‘The guard I left outside the prisoner’s room — one of the Éile warriors — has been killed. The Lady Étain has escaped. She is nowhere to be found.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Fidelma and Eadulf entered the chamber where they had recently tried to question Étain of An Dún. Outside, in the passageway, the body of the warrior who had been left on guard lay in a crumpled and bloody heap. It looked as if he had been stabbed several times in the neck and chest in a frenzied attack. Inside the chamber, the bonds that had secured the woman lay scattered around. Eadulf gave them a cursory glance.
‘Someone has released her from those chains,’ he said, stating the obvious.
Caol and Gormán had entered behind them with the agitated Spealáin.
‘Cathchern was a good warrior,’ the steward grieved. ‘He would never have allowed a stranger to approach and strike him without even attempting to draw his weapon.’
‘That is the only explanation,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘Whoever killed him and released the prisoner was known and trusted by him.’
‘Then there is a traitor here.’ Gormán’s expression was grim. ‘It could be anyone of the Éile.’
‘There are no traitors among the Éile,’ snapped Spealáin.
‘You have every right to protest,’ agreed Eadulf calmly, ‘but we must consider logic. The guard was attacked by someone he knew, or whose rank he had to respect.’
‘We can discuss this later,’ Fidelma said. ‘It is more urgent to find where Étain of An Dún is hiding and who is hiding her. Now she is free, in her current state of mind, she will doubtless be bent on vengeance.’
‘There is one point to consider,’ Eadulf said quietly.
‘Which is?’
‘You know how her mind was when we saw her … well, the person who released her had the ability to do so without her raving or crying out and alarming anyone. That person was well known to her, able to quieten her.’
‘A good point, Eadulf.’ Fidelma turned to Caol. ‘I want you to go to my brother and persuade him to return to the chamber Gelgéis has allotted him and await the outcome of our search for Étain. Do not leave his side, even if he tries to insist. Do not leave him alone until I say otherwise.’
Caol hurried off while Fidelma turned to the steward.
‘Spealáin, you must alert Gelgéis and the guards. There must be a detailed search of the fortress for this woman and anyone else behaving suspiciously.’
‘Are you sure you can trust me and the guards of Durlus?’ the man said bitterly.
Fidelma answered with a thin smile. ‘Trust must be earned, Spealáin,’ she replied. ‘I suggest you set about earning it.’
He bit his lip and then hastened after Caol.
‘Do you think Étain is going to attempt to assassinate the King?’ asked Gormán anxiously.
‘She is crazy enough to try,’ Eadulf said heavily. ‘With the way her mind is working, I do not think she would even be able to find her way to the King on her own and do the deed.’
‘That’s just it,’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘She is not capable on her own. Someone has released her and may even now be leading her to my brother.’
‘Then …’ Gormán was white-faced as he turned to the door.
‘Wait! We can leave Colgú’s protection to Caol,’ called Fidelma, halting him. ‘Our task is to find Étain and her companion.’
Outside in the corridor, ignoring the crumpled body of the warrior, they paused, uncertain of their direction. Then Gormán sucked in his breath and pointed. There were smudge-marks of blood on the stone floor. Someone, either Étain or her rescuer, had trodden in the blood of the guard and moved on, not noticing.
Gormán eased his sword out and led the way, following the trail. At the end of the passage, the trail turned down another short passage and ended before a stout wooden door. There were no locks on it. The young warrior motioned them back and reached forward. The door pushed open easily. A flight of steps led down into what was obviously a cellar or small vault. They could see a flickering light at the bottom.
‘Wait here!’ whispered the warrior. ‘I’ll go down first.’
They knew better than to object. Gormán moved noiselessly down the stone steps, his sword held ready in front of him. Then he disappeared from their sight. There was a long silence and Eadulf fidgeted uneasily. Fidelma was about to call down when Gormán’s voice came up to them.
‘It’s all right, but you had better come and see this.’
Eadulf went first down the steps and into the cellar, which was lit by an oil lamp. Gormán was standing before what seemed to be a mound of clothing on the floor in front of him.
‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf.
Gormán stood back and gestured to the huddled figure at his feet.
Fidelma let her breath escape in a long deep sigh. ‘It’s Étain,’ she said softly.
‘A single stab wound in the heart,’ confirmed Gormán.
Eadulf took the oil lamp from its resting-place and held it above the figure so that they could see better.
‘Did you …?’ Fidelma looked up at Gormán.
‘God forbid, lady. I am no killer of old women,’ protested the warrior. ‘I came down here and saw this bundle of clothing, or so I thought. I discovered it was a body and made a quick search, but there is no one else here.’
‘The wound is still bleeding, the body warm.’ Eadulf had peered closer. ‘And …’ his voice rose sharply, ‘she still lives!’
He gently thrust Fidelma aside, handing her the lantern, and knelt beside the woman. Even as he did so, he realised that it was too late. The Lady Étain of An Dún was breathing her last but, in that moment, she was conscious and her pale eyes became wide and staring. A strange understanding entered them. She was trying to speak. Eadulf raised her head a little with one hand behind it, and bent his ear to her trembling lips. Words came as a painful breath followed by a long rattling sigh and she was dead.
Eadulf laid the woman’s head back on the bloody flags, then slowly rose to his feet.
‘Did she say anything?’ Fidelma demanded.
‘I believe she was thinking of her family in her last moment.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because she said two words — “my daughter” — that’s all.’
Fidelma stared at him and he saw comprehension dawning in her eyes. Then she quickly addressed Gormán. ‘Find Spealáin and inform him of this matter. He can remove the body. I will let my brother and Gelgéis know.’
Eadulf followed her as she hurried away.
‘What is it?’ he demanded as they raced back towards the guest quarters.
‘I have just realised that my brother is still in danger,’ she panted.
They found Caol standing outside the guest chamber which had been assigned to Colgú.
‘Didn’t I tell you not to leave my brother’s side?’ Fidelma’s voice was raised in anger.
Caol was shocked, for he had never heard her sound so angry or upset before. ‘It’s all right, lady,’ he protested. ‘The King is not alone. He told me to wait outside.’
‘Did I not make my instructions clear? Not alone? Who is with him?’
‘Why, the Lady Dúnliath.’
To his surprise, Fidelma physically pushed him aside and hurled herself at the door. It was secured from the inside.
‘Break it in!’ Her agitation galvanised Caol into action.
Caol threw himself at the door. The wood around the lock cracked and splintered and gave, precipitating him into the room, followed a moment later by Fidelma.
Dúnliath had been wrapped in an embrace with Colgú and now she spun away and stared at them with cold fury on her face. Colgú himself stepped back in utter astonishment.
‘By the …!’ he roared. ‘What does this mean, sister?’ His voice was low and ominous.
‘I am thankful to find you unharmed, brother.’ There was relief in her voice, but she knew that Colgú was possessed of a temper equal to her own.