Our Lady of Darkness

‘Blinded?’

Dalbach raised a hand to the scar across his eyes and smiled sardonically.

‘You did not think that I was born like this, Brother Eadulf?’

‘How were you blinded and why?’

‘I am the son of Crimthann who ruled this kingdom thirty years ago. When he died, his Cousin Faelán claimed the crown …’

‘The same King of Laigin who died last year, after which young Fianamail came to the throne?’

Dalbach inclined his head.

‘I know your Saxon kingship succession is very different to ours. Do you know our Brehon law of succession?’

‘I do. The man best suited among the royal family is elected by his derbhfine to be King.’

‘Just so. The derbhfine is the electoral college of the family, three male generations from a common great-grandfather. I was a young man then, a warrior, and not long having reached the age of choice. Faelán was safe enough when he was elected but as the years went by he became obsessed with the idea that he might be challenged and hethought there was only one who could be that challenger. Me. He had me seized at night and a hot poker placed over my eyes, to give me a disability which would prevent the derbhfine from seriously considering me for any office in the kingdom. Then I was turned out to fend for myself, forbidden to dwell in any town or village throughout the kingdom of Laigin.’

Brother Eadulf was not surprised to hear of Dalbach’s story. He knew that such things happened. Among the Saxon kingdoms, where the law was that the eldest male heir succeeded, the brutality in the scramble to the throne and power was just as bad. Brothers slaughtered each other, mothers poisoned sons, sons murdered fathers and fathers killed or imprisoned sons. Among the five kingdoms of Éireann it required only a physical blemish to prohibit someone from standing for kingship, so perhaps the brutality was not as bad as the Saxons’ need to kill a candidate outright.

‘It must have been hard to readjust to this life, Dalbach,’ Eadulf commented in sympathy.

The blind man shook his head.

‘I have supportive friends and even relatives. One of my cousins is a religieux in Fearna who frequently visits me to bring food or gifts, although his conversation is limited. My friends and relatives have helped me cope. Faelán is dead now and there is no danger. Besides, I lead an interesting life.’

‘Interesting?’

‘I have forsaken the sword to compose poetry, and I play the cruit, the small harp. I am well content with my life.’

Eadulf glanced doubtfully at the man’s physique.

‘You do not acquire such muscles by merely playing a harp, Dalbach.’

Dalbach slapped his hand on his knee and chuckled.

‘You are observant, Brother. It is true that I continue to take exercise, for in these conditions one needs to be strong in body.’

‘That is true … Ah!’

The blind man raised his head expectantly at Eadulf’s sudden exclamation.

‘What is it?’

Eadulf smiled ruefully.

‘I have just worked out what the Ogham sticks mean around your cabin. They are a guide, aren’t they?’

‘You are observant, indeed, Brother Eadulf,’ confirmed the otherappreciatively. ‘When I wander in the clearing, the posts are there to tell me at what point of the compass I am and guide me back to the cabin.’

‘That is inventive.’

‘One becomes inventive in such circumstances.’

‘And are you not bitter? I mean about Faelán who did this terrible thing to you?’

Dalbach considered the idea and then he shrugged.

‘I think the bitterness has evaporated. Wasn’t it Petrarch who said that nothing mortal is enduring …?’

‘ … and there is nothing sweet which does not eventually end in bitterness,’ finished Eadulf.

Dalbach chuckled in delight.

‘Well, I admit, for some years I felt bitter towards Faelán. But when a man dies, what point is there in hating him? It is now the grandson of my Uncle Rónán Crach who rules the land. So it goes.’

‘You mean Fianamail? He is your cousin?’

‘The Uí Cheinnselaig are all cousins.’

A tone of wariness entered Eadulf’s voice. ‘And are you close to your Cousin Fianamail?’

Dalbach had picked up on the subtle change immediately.

‘He ignores me and I ignore him. He has done nothing to recompense my sorrow. Why are you wary of him, Brother Eadulf?’

Eadulf was surprised by the abrupt question. He reminded himself that he was dealing with someone who was able to pick up every slight nuance and interpret it. Yet he found himself trusting this blind man.

‘He wished to execute me,’ Eadulf said, deciding that truth was the easiest course.

There seemed no change of expression on the face of Dalbach. He sat in silence for a moment or two and then sighed softly.

‘I have heard about you. You are the Saxon who was to be hanged for raping and murdering a young girl. I thought your name was familiar and that was why you hesitated to give it.’

‘I did not do it,’ returned Eadulf swiftly. Then he realised that he should be surprised that Dalbach knew of him. ‘I swear I am innocent of the charge.’

The blind man seemed to guess what he was thinking.

‘I might be in a lonely place, but that does not mean to say that I am alone. I told you that I have friends and relatives who bring me news. Ifyou are not guilty, why were you condemned?’

‘Perhaps in the same way that you were condemned to blindness. Fear is a great motive for any unjust action. All I can say is that I did not do it. I would give anything to know the reasons behind the false accusation.’

Dalbach sat back in his chair thoughtfully.

‘It is strange that debility in one sense is able to heighten the other senses. There is something in the timbre of your voice, Brother Eadulf, that has a resonance of sincerity in it. I might flatter myself but I think I know that you are not lying.’

‘For that, I thank you, Dalbach.’

‘So you have escaped your captors? Doubtless they are hunting for you. Are you making for the coast to escape back to your own country?’

Eadulf hesitated and Dalbach added quickly: ‘Oh, you can trust me. I shall not give your plans away.’

‘It is not that,’ replied Eadulf. ‘I had thought of making for the coast. The best course, though, is for me to remain and attempt to seek out the truth. That is what I intend.’

Dalbach was silent for a moment.

‘That is a brave thing to do. You have confirmed my first impression of your innocence. Had you asked me to help you reach the coast, I would have become immediately suspicious. However, how can I help you to stay and seek out the truth?’

‘I need to return to Fearna. There is … there is someone there who will help me.’

‘That someone being Sister Fidelma of Cashel?’

Eadulf was utterly astonished. ‘How do you know that?’

‘The same cousin of whom I spoke. I have heard much of Fidelma of Cashel. It was her father, Failbe Fland, King of Muman, who slew my father when he was allied to Faelán at the battle of Ath Goan on the Iarthar Life.’

The man spoke without rancour but Eadulf’s astonishment grew.

‘Fidelma’s father? But he died when she was a baby.’

‘Indeed, he did. The battle of Ath Goan was over thirty years ago. Don’t worry, Brother Eadulf. Battles