Slebene rapped on the table with the butt of his knife for silence.
‘In honour of our guest, Fidelma of Cashel, we shall hear the forsundud, the praise song of the race of Eibhear, her own ancestors.’
The forsundud was the most ancient form of song in the land, in which the generations of kings and princes were listed and praised.
The young man bowed and stood for a moment until the noise of the feasting hall had died away and then he began softly.
Ceatharchad do Chormaic Cas
Ar lath mhor mhumhan mionn-ghlar…
Cormac Cas reigned over Muman
For forty years unvanquished
But by the River Siur his great ambitions
By Death were basely thwarted…
Eadulf listened to the chanting, wild rhythms but, as he had heard it before, after a while he became bored.
He was almost nodding off and had not realised that he had closed his eyes. The volume of sound suddenly shocked him awake.
Six religious had taken the place of the young bard. They were roaring out one of the new chants of the Faith but in a strange mixture of the tongue of the Eireannach and Latin. It was a musical sound that he had recently heard before.
Regem regum rogamus — in n ostris sermonibus who protected Noah with his crew — diluui temporibus.
Melchisedech rex Salem — incerto de semine,
May his prayers deliver us- ab omni formidine.
Soter who delivered Lot from fire, qui per saecia habetur,
Ut nos omnes precamur — liberare digneteur.
It was a joyous chant and Eadulf wondered where he had heard it before.
He had the opportunity of speaking to one of the singers as the feasting drew to a close. He was a barrel-chested man who sung baritone.
‘That song is a new one, Brother.’ He smiled at Eadulf’s question. ‘It was composed by Colman mac Ui Clusaim, who took his people from their abbey at the town on the marshland, and went to the islands when the place was threatened by the Yellow Plague. He and his followers sang it to keep them healthy.’
‘So it is only a few years old in its composition?’
The singer agreed. ‘It is a beautiful song, Brother.’
‘And sung to a Gallican chant,’ observed Eadulf thoughtfully.
The singer looked at him with a new respect.
‘You know about such things, Brother?’
Eadulf shrugged.
‘Only a little,’ he confessed. ‘I heard something of these chants from Brother Cillin at Ard Fhearta.’
The man was suddenly very interested.
‘Brother Cillin? Are you then one of the Unending Circle?’
Eadulf tried to hide his frown of surprise. Obviously this meant something significant. He had heard the term before. But where, and what did it mean?
He smiled and lowered his voice confidentially.
‘Are not the enlightened all one with the Unending Circle?’ he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
To his surprise the singer held out his hand.
‘Indeed. And the day will surely come soon, Brother. Brother Cillin has promised us that. We shall all be prepared. Perhaps I shall see you soon in Ard Fhearta when we meet again with Brother Cillin?’
‘You know him well?’ asked Eadulf. ‘Brother Cillin, that is?’
‘He was here two moons ago to help us train our little band of singers.’
‘He was here in Daingean?’
‘Indeed, he was.’
The singer was suddenly distracted by one of his companions and he smiled apologetically at Eadulf.
‘Sic itur ad astra!’ he said softly and was gone before Eadulf could respond. Eadulf was still frowning when Fidelma came up.
‘Why so pensive, Eadulf?’ she asked.
‘Sic itur ad astra,’ he said quietly.
‘Thus one goes to the stars?’ repeated Fidelma. ‘What are you trying to say?’
‘I am not sure. It was said to me. What does it mean?’
‘Your Latin is as good as mine. If you want a non-literal meaning, it is something like — this is the path to immortality. So what have you been up to?’
Briefly Eadulf told her.
‘Maybe it is some secret society that Brother Cillin has formed, something connected with choristers perhaps? There are several movements among the churches, but mainly among the Franks and Romans, to set up little groups who fondly imagine themselves to be the elite of their professions. They are little groups of artisans and the like, a bit like boys at play with their secret societies.’
