Fidelma was thankful, for she did not want the steward present when she spoke with Drón. She was about to proceed down the steps to the courtyard when she saw Eadulf looking puzzled. As he was about to speak, Fidelma gave him one of her rare mischievous grins. ‘I swear I shall scream if you say that you have no understanding of these matters, Eadulf.’
‘I wish I could say it were otherwise,’ he sighed. ‘It is clear that Gelgéis is not being open with us. What does she mean, that she cannot trust you? Whose side is she on?’
‘Fidelma!’
The call of greeting was almost gushing with good will. They turned to see the slender figure of Dúnliath emerging from the Great Hall behind them.
‘Why, Fidelma, and Brother Eadulf … how wonderful to see you both here! I thought I was going to be so bored. Now I am happy.’
Fidelma suppressed an inward groan. ‘It is good to see you so well, lady,’ she replied pleasantly. ‘I had heard that you came here with your father.’
The girl pouted. ‘Oh, indeed. He is a dear person but such a dullard – always busy with affairs of state and law and wars and all those silly things. He insisted that we must come here … and for why?’
Fidelma’s expression was solemn. ‘He did not tell you?’ she queried.
The girl frowned. ‘Something about being safe until affairs in Cashel were cleared up. I don’t know what affairs. Do you?’
Fidelma ignored the question and asked: ‘How did you leave my brother?’
‘Colgú? He was well when I last saw him.’
‘When and where was that?’
‘Yesterday morning at Cashel, when he left.’
‘Where was he going?’
‘He said something about having to ride off with some of his warriors. I don’t understand it. We were going to have such fun with a feasting and entertainment, and he suddenly changed his mind and said he had to leave.’
Fidelma regarded the girl with disapproval. She wondered how on earth her brother could be attracted to such a … the word that came into her mind was óinseach, which described a foolish, giddy young woman. How could she become Colgú’s wife when she had no thought for anything other than pleasure?
‘So Colgú left Cashel before you?’ Eadulf interrupted her thoughts. ‘Did he expect you to leave as well? Or did your father decide to leave after he had left?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Anyway, it is good that you are here, lady.’ The girl was chattering on, oblivious of their serious expressions. ‘Maybe we can persuade Gelgéis to organise a feasting and entertainment? I heard there is a travelling band of gleemen in the township.’
Eadulf had to think before he was able to translate the word crossan as gleemen. Dúnliath caught his frown and said quickly: ‘I mean jugglers, buffoons and entertainers.’
‘Perhaps you should speak to Gelgéis about it.’ Fidelma forced an icy smile. ‘We have some serious matters to attend at the moment.’
Dúnliath pouted once more. Eadulf half expected her to stamp her foot. ‘Everyone, it seems, has serious matters to pursue. Does no one find time to enjoy themselves here? At Cashel there was always business that called Colgú away. As King he should instruct others to carry out his orders and not have to do things himself.’
‘Lady,’ it was Eadulf who spoke softly, ‘it is in the nature of kingship to be the servant of the people.’
‘A king is not a servant!’ The girl giggled as if he had made a joke. ‘You speak nonsense, Saxon.’
‘Angle,’ corrected Eadulf mildly, but the girl ignored him.
‘My father is Lord of Gabrán and this being so, people hurry to carry out his will. If they don’t, they know they will incur his displeasure.’
‘The sign of good kingship is wisdom and the ability not to ask of others what you cannot do yourself.’
‘A king may do what he pleases, Saxon,’ she said airily. ‘He is higher than the people and they must obey or be punished.’
Eadulf’s smile was fixed. ‘When I came to this country, I found a question in the law text known as the Crith Gablach. It asked: what makes a king higher than the people?’
‘And did you also find the answer?’
‘The answer was that it was because the people ordained the king and not the king who ordained the people.’
For a moment the girl stared at him in incomprehension. It was Fidelma who felt that she had to try to explain. ‘No one is above the law, Dúnliath, not even a king. A king is there because the people appointed him, and he can only remain king as long as he has their approval. He is there by the will of the people.’
