‘So it was not a helpful exercise?’
‘Because such metals from my mines, or those under tribute to me, are smelted here and contain a mark to indicate its origin, we knew that, as ore, they had not been mined officially from any of the mines in my territory. As a dálaigh you know this is prescribed in the texts on such matters. Brehon Rónchú came here bringing the boxes of ore to see my mining steward, Garrchú. The samples showed good quality gold and silver ore. Garrchú found it purer than many of the samples from this area.’
‘So this was why it was concluded that it was from a new mine?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Exactly. The rumours of a secret mine had started long before this incident. However, the event seemed to confirm what was happening. The boatman told Brehon Rónchú that the two men and their wagon had been observed coming along the Glasán valley from these mountains so it was presumed that the mine was somewhere here.’
‘A vast territory,’ Fidelma sighed. ‘It would take days and weeks to search to find a mine. Perhaps the mine is not secret at all, but one being used from which those two men simply stole the metal without being seen?’
The lord of The Cuala shook his head. ‘If they took ore already mined it would be noticed. If they spent time mining the ore themselves, it would be noticed. Garrchú, my mining steward, is confident that the source is from an unknown mine. This is why I suggest some conspiracy that puts to use previous metals that have been stolen.’
‘Conspiracy to do what? Why attack Princess Gelgéis, and her steward, Spealáin? Why kill her Brehon?’
‘I have heard that Princess Gelgéis was on her way to see her cousin to discuss unrest in Osraige.’
Fidelma tried not to register her surprise at the man’s knowledge. ‘How did you know that?’ she demanded. ‘Abbot Daircell thought the message had not been intercepted?’
Dicuil Dóna chuckled dryly. ‘I do not reveal all my secrets.’
‘Perhaps they were taken as prisoners because they recognised their attackers,’ Eadulf suddenly pointed out.
‘What do you mean?’ demanded the lord of The Cuala.
‘Maybe the illegal miners were people Princess Gelgéis or her steward recognised.’
‘You mean they were from Osraige?’ Dicuil Dóna pointed out sharply.
‘If so, why would they be transporting the gold and metal ore eastwards through Laigin to a seaport?’ Eadulf countered. ‘They would have gone west, over the border back into Osraige.’
‘I do not think we know enough to make any assertions,’ Fidelma said, becoming frustrated with a discussion in which little seemed to be of positive consequence. ‘The lord of The Cuala says there is illegal mining of metals going on in his territory. He suspects it is to do with some conspiracy to involve the kingdoms in war. We know that a Brehon was killed and Princess Gelgéis and her steward have disappeared. But there is nothing to link any of these things together. I fail to see evidence of some conspiracy yet.’
‘This is true,’ Eadulf admitted, adding humorously with one of Fidelma’s favourite sayings: ‘We have been speculating without any linking facts.’
‘There are facts enough,’ Dicuil Dóna protested.
‘We are trying to bind a few facts together and not making sense. Perhaps that is the wrong way of looking at things,’ Fidelma observed thoughtfully.
‘What do you suggest then?’ demanded the lord of The Cuala.
‘I suggest that some more thought is given to the matter,’ she replied with a disarming smile. ‘For the moment, it would be helpful to have some refreshment and rest. Then we will talk again.’
It was only then that they all realised that since arriving at the fortress of the Uí Máil, no one had been offered traditional hospitality or refreshment.
In spite of his previous arrogance, the lord of The Cuala was clearly remembering his etiquette and his face reddened in mortification. With a muttered apology he rose and went to a table standing by the chair of office he usually occupied, leant forward, took a small bell and rang it sharply. The tones had hardly died away when the door was thrown open and the youthful steward, Scáth, came in, looking flustered and anxious.
‘Why are you employed as my steward when you do not remind me of protocols?’ stormed Dicuil Dóna. He obviously did not like accepting responsibility for his own lack of thought. ‘Did you forget your duties of hospitality?’
The young man stood in flushed bewilderment.
