Abbot Saran was staring at his steward as if he had never seen him before. ‘What does this outrage mean?’ he gasped.

  Fidelma had taken the round metal disc from Eadulf and examined it.

  ‘Well spotted, Eadulf,’ she said. ‘So this is the symbol of your Fellowship of the Raven?’

  ‘You’ll recognise it, I am sure,’ Eadulf acknowledged with a smile.

  Fidelma turned to Feradach who stood uncertainly by. ‘I would ask that you restrain this man, for we will need to question him. He is obviously a member of this conspiracy and possibly the one person who can answer our questions about the deaths of Ultan and Ultana.’

  Before the Osraige warrior could respond, Enda had removed a piece of cord from his belt and had expertly bound Brother Failge’s hands. Then he pushed the steward onto a nearby seat. Feradach had scooped up the dagger that had fallen from the steward’s hand.

  ‘I understand none of this,’ the Abbot croaked, looking from one to another as if in search of an explanation. His expression was almost comically woebegone.

  ‘Perhaps we should all be seated,’ suggested Fidelma. ‘Then Eadulf can explain what he has told me.’

  After they had seated themselves, and looked expectantly at Eadulf, he took the brass disc from Fidelma and placed it in the centre of the round table. Then from his belt bag he extracted firstly the disc he had taken from the dead man in the marsh, who had been his captor; then the similar disc he had taken from Rechtabra, followed by those from Cellaig and Duach. As he placed each disc alongside that which had been worn by Brother Failge, he recited where they had come from. Then he turned to Fidelma.

  ‘I believe that you have another one to contribute?’

  Fidelma felt in her comb bag for the metal disc and placed it with its fellows.

  ‘That was taken from the wrist of the murdered girl we now know as Ultana,’ she stated.

  There was a silence before Eadulf began to speak. ‘All these little brass discs have the image of a bird on them. Specifically, the image of a raven. Now the raven was a potent symbol of the Old Religion of this country, so I am told. It is the symbol of death and battle, of blood and vengeance, and is personified by the Triune Goddess Badh, Mórrígan and Macha … who collectively take the form of a raven. You will remember the story of the hero Cúchullain who, dying at the Pillar Stone, had the Goddess of Vengeance, in the form of a raven, perch on his shoulder to triumphantly drink his blood.’

  Abbot Saran managed to summon a snort of uneasy indignation. ‘Such superstitions should have no meaning in the New Faith.’

  ‘Oh, but they do continue to have meaning in the minds of many people,’ replied Eadulf. ‘This has become the symbol of the Fellowship of the Raven, which is a group of people who still adhere to the Old Religion of this country. Ríonach’s husband was one of them.’

  The girl lowered her head in mute agreement.

  ‘What is their purpose?’ bleated Abbot Saran.

  ‘Perhaps we can ask Failge?’ replied Fidelma.

  The steward gave her a sullen glance. ‘I found the emblem. It is not mine. I – I found it on the wrist of the man Ultan.’

  ‘That explanation seems reasonable enough,’ the Abbot said quickly.

  ‘Reasonable?’ repeated Fidelma. ‘Then kindly explain what is reasonable about drawing a knife to attack Eadulf, accompanied by language that does not belong in a marketplace, let alone in an abbey!’ She paused and then said: ‘I believe that they have chosen the Triune Goddess in order to wreak vengeance for the destruction of the Old Faith, and to seek the death of the New Faith.’

  The rotund Abbot blinked bewilderedly. ‘You mean they want revenge for what Cainnech did here when he overthrew the last of the Druids seventy years ago?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Eadulf agreed, his mind latching on to Fidelma’s line of thinking.

  ‘And you believe that Ultan and Ultana were part of this conspiracy?’

  ‘It seems likely, but we need more facts.’ Fidelma turned to Failge, who was sitting hunched up, his hands tied, glowering at them. ‘You will answer some questions now.’

  The steward gave a contemptuous snort. ‘That I will not.’

  ‘I think you will.’

  ‘And I know that I won’t. Threats will not force me to speak to you.’

  ‘Who mentioned threats?’ Fidelma said mildly. ‘I do not make threats,’ she went on. Then she sighed. ‘Is it your last word that you will not speak further of this Fellowship of the Raven?’

