It was Enda who answered him.
‘Until a few hundred years ago the Eóganacht and the Uí Néill could, and did, both claim the inheritance of the High Kingship, in accordance to the decree issued by Amairgin the Druid in the time beyond time. I recall that the sister of the last Eóganacht to be High King had married Niall mac Echach Mugmedóin, a northern prince. She had her brother murdered so that her husband could seize the High Kingship. That was when the Eóganacht ceased to claim their right to the High Kingship; the descendants of Niall have retained it in their family ever since.’
Fidelma nodded slowly. ‘I suppose a lot of the princes of Muman might support my brother if he declared an interest in resuming that role, although he would now have to contend with the other provincial kings. But only the kings of Ulaidh have armies of the size that my brother could command.’ Her voice was flat, resigned, as she stated the obvious. ‘The warfare that might ensue from the declaration of such a claim would destroy the Five Kingdoms. My brother would never contemplate the prospect.’
‘Your brother is not the only Eóganacht prince, lady,’ Enda pointed out. ‘Finnbarr’s Abbey is in the territory of the Eóganacht Raithlind and Nessán was of that branch. But are there not also the Eóganacht Áine, the Airthir Chliach, the Glendamnach, the Locha Léin? Don’t forget even the Uí Fidgenti claim to be Eóganacht, as descendants of Cormac Cas, the brother of Eóghan. Indeed, these very people of the Uí Liatháin are said to be of the same blood as the Uí Fidgenti.’
Fidelma sighed and raised her arms helplessly. ‘I know, I know. The same thoughts have whirled incessantly in my mind during these last days. I confess, for the first time I am confused and can see no way to proceed with all these disjointed facts.’
‘But somewhere, as you have always said, all streams and rivers come from one source,’ offered Eadulf. ‘Cluain keeps reoccurring wherever we turn.’
‘So, our only path is to go to Cluain,’ Enda said. ‘That is simple.’
Fidelma smiled softly for she had already decided that their path led inevitably to Cluain.
‘I agree,’ she said, as if reluctantly. ‘Yet a place does not solve a mystery. Only people do. When I think of Cairenn, I find that the story darkens. Grella and Cairenn had set out from Tara with the purpose of visiting Abbot Nessán, according to Cenn Fáelad. Grella announced that she would first stay with her cousin, this curious Abbot Antrí of Cluain. You have heard from people like Báine here that he is no religieux. Before they reach Cluain, Grella tells Cairenn to go on to see Nessán on her behalf and then come back to join her there. They part company: Cairenn to see Nessán and Grella to stay with Antrí and …’
‘You said that you felt Cairenn was sent there as a … a cat’s claw?’ ventured Eadulf.
‘Cat’s paw,’ she corrected.
‘But Grella sent her there,’ Eadulf said.
‘Grella was then abducted. So it seems that she had been misdirected. Was it all a ruse just to get her to Cluain and abduct her?’
‘But why bring her all the way from Tara to here to do that?’ Eadulf asked. ‘It seems so complicated.’
‘What seemed to upset the plan is Grella sending a note to Cenn Fáelad to tell him she was coming south,’ pointed out Fidelma. ‘She sounds a woman with a good head. Being unsure of how things stood among the Uí Liatháin, Grella decided to send Cairenn to the abbey – and the girl was accused of the murder instead of Grella, the intended suspect. When that plan went wrong, the conspirators kidnapped Grella.’
Fidelma fell silent, reflecting on this possibility, not really happy with the theory.
‘No, Grella was told to send Cairenn to Finbarr’s Abbey. I think we need to know more about this Antrí, the cousin of Grella. After all, Cluain is said to have been deserted for nearly fifty years. Why would Grella be sent to seek refuge in a deserted abbey?’
Báine came into the room to replenish the jug of cider and overheard this last. Fidelma turned to her.
‘You told us something of the man called Antrí, cousin of Glaisne, who I am told is ruler of the southern Uí Liatháin. Tell me more about him.’
The woman gave a deprecating sniff. ‘Antrí is not a person who is spoken well of in these parts, any more than his cousin Glaisne is. Thugs, the both of them.’
