‘Capa’s house?’
‘He often delivers logs there as well as to other houses. He is paid for that service.’
Fidelma thanked the warrior for his information and made her way down the road into the township.
Capa, the guard commander, opened his door to her knock and stared at her in surprise.
‘What brings you here, lady?’ he asked, and when she told him her purpose he stood aside and motioned her into the small but warm room. Capa’s wife, Gobnat, came forward almost nervously with an offer of hospitality, a mug of mead, but Fidelma politely declined. Conchoille the woodsman had risen from a seat by the fire. He stood awkwardly.
‘You came in search of me, lady?’ His hands twisted nervously round the pottery mug he had been drinking from.
‘I did, Conchoille, but I will not delay you long,’ she replied. ‘I believe that Brother Eadulf came to see you on the day he left Cashel.’
The woodsman turned owlish eyes on her.
‘He did not, lady,’ he replied.
Fidelma was not expecting this response.
‘He did not come to see you at Rath na Drínne?’ she asked in surprise.
Conchoille shook his head. ‘I never spoke to the noble brother after the council met in the palace. I was told that he had left Cashel but I never saw him on that day. He went to see Ferloga, though. Maybe he was looking for me.’
‘Ferloga the innkeeper?’
There came the distracting howl of a dog outside the house. From where she stood, Fidelma could see Capa’s brown, wire-haired hound digging furiously for something in the yard.
Gobnat looked angrily at her husband.
‘Go and control your hound, man!’ she said in a vicious tone. ‘We will have no yard left at this rate.’
The warrior glanced apologetically at Fidelma.
‘It is my dog, lady. He’s probably after some old bones.’
He went outside and grabbed the animal roughly by the collar and secured him, whimpering, to a tree. Fidelma turned back to Conchoille for clarification, and accidentally kicked a small metal cauldron by the fire. Looking down, she noticed a large dent in it.
‘Did I do that?’ she queried, in surprise, bending to examine it. Gobnat almost snatched it up.
‘It is nothing. An old cauldron, lady. An old dent.’
Capa, coming in, was frowning as he glanced at Gobnat holding the cauldron.
‘I heard that your husband was in trouble, lady. Is there anything I can do?’
Fidelma had the impression that he was diverting the conversation for some reason. She shook her head. Her next move would be to see Ferloga. If it was not Conchoille who had sent Eadulf riding towards the abbey of Coimán, then it was something Ferloga had said. She was not going down Brehon Dathal’s path of reasoning, she thought angrily. Eadulf had left because he had heard something about Alchú. Of that much she was certain.
She suddenly saw that Gobnat was regarding her with a concerned expression.
‘Are you worried for your man, lady? That is the curse of all women, for there is little constancy in men. They come and they go and do not give heed to the grief that they leave behind.’
Capa frowned in annoyance at his wife.
‘Still your tongue, woman. The king’s sister does not want to hear your philosophy.’ He went on hurriedly, ‘I am told that the crossan, the players we encountered at Cnoc Loinge, have arrived this morning and are setting up their camp behind the township.’
‘The company was due to perform in Cashel,’ Fidelma explained.
‘It is sad that the dwarf who dressed as a leper was killed,’ went on Capa. ‘He might have been able to identify the woman who pretended to be my wife and sent him with the message to Sárait.’
Fidelma was still thinking about Eadulf. Gobnat mistook the meaning of her thoughtful features.
‘Perhaps some other person will be able to identify the woman who pretended to be me. It should be easy to find someone who wears such a distinctive cloak.’
Fidelma nodded absently. ‘Let us hope so, for if the Uí Fidgente are not involved in this matter, then we have to find…’
The noise of a galloping horse caused her to pause. A moment later a voice cried out: ‘Sister Fidelma! Lady!’
Capa reached the door first, followed by Fidelma. A messenger from the palace sat outside on horseback.
‘What is the matter?’ demanded Capa, annoyed that one of his warriors should seem so undisciplined.
‘I was told the lady Fidelma would be here,’ the messenger cried. Then he spotted Fidelma behind Capa. ‘Brother Eadulf, lady! It is reported that he is at the bridge across the Suir and on his way to Cashel… and he has Alchú with him. Safe and well, according to one of our sentries who rode here immediately to alert us.’
