The Seventh Trumpet (6 page)

‘You did well, Tóla,’ Fidelma repeated. Then she turned to Eadulf and gave a nod.

Eadulf unfastened the short cape and the man’s upper garment and linen shirt. Then, with the help of Tóla, he turned the body over and finished removing the upper clothing. The cause of death was immediate to see. There were three jagged wounds in the back, all fairly close together between the shoulder-blades. They matched the jagged tears in the garments that the young man had been wearing. Eadulf examined them with pursed lips.

‘Fairly deep,’ he reflected. ‘Any one of them might have been the fatal blow.’ He glanced at Fidelma. ‘Would you say he was a tall man?’

Fidelma followed his gaze, examining the corpse from poll to feet.

‘He is certainly not short. I would say that he is slightly above average height. What makes you ask that?’

‘Whoever inflicted these wounds was taller than he was. They must have stood behind him, and even raising their dagger for the blows to descend into the area of the wounds, they would need height to gain the strength to make the cuts so deep.’

‘A good point,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘But there is another possibility – that whoever did this could have been standing on an elevated piece of ground or a rock behind the victim.’

Eadulf looked round at the muddy bank and the stream. ‘Nothing I can see fits such a theory.’

‘Perhaps his attacker was on horseback while his victim was on foot.’ Fidelma began examining the muddy ground of the bank. She then turned and nimbly crossed the stepping-stones to the far bank and repeated her search. She returned without saying a word.

Tóla was helping Eadulf put back the upper clothing on the corpse.

‘We will have to remove the body to somewhere in preparation for burial,’ Eadulf stated.

‘There is a little chapel and burial-ground not far from here at Fraigh Dubh – the Black Heath. It is on the highway that leads south by the heathland into Cashel,’ said Tóla. ‘There is a new priest there, but I do not know him.’

‘It would surely be better to learn the victim’s identity before the burial – especially as he seems to belong to the nobility,’ Eadulf observed.

‘But that will take time, and we cannot leave him unburied,’ Fidelma argued. ‘It is a practical matter.’

Eadulf acknowledged that she was right. He bent to rearrange the clothing on the corpse. Suddenly, he withdrew his hand, uttering an exclamation, and put his fingers to his mouth.

‘What is it?’ Fidelma demanded.

‘Something sharp,’ he replied. ‘A prick from a splinter, probably.’ He knelt to find out what it was that had hurt him. Something was protruding from the sword sheath. ‘Curious,’ he muttered. ‘It’s a broken piece of wood in its own little leather sheath, tied to the sword belt.’

Fidelma carefully unhooked the small leather sheath and removed the broken piece of wood. It was a short wand of white wood – rowan, she thought. The top had been snapped off but there was some evidence of gold binding on the lower part.

She breathed out sharply as she recognised it.

‘Does that mean something to you?’ Eadulf queried, seeing her expression.

‘It means that this man was an envoy or of equivalent rank,’ she said. ‘Not only was he wearing a brooch with the emblem of the Uí Máil, the Kings of Laigin, but he was carrying the wand of office of an envoy. Sometimes even chieftains of high rank carry such wands to proclaim their office.’

Eadulf knew that this was the custom of Fidelma’s people. He also knew that, under the law, the life of a herald or an ambassador was inviolate, even during warfare. Neither harm nor injury could be visited on such an official for, if harm was done, blood feuds could carry from one generation to another until reparation was made. It was a heinous crime, and the punishment for the perpetrator was great.

Gormán, who had been standing a short distance away with Enda holding their horses, now took a step forward, having overheard the conversation.

‘But what would an envoy from the King of Laigin be doing alone and on foot in this place?’

‘That’s a good question, Gormán’, Fidelma said. ‘One that needs an answer, and very soon. It seems inconceivable that such a noble or an ambassador was travelling alone here on foot in the darkness. That is why I was looking at the muddy banks of this stream. I am afraid our horses must have obliterated any signs of tracks at this point. So, if this ambassador came here on horseback, which way would he have come?’

The question was addressed to Tóla. The farmer immediately pointed to the west.