The girl shrugged, saying, ‘I have no understanding of such things. But I find Brother Eadulf speaks in amusing fashion. In truth, you must come to a feasting and entertain me with tales of your strange land. You will be better entertainment than a simple gleeman.’
Eadulf looked outraged but Fidelma gave him a warning look.
‘We must be off,’ she said coolly. ‘Doubtless, we shall see you later.’
She turned and walked down the steps to the courtyard and Eadulf hurried after her. As they walked over the flags towards the area of the stables, he could not restrain himself.
‘It is not my place to criticise, but—’ he began.
Fidelma cut him short. ‘De gustibus non est disputandum,’ she said. The words literally meant ‘about tastes there is no disputing’. She felt a little guilty as she said it because it was her brother’s tastes to which she was referring.
Eadulf thought for a moment. ‘I suppose that it is better not to argue about matters of personal preference, but I have no understanding of the attraction apart from the physical.’
They came to the stables and found Ailill. The handsome young warrior hailed them with a broad smile.
‘Greetings, cousin Fidelma. I did not expect to find you here. When did you arrive?’
‘We have only just come,’ returned Fidelma. ‘I observe that you still travel with Drón and his retinue?’
‘You sound disapproving, cousin,’ the young man said. ‘But he was my fosterer and raised me as a warrior, and so I am beholden to him. I command his small bodyguard.’
‘I did not mean to sound critical of your motives. We do not seem to have had much time to get to know one another.’
‘Doubtless we shall see more of each other, cousin, after the Lady Dúnliath marries your brother.’
‘Doubtless,’ she echoed, trying to keep the lack of enthusiasm for such an event from her voice. ‘We are actually looking for Drón and were told that he was in the stables.’
‘He was here earlier but left.’
‘Do you know where he has gone?’
‘I regret I do not, cousin. But I do not think he has left the fortress. Perhaps he is resting in his chamber. Is there anything that I can help you with?’
Fidelma thought for a moment and then told him: ‘I was surprised that you left Cashel in case of attack from the band of raiders. You must know how strong the defences of Cashel are. I would think that it was the safest place in the kingdom. That was why it perplexes me, to see you here seeking shelter at Durlus.’
Ailill sighed. ‘If the truth were known, cousin, I think the suggestion came from Drón himself. I agree that we would have been safer in Cashel than here, but Drón seemed to get it into his head that there was some rebellion against Colgú. But, after all, what need we fear of a band of religious fanatics, raiders out of the Glen of Lunatics, led by a crazed old woman? However, Drón is a father and is fearful for his daughter’s safety …’
‘Lady!’ One of the guards from the gate came trotting up, apparently looking for her.
‘What is it?’ She turned, distracted for the moment.
‘A man has left an urgent message for you at the gate.’
‘A message – for me? Is he at the gate now?’
‘He left it a short time ago, lady.’
‘Why was I not informed before?’ she asked crossly.
; The warrior flushed. ‘Because you were then with the Lady Gelgéis and I could not disturb you. It is only now that I was told you were in the stables.’
‘Very well,’ she said in a conciliatory tone. She glanced back to apologise to Ailill but found that he was already walking over towards the main buildings. She turned to the guard. ‘What is this message and who left it?’
‘The message was simple, but he made me repeat it. It was that you should go to the shed where you were left and meet with him. The man said that he would wait there until midday and no longer. You should go there by yourself if you wanted to learn the secret of Liath Mór. He emphasised that part – that you should come alone, otherwise you would learn nothing. Those were his words and beyond that I have no understanding of them.’
She was examining the guard carefully. His features were without guile. He had delivered the message woodenly as if reciting it by heart.
‘And did this man have a name or a description?’ she prompted.
‘He was man of medium height, clad in a long grey cloak and a cowl over his head that made any close description impossible.’
‘Had you seen this person before?’
‘Not to my knowledge, lady. That is all I know. Is something wrong? Should I report this matter to Spealáin, the steward?’