  Brother Failge raised his chin defiantly and sneered, ‘I will answer nothing. I will speak no more to you. I will endure all physical pain you can inflict on me. I shall never betray the blessed raven.’

  ‘Physical pain?’ Failge had actually used the word branndán – torture. ‘Why would you think that we would resort to torture?’

  ‘Because that is the way with you – you of the New Faith. It is well known that you are spreading new laws called the Penitentials in place of our ancient laws. Mutilations, hangings, drowning … they are used by many abbeys who have adopted foreign ways, where wrongdoers are physically punished instead of being forced to compensate their victims. I have seen it written in Di Astud Chirt agus Dligid, On the Confirmation of Right and Law, that it was Patrick who first introduced such vicious punishments into this island. So do your worst. I shall not talk.’

  ‘If you are part of a group seeking vengeance, is that no better than the vengeance of the Penitentials?’ queried Fidelma.

  ‘The New Faith has taught us the weapons we must use to overcome them,’ replied Failge stubbornly. ‘When a forest burns, one often has to light another fire to stop it destroying the entire forest … “burning for burning” as your teaching goes.’

  Fidelma paused thoughtfully for a moment before addressing Feradach and Enda, saying, ‘Go into the chapel and open the underground room again.’

  They looked surprised, but she made no further comment and so they left to fulfil her instruction.

  ‘What do you intend?’ Abbot Saran asked anxiously.

  ‘I intend to explain the difference between our law system and the rules that certain communities of our religious have misguidedly adopted – these rules called the Penitentials which incorporate foreign laws of punishment.’

  Failge laughed aloud. ‘Are you saying that you can uphold our old laws and values while accepting this New Faith from the East?’ he challenged.

  ‘Do you say that we cannot?’ she countered.

  ‘I do. Have you not read the justification for torture that these so-called Penitentials would inflict – such as the call for us to mortify our flesh in order to gain an afterlife? In our religion, when we die, we are simply reborn in the Otherworld, the parallel world. When we die in that world, we are reborn in this one. Our stations in both worlds depend on how well we have lived our lives. While we dwell in this world, on the eve of Samhain, the Otherworld becomes visible to us – and those whom we have wronged, who have passed there, can return to exact their vengeance.’

  ‘I know of that belief,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘But you claim the Penitentials expect us to indulge in mortification of the flesh to obtain an afterlife?’

  ‘The Gospels of the New Faith declare it,’ Brother Failge spat.

  ‘I have not heard it said,’ she declared.

  ‘It is so said by Paul in his letter to his followers in Rome: si enim secundum carnem vixeritis moriemini si autem Spiritu facta carnis mortificatis vivetis…’

  ‘If you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live,’ muttered the Abbot.

  ‘So you are interpreting this as an exhortation to inflict punishment on the flesh to deaden natural functions and desires in order to gain an afterlife?’ Fidelma was appalled. ‘That is nonsense.’

  ‘Then many who follow this New Faith have no sense.’

  ‘What are words but labels that can be misinterpreted?’ Eadulf said.

  ‘I am not the one doing the misinterpretation,’ returned the steward. ‘It is the clerics who maintain these Penitentials.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that many will have sympathy with your cause, Failge,’ Fidelma mused, ignoring the disapproving look of the Abbot. ‘I myself feel saddened at the loss of some of the moral concepts from the old days. But I have to remind myself that I am a dálaigh. I am an advocate of the law of the Fénechus and not that of the Penitentials, and it is to the law of the Fénechus that I must turn.

  ‘I am not judging either the New or the Old Faith,’ she went on, ‘but the crime of murder. I am investigating the deaths of this young couple whom we are now calling Ultan and Ultana. Then there is the capture of Eadulf here, and the attempt to murder him – which resulted in other deaths. This, from the evidence that has been shown, is the responsibility of the Fellowship of the Raven. You appear to represent this Fellowship, Failge. Under the law of the Fénechus you have a right to present your defence.’

  But Brother Failge shook his head, saying, ‘I see what you are trying to do, but it will not work. I shall say nothing.’