‘Come, boy!’ snapped Dicuil Dóna. ‘Have you arranged for water to be heated for our guests? Has a chamber been prepared for their needs? Why must I have to think of everything?’
The boy seemed to be making an effort to control his temper.
‘It will be done, lord.’
‘I hope you have made sure that the welfare of our guests’ horses is better attended to?’
The young man apologetically turned to Fidelma and Eadulf. ‘I assure you, your chamber will be ready shortly. I will order the water in the debach to be heated at once. It will not be long. After that you will hear the bell for the evening feast to commence.’
‘And our companions?’ asked Eadulf, knowing there were often problems with hierarchy. ‘I presume they will be joining us at this feast?’
Dicuil Dóna frowned. ‘Your companions?’
‘Our bodyguard: Enda of the Nasc Niadh,’ Fidelma explained in a mild voice. ‘Also a former warrior of your own guard, Teimel, who is now my guide through these mountains.’
‘Teimel?’ The lord of The Cuala seemed momentarily surprised. Once more he turned an angry glance on the young steward. ‘I was not informed that he was with our guests.’
‘We purchased his services as a guide in Láithreach,’ Eadulf explained.
‘He was one of my best warriors,’ Dicuil Dóna reflected. ‘He could have risen to be cath mhilidh, a commander of a battalion, instead of remaining as commander of a company – a cenn feadhna. So now he is merely your guide and tracker?’ The lord of The Cuala shook his head. ‘I did not agree with him leaving my service. I would have made him my foster son, for he was most intelligent and often knew what I wanted before I knew myself.’
Eadulf was about to ask whether it was fair on Corbmac but, meeting Fidelma’s eyes, kept his opinion to himself.
‘He is a good man to have as a tracker,’ continued the lord of The Cuala. ‘Indeed, this country is not a friendly place if you do not know it.’ He paused but a fraction. ‘After you have refreshed yourself from your journey, my steward will show you the way back to the feasting hall when the bell is rung.’
‘And we will discuss more positive steps on resolving the matters we have discussed,’ Fidelma added softly.
FOURTEEN
When Fidelma and her companions, led by the young steward, Scáth, entered the feasting hall later that evening, they were surprised to find it almost empty except for Teimel and Dicuil Dóna. They appeared to be deep in animated conversation. The two men seemed to break apart almost in a guilty fashion as the others entered.
‘You startled us,’ the lord of The Cuala snapped at his steward.
‘For which I am sorry,’ replied Scáth, slightly truculently and apparently out of character. ‘You were concentrating very hard on your conversation and did not hear the bell to announce the feasting.’
‘The fact is that I have not seen Teimel for a long time,’ the lord of The Cuala replied in a measured tone. ‘We have business to discuss, so I decided that we would confine ourselves to a small, intimate meal. I have given orders to the housekeeper, and invitations to my other guests have been cancelled.’
He then indicated for them to be seated. Attendants emerged to ensure that each guest had a lamh brat – a linen napkin – as well as a knife. Among the richer nobles, the provision of a knife by the host was considered a courtesy so that guests did not have to dirty their own knives.
The meal began with a ritual: the lord of The Cuala was required to make an announcement.
‘We
will eat, drink and listen to soothing music and then turn our thoughts to the problems that now face us.’ He nodded to his steward. The boy clapped his hands. Three male harpists took up their positions at the far end of the hall and began to play softly so that, while providing background music, it did not disturb conversation and digestion. At the same time attendants, called dáilemain, the distributors, filed silently into the hall, bearing trays of food. These worked alongside the deogbhaire, or cupbearers, whose duty was to those who wanted beer, cider and, in a rich noble’s house, wine. As for the hot meat, this evening, at the central fire, two attendants were standing by a small simmering cauldron, taking turns to stir its content now and then with an áel or three-pronged flesh fork. Then they would select pieces of meat, which turned out to be goat and pork, and place it on to plates for waiting attendants to take to the individual diners.
