‘Do you know if the lady Gormflaith has returned from riding?’
Irél nodded immediately. ‘I saw her and her daughter Murgain stable their horses a short time ago. Gormflaith has returned to her residence and her daughter has gone off to play with her friends.’
Fidelma thanked him and turned to Caol and Gormán. ‘I am going to see Gormflaith. Perhaps you can make yourself useful to Irél and help him find Cuan.’
They acknowledged her diplomatic way of dismissing them without comment. Eadulf accompanied Fidelma back towards the residence of Gormflaith.
‘I need to return to the guesthouse,’ he said. ‘I know you desire to see Gormflaith on your own, but should you not summon Abbot Colmán to attend? After all, she is the widow of the High King.’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘The abbot does not need to oversee all our enquiries, and widow of the High King or not, I am a dálaigh who has been given the task to investigate this matter.’
‘You think that this conspiracy will show that there is a link between the assassin Dubh Duin, Gormflaith and Cuan? It seems logical. Now we know that Cuan is from a clan that is in service to the Cinél Cairpre and that Dubh Duin was, therefore, his chieftain …’
‘I think there is a conspiracy,’ Fidelma interrupted, ‘but, as I have said many times, it is no good speculating until …’
Eadulf groaned softly. ‘I know, I know. No speculation before you have gathered all the facts. Even so …’
‘Even so, Eadulf, the rule cannot be broken. I am thinking that there are more facts that we do not know than the ones we do know.’
Eadulf left her and returned to the guesthouse. It seemed deserted, for which he was grateful because he needed to visit the fialtech or privy that was at the back. Having dutifully washed himself – it had taken him many years to adjust to what he saw as the obsession of the people of the country in washing, with their morning ablutions and then a full bath every evening before the main meal – Eadulf was returning through the guest house when a noise caught his ear from the room in which the meals for the guests were prepared. It was suspiciously like someone sobbing.
He paused, pushed open the door and looked in.
It was the plain-looking girl, Cnucha, who sat at the table with her head buried in her arms, clearly weeping.
‘Can I be of any help to you?’ asked Eadulf gently.
Startled, the girl glanced up and Eadulf saw that one of her cheeks was red and starting to bruise. The girl’s eyes were round with fear for a moment, her mouth an almost perfect ‘o’ shape.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said contritely. ‘What is wrong?’
The girl seemed to recover her wits and sniffed, wiping away her tears. ‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ smiled Eadulf, sitting down. ‘Nothing does not create tears.’
The girl swiftly put her hand up to her cheek as if to hide it and then seemed to realise the futility of the gesture.
‘There is nothing you can do,’ she said in a dull voice. ‘Thank you for asking.’
‘Perhaps I should be the judge of that,’ Eadulf said firmly. ‘A trouble told is a trouble shared, and a trouble shared is … ’
The girl gave him a quivering smile and said, ‘My trouble is the lady Muirgel. She has taken a dislike to me and it seems she has persuaded the Brehon Barrán that she is in the right.’
‘Why should she dislike you?’ queried Eadulf, suddenly remembering the conversation he had overheard between Cnucha and the senior female servant, Brónach.
‘The lady Muirgel does not have to give reasons.’
‘Surely you will be supported by Brother Rogallach or Abbot Colmán if her behaviour is unreasonable?’
She was anxious again and shook her head. ‘I cannot complain to them.’
‘Why? Who are you afraid of?’
‘I am not afraid. I know that nothing could be done.’
‘Why?’ he demanded.
There was a movement behind him and Cnucha sprang up with a guilty expression.
‘You are forgetting yourself, Cnucha,’ came the iron tone of Brónach. ‘Brother Eadulf is a guest here and you should be attending to his wants, not sitting gossiping.’
Eadulf turned to the attractive woman, who was in charge of the female servants, and said lightly, ‘It is all right, Brónach. I did not need anything. It was just that … ’He turned back to Cnucha and suddenly saw her expression, as if silently imploring him to say no more. Eadulf shrugged. ‘It was just that I wondered how long Cnucha here had worked in Tara and we fell to talking.’
Brónach looked critically at the younger girl. ‘Well, she has many duties to fulfil, Brother Eadulf. And time is pressing. This place must be cleaned, for a start. Anyway, I was looking for Báine. Have you seen her, Cnucha?’
The young girl shook her head and with a sigh the older woman left.
Cnucha looked at him gratefully and mouthed a silent, ‘Thank you.’
Eadulf went to the door to check. It was clear that Brónach had left the guesthouse altogether. He turned back to Cnucha.
‘You need not take any abuse from Muirgel, even if you feel that you are in the wrong,’ he counselled her. ‘Why didn’t you want Brónach to know about it? She might have been able to help as she is in charge.’
‘I know Brónach was very friendly with the High King when he was alive and with his family, so I doubt whether she would stand up for me against Muirgel,’ Cnucha said despondently. ‘And saying anything to Báine is like saying it to Muirgel. They are as thick as thieves, those two. I have often seen them together. Even when her duties are over, Báine often goes to the house of the High King’s – the late High King’s – wife. I am sure she does not go there to see Gormflaith.’
