‘We must capture her or she will remain a rallying symbol for the Ui Fidgente dissidents,’ Fidelma told Conri as he caught her up.
They came to the house and halted before the door.
‘Tadcan, you and Brother Eadulf go round the back,’ hissed Conri.
Then, waiting for a few moments until he judged they had taken up their position, Conri ran swiftly at the door and thrust against it with his foot. The door went flying from its hinges and he was inside with Fidelma at his shoulder.
The first thing they saw was Mugron lying on the floor, his upper body propped up against a wall. Blood was spreading over one shoulder. His eyes were wide open with pain. His features were greying.
There was a crash as Tadcan and Eadulf entered through the back door. Conri looked swiftly round in the shadows of the room. Apart from Mugron’s body there was no sign of any other occupant.
Eadulf bent to the merchant and quickly examined the wound. ‘Painful, but he will survive. The blade has penetrated the shoulder muscle.’
The merchant licked his lips and then indicated with his head towards a closed door that led to an adjoining room. He frowned and indicated again.
Conr raised a finger to his lips before motioning Tadcan forward. The fair-haired warrior took two swift steps and then kicked the door in.
Sister Buan, or rather Uallach, was seated in a chair, facing them. Her face had a wild-eyed, angry expression that was not pleasant to look upon. She saw Fidelma at Conri’s elbow. Her face was screwed into a picture of hatred, the eyes flashing darkly.
‘Eoghanacht bitch!’ she spat. ‘You will never take me to be a slave at Cashel! Fidgennid go Buadh!’
Before they realised what she was doing, she had jerked in the chair, given a gasp and fallen sideways.
Eadulf pushed forward and knelt beside her.
He removed something from her lower chest. It was a tiny white bone-handled dagger.
‘Dead?’ asked Fidelma.
Eadulf felt for a heartbeat and looked up in surprise.
‘Not dead,’ he said. He turned quickly and eased the unconscious form into a more comfortable position.
‘Can you save her?’ Fidelma peered over his shoulder.
‘I can try. It looks like a clean wound. She did not make a good job of it. I don’t think the blade dug deeply enough to be mortal. I’ll do my best.’
Fidelma glanced at Conri. ‘I didn’t understand what she shouted before she dug the knife in.’
The warlord grimaced.
‘It was the barran-glaed, the old Ui Fidgente war cry — Fidgente to victory. If nothing else she believed in the Ui Fidgente.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Abbot Erc was looking grim as Fidelma and Eadulf filed into his chambers early the next morning. Conri was with them. Brother Cu Mara and Sister Uallann, the physician, were already seated there. The elderly abbot waved them to the remaining seats that had been arranged before his table.
‘I have been told by Sister Uallann that Sister Buan is dead. Her death has to be accounted for, Sister Fidelma, as also the deaths of Slebene and his men at An Bhearbha.’
There was sadness in Fidelma’s features.
‘We had hoped that Uallach, or Sister Buan, as you knew her, would have survived. We had brought her to the abbey so that she might have better attention than could be provided at An Bhearbha. Has Sister Uallann informed you of exactly what happened?’
The physician sniffed.
‘I have not explained in detail. I was about to say that when she was brought to me, I found that the initial wound was clean and had penetrated only the muscle. The woman could have survived. She did not want to.’
Abbot Erc leant forward in his seat.
‘Explain what you mean,’ he instructed with a puzzled expression.
‘I had applied medicaments, the healing poultices,’ continued the physician. ‘Buan, whatever her name was, recovered consciousness. She was in truculent mood. She was angry that she had been cheated of her death. Fidelma of Cashel, the Saxon brother and lord Conri came to question her but that was against my advice. I remained in the room during this time and can testify to what she told them. Afterwards… well, we left the room and when I returned a moment later I found that Sister Buan
Abbot Erc regarded her with a shocked expression.
‘When you left the room where she was confined, there were surgical knives left within her reach? Surely that was negligent when we are told that the woman had attempted to kill herself?’
Sister Uallann looked unhappy at the reprimand but Fidelma intervened quickly.
‘Sister Uallann did not realise that the woman was still intent on taking her life,’ she explained. ‘In fact, none of us realised how strong her will was.’
Abbot Erc sat back with pursed lips, thinking for a moment or two.
‘You claim that she was really Uallach, daughter of Eoganan, and was intent on becoming his banchomarbae — his rightful heir? You accuse her of being responsible for the death of Abbess Faife, for the abduction of the stone polishers of our community, for the murder of her own husband Cinaed, as well as all else that has followed. It is now time that we had some explanations. Are you saying that she was solely to blame for all this evil?’
‘Solely to blame?’ Fidelma paused reflectively. ‘Not solely to blame. I believe it could be argued that it was Eoganan, son of Crunmael, one time ruler of the Ui Fidgente who was the true architect of the evil that has come upon his people. His actions have conditioned the lives of his offspring and that includes Uallach. In a way, you have to feel some compassion for Uallach. Eoganan was the true “master of souls”. Despising the value of his own life in pursuit of his ambitions, he despised the value of other people’s lives, particularly those of his own offspring. He became the master of other’s lives and thereby the master of their souls. So that, even after his death, he was governing what paths in life they have taken.’
Abbot Erc grimaced in irritation.
‘Leave compassion to priests who are best able to bestow it. Your task is the law. While I will accept that Sister Buan was this woman Uallach — indeed, her actions now seem to have confirmed your accusations — I am at a total loss to understand how you came to suspect it.’
Sister Fidelma smiled sadly.
‘Before I answer that, I have to say that without compassion there can be no administration of law. I do not think you will be able to share my philosophy, Abbot Erc, therefore I will not pursue this. As to the practicalities
‘Even I began to question my own memory,’ confided Eadulf easily. ‘Especially when Ganicca was so sure that it was Uaman who rode with Olcan and his men.’
Fidelma glanced at him with a smile.
‘Eadulf does not imagine things. I trust when he reports that he has seen something that he has indeed seen it. So who was this wraith who rode about in Uaman’s robes? When questioned closely, none had seen the features of the wraith and that fact made me suspect that this was someone passing themselves off as Uaman.’
She paused and looked round. Seeing that she held their attention, she continued: ‘We had a lot of information, many strands, and I knew that all the strands wound their way back to this abbey. That was not only because of the death of Cinaed but because someone here had to give instructions to Olcan about the six stone polishers leaving the abbey for the pilgrimage.’
Abbot Erc interrupted with an impatient wave of his hand.
‘I followed your argument on that yesterday.’
Brother Cu Mara added: ‘I think the abbot means — how did you come to suspect Sister Buan? She had been in this abbey for years and no one suspected that she was Eoganan’s daughter.’
‘I will come to that. I was looking for the motive. When I accepted that Uaman was dead there were two possibilities. Either the person imitating Uaman was doing so because of the fear that his reputation instilled or because they were preparing the way for the reinstatement of the dynasty. Olcan made a remark in his cell which implied that Uaman was dead and that Eoganan had more than two sons. There was another who could claim to be his heir. Conri pointed out the answer lay in the genealogy of the Ui Fidgente. And after we saw Olcan, Conri asked the librarian for a copy…’