  Fidelma rose as Feradach and Enda returned.

  ‘We’ve opened the entrance again, lady,’ reported Feradach.

  ‘Bring him along then.’ She nodded to Brother Failge. Then she glanced to Ríonach, who was still sitting with bowed head. ‘It is not necessary for you to come, my dear. You may remain here with your dog. Enda – you may stay with her.’

  Feradach and Aidan hoisted the steward to his feet, each supporting one of his arms. Fidelma led the way to the chapel, Eadulf and Abbot Saran following along behind her. ‘I don’t understand,’ muttered the fat Abbot; this had become a phrase that he was repeating again and again, almost as a religious prayer.

  Fidelma walked to the top of the steps and pointed downwards into the underground chamber. Her face was a mask.

  ‘At least you will pass to your Otherworld surrounded by the images of your Old Faith, Failge.’

  The steward’s eyes went wide. ‘Surely you do not intend to incarcerate me down there?’ he breathed.

  ‘But you told me that I can.’ Fidelma actually smiled. ‘You expect little else from the New Faith. Do you not claim that we not only mortify our own flesh but ensure the mortification of others?’ She spoke to Feradach. ‘Untie his hands and give him a candle, Feradach … not a large one, just a stub so that he can quickly look on the images of the old gods and goddesses, who will doubtless sustain him in his dark vigil.’

  There was a silence. Then the horrified voice of the Abbot cried: ‘But you are a dálaigh … I protest! You cannot bury a man alive, no matter what he has done. This is not the true way of the New Faith!’

  ‘Did Brother Failge not quote from one of the sacred texts to prove it so?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘What was the quotation?’

  ‘Punishments should be life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand … burning for burning…’ conceded the Abbot. ‘But—’

  ‘Exactly,’ she interrupted grimly. ‘Animam pro anima. Untie his hands, but Aidan, keep your sword at his throat. Try not to kill him if he refuses to descend – he might need some persuasion. Where is the candle stub I asked you for? Light it and give it to him, and light another one for me.’

  Feradach reluctantly did as he was told. Fidelma took the candle that he had given to her, placed it on the altar and took from her comb bag a pin. To their surprise, she measured down the wick with her thumb and then thrust the pin into the candle at that point. Then she turned back with a glance of impatience. The men moved reluctantly, as if they could not believe her order. Brother Failge took the lighted candle stub from Feradach with a defiant smile and began to descend the narrow stairs. He paused for a moment and stared malignantly at Fidelma. ‘My vengeance is to come, Fidelma of Cashel. Look for me on the eve of the Feast of Samhain. Look for me…’

  She signalled to Feradach to push the altar stone back in position. Even Eadulf was looking at her in dismay. Like Aidan, he found her action entirely out of character and was unable to believe the scene that he had just witnessed. It was almost impossible to accept this new callousness in her.

  ‘Now, Aidan, go and tell Enda to prepare our horses. We must soon be away from this place.’ When Aidan hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, she added, ‘Don’t forget to ensure that Eadulf and the girl’s horses are also ready for the journey. Ríonach will accompany us to Cashel in fulfilment of Eadulf’s promise, and Feradach will also be joining us. Tell Enda to make haste.’

  ‘Are you leaving?’ Abbot Saran asked, aghast. ‘Leaving after … after…’ Words seemed to fail him as he gestured to the closed slab hiding the secret chamber.

  Fidelma turned back and regarded his outraged expression as if in amusement.

  ‘You will not object to our departure? I thought you would be rejoicing.’

  The Abbot pointed to the floor at the base of the altar. ‘You have exacted a terrible punishment. This abbey will not sit quietly with the grave of an unbeliever under its chapel.’

  ‘What better place would you have an unbeliever resting for eternity?’ Her voice was cold.

  ‘It will be my Christian duty to open the chamber as soon as you have departed,’ declared the Abbot, angrily leaving the chapel. ‘I pray I am not too late.’

  A moment later, Aidan returned. ‘Enda and the girl have gone to the abbey stable to get all the horses prepared.’

  ‘Very well. I am afraid, Aidan, you have the most tedious task of all – to watch that candle here. Come and tell me when the pin falls out.’