‘I have seen the way Muirgel treats her attendant,’ Eadulf remarked. ‘It is neither courteous nor proper. But what manner of relationship could she have with Báine?’
Cnucha grimaced sourly. ‘Báine! That one! She is a strange person.’ She rubbed a hand across her eyes. ‘But now I must go, Brother Eadulf, lest either of them return and the work is not done.’
‘I will take the blame,’ replied Eadulf to reassure her.
‘I am the one who has to live here,’ replied the girl, unimpressed. ‘You do not.’
Picking up a broom, she began to sweep and thus dismissed, Eadulf left.
Fidelma entered the residence of the wife and children of the High King at the Tech Laoghaire and a maid confirmed that Gormflaith was in her chambers. While the maid went off to see if Gormflaith would receive a visitor, Fidelma moved to the window that provided a view down the hill to the stables. She was about to turn away when she spotted the tall figure of Brehon Barrán strolling to the stables in the company of a young woman. They seemed to be engaged in earnest talk, the young woman leaning close to the elderly judge and touching his arm as if to make a point now and then.
It was only when Fidelma realised that the girl was Muirgel that she paused to take a second look. She wondered if Muirgel was telling him what she had revealed to Fidelma. They had halted and someone was bringing out a horse from the stable. Once again, the girl leaned close to the Brehon and touched his arm, though not in an imperious way; more of an intimate expression. Then she mounted and rode away with Barrán gazing after her for a few moments before turning and walking slowly back in the direction of the royal house from which they had obviously come.
At that moment the maid returned and announced that the lady Gormflaith would see Fidelma immediately.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Eadulf had left the guesthouse and was walking towards the stable buildings when no less a person than Cenn Faelad emerged from them. The commander of his guard, Irél, was at his side and another warrior walked two paces behind, eyes watchful and hand on his sword. Cenn Faelad beckoned in friendly fashion to Eadulf to join him.
‘How are things going with your investigations?’ Cenn Faelad asked. It was the greeting of
an equal, with no differentiation of rank or of nationality, and Eadulf felt slightly flattered, although he had heard that Cenn Faelad, in his role as tánaiste, the heir apparent, had earned popularity by being accessible to all his people.
‘We are making some progress,’ Eadulf replied. ‘Fidelma is even now conducting an interview with—’
‘With my brother’s widow,’ intervened Cenn Faelad with a grim smile. ‘I saw the lady Fidelma going into her residence a moment ago. She is very thorough, that wife of yours.’
Eadulf smiled with pride. ‘There is little that escapes her attention in these matters.’
‘But I see that you do not attend all her interrogations?’
‘In this instance it was thought more circumspect for me to stay away. Diplomacy … ’
‘We do not stand on ceremony here, Eadulf,’ Cenn Faelad said immediately. ‘Or should not. You have been in our country long enough to know that. After all, there is a saying here that we are all kings’ sons.’
‘Alas, Cenn Faelad, not all of us can prove it,’ replied Eadulf wryly.
The High King elect’s features broadened and he burst out laughing.
‘That was well and truly said, my friend. Well done! You show a ready wit. But it is true, in our system we say that a people is stronger than a lord, for they have the final vote at the clan assemblies.’
Irél coughed pointedly at his side.
‘My commander reminds me not to delay,’ Cenn Faelad said. ‘We are on our way to the marketplace below,’ he motioned down the hill outside the walls of Tara. ‘A foreign merchant ship has arrived and we wish to see what goods it brings. It is one of the privileges of my rank that I can see his goods first before he opens his stall in the market. Thus I can make first choice of anything new and interesting.’
Eadulf asked slyly: ‘And does that fit in with your people being stronger than a lord?’
Again Cenn Faelad laughed.
‘I can see that you have the same quality of humour as Fidelma,’ he beamed. ‘But I will answer – I said it was a privilege, not a right. Anyway, perhaps you’ll walk with us and see? It will not take long and I doubt whether Fidelma will be brief in talking with my sister-in-law.’
Again, Eadulf stifled a feeling of being flattered.
‘I would be delighted. Is it known where this merchant ship comes from?’
‘It’s from Gaul, I think. From the port of An Naoned.’
They fell in step and began to move towards the gates of the palace complex.
‘Merchant ships from Gaul are large,’ observed Eadulf. ‘Do they anchor at some coastal port and bring their goods on overland or by smaller vessels?’
‘Some ships can negotiate along the main river, which we call the Bóinn. There is an island in the river just north of here, beyond which it is dangerous to proceed. But a good local river man can pilot a fairly big vessel to the island there and that is where goods are offloaded at a place we call An Uaimh and then brought here overland. We have a good trade with Britain and Gaul.’
Eadulf noticed that Irél had now moved ahead and that both he and the guard behind were looking round cautiously.