‘This stream flows into the great river, the Suir, not far from here. As you know, lady, this crossing is usually used only by local people who travel on the track along the east bank of the river and then turn inland along this stream to cross at this ford and continue their journey to Cashel. From the east, there would be no reason to come in this direction since there is a good highway there which leads all the way to Cashel.’

‘So if this man came from the Suir, he could have ridden down along the eastern bank to turn along this stream to cross here on his way to Cashel?’ asked Eadulf.

‘That presents other questions,’ interposed Gormán after Tóla had agreed. ‘A man of this elevated rank would surely have an entourage or a companion and, as such, would have taken the main highway where there are hostels for such travellers. So he would have followed the road to the east of here, not the west.’

‘Whichever way he came, lady,’ Tóla said, ‘the paths to this point from both west and east are on my farmlands, and my livestock wander freely. The mud is always turned, as you see. I doubt whether you could trace any individual horses along it. And as you said, lady, why would an ambassador, on his own or with an entourage, be coming through this place after nightfall?’

Fidelma suddenly let out an exclamation which caused everyone to start. ‘What a fool I am!’ She turned to Tóla. ‘You say that you found the body this morning?’

‘It was exactly as I told you, lady. It was just after first light that I had come down here to find whether my heifer had produced her calf.’

‘When were you at this spot before that?’

‘As dusk approached last night. The heifer was in the field behind us. I was worried for her as she was overdue with her calf and so I came to look at her.’

‘Did you look at this crossing at that time?’

‘I did not. However, the body was not here.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because the stream was running freely.’

‘I do not understand,’ Eadulf said.

‘I was alerted to the body being in the stream by the fact that it was being pushed by the current against those stepping-stones and thereby forming a dam. The water makes a different noise when it is allowed to flow freely. Also, my dog, Cú Faoil, was at his ease when we were here last night, whereas this morning he was nervous and showing signs that something was untoward. His behaviour prompted me to find the body.’

‘So there is yet another conundrum,’ breathed Fidelma. ‘The logical conclusion is that this ambassador came here alone in the darkness or with a companion who was his assassin. If they were both on horseback, then the young man was obliged to dismount at the crossing while his companion, still seated on his horse, stabbed him from that superior height. Afterwards, the assassin must have led both horses away without alarming anyone. Not even your dog was awoken during the night, Tóla.’

‘If there had been any disturbance, however slight, Cú Faoil would have surely raised an alarm,’ agreed the farmer. ‘There is nothing that escapes his attention.’

‘There is another answer to that conundrum.’ It was Eadulf who spoke.

Fidelma turned to him in slight surprise. ‘Another answer?’

‘What if the man was killed elsewhere and then brought in stealth to this place? The body could have been dumped here by someone thinking it was an out-of-the-way spot where it would not be discovered.’

There was a pause while Fidelma considered this. ‘It is a good point,’ she conceded. ‘But if the murderer brought the body here, thinking it a good hiding-place, surely the stepping-stones across the stream would have warned him that it was not so remote, and that people used the crossing. There are plenty of better places around here to hide a body. And why leave so many clues behind, like his Uí Máil emblem? Why leave part of his wand of office, showing he was an envoy? Indeed, why not just remove all his valuable jewellery, the dagger, sword and so on? In fact, why not strip the body entirely, which would have made the task of identification almost impossible?’

‘Of course, if the murder was done here, perhaps the killer left these things on the corpse because they heard someone coming and had to flee,’ Eadulf suggested.

Fidelma shook her head. ‘If so, why was the body not reported by the person who disturbed the killer?’

‘It seems,’ Eadulf reflected, ‘that we are engaging in speculation when we have no information.’

Fidelma glared at him before noticing the amusement in his features. The corners of her mouth turned down with a wry expression.

‘So now we must start in pursuit of information,’ she said in a firm tone. She turned to Tóla. ‘We need trouble you little. Perhaps we can fodder our horses and obtain some refreshment for ourselves when we have finished here? It would help if we could also purchase a linen sheet for use as a
racholl
– a shroud – for the body. We shall take the corpse to the chapel you spoke of, at Fraigh Dubh and make use of the burial-ground there. We may have to travel all the way to Laigin to establish the identity of this young noble: the body cannot be preserved during such a long journey and must therefore be interred here.’