The hour grew late and as Slebene and his lady had already disappeared, Fidelma suggested that the party withdraw to the guests’ chambers, leaving everyone else to the continued intoxication of the night’s merrymaking.
The next morning the sky was blue and cloudless but this also meant it was cold and a frost lay on the ground, hardening the snow where it lay outside the fortress and its surrounding settlement. Winter harshness covered the landscape.
To their surprise Slebene was up and greeted them all with a broad smile when they went in to break their fast in the tech-noiged, the meal room. When Conri returned his greeting without enthusiasm, the chief clapped him on the shoulder with a great roar of laughter.
‘You must have humour, warlord of the Ui Fidgente. Do not take our little ways too seriously. It was but a jest.’
Fidelma glanced uneasily at Slebene.
‘It was a jest in poor taste,’ she said quietly.
Her rebuke did not dent Slebene’s good humour.
‘We are simple folk here, Fidelma of Cashel. We believe in old ways, old customs, and cannot change.’
‘Is there not an old saying that change is refreshing?’ replied Fidelma in admonishment.
Slebene bellowed with laughter again.
‘I presume,’ he said after a pause, ‘that you will set off on your quest as soon as you have eaten?’
‘That is our intention,’ Eadulf confirmed between mouthfuls of wheaten bread and honey.
‘You have heard no word of the missing women of Ard Fhearta?’ Fidelma asked quietly.
Slebene shook his mane of hair.
‘No word has come to me.’
‘I was not clear from our conversation yesterday how far you had looked for them.’
‘I have asked my people to spread the word among the eastern settlements.’ Apparently Slebene did not notice her disapproving look.
‘When you heard word of Abbess Faife’s death and the disappearance of her company, I might have expected you to send your warriors in search of them.’
Slebene looked genuinely surprised.
‘If the marauders along the border have abducted them, it would serve little purpose to send my warriors up into the mountains to be cut down.’
Conri sniffed in his displeasure.
‘Yet you do not mind if we set out alone?’
The chief smiled a little viciously.
‘You are warlord of the Ui Fidgente and have two of your warriors with you. Those who once marauded my eastern borders were supposedly of the Ui Fidgente. I am reminded that Uaman was a prince of your people. I presume then that you would surely be safe enough.’
Conri was on his feet, a hand clapped to his side, before Fidelma could stay him. Had it not been a rule that no warrior could sit at meals without leaving his weapons outside, a blade might have been drawn and worse.
Slebene was sitting back chuckling cynically at his reaction.
Fidelma stood up and caught Conri’s arm.
‘I think we have had enough of your humour, Slebene. The Abbess Faife was of the Ui Fidgente. Moreover, she was aunt to Conri. The fact did not protect her.’
It was obvious that the look of remorse that Slebene assumed was false. ‘Then I am contrite indeed. I never thought of her as Ui Fidgente. She was so devoted to Cashel. Yet the abbess was possessed of a great soul.’
Fidelma moved quickly before Conri to
ok this as a new insult.
‘A bad excuse is better than none,’ she whispered quickly, looking meaningfully at the warlord.
Conri hesitated and then nodded.
‘We should be on our way, lady, and make the best of the day for travelling,’ he said heavily.
‘You are right, Conri,’ she said.
Conri was immediately out of the door pretending to see to his men and organise their horses to avoid the farewell.
Eadulf was embarrassed by the exchange of hostility and he also rose, brushing the crumbs from his clothes.
‘You are welcome to return any time, Fidelma of Cashel.’ Slebene smiled, emphasising the word ‘you’. ‘Then we shall feast and speak of great battles and worthy enterprises. My bard will sing again the great forsundud of the kings of the race of Eibhear and this time add a verse praising your adventures.’
‘Let us pray that the verse will speak of the success of the current adventure, Slebene,’ Fidelma replied solemnly.
‘May success be at the end of your road, Fidelma of Cashel,’ the chief intoned equally solemnly.