‘Yet Glaisne is cousin to Grella, wife of the High King?’ Fidelma voiced this as a question.
‘People cannot help their relatives.’
‘And Antrí? You say he is not a religieux?’
‘He is a thief, pure and simple,’ replied the woman. ‘He is Glaisne’s lackey, a flunkey who carries out all the tasks his cousin finds too distasteful to perform himself,’ explained Báine sourly. ‘It is hard to tell which one is the more ambitious or the more evil. Take my advice: steer clear of them and, if they are at Cluain, avoid the place.’
Fidelma sighed softly. ‘It all seems so confusing. But you know the lady Grella is from that same family?’
The woman nodded pleasantly. ‘Who does not? She escaped a vicious brood when she left this territory to travel north to be married to Cenn Fáelad. He was a young, handsome prince, so we were told. Now he is High King.’
‘Then the lady Grella is not close to her relatives?’
Báine shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know about that, lady. I suspect there are bad pups in every bitch’s litter. Glaisne and Antrí are the worst of them. I have never seen her, for she grew up in Eochaill and the furthest I have been is across the bay you see before you. All I know is that she is best living in the north away from that family. Now, excuse me, while I go and finish preparing your meal.’
There was a short silence after she left the room. Then Eadulf tried to sum up their conclusion. ‘So if Cairenn was captured yesterday and taken in the direction of Cluain … that is not good. It seems that whoever has taken her must be the same people who have abducted Grella. Yet we are told Grella was seen with Glaisne, her own cousin, leaving Eochaill for the direction of Cluain but days after Cairenn left her at Cluain. It just doesn’t make sense.’
Fidelma agreed with him. ‘This is why we must go to Cluain and look for answers.’
Enda coughed softly and shifted his weight in his chair. He was frowning.
‘I do not like it, lady. It appears we are going into the wolf’s lair, but there are just the three of us.’
‘I am a dálaigh and sister to the King,’ pointed out Fidelma. Then she caught the smile on Eadulf’s face and started to chuckle, much to Enda’s astonishment.
‘That has not helped me, or you, lately, has it?’ she admitted wryly. ‘There seems little respect for the law and its officers here.’
‘In any case,’ Enda pointed out, ‘I am the only warrior among you and not in perfect fighting shape. So, how do we overcome a band of armed warriors, of the type that abducted Cairenn, if they be waiting at Cluain?’
‘By stratagem,’ replied Fidelma calmly.
‘But now I have access to my les,’ Eadulf said, rising, ‘I need to re-examine that wound of yours, Enda, and redress it.’
He had just finished when Áed reappeared, smiling. ‘Well, I have the hire of a good ass. So I can accompany you. When will we leave?’
‘Tomorrow.’ Fidelma did not elaborate further as Báine entered with platters of mackerel, some of the local edible seaweed and barley cakes, with flagons of cold ale. The consumption of the food quickly stopped any discussion among them. None of them had eaten properly for a long time and they each did more than justice to the fare set before them. There was no complaint when Báine brought another large dish of barley cakes, this time with honey from her own hives.
The food had a soporific effect and, although they all felt sleep approaching rapidly, Fidelma insisted that they must first examine the bags that Cairenn had brought on the horses. Báine had placed them in an unoccupied section of her guest quarters, and they were relieved to find that everything was there. Now Fidelma could change out of her sailor’s garments into somethi
ng suitable. She was particularly grateful to retrieve her comb bag, which carried not only her toiletries but also some gold and silver, hidden away as a precaution to cover unexpected expenses on her travels. Importantly, the golden seal with the figure of the woman and solar wheel was still there too.
When they had been captured in the inn at Ros Tialláin, Gadra had stripped them of their weapons and possessions and had these piled on their horses at the back of the inn, ready to take them elsewhere. Their disposal had been interrupted by events and so, thankfully, Eadulf and Enda found their belongings undisturbed. Enda’s favourite sword, shield and javelin were hanging there next to his riding cloak and saddle bag; even his hunting knife, a gift from his friend and commander of the Nasc Niadh, Gormán, was there. Having these items restored to them seemed to put new confidence in everyone. The only things missing were Fidelma’s riding cloak and the one belonging to Eadulf. Fidelma mentioned that they would need to find something to replace them for one could not travel far without such protection in midwinter. Báine promised that she would do what she could.