Fidelma stared at him without speaking.
‘It is true, lady,’ the man confirmed. ‘He will be at the palace shortly if not already. Caol and some warriors have been sent to greet him. Your baby is safe home again, lady. Safe!’
Fidelma was already running for her horse.
Eadulf and his party had crossed the bridge over the River Suir and seen one of the guards on it despatched at a gallop towards the distant Rock of Cashel. Eadulf and Basil Nestorios rode ahead with Gormán just behind, and a light wagon driven by Nessán the shepherd, with Muirgen at his side carrying the baby, brought up the rear. They had proceeded a fair distance when Gormán raised his arm and called to Eadulf.
‘Here comes our escort, Brother.’
A group of horseman came trotting along the road towards them, and Eadulf immediately recognised Caol at their head. The warrior raised his hand in greeting as they came up. His expression was serious.
‘Is it true?’ he demanded, looking curiously from Eadulf and Gormán to Basil Nestorios and then to the couple on the wagon. His eyes fell on the baby in Muirgen’s arms. Eadulf nodded towards the infant with a smile.
‘Alchú is safe and well and we are bringing him home. Does Fidelma know?’
‘Someone has gone to tell her. Much has happened since you left, Brother Eadulf.’
Eadulf frowned when he saw no lightening of the serious expression on the other’s face.
‘This should be a moment of joy, Caol. Yet you seem unhappy.’
‘Everyone has been wondering why you left Cashel so quickly.’
‘Haven’t an itinerant herbalist and his wife arrived in Cashel?’
Caol stared at him a moment as if he did not understand. Then he shrugged.
‘I am told that travelling players and a herbalist are encamped outside the town, ready for the forthcoming fair day.’
‘And they have not spoken to anyone yet?’
Caol shook his head.
‘Well, I’ll explain when we get to the palace,’ said Eadulf. ‘Meanwhile, we can rejoice at the safe return of Alchú.’
‘There are many questions to be answered first.’ Caol turned to Gormán. ‘And I suppose that you have a good excuse for deserting Cashel at this time?’
Gormán flushed. ‘I felt my duty was to go in support of Brother Eadulf.’ There was a slight note of defiance in his voice at the censure implied by his comrade’s words.
‘And were it not for Gormán,’ added Eadulf, ‘I and my good friend Basil Nestorios,’ he nodded to his companion, who was looking bewildered, ‘would not be here at all.’
‘And who are these others?’ asked Caol.
‘They are a shepherd and his wife, who have come to look after Alchú on our journey back to Cashel.’ There was anger in Eadulf’s voice now. ‘What is wrong? Why this strange greeting when you should be filled with joy for Fidelma and myself?’
Caol looked at him apologetically.
‘Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, I am acting on the orders of the Brehon Dathal, Chief Brehon of the kingdom. I have no other choice but to make you my prisoner. You have been charged with murder.’
Eadulf gasped in astonishment.
&
nbsp; ‘Murder? Of whom?’ he demanded.
‘Of Bishop Petrán.’
Eadulf sat on the single cot in his cell-like chamber in the section of the palace given over to prisoners and hostages. The final leg of the journey to Cashel had been a curious experience. Fidelma had arrived soon after Caol. After fussing over the baby, she, too, appeared shocked when Caol told her that Eadulf was formally a prisoner. She demanded on whose authority Caol was acting and, when told that it was on the specific order of Brehon Dathal, had told Eadulf not to worry and gone riding off like a mad thing towards the palace.
Caol had been correct in his behaviour and during the time he rode as escort with Eadulf he sought to bring him up to date on all that had happened during his absence. When they arrived at Cashel, Eadulf was led immediately to the area where prisoners were kept and told he must wait for Brehon Dathal to question him. Caol promised to take Muirgen and Nessán directly to Fidelma and also to look after Basil Nestorios. Capa, he was told, would probably reprimand Gormán, as he was commander of the guard. With little more ado, Eadulf had been left to his own devices in the small stone chamber. He felt a black despair. He had endured so much, and now to be falsely accused of killing the old bishop … His mind went back to his false imprisonment in the abbey of Fearna. Fidelma had come to his rescue then, but now he was imprisoned in the palace of Fidelma’s own brother and charged by his chief judge. Despair and anger fought within him but despair had the upper hand.