A little while later, with Conri’s two warriors bringing up the rear, Fidelma, Eadulf and Conri left the fortress of Daingean and took the road that ran eastward along the peninsula with the mountains rising to their left and the sea at some little distance to their right. They rode in a brooding silence for a long while before Conri burst out in anger.
‘That man! He has been provoking me ever since we arrived.’ Fidelma agreed.
‘Mugron told me of his perverse humour,’ she said. ‘Maybe you cannot teach an old dog new tricks or an old man the etiquette of a new age.’
‘I think this Slebene is a man of anger and arrogance. There is something about him I distrust,’ Conri said.
‘I agree with Conri,’ Eadulf added.
Fidelma smiled and shook her head.
‘Perhaps you are both taking his sense of humour too seriously. Perhaps he is a straight and honest man.’
‘Is it not said that a straight sapling may have a crooked root?’ pointed out Eadulf.
It was not often that Eadulf made up his mind so quickly to dislike someone.
‘You must have something on your mind, Eadulf,’ Conri observed.
‘I noticed that he was not perturbed by our report of the warship in his waters and the possible fate of the hermits on that island. I will wager that when we ask, we shall discover that no vessel will have been sent by him to inquire as to the safety of the community,’ he said.
They received this in thoughtful silence.
‘There is another thing,’ added Eadulf, ‘and I think you both noticed it.’
‘Which is?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘How he was not really concerned about the murder of Abbess Faife or the disappearance of her companions. He made no search for the missing religieuse. Further, he is prepared to let us ride eastward alone, not even offering warriors to escort us; ride east into an area that he claims is still subject to raids.’
Conri was grim-faced.
‘Once more, I agree with Brother Eadulf. For a chieftain of this land, his behaviour is less than gracious. Courtesy never undermined a chieftain’s power but he has none. I think we should keep a careful watch.’
Fidelma was reflective for a moment.
‘These observations are true,’ she finally said. ‘But having made them, is there something we can deduce from them?’
Eadulf and Conri exchanged a glance.
‘I am not sure that I understand,’ Eadulf ventured.
‘Why would Slebene behave in such a manner?’
‘Because he knows more than we think he does.’
‘Knows more about what?’
‘About whatever it was that happened during the abduction of the women,’ suggested Conri. ‘Perhaps there is more in the murder of my aunt and the disappearance of her companions than we can guess at.’
Fidelma grimaced ruefully.
‘Suspicion is one thing. But we know nothing and so can guess at nothing. The intention of this journey is to find facts so that we may discover the truth. To speculate on the motives of another, even when one is witness to bizarre behaviour, is not profitable, as I am always telling Eadulf.’
‘Well, I am happy that we have put Daingean behind us,’ Conri said firmly. ‘I shall instruct my men to keep a careful watch on our backs.’ He hesitated. ‘I have not thanked you, lady, for what you did at the feasting last night.’
Fidelma smiled.
‘I did nothing but demand the curath-mir by right of lineage.’
‘I realise that Slebene was deliberately challenging me. He wanted to pick a fight with me. I cannot believe that it was simply because he hates all Ui Fidgente. There was some other reason, of that I am sure, but what it was…’ He ended with a shrug.
They fell silent again as they rode on.
The whisper of the sea nearby was practically the only sound that broke the white snowscape through which they journeyed. Now and then came the harsh cry of birds and then the howl of a lonely wolf, causing cold fingers to touch at their backbones. But there was no sign of anyone following from Daingean or, indeed, anyone else on the road.