‘You have done your duty,’ she replied. ‘That will be all.’
‘This is a trap if ever I heard one,’ Eadulf said when the guard had returned to his position. ‘It is one of Cronán’s men.’
‘It could also be one of the daer-fuidir who has escaped with some information; although it does sound more like a trap. On balance, there is enough bait to make the chance worthwhile.’ Fidelma made her decision. ‘Come – let’s find Gormán,’ she said. ‘We shall go and meet this person, but on our own terms.’
Gormán was easily found, in a tavern at the corner of the market square.
‘What do you intend, lady?’ he asked after she had explained the situation.
‘You said that this shed was directly across the river, opposite the wooden quays of the town?’ Fidelma asked. ‘I am afraid I have little remembrance of such details when you rescued me.’
‘You are right, lady. That is probably why this man, whoever he is, has chosen the spot. From that shed he will see you coming across the river and will thereby ensure that you are alone.’
‘Is there any other place where I could cross unseen?’
It was Eadulf who pointed out that where they had recrossed the river and taken Fidelma back to Gobán’s forge, was at the south end of the town. Here, the river curved so that any boat crossing there would be obscured from the hut.
‘That settles it,’ she announced. ‘I shall get a boat and cross from the jetty directly to the hut. I shall be alone.’
‘Alone? That’s inviting trouble,’ Eadulf protested.
‘You two must already be across the river and come up on the hut through the trees that surround it,’ she said. ‘Then I shall cross. We do not want our friend to be able to slip away. Understood?’
‘How long will you give us to get into position before you cross?’ Gormán was ever the practical strategist.
‘I’ll wait on this side of the river until I hear two short blasts from your hunting horn, Gormán. Don’t sound it too near the huts so as to alarm our friend. I want him to think that you are just someone hunting in the forests beyond.’
The warrior agreed. As they rose to leave, Eadulf leaned forward and placed his hand on her arm. ‘For Alchú’s sake be careful, if not for mine.’
She looked back at him. ‘I’ll be careful for all our sakes, Eadulf,’ she replied solemnly.
It took Fidelma a while to explore the quays along the river of the township before she discovered a boatman who had a suitable little craft carved out of a single piece of oak. The owner made no fuss about letting her borrow it. She rowed downriver to the spot nearly opposite the collection of huts on the other bank and pretended to be checking something in the bottom of the boat. Thus she was able to delay until she heard the two short blasts from a horn somewhere in the woods behind the huts. Then she began to row across the river, judging its flow so that she was not swept too far downstream. She was near the bank, her eyes focused carefully on the huts, when it happened almost too quickly to follow.
As she neared the bank, the door flew open and a figure appeared. The man had a drawn bow in his hands and, had she not bent to take up the boat’s painter to make it fast, the arrow would have caught her full in the chest. As it was, it skimmed so low across her back that she could almost feel its passing. There was a cry as Gormán appeared suddenly at one side of the hut with Eadulf running up on the other side. The bowman, his grey robes flying, had taken in the situation in a moment and turned, running down the side of the hut. Eadulf tried to stop him but the bowman, using his bow as a weapon, struck out, causing the wood to crack into two pieces and Eadulf to stagger back and lose his footing from the impact of the blow. Then the bowman, with Gormán following, disappeared from sight.
Fidelma ran forward to help an embarrassed Eadulf to his feet. He was bruised by the blow but otherwise unhurt, and angry that he had been unable to stop the attacker. They heard the whinny of a horse and then the crashing of undergrowth. It was not long before Gormán returned, his expression furious.
‘He escaped?’ There was hardly any need for Fidelma to ask the question.
Gormán was clearly annoyed with himself. ‘He had a horse ready behind the hut and sprang on to it like a veteran warrior. He’ll be halfway back to Liath Mór by now. But I recognised him.’
‘You did? Who was it?’
‘The hood of his robe fell back and it was our friend Brother Sillán.’
