‘You sound as if you almost believe that.’

  The abbot’s features grew sombre. ‘I take an interest in such local fables. If you have dwelt in these mountains as long as I have, then you will not discount the pagan beliefs that are still in evidence here. And, don’t forget, before the coming of the New Faith, which we do our best to teach everyone, we, too, believed implicitly in such sorcery and magic.’

  ‘It seems most local people still believe it. On our path here we met an old woman called Iuchra, who warned us against the Aos Sí.’

  ‘Iuchra?’ The abbot gave a sigh. ‘There are even some who believe she is a shapeshifter herself; that is, of the Otherworld and can change her shape … passing as a mortal. How did she know who you were?’

  ‘I am not sure,’ Fidelma replied thoughtfully. ‘There was a moment when I thought she knew exactly who I was.’ She briefly described the meeting, and tried to ignore the troubled expression that had crossed Eadulf’s features. Eadulf had almost grown to manhood among the pagans of his East Anglian kingdom before he heard the word of the New Faith from Fursa, a wandering Christian missionary, who had converted him. He had not entirely abandoned his youthful belief in the landwrights, in the aelfor, the elves, who were the malevolent entities who caused sickness, madness and death on the innocent. Once or twice, she knew, in extreme moments, he had shouted out to Woden, the god of the Anglo Saxons, for help. It was hard to dismiss the beliefs one was raised with from infancy. ‘Anyway, the New Faith taught us to reject such superstitions,’ Fidelma pointed out flatly to the abbot. ‘You cannot believe in the malign power of ancient spirits dwelling in the mountains.’

  ‘And why not?’ The abbot seemed unperturbed. ‘If you believe in God then you must inevitably believe in the Devil, for that is the teaching of the apostles.’

  Now Fidelma suppressed a tired sigh. ‘I have heard the argument before, from your stable master. But we are here to solve the more earthly matter of your missing cousin, the Princess Gelgéis. The sooner we get on with that task, the better.’

  The abbot looked annoyed for a moment at the dismissal of what was obviously a favourite subject. ‘There is little more I can tell you.’

  ‘Is the pedlar who discovered the body of Brocc still here?’

  ‘Cétach?’ Abbot Daircell shook his head. ‘You might find him in Láithreach, where he resides when he’s not travelling. The township straddles the three rivers. It’s only a short ride east of here.’

  ‘We passed within sight of the township on our way here,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘We will have to go there in the morning as night is upon us now. Where might we find him?’

  ‘If he is not in a local tavern, then look for him among the women of easy virtue,’ replied the abbot sourly.

  ‘Did you keep any of the clothes that the body of the Brehon was found in?’

  The abbot snorted. ‘There was little of value there,’ he said.

  ‘I was not thinking of value,’ replied Fidelma. ‘As we have no body to examine, which might have told us something, then an examination of what he was wearing when he was killed might give us information.’

  ‘I don’t see how.’

  Eadulf’s mouth was grim. ‘It is a task that I have proved adept at. So I would like to look at his clothing.’

  Abbot Daircell shrugged as he had done on previous occasion. It seemed a favourite gesture of his to indicate negativity.

  ‘I am afraid that the clothes were washed and the sandals cleansed so that one of the brethren could take them to distribute among the poor lepers. There is a community of them that dwell among the marshes to the east of here.’

  For a while Fidelma relapsed into thought. Even the abbot started to fidget, while Eadulf remained stoical, knowing that Fidelma’s silence was when she was struggling with a difficult thought. Finally she exhaled deeply and turned to Abbot Daircell.

  ‘To sum up what you are saying: we have come on this long journey and all you can tell us is that a pedlar found a body. You recognised that it was the body of Brocc, Brehon to Princess Gelgéis. You have the word of a pedlar that the Brehon had been part of the princess’s retinue, which set out from Durlus Éile in this direction. They have not arrived, even though you had a message by pigeon from Gelgéis saying she wanted to discuss with you a matter relating to the security of Osraige. There is no sign of them. We do not even have the body of the dead Brehon now. We do not have his clothes. All we have … I am hoping … is this pedlar … provided that he has not disappeared. There is nothing tangible to start an investigation, especially if this pedlar can tell us no more than you have told us.’

  Abbot Daircell paused for a moment, his expression troub-led. Then he said brightly, ‘Well, at least you are able to talk with Brother Lachtna.’

  ‘And who is Brother Lachtna?’

  ‘Why, he is our physician. He examined the body when the pedlar brought it in and he was the one who removed the clothing and prepared the body for burial.’

  For a moment Fidelma closed her eyes in exasperation. When she opened them, she asked coldly: ‘Why did you not mention this before? You say that he made an examination of the body?’

  ‘Well, it should have been obvious that I would have our physician examine the body,’ Abbot Daircell replied defensively.

  Fidelma realised that the abbot was right and she should have thought of it before. Acceptance of the fact made her aware that it was late and she was tired from the journey. Eadulf would also be tired but he would keep on his feet as long as she did. She glanced at Enda, who had not spoken since they entered the abbot’s chamber. He was sitting with his eyes closed and she suspected he was asleep. It was time to put further discussion of the matter aside until the morning.

>   Abbot Daircell was studying her, as if trying to see what was going through her mind. Finally he arose, forcing a smile to his lips.

  ‘I have ordered baths for you in the guesthouse, and afterwards a small repast brought to your chamber, for we have eaten already. I suggest that you rest and start afresh in the morning, when you can turn your minds to these matters with more clarity.’

  ‘You are right,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘We will begin in the morning by speaking with your physician and hearing what he has to tell us. Your steward has warned us that you are a male-only house so we must be made aware of the limitations of where we may go.’

  ‘Yes; I will have someone on hand to conduct you at all times.’

  A young novice was summoned: a thin, fair-haired boy, who seemed constantly tongue-tied.

  Sleep seemed to obliterate any memory of time between leaving Abbot Daircell to waking the following morning. The young boy was awaiting Fidelma and Eadulf and, when they declined to follow him to the refectory, for the bell was issuing its invitation, he conducted them to a small isolated building, which was the potecaire or the apothecary of the abbey. The balding physician, Brother Lachtna, was waiting at the door to welcome them, having been alerted that they would be coming to question him. At first glance he was not an imposing man but there was something about his features that indicated a shrewdness that made Fidelma think she should not underestimate him. He inclined his head in greeting to her but his eyes seemed to pause on Eadulf.

  ‘I have heard of you, Saxon,’ he opened.

  ‘I am an Angle of the kingdom of the East Angles,’ Eadulf corrected him mildly. ‘I trust you have not heard ill of me?’

  Brother Lachtna’s thin lips twitched a little. ‘I am told that you were an impatient student and left the medical school of Tuaim Brecain without obtaining proper qualification.’

  Eadulf expressed surprise. Of course, it was a fact that he had studied at the famous medical school in Uí Néill territory before being persuaded to go to Rome and being converted to Roman liturgy rather than the practices of the insular churches. The physician decided to assuage Eadulf’s apparent curiosity.