Eadulf, particularly, noticed that the lord of The Cuala was not skimpy when it came to his food. There were cold beef dishes, and also fish from the rivers, which had been prepared outside on a griddle. Boiled goose eggs also appeared. Mecon, or parsnip, with cabbage, seemed a favourite side dish. Fidelma saw that her favourite, craibechan, boar chopped up small with vegetables into a hash, was also served. Salads of folt-chep or leeks, apples, rowan berries, onion and hazelnuts were available.
While there was a selection of fruit, from apples to various seasonal berries, Eadulf had noticed a plate of biscuits, obviously made with buttermilk, on which was spooned a mixture of áirne, sloe berries from the blackthorn, which berries were mixed with honey.
Dicuil Dóna kept the conversation light and there was no talk about the problems confronting them. Fidelma was surprised that he had turned out to be the good and dutiful host, presenting a table full of excellent food and imported wines. As well as entertainment from the three harpists, one of them, with a good tenor voice, sang some of the old ballads whose content would not offend anyone. References to conflicts between the respective kingdoms, even praise poems of the noble houses, seemed to have been excluded for that evening. Fidelma found that strange. It was usually the custom when entertaining strangers for a noble chieftain to have his bard or musician sing the ancient forsundud, a poem in praise of his ancestors. But this night the bards kept to poems of romance and the sagas of ancient heroes in their conflict with the gods.
Finally Dicuil Dóna seemed to have had enough of the entertainment and he called upon his steward to clear the hall and remove the plates but leave the drinking horns, beakers as well as the pitchers. When this had been done and even Scáth had himself been dismissed, Dicuil Dóna seemed to relax. In fact, he gave an exaggerated stretch as he sat back in his chair.
‘Now to business,’ he said suddenly, turning to Fidelma.
‘Do we have more business?’ Fidelma was curious, her mind working rapidly as she tried to keep ahead of possible developments.
‘Having given the matter much thought, I believe your business and mine coincide. I do not think there is subterfuge between us. We both know where we stand. You are Eóganacht and I am of the Uí Máil. We are enemies in that we have different aspirations for our kingdoms. I have considered and accept what you say. You came here to find your brother’s betrothed, which means finding out who kidnapped her and her steward. In that abduction was the cause of the murder of her Brehon.’
He paused but Fidelma waited without comment for him to continue. This was all repetition and she wanted to know what new thoughts he had.
‘I believe there are conspirators in my territory who are stealing ore from my mines here, either overtly from my existing mines or from a secret mine. My belief is that these two events coincide. I think the princess and her companions were attacked because they stumbled upon these conspirators, perhaps in the act of the theft from the mines. I further think they were abducted because they could identify who these thieves are. I have little trust in those close to me, that is why I have even sent my steward away before I speak to you of this matter.’
He paused again but Fidelma was silent still. ‘If my suspicions are true then I need proof to act. I will officially back your investigation with my authority and ensure that you do not lose by undertaking it.’ He hesitated for a few more moments. ‘Will you accept my mission to undertake the task of finding out who these thieves are?’
There was silence as Fidelma considered the surprise offer. Finally she said softly: ‘I have already accepted the mission from my brother to find his betrothed. If, in the course of this mission, I find that your belief is true, then your concerns will become part of that mission. You do not have to commission me for the same purpose. If your belief is a separate issue then I will inform you, but my mission from my brother has my priority. However, your authority for me to be in this territory and conduct such enquiries under your seal might be an additional help in supporting my own authority as a dálaigh. Would you agree to this condition?’
‘I see nothing contrary in the matter by agreeing,’ the lord of The Cuala said without hesitation. He reached into his bossán, the purse at his belt, and drew forth a piece of white willow on which was fixed a wolf’s head fashioned in gold. ‘This is my craobh-ban. It proclaims that you are my techtaire, my personal envoy. I am sure you know its symbolism? As my envoy you are under my protection and great will be the punishment of anyone who does not respect your position.’