By the time Fidelma had finished speaking with Báine and returned to her companions she found them all succumbed to exhaustion and fast asleep. It was only a few moments before she, too, was in a deep slumber.
It must have been light for some time when Fidelma opened her eyes to the cold, grey, winter morning. She lay blinking in confusion for a moment until memories came scudding into her mind. She must have been more exhausted than she had imagined. The regular rise and fall of Eadulf’s breath told her that he was still sound asleep. In a corner, Enda was also curled up, oblivious to the sounds of the new morning. Now the crow of a cockerel and the protesting clucking of chickens joined the various harmonies of the sea birds. She rose and went to wash, as was the custom, and when she returned to the room, Eadulf and Enda were beginning to stir.
She went into the main room, where Mother Báine was preparing the morning meal, and wished her a good morning. After the pleasantries, Fidelma looked out across the bay and confirmed that it was not a bad morning for midwinter. The clouds were sparse, though the areas of blue between them were pale and the sun seemed to hang limply without much colour. A thought suddenly occurred to Fidelma. She had seen only Eadulf and Enda in the guest room.
‘Where is the man called Áed?’ she asked. ‘Is he up already?’
Báine shrugged but seemed worried. ‘I wondered whether to mention it, lady, because I thought he must have arranged it with you.’
‘Arranged what?’
‘He has gone.’
‘Gone?’
‘As I say, I wasn’t sure if it had been arranged. That is why I said nothing. He was up at first light. I heard him take the ass from the yard and so I rose and watched him make his way to the north-east.’
Fidelma stared at her for a moment or two. She did not have to ask what lay in that direction.
‘Yes, lady,’ Báine seemed to read her thoughts. ‘He rode towards Cluain, in the same direction as those men took the young girl the other day.’
‘He left without saying anything or leaving a note?’
‘He said not a word to me, lady. That’s why I thought you had agreed his departure.’
Eadulf entered and paused, feeling the strained atmosphere before he saw the sombre look on Fidelma’s face.
‘What is it?’ he demanded.
‘Áed appears to have set off without us,’ she replied simply.
Eadulf did not seem surprised. ‘Was he so important? His contribution was only that he had seen Grella being escorted from Eochaill. I expect that he was grateful for his rescue from the Saxon and that is as far as it goes.’
‘I am sure he knew something about the abduction of Grella,’ she insisted.
‘Did he leave any explanation of his departure?’ Eadulf sat down and helped himself to a mug of Báine’s cider.
They looked towards Báine, who was shaking her head. ‘Not a word did he say to me.’ Then a look of bitterness spread over her features. ‘I hope he did not think his bed and food would come free and that he would be able to make off with the ass as well?’
‘I have said that I will guarantee all that,’ Fidelma assured her sharply. ‘You will not lose for helping the sister of your King.’
The woman muttered something under her breath and returned to her kitchen.
‘Well, it seems as if you have lost money on the ass,’ Eadulf said ruefully, as Báine left the room. ‘Lucky he didn’t ride off on one of our horses. In which direction did he go?’
‘He went in the direction of Cluain,’ she told him.
Eadulf pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. ‘So everything winds up in Cluain? Why Cluain?’’
At that moment Enda entered to join them for breakfast and was quickly told what had happened. He seemed philosophical.
‘Perhaps the man simply wanted to get back to his family after his experience with the Saxon raider. He just seized the opportunity to get a free ride back to wherever it is he came from.’
‘The bow-maker knows something more of this business,’ Fidelma repeated bitterly. ‘I was a fool not to question him more rigorously yesterday, but we were all exhausted from the experience with Aescwine.’
‘I’d still like to know what Grella was doing at Glaisne’s fortress just before the Saxons landed,’ Eadulf said. ‘Besides, Tialláin told Cairenn that she had been abducted at Cluain. So how did she come to be free in Eochaill and riding back towards Cluain some days later?’