Fidelma sighed deeply. ‘Well, at least that does not surprise me. But why try to assassinate me now? Cronán must know that I will have passed on the knowledge we gained and, if not I, then you would have shared that knowledge.’
‘Maybe Cronán wants revenge for the death of his nephew, Anfudán,’ offered Eadulf.
Fidelma turned to her companions. ‘Tonight I shall request permission to stay in the fortress. Now, Eadulf, I think we should have that word with Drón.’
She and Eadulf recrossed the river without incident. Gormán left them and went to take the other boat back and go to Gobán’s forge to collect his horse and their saddle-bags. The warrior who had given Fidelma the message from Sillán greeted her with an anxious look as they approached the gates of the fortress.
‘Did you see the messenger, lady?’ he asked nervously. ‘Is all well?’
‘I saw him,’ she confirmed with dry humour as she passed him. ‘However, he had to leave in a hurry but his message was clear enough.’
As they were crossing the Great Hall, Ailill was coming down the stairs from the guests’ quarters.
‘Are you looking for me, cousin?’ He greeted her with a smile.
‘I am still looking for your foster-father.’
‘I am sure that he is resting in his chamber.’
‘Do you know where that is?’
‘Up these stairs, turn to the right and his chamber is at the end of the passage. Shall I come with you?’
‘There is no need,’ she replied.
The young warrior raised a hand to his forehead in a vague salute and left them. They ascended the stairs and turned into the passage. Eadulf rapped sharply on the door at the far end. There was no answer, but some sound caught Eadulf’s ear.
‘There is someone in there,’ he said, raising his fist and hammering on the door. Moments passed without any answer so he grasped the ring-handle and twisted it. It opened easily and they stood on the threshold peering in. The room was well lit from a tall window.
Drón was lying on his back on the floor just under the open window. His chest was covered in blood, and blood was still bubbling from the side of his mouth. He was coughing a little. While there was no sign of a weapon, it was clear that he had been st
abbed several times in the chest just below his breastbone. Fidelma stood back to allow Eadulf to kneel down at the man’s side. A cursory glance told Eadulf enough. He raised his face to Fidelma and shrugged eloquently.
‘He’s still alive, but …’
Fidelma bent down. ‘Drón, who did this to you?’
The pale eyes tried to focus but the effort was too much. Between coughing and choking on the blood, Drón strove to form words.
‘Too … too late,’ he managed to articulate. ‘Ét … Étain …’
Then blood spurted like a fountain from the corner of his mouth, and a strangled sound came from him as his body convulsed in its death throes. Then he lay still.
Eadulf’s expression was stern. ‘Do you think that Sillán has been here before us? He kills Drón and then attempts to kill you.’
Fidelma did not respond immediately. Instead she rose and walked to the chamber door and closed it. Then she walked back to the window and glanced out.
‘Sillán might have come to the gate to deliver his message for me, but he then went to ambush me on the far side of the river. This killing was but recently done. There was no way he could recross the river and accomplish this deed. This looks like the work of a separate hand.’
‘If so, it is surely a curious coincidence,’ replied Eadulf. ‘Anyway, we must inform Spealáin, the steward, at once.’
Fidelma put out her hand to stop him. ‘Did you hear his last words?’ she said.
‘I did. It was Étain. Wasn’t that the name of one of his wives?’
‘Ah, so it was,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Maybe his last thoughts were of her?’
‘Maybe.’
‘At least we know that she did not kill him,’ added Eadulf as an attempt at dark humour.
Fidelma peered around the chamber. There was no sign that Drón had struggled with his assailant before receiving the fatal blow. Everything was neat and tidy; even the man’s bed had not been disturbed.
‘Go in search of the steward,’ she said finally. ‘I’ll see if I can find anything else here. The only thing we can be sure of is that the killer came in by the door. The window is too high above the ground outside. Oh, Eadulf, tell the steward to ask Gelgéis to break this news to Drón’s daughter.’ She frowned suddenly. ‘Her life might be in danger too. Spealáin should have a care for her welfare.’
23- The Seventh Trumpet Page 26