‘You are welcome to what hospitality we can provide,’ Tóla said politely.

‘Then we will not interrupt your harvesting any further. We have a few things to do here first.’

The farmer left them while Fidelma began to give instruction to the others.

‘Secure the horses to those bushes, Enda. Then I want you to walk a distance along the bank of this stream towards the east. Watch out for any sign of the passage of horses. Gormán, I want you to examine the bank to the west.’

The two warriors moved off immediately.

Fidelma stood for a moment looking down at the broken rowan wand that she still held in her hands, and wondering where the top was.

‘It is usually the top part which bears the emblem of the holder of the office. See if you are able to find it, Eadulf. Search the body thoroughly, if you will. It may have broken off as he fell. I am going to check the stream, for if it fell in there, the gold mounting from the top will have caused it to catch on the bed of the stream.’

There was a silence as they both bent to their tasks. Eadulf not only carefully checked through the clothing on the corpse but thoroughly searched the muddy bank nearby. There was no sign of the splintered top piece of the wand of office, and when he glanced at Fidelma, she was wading out of the stream looking disappointed.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘No sign of it.’

A few moments later, Gormán came along the bank of the stream.

‘I went as far as the point where the stream empties into the Suir,’ he reported. ‘Along the path there were long stretches of hardened earth, but where there were also muddy stretches with signs of horses’ tracks, these were obscured by the passage of sheep and cattle. Is Enda not back yet?’

As if on cue, they saw the warrior trotting towards them along the embankment.

‘Anything?’ Fidelma asked hopefully.

‘A short distance from here, there is a bend in the stream and a muddy stretch of ground by it. There are signs that two horses emerged from the stream at that point. However, it is difficult to say how long ago the prints were made. I would estimate that it was not long because the ground is soft and muddy. There has been no time for the tracks to dry.’

‘Any sign of footprints?’

‘Whoever was on the horses did not dismount. I only saw prints of cows and wolves, but nothing else of significance. The prints of the horses led eastwards. I followed them as far as I could, but soon lost them when the ground became hardened. They were heading towards the highway that leads north to Durlus Éile or south to Cashel.’

There was a brief silence as Fidelma and Eadulf absorbed the information. Then Fidelma said: ‘Well, there is little more we can do here. Eadulf, can you and Enda remove all the valuable items from the corpse, the sword and dagger as well as anything else that might provide a means of identity? We’ll go to the farmhouse and get the winding sheet. Then we’ll take advantage of Tóla’s hospitality to feed the horses and refresh ourselves before moving on.’

It was after midday when Fidelma and her companions recommenced their journey from the farmstead of Tóla where his wife, Cainnear, had fed them, and his son Breac had tended their horses. The body of the unknown envoy had been wrapped in a linen sheet and strapped across the back of Enda’s horse. The four of them had then set out due east along the banks of the stream. A short time later, they recrossed the stream and turned a little southward on to the edge of a rough stretch of uncultivated land called Fraigh Dubh.

Here was the burial-ground to which the people of the area took their dead, and the small chapel where they went to receive blessings. The chapel lay close by the main highway that eventually connected Cashel to the northern township of the kingdom, Durlus Éile, the strong fortress of the Éile, whose territory bordered the lands of the Osraige; beyond this was the covetous Kingdom of Laigin.

They crossed the highway along which merchants and pilgrims travelled in both directions; although it was usually very busy, it was not classed as one of the five great highways that united the Five Kingdoms, such as the Slige Dála that connected Cashel to the Palace of the High King at Tara. This smaller highway was classed as a
bothar
– a cattleway – for it was along earlier tracks in ancient times that people herded their cattle to market and, indeed, still did so. At this hour, the highway was deserted, for most people liked to travel early in the mornings and then halt to take refreshment at midday when the sun stood at its zenith. By the time the day became cooler, their refreshment had usually influenced them to delay their journey until the following morning. Therefore it was not surprising that the small party encountered no one as they joined the highway and crossed to the little wooden chapel that stood on the edge of the wild heathland.