They journeyed leisurely, stopping at midday to prepare a hot broth, and they eventually halted just before nightfall at a coirceogach, one of the ancient deserted stone cabins that littered the mountainsides in this part of the world. With a fire lit, it was warm in these small dwellings. One of the two warriors took charge of the horses to ensure they were fed and watered, and made as warm and comfortable as possible. Everyone took turns in keeping watch through the night, but nothing untoward happened. There were no surprises and no signs of anyone with aggressive intent.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was nearly noon on the next day when they came within sight of the place that Eadulf had thought he would never see again, nor wished to. It was a spot that he remembered too well. For some time, as they had journeyed along the coastal road heading eastwards, the low-lying island of Uaman had been resolving from a dim outline to become sharp and distinct. So clear was it now that Eadulf could see the blackened walls of what had been the circular fortress where a few months ago he had been imprisoned. It was low tide when they approached the deceptive-looking stretch of sand dunes that linked the island to the mainland. The solid-looking sand did not deceive Eadulf. He knew that not only did it contain dangerous quicksand, but when the tide came in it would often bring a destructive wave two metres high that would catch the unwary and wash them to destruction. He had seen Uaman the Leper die that way, sucked into the quicksand and struggling as the wave engulfed him. Even now Eadulf shivered at the memory.
It was the warrior, Socht, who suddenly called out.
‘Look, lord Conri, down at the shoreline!’
They all followed the line of his extended hand.
There seemed to be a large amount of flotsam and jetsam along the shoreline, and pieces of timber, the unmistakable wreckage of a broken ship.
‘It is as Mugron told us,’ exclaimed Eadulf.
‘This is the wreckage we saw when we came to collect the body of Abbess Faife,’ Conri confirmed.
‘But, lord,’ interrupted Socht, ‘there are still bodies there. No one has been here to give them proper burial.’
It was true. Several decomposing bodies seemed caught up in the wreckage that lined the sandbank near the shore.
‘Should we recover them, lord?’ demanded the warrior.
‘Do not!’ snapped Eadulf harshly as the man began to urge his horse towards the shoreline and the treacherous sands.
They turned to look at him in curiosity.
‘I know this place,’ Eadulf said simply. ‘It is unsafe. There are quicksands there. Apart from that, even in these cold winter months, the rotting corpses will carry disease. Let us keep a reasonable distance.’
They sat on their horses viewing the scene.
‘We agreed before that a ship was drive
n on to the rocky shore further out on the island,’ Conri observed. ‘Those poor men must be part of the unfortunate crew who were drowned.’
Fidelma was peering round.
‘And where was Abbess Faife’s body found in relationship to this place?’ Conri pointed immediately.
‘See there! A short distance along the road and slightly up the mountainside.’
She could see the dim outline of the stone coirceogach.
‘I wonder whether there was any connection between the two events — the shipwreck and the abduction?’ she mused almost to herself.
‘What connection could there be, lady?’
‘I am wondering why no one has cleared the wreckage and the bodies. Eadulf reported a village nearby and the wreck must have been noticed.’ She frowned. ‘Eadulf, do you think you can remember your way across the sands to this island? I think we should make an attempt to search it, especially those blackened ruins.’
Eadulf was reluctant.
‘That was Uaman’s Tower. He is dead. What are you hoping to find there?’ he demanded.
She smiled patiently.
‘It would be good if we found the missing companions of Abbess Faife for a start,’ she said with soft irony.
Eadulf coloured a little.
‘It’s best if we leave our horses among those trees there.’ He had spotted the very place where Basil Nestorios and Gorman had camped on the night of the escape from Uaman’s fortress. ‘It will keep them out of the wind.’
They tethered their mounts where Eadulf suggested so that the horses had movement and were within reach of fodder. Then Eadulf led the way down to the bank, searching his memory for the path across the shifting
The tide would not be at its flood until early evening. The sandbanks looked firm enough but he knew their treachery. Crabs scuttled about, following the waters, taking refuge in little pools, and here and there a sea bass or pollock had been caught unawares in these pools, splashing in search of its vanishing environment.
‘Follow me,’ he instructed the others, adding, ‘and when I say “follow” I mean follow closely in my footsteps.’
He climbed down from the bank on to the sand, which sank a little under his weight, water running over his feet. Then he began to move forward, traversing the sandy link to the rocky edge of the island proper and making his way up some stone-flagged steps to the grassy knoll on which the Tower of Uaman rose.
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