Several hours seemed to pass before the door opened abruptly and Fidelma appeared.
He sprang towards her and for a few moments they held each other tight.
‘How is the boy?’ he asked.
Fidelma smiled. There were tears in her eyes.
‘He is fine. Muirgen and her husband Nessán are still looking after him. They have Sárait’s old chamber next to ours. They have told me their part in the story. I have also been talking to Basil Nestorios. I can’t wait to hear the full tale from you. But first we must deal with this matter. This is all Brehon Dathal’s doing.’
‘You must know that I would not harm old Bishop Petrán.’
‘I know that. The trouble is that Dathal is Chief Brehon. He has authority, even over my brother to some extent. I am waiting to see Colgú. He does not know what has happened yet as he is in council with Conrí, the Uí Fidgente warlord.’
‘I heard that Conrí was here. I must hear all about that from you.’
‘It is a long story. But let me ask you first what it was that took you to the abbey of Coimán? In other words, why did you leave Cashel? Brehon Dathal is claiming it was because you killed the old man.’
‘That is sheer nonsense. I went to find Conchoille, the woodsman-’
‘Who says you never saw him.’
Eadulf nodded quickly. ‘That is true. I went to the inn where Conchoille said he had supper on the night he found Sárait-’
‘Ferloga’s inn at Rath na Drínne?’
‘The same. Ferloga told me of itinerants who were encamped in the wood. But they only had one baby with them …’
Fidelma’s eyes brightened with excitement.
‘And when we went to Ara’s Well we were told these itinerants had two babies?’ she said.
‘Exactly! I knew that they were heading towards the abbey of Coimán, so I left the note for you and hurried after them. It was a desperate lead, but our only one. It turned out that I was correct. They were innocent in their intent and they are now here at the camping ground with the crossan to explain matters. Their names are Corb and Corbnait.’
‘I will go to see them.’
‘One other thing. Gormán will give you the details … but Fiachrae of Cnoc Loinge is a traitor to your brother.’
Fidelma looked shocked, and then she said quickly: ‘I want to hear it all in detail. But first we must secure your release.’
‘How am I supposed to have killed Petrán?’
‘By poison. I am told that Brehon Dathal is coming to question you. Do not worry. We shall have you free soon.’
Eadulf sighed deeply. ‘In the short time that I have been here in this cell, Fidelma, I have thought much. On the ride back from the bridge Caol told me roughly what had happened with you and Conrí. Is it true?’
‘That Conrí rescued me? It is true.’
‘And if Sárait was not murdered during the kidnapping of our child and Alchú was simply left to perish in the woods, as the travellers claimed, why was Sárait lured out of the palace to her death in the first place? Who killed her?’ Eadulf leant forward and laid a hand on her arm. ‘Think about this, Fidelma. We employed Sárait to be a wet nurse to young Alchú, didn’t we?’
Fidelma made an impatient gesture. ‘You know we did.’
‘But when?’
‘From the time he was born. Six months ago. What is there to think about on that matter?’
Eadulf regarded her with an intent look for a moment.
‘I had overlooked the point until it was proposed to me that I needed a wet nurse to look after the baby on the journey to Cashel,’ he said quietly. ‘When we employed Sárait her own child was very recently dead. It was stillborn, according to her account. Alchú was born six months ago and she was able to feed him.’
Fidelma was trying to follow his thoughts. ‘And?’
‘Who was the father of Sárait’s baby?’
‘Why, Callada, of course, who was…’ She paused and stared back.
Eadulf gave a small smile of triumph. ‘Who was killed at Cnoc Aine,’ he said softly. ‘Exactly so.’
Fidelma exhaled slowly. ‘Gormán? You think he was the father?’
‘I have not asked him yet.’