Cenn Faelad observed his interest. ‘I am told,’ he said in a low voice, ‘that it is wise for me to be closely guarded until we know the reason for the slaughter of my brother.’
‘I presume that you have some theories?’ Eadulf replied.
The young High King elect gave him a searching glance. Then he said quietly, ‘I suppose that we all speculate.’
‘As Sechnussach was your brother, your speculation would be interesting.’
‘My brother was High King. In that office one is never universally loved. What is justice for one can be construed as injustice for another. Dubh Duin was a man of fixed ideas and he was known for these ideas in the Great Assembly. They were ideas that were not shared by my brother. But that should be no motive for assassination. The place to really change matters is in the assembly, not with the High King – for you can change a High King but the decision of the assembly can only be changed because it is the will of the majority of its members. As I said before, it is the assembly who constrains the High King.’
Eadulf nodded slowly. ‘So you dismiss the motivation of a disagreement of ideas?’
‘Not as such. Dubh Duin might have been consumed by madness. Killing is the ultimate madness, whether done in hot or cold blood.’
They had walked out of the gates and through respectful groups of people, beyond the dwellings that arose around the walls of Tara. Eadulf was aware of great crowds of people, horses, carts, tents pitched wherever there was space. Of course, Tara was the principal city of the five kingdoms of Éireann, its biggest centre, to which all manner of people would be attracted. Having dwelled in Cashel, which was less turbulent, and become used to quieter ways, he had forgotten the hustle and bustle of great towns.
Irél led the way through the maze of people who crowded around the tents and more permanent buildings into a great railed-off enclosure.
‘This is where the foreign merchants are allowed to ply their trade,’ Cenn Faelad explained.
Several stalls had been set up and Eadulf saw all manner of people. There were men in bright colours and styles of dress that he associated with the peoples of southern Gaul or Rome. He could see a few merchants who were unmistakably from the Saxon lands. Then he could hear the rolling accents of the Britons who had for centuries had a constant interchange with their neighbours in Éireann.
‘Where is the new merchant, Irél?’ asked Cenn Faelad.
‘Over here.’ The bodyguard pointed to one corner, where a large tent had been erected.
A tall man was standing at the entrance, clad in fairly rich clothes. He was swarthy but cleanshaven. At his side was a boy about fourteen years old. The boy had a metal collar around his neck, fastened at one side with a padlock.
Irél halted before the man and addressed him. ‘Identify yourself, merchant. You are in the presence of the High King elect, lord of all the five kingdoms of this land.’
To Eadulf’s surprise, it was the boy who began to address the tall man in a tongue that he could not identify. It was he who was obviously the merchant’s translator.
The man smiled thinly, raised a hand to his forehead in salutation and bowed low. He uttered a few words.
‘I am Verbas of Peqini, Majesty,’ interpreted the boy in a hesitant but obvious accent of Éireann.
Cenn Faelad looked at the lad with a frown. ‘And who are you?’
The boy grimaced. ‘I am the property of my lord Verbas.’
Eadulf knew that slavery was uncommon among the people of Éireann but his own people had always practised slavery like the Romans. However, Cenn Faelad was disapproving.
‘I was told that you were a merchant from Gaul,’ he said through the boy.
Verbas of Peqini smiled. It was the insincere smile of a merchant.
‘My ship has sailed here from the port of An Naoned in Armorica, Majesty, but I am from a land far to the east, plying my trade throughout the great lands of the world.’
‘And this boy is your interpreter?’
‘He is my voice, Majesty, in these far western lands.’
‘Know then, Verbas of Peqini, that in this land we do not accept that one man may hold another in bondage.’ When the boy seemed scared to translate this, Cenn Faelad sharply ordered him to do so. ‘Only if such a person has stood before the law and forfeited his right to freedom by some crime, or has been taken hostage in war, does he lose the right to conduct his life freely and must work under the jurisdiction of the clan to regain such freedoms.’
Fury was gathering on the merchant’s face and the false smile was rapidly disappearing as his slave translated haltingly.
‘Keep translating, boy,’ instructed Cenn Faelad. ‘Tell your master this, that we will respect his customs as a visitor to our shores. But in turn he must respect our laws. Should you escape him, out of the confines of th
is foreign merchants’ quarter, or from his ship, and seek sanctuary in our land, then that sanctuary will be granted and you will be free.’
The boy was staring at him, wide-eyed.
‘Tell him,’ insisted Cenn Faelad.
Verbas was also staring as the boy translated and it was a sullen, almost malignant stare. Through his slave, he replied slowly.
‘Majesty, I am an honest merchant and visitor to your land. I do not know your customs. I will try not to cause you anger by keeping to mine. I come to trade and not impose myself. As soon as my business is conducted, I shall return to my ship with my property intact and leave your shores.’
The High King elected nodded absently. He turned to the boy, asking, ‘How do you speak our tongue so well, eh? What is your name?’
‘Assíd, lord.’