The Subtle Serpent

‘But surely that is equally as dangerous,’ Odar objected. ‘Once Ui Fidgenti know where the Gaulish ship is, they will come to reclaim it.’

‘They have known where it was for some days now,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘The Gaulish ship was probably recognised as soon as Ross sailed it into the Dun Boí inlet. That was probably why Adnár tried to claim salvage rights on it. It was a method of recovering it without attracting attention. I think it suits our enemy’s purpose to allow it to anchor off Dún Boí for the moment. The Gaulish ship will be the last place that they will think of looking for you, Eadulf. I will arrange a system of signals to let Odar and you know if there are difficulties.’

‘A good idea,’ Odar finally gave his slow and deliberate opinion. ‘If there is any trouble, you must signal, sister, or make your way to the ship so that we may sail if danger threatens.’

‘I still cannot see why you must remain at the abbey?’ Eadulf objected.

‘I have my oath as a dálaigh to fulfil,’ Fidelma explained. ‘There is some evil at the abbey that I must resolve. An evil which I believe is unconnected with what is happening here, something which is above the desire for political power. There have been two deaths at the abbey which need to be resolved.’

Sister Comnat let forth a soft moan.

‘Another death, one apart from poor Sister Almu? Who else has perished at the abbey, sister?’

‘Sister Siomha, the rechtaire.’

Sister Comnat’s eyes widened.

‘Sister Almu’s friend? She is also dead?’

‘And slain in the same manner. There is something that is malignant there and I must destroy it.’

‘Wouldn’t it better to wait until Ross returns with help?’ Eadulf suggested. ‘Then you can pursue your investigation without fear of an assassin or worse.’

Fidelma smiled at the Saxon monk.

‘No; I must work while there is no suspicion that the plot has been discovered. For, if I am wrong, and there is some involvement, then my quarry might well flee before I can resolve these crimes.’

Sister Comnat was shaking her head.

‘I have no understanding of this.’

‘No need. We must now be on our way, and you must tell Abbot Brocc at Ros Ailithir and Bran Finn, chieftain of the Loigde, all that you know of the events here.’

Fidelma stood up and helped the elderly sister to her feet. She could see that Ross kept peering at the sky and was clearly in some agitation at the approaching onset of the dawn.

‘Calm yourself, Ross,’ she admonished with humour. ‘Horace in his Odes adjures aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem — maintain a clear head when attempting difficult tasks. Take the good sister to your barc. I shall expect to see you back here within three days.’ She glanced at Odar. ‘When you have seen Eadulf safely aboard the Gaulish ship, make sure that you return the horses. We do not want Barr coming in search of them and alerting Adnár.’

She swung up on her own steed. They set off at a swift canter just as the eastern sky was beginning to dissolve into lighter shades along the horizon.

Chapter Sixteen

Sister Fidelma groaned as she felt herself being pulled bodily out of a warm, dark, womb-like cocoon into the harsh cold and grey of the light. Sister Brónach was bending over her and shaking her by the shoulder.

‘You are oversleeping, sister. It is late,’ Sister Brónach cajoled.

Fidelma blinked rapidly, her heart beating fast. It took her a few moments to remember where she was. Then she realised that she had slunk back into the abbey, into the guests’ hostel, just as dawn was coming up. She had left the others in the woods behind the abbey to depart to their appointed tasks, walking the short distance in the bitterly cold, frosty pre-dawn, into the abbey complex. She had been exhausted, throwing off her clothes and tumbling into her cot. It seemed but a moment ago. It was actually barely two hours ago, or so she judged by the light at the window.

For a moment, she wondered whether she should tell Sister Brónach that she wanted to sleep on. Perhaps she could claim that she felt ill? But Sister Brónach was standing watching her with disapproval and she did not want to raise any suspicion that she had been out all night. She climbed unwillingly from the warm bed. It was very cold and she noticed there were lumps of ice in the hand bowl awaiting her morning ablutions. She was aware of Sister Brónach watching her as she began to wash.

‘There is a young warrior waiting to see you,’ Sister Brónach finally said with disapproval.

Fidelma felt the nape of her neck tingle.

‘Oh? Do you know who he is?’ she asked, swinging round from the bowl and reaching for the towel.

‘Yes, I know him. It is young Olcán, the son of the chieftain of the Beara.’

Fidelma felt her jaw set automatically.

So! Had the warriors at the copper mine alerted Olcán of the escape of Comnat and Eadulf already?

‘Tell him that I shall be with him shortly,’ Fidelma said as she bent to continue her morning wash. Sister Brónach left. Fidelma splashed herself feeling. desperately tired and wishing she could crawl back into her warm, comfortable bed. She resisted the impulse, trying to force herself to look as though she had spent the night in deep relaxing sleep.

Ten minutes later she found Olcán seated in the duirthech, the oak chapel of the abbey. The fire was alight in the brazier at the back of the chapel and this seemed the only place of warmth outside of the forbidden confines of the domains of the community where visitors could shelter from the elements.

‘A good morning to you, sister,’ Olcán rose. He seemed bright and smiling. ‘I understand that you overslept?’

Fidelma wished Sister Brónach would have been more circumspect with her information.

‘The feast that Adnár prepared last evening was a pleasant one,’ she countered. ‘The excellent wine and good food is not everyday fare for me. I fear I indulged too freely of its richness.’

‘Yet you left early,’ Olcán remarked.

Fidelma kept her face straight, trying to deduce whether there was any innuendo in the young man’s tone.

‘Early for you but not for one of the Faith,’ she replied. ‘It was midnight as I came to the abbey.’

‘And now it is well after the eighth hour,’ Olcán said, rising and stretching himself before the brazier. He strode to one ofthe windows of the chapel which gave a view across the inlet. ‘I see Ross’s barc has sailed again. It must have gone on the early morning tide.’

Was Olcán playing some subtle game with her? She could not see where his remarks were leading.

She crossed to join him and looked out across the bay. Only the Gaulish merchant ship, with its tall masts, was riding at anchor on the calm blue waters. Silently, she breathed a sigh of relief that Ross had departed unnoticed.

‘So it has,’ she said, as if it were news to her.

Olcan glanced searchingly at her.

‘You did not know that he was leaving?’ The question was sudden and spoken sharply.

‘Ross does not confide his business in me. I know he trades along this coast regularly. I presume he will return eventually. He has not only left some of his crew here to look after the ship he claims as salvage,’ she indicated the merchant ship, ‘but he is to transport me back to Ros Ailithir when I have concluded my investigation.’