‘As we planned last night, after we have finished here, we will ride for Cluain. As it is a long ride, I suggest you eat sparingly,’ she said reprovingly, watching them tuck into the cold meats, cheese and barley bread. ‘It does not do well to ride distances when the stomach is overfilled.’
They had nearly finished the meal when the fisherman who had brought them to Báine’s house entered. He wore a worried expression and seemed relieved to see them.
‘I’ve just been speaking to some fishermen from along the coast – they sighted a warship. The talk is that this ship has been sailing up and down the coast without challenge.’
‘What manner of warship?’ Fidelma demanded immediately.
The fisherman shrugged. ‘Surely a warship is a warship?’ he asked uncertainly.
Fidelma stood up with a determined expression and thought for a moment before declaring: ‘We must continue our journey immediately. Until we know who is friend or enemy, it is best to ensure we stay safe.’
‘Enemy? Why would it be an enemy?’ asked the fisherman.
‘What direction was it sailing from?’ Enda suddenly asked.
‘Direction? Why from the east, I think.’
Eadulf frowned. ‘The Saxon ship?’
The fisherman’s eyes widened. ‘Saxons? Why would they be in these waters?’
‘Maybe it is that Cenél nÁeda warship,’ Enda said, unthinkingly. ‘After all, Artgal might want to make reprisals for the Uí Liatháin raid on the Great Island.’
Fidelma frowned angrily at his tactlessness.
‘Where was this ship last seen?’ she interrupted. ‘Are you sure it is a warship and not a coastal merchant?’
‘Fishermen know the difference,’ affirmed the man, annoyed. ‘It was seen coming this way, but with this morning’s contrary winds it won’t be here until well after noon.’
‘From east or west,’ Fidelma said firmly, ‘we must continue our journey.’
As they rode away from the small fishing village, Fidelma looked back over the grey seas. She could just make out the sail of the familiar-looking warship heading into the bay. It was causing consternation among the villagers. Already, the people of the settlement were rushing hither and thither, collecting animals and valuables. Many were heading towards the distant hills.
Fidelma kept her horse alongside Eadulf’s as they put distance between themselves and the village.
‘I wanted to ask you about this man Aescwine,’ she said. �
�He calls himself a prince. Do you know of him? He told me he would be King of his people when the current King died.’
‘I recognised the banner on his ship at Tialláin’s harbour,’ Eadulf nodded. ‘I told Enda as much. He is of the Gewisse.’
‘Tell me what you know.’
‘The Gewisse are also called the Saxons of the West. Aescwine’s ship carried the banner of their King Cenwealh, who has made the Gewisse territory into a powerful kingdom. For most of his life, Cenwealh was a pagan; only after he converted to the New Faith and adopted the rule of Rome did he became powerful. He drove the Britons from the north-west of his territory and established his summer fortress there. He has renamed the captured territory Sumersaeton. But Cenwealh is elderly now and no longer strong.’
‘So, is Aescwine his son?’
‘Not so,’ replied Eadulf. ‘He is a young man who has been trying to make a name for himself as a warrior but he lives under the shadow of his father, Cenfus, a prince who also claims the right to inherit the kingdom of the Gewisse.’
‘Is that what he is doing raiding our coast? Does he think to achieve his reputation by attacking undefended villages?’
Eadulf pulled a wry expression. ‘It might be a reason why he was keen to take Grella hostage, or – indeed – you. He could parade you before the Gewisse and claim to have performed great deeds to capture you. That would enhance his reputation among his people and even impress the other Saxon kingdoms.’
‘Wouldn’t he be condemned by his own King for such behaviour?’
‘Cenwealh? He is no longer strong enough to keep his rebellious princes in order. Aescwine appointed himself as an envoy to Tara.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘This Aescwine was an envoy at the High King’s court?’
‘He was. I heard tales that he was well favoured by the ladies there.’
Fidelma screwed up her face in mock distaste. ‘That explains how he knew some of our language. It might explain what he is doing with the northern religieux. But I can’t see how these things fit in with the plot against Cenn Fáelad and the abduction of Grella.’
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