It was not the first time that Fidelma had been presented with the white willow wand of office. She knew its symbolism well, having been so engaged by her brother, as King of Muman. Those who carried it were not merely emissaries for the King but were recognised by law to speak with the voice and the authority of the King.
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf, who nodded and then turned towards Enda and Teimel. She did not have to articulate the question. For Enda there was, of course, really no choice in the agreement as commander of her brother’s bodyguard and protector of Fidelma and Eadulf. However, it was in Fidelma’s character to include others in her decision making rather than pass on decisions. Teimel was different. He had a free choice and she saw doubt in his expression before he shrugged.
‘I would suggest that you need the support of someone who knows the territory,’ he agreed before she could ask if he had any objection. ‘I was merely thinking of the dangers of going after conspirators or brigands.’
‘For this, thank you. I and my companions now accept your mission, lord of The Cuala, so long as it does not impinge on my search and the commission of my brother to find his betrothed.’
‘Then it is understood?’
Fidelma smiled. ‘We have an agreement.’
Dicuil Dóna handed her the wand of office and intoned the words of commission. ‘Do you, Fidelma of Cashel, dálaigh and representative of the Brehons of the Five Kingdoms, conscious of your loyalty towards the law that binds these kingdoms five into one, take oath that you will use this emblem of the office of the lords of The Cuala, of the Uí Máil, to pursue peace and justice and to undertake my commission to search out the truth and, in so much as it does not conflict with your previous mission to search for the safe return of Princess Gelgéis of Osraige and the circumstances of her disappearance, to find out if there is some conspiracy to rob these lands of their legitimate wealth?’
She responded with a smile. ‘I so swear it by my sacred word as a dálaigh.’
‘And there are no further questions?’ the lord of The Cuala asked.
‘Only one question … where do we start?’ Eadulf asked in a wry tone.
‘Which is a good question, friend Eadulf,’ Enda smiled. ‘Teimel will tell you that this country is vast. Even looking for a known mine, one could be a lifetime in the search through this vast country. As for a secret mine …’
Dicuil Dóna leant forward. ‘The Cuala, as I have said, is replete in minerals. They have produced materials. Our miners and smiths have made objects from metals that are known and valued among all the Five Kingdoms. So we have many different ores, such
as iron, copper, lead and the like. But whoever is stealing the ores is concerned with only two – gold and silver.’
‘Questions did occur to me when you were speaking about that matter,’ Eadulf reflected.
‘Being?’
‘What made Brehon Rónchú think that there were any other people involved apart from the two men killed when he tried to arrest them?’
The lord of The Cuala thought for a moment. ‘To be fair to him, he did not say exactly that. It was my interpretation that others must have been involved because I am sure there is a conspiracy.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the two men were not miners.’
Fidelma’s eyebrow raised a little. This was something new and she realised she had presumed the men who tried to transport the ore were the same as those who had dug it. ‘How were you so certain of that?’
‘When Brehon Rónchú reported the matter, he said that Síabair, the physician at Láithreach, had examined the bodies. Brehon Rónchú had brought their bodies back to Láithreach hoping for identification. The physician observed that their hands did not show that they were miners.’
Enda was intrigued. ‘How would he know that?’
It was Fidelma who patiently explained. ‘If you work as a claidid, digging or working for metals, you have the marks of such a profession on your hands.’
Dicuil Dóna agreed. ‘These two men possessed no such marks. They had the appearance of people used to lifting things no heavier than a spear. Certainly they appeared to be folk used to life as lived in the countryside but they did not dig metals or plough the earth to support their living. They were, however, muscular enough to carry the boxes and drive a mule cart and ride horses.’
‘And the physician Síabair reported all this?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Brehon Rónchú accepted the report from Síabair. I have met him and did not gain a favourable impression.’
‘Brehon Rónchú is not a man to be fooled. And, as lord of The Cuala, I do not expect to be told untruths,’ Dicuil Dóna replied with irritation.
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