  ‘It shall be done, lady,’ the warrior replied.

  Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘Now let us join the others and I’ll tell you my plan.’

  Eadulf was smiling as he had finally guessed what she was about. ‘I still don’t approve,’ he commented. ‘You don’t really think that you will scare a man like that into talking.’

  ‘Scare?’ Fidelma voice was almost innocent as she led the way back to the hall.

  ‘You mean to frighten him by pretending to bury him alive; allowing him to go mad with fear in the darkness so that when you release him, he will start babbling his confession to you.’

  Fidelma merely smiled broadly but did not reply. As they came into the hall, Enda and the girl were re-entering.

  ‘The horses are all ready. I persuaded the stableman that this was on the express order of Feradach and Abbot Saran.’

  ‘Excellent. I think we shall soon be embarking on the last phase of our investigation.’

  ‘You mean that Failge will tell us where to find this mysterious lord who leads the Fellowship of the Raven?’ Eadulf was still trying to make sense of her actions.

  ‘And now,’ Fidelma did not answer him but turned to Ríonach, ‘are you content to come to Cashel?’

  The girl looked very happy indeed. ‘I would like nothing better, lady.’ Then a cloud crossed her features. ‘But don’t forget I killed my husband. I have to do penance…’

  ‘Penance?’ Fidelma made the word one of disgust. ‘We will relate your story to the Chief Brehon of Muman and I will represent your case. Even as Eadulf has done in theory, I shall do in practice, and all shall be well. And should you want to stay in Cashel, then we shall find you some means of security.’

  ‘You can rely on Aidan and me to do what we can to help Ríonach, lady,’ Enda added enthusiastically.

  Eadulf saw Fidelma smile to herself and knew he was missing something.

  At that moment, Aidan hurried into the hall. ‘The pin has fallen, lady.’

  Fidelma stood up with a decisive motion. ‘Excellent. Let us now see if I was right.’

  ‘Right?’ queried Eadulf curiously, but she was already striding after Aidan. She had reached the door of the chapel when Eadulf and the others started to follow.

  ‘Aidan, give Feradach a hand with the altar.’

  The two muscular warriors leaned their weight on the heavy altar stone after removing the catch and were soon pushing it in the curious motion on its pivot to reveal the entrance to the underground chamber.

  ‘You’ve been here the whole time?’ Fidelma asked Aidan.

  ‘All the time, watching the candle-grease dripping,’ he assured her.

  ‘Very good. The candle if you please, Aidan.’

  She was peering down into the darkness. Aidan took a new candle, lit it from the one which had been burning, and joined her.

  ‘Right, give it to me,’ she instructed.

  ‘I shall go first again,’ Aidan said. ‘He might be ready to pounce on you. Just because his stub of candle is out, it doesn’t mean to say that he is unconscious.’

  Without waiting for a response, Aidan was descending the narrow stairs into the subterranean chamber.

  He had hardly got to the bottom of the steps when he gave a cry.

  ‘He’s gone, lady! He is not here!’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ‘I thought as much.’ Fidelma seemed completely unperturbed; in fact, she was smiling at their staring faces. Then she called down to Aidan. ‘Stay there! Feradach and I will join you.’ She turned to Eadulf. ‘I want you and Enda to take all the horses and meet us on the main highway on the western side of the township. Enda, do you recall there is a point where a track leads off to the rear of this hill towards an isolated group of buildings? It looks like a smith’s forge. I pointed it out when we came here.’ When Enda nodded, she went on: ‘Wait there with the horses because I am sure that Failge will be heading in that direction.’

  Eadulf was shaking his head. ‘You knew all along that there was a secret exit? You incarcerated him, knowing he would get out and maybe lead us to this mysterious “lord”?’

  She shrugged. ‘I saw the scuff-marks where a stone had been removed from its base: they ended at the wall. Now even the most superstitious would find it hard to believe that the stone could be dragged through a wall, so my conclusion was that there must be a secret door through which it was taken. Whoever stole the Golden Stone forgot that stone scraping on stone leaves marks. Yes, Failge is going to lead us to this “lord” of the Fellowship of the Raven and also to this pagan icon. I believe the passageway will come out on the western side of this hill.’