‘I see,’ she said softly. Then she shook herself, almost like a dog shaking itself after being immersed in water. ‘But the first task I must set myself is to find out why Brehon Dathal has had you incarcerated. Don’t worry, I shall get you released soon.’
She made a move towards the door and then turned back, impulsively taking both his hands in her own.
‘Eadulf, I regret all the things I did or said, and any actions of my people, that have made you feel a stranger and inferior to us.’
Eadulf grinned awkwardly. ‘No one can make another feel inferior without his or her consent. If a person thinks others are deeming him inferior it is because he feels it. I may have felt unwelcome at times, but that is because I am a stranger to this land and, as such, not welcome to some. But that is the nature of people. We are always more comfortable with the things we know.’
‘Will you forgive us … will you forgive me?’
‘You cannot forgive the golden eagle for being a golden eagle,’ he replied gently. ‘There is nothing to forgive you for because you have acted in accordance with your nature.’
Fidelma pouted. ‘Eadulf, at times you make me despair. You are too nice and forgiving,’ she admonished him.
He shrugged with a whimsical smile. ‘And that is my nature.’
Fidelma was crossing the courtyard when she became aware of a disturbance at the gates. She crossed to them and found Caol with a man and a woman. The latter held a baby in her arms.
‘What is it?’ Fidelma demanded.
Caol grimaced in annoyance. ‘An itinerant herbalist and his wife demanding entrance. I have told them to be on their way.’
‘But the Saxon brother-’ began the man.
‘Silence. You are speaking in the presence of the sister of the king,’ snapped Caol.
‘Wait!’ instructed Fidelma. ‘You are the herbalist Corb and you are his wife Corbnait?’
‘We are. Brother Eadulf told us to come here and we promised we would even though it might bring down punishment upon us. I am a man of my word. I was not always an itinerant.’
Fidelma’s face softened. ‘You are most welcome. I do not blame either of you for the role you have played. Indeed, you were the means of saving my son’s life when he was abandoned in the forest. Come, we will take a drink together and ove
r it you may tell me the story that you told to Brother Eadulf.’
She was turning away when Caol called after her. She glanced back.
‘You asked me to tell you when Brother Conchobar returned to Cashel,’ the warrior reminded her. ‘He has done so.’
The door of the cell opened and Brehon Dathal came in. He stood looking sourly at Eadulf.
Eadulf sprang up from the single cot that furnished the cell.
‘What is this nonsense?’ he demanded.
Brehon Dathal motioned to someone who stood outside the door and a warrior handed him a three-legged stool.
‘Sit down,’ the old man ordered sharply.
Eadulf reluctantly obeyed. ‘I say again, what is this nonsense, Dathal? Who has made up this preposterous story that I killed Bishop Petrán?’
‘Do you deny that you have often argued with Bishop Petrán?’
Eadulf almost laughed. ‘I do not. We disagreed fundamentally about matters relating to the conduct of the church. And most people in the five kingdoms would also disagree with his teachings. While I have supported the authority of Rome, for we are told it is where Peter, into whose hands the Christ gave the building of his church, began that task, I cannot support Petrán’s other more ascetic arguments.’
‘So you killed him?’
Eadulf snorted in indignation.
Brehon Dathal regarded him sourly.
‘You would do well to take me seriously, Saxon. Do you think that because I am old I cannot any longer judge the facts?’
Eadulf stared at him for a moment or two.
‘I do not care whether you are young or old. When a false accusation is made, I do not take it kindly. I could similarly ask you whether it is because I am a stranger to this land that you think I must be guilty of murder?’
‘I abide by the law,’ snapped Brehon Dathal. ‘I am not prejudiced against you.’
‘I abide by facts.’
‘The facts are simple. Bishop Petrán was found dead in his chamber. He was poisoned. You fled from Cashel on that very day. On the previous evening you were seen to have had a violent row with the bishop. Do you deny these facts?’
‘I do not deny that I had a row with Petrán but I deny it was violent. I deny that I fled from Cashel. I left Cashel, leaving a note for Fidelma, after I had discovered something that led me to believe that I might find my son. And find him I did. I had no idea that Petrán was dead until Caol told me on my return.’
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