A Prayer for the Damned

‘That is God’s justice,’ he chuckled. ‘God’s punishment for his killing of Abbot Ultán.’

Fidelma was about to leave her cousin at the gates of Cashel when there came a shout from one of the guards.

‘Looks as if the rest of the hunters are beginning to return!’ Finguine observed.

In fact, it was only Abbot Augaire in the company of Aibnat, the wife of Muirchertach Nár. Fidelma’s eyes narrowed in disapproval at the sight of the latter. The woman had not endeared herself to Fidelma. In fact, Fidelma was surprised to see the usually sour-faced Aibnat smiling and apparently sharing a joke with the abbot of Conga. It did not seem appropriate for the wife of a man who had been charged with the heinous crime of murder.

As the abbot dismounted, he caught sight of Fidelma, and hailed her with a smile. ‘What news, lady? Have you gathered all your evidence in defence of Muirchertach Nár?’

Fidelma ignored his question and answered with one of her own. ‘I presume that the hunting was good?’

Abbot Augaire shrugged indifferently. ‘I’m afraid that I was separated from the main party early on. I was lost in your forest. Then, by chance, I encountered the lady Aibnat who was in a similar plight and, thankfully, we fell in with Brother Eadulf and a warrior who put us on the right path back to Cashel.’

Attendants had helped Aibnat dismount and the horses were being led away.

‘So you became lost as well?’ Fidelma said to her. ‘I understood attendants were supposed to ride with the ladies to ensure that you all kept together to prevent such misadventures.’

The woman was disparaging. ‘The attendants who were supposed to be looking after the ladies allowed them all to scatter like sheep when the threat of the boars came close. In trying to find my companions, I became lost. Either your attendants need better training or your brother stands in need of knowing how to choose better servants.’

Abbot Augaire came forward to act as a peacemaker. ‘It is easy to get lost in these dark woods of Muman. People are often scattered in the best controlled of boar hunts.’

Aíbnat’s features were unforgiving. She looked round in disapproval. ‘Has my husband returned?’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘Dúnchad Muirisci was the first to return. No one else has as yet.’

‘Where is Dúnchad Muirisci?’ demanded Aibnat. Fidelma tried to ignore the arrogance in her voice.

‘Across the courtyard and beyond that arched doorway you will find Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary. He is being treated there.’

‘Treated?’ snapped Aíbnat. ‘What ails the fellow?’

‘A slight misfortune. He is bleeding a little.’

Aíbnat frowned and mumbled something before turning and hurrying in the direction Fidelma had indicated.

Abbot Augaire stood for a moment, looking after her, before glancing at Fidelma.

‘What was the nature of the misfortune?’ he asked quickly.

Fidelma grimaced indifferently. ‘He says that he fell into a thorn bush, that’s all.’

Once again a call from the guard at the gate told her that others were returning from the hunt. She recognised the short, dark figure of Fergus Fanat immediately. He was carrying his bir loosely in one hand, and Fidelma saw that the point of it had been bloodied. His companion was none other than Sister Marga. For the first time, she could observe the girl carefully. Her assessment of her when she had espied her at the game of immán on the previous day had been correct. She was attractive. Her robe and headdress, the cabhal, had been thrown back, and the form that was revealed was young and pleasing to the eye. The girl had fair skin and dark hair, and the features in the heart-shaped face were moulded into a happy expression. The smile had transformed her from the sombre maiden of the previous day. As she watched them ride through the gates into the courtyard, Fidelma had the impression of closeness between the two young people, almost of a courting couple.

Abbot Augaire watched them in disapproval before turning and following in Aíbnat’s steps towards Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary shop.

‘Good hunting, Fergus Fanat?’ called Fidelma as the pair halted and attendants came forward.

‘A good chase but, alas, I cannot claim a victory,’ replied the northern warrior cheerfully as he slid from his horse.

‘Yet I see your spear point is bloodied,’ Fidelma observed.

‘Ah, indeed. The boar received a sharp prick as it sped by me, but that is about all. After that quick thrust, I never saw hide nor hair of it again. By the time I had finished looking for it, the hunt had moved on. It is a hunter’s saying that you are allowed only one shot at taking the prize. I heard the cry further through the woods but I decided that I had had my chance and should return. It was fortunate that I did, for I was able to help a lady in distress.’ He half bowed courteously to Sister Marga, who had also dismounted, and now blushed but stood without speaking while their horses were led away.

Fidelma looked quizzically at the girl. ‘You were in distress?’

‘I became separated from the other ladies and was lost in the wood for a while until Fergus. .’ She hesitated, blushing.

‘Fergus Fanat in the train of Blathmac of Ulaidh,’ said the young warrior quickly.

Fidelma frowned. Was the northern noble trying to cover up the fact that Sister Marga already knew his name? She addressed the girl.

‘You may know that I am Fidelma of Cashel. You surprise me, sister. I have already noticed that you are interested in immán. .’ Sister Marga coloured hotly. The point had been scored, ‘but I had not expected you to be interested in following the hunt. I was looking for you earlier. Even Sister Sétach had not realised that you had gone.’

The girl hesitated a moment and then tried to regain her composure.

‘Sétach would have disapproved,’ she said quietly. ‘I could not resist the temptation of following the hunt, for my father was a hunter. He was one of the trackers of the Uí MacUais. I suddenly felt that I needed just one more time of freedom, of riding with the hounds and the sound of the hunters’ horns. A good horse under me and. .’

‘Even Abbot Ultán’s horse?’ Fidelma observed quietly.

‘The beast is not responsible for the rider,’ she replied. Then a worried look came to her face. ‘Does Brother Drón know that I took the abbot’s horse?’

‘I think so. The stable lads knew that you had requested a saddle to be put on the beast. In fact, I was informed that Brother Drón rode off after the hunt as well.’

Fergus Fanat was laughing uproariously. ‘Well, if Brother Drón can seek solace in the hunt, you are surely not going to condemn Sister Marga for doing so? As for Ultán’s horse, she only borrowed it for a few hours.’

‘It is no concern of mine if she borrows Ultán’s horse,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘She has now explained to me why she went on the hunt. However, I still would like a word with you, Marga. . alone.’

The girl looked a little defensive. ‘What about?’

‘I want to speak to you about Abbot Ultán.’

A shadow seemed to cross Sister Marga’s features, casting them as in grey stone. ‘I have nothing to say.’

Fergus Fanat was still smiling. ‘Come now, everyone within the vicinity of the lands of the Uí Thuirtrí has something to say about Ultán. Usually nothing good, though.’

Fidelma cast him a disapproving glance.

‘Obviously now is not the time to discuss this,’ she said to the girl. ‘I will come to see you later on. Make yourself available for me and do not leave the fortress unless I say so.’

‘You have no right. .’ protested the girl.

‘I have every right,’ Fidelma assured her grimly. She glanced at Fergus Fanat. ‘I am sure that you will be able to instruct Sister Marga about the powers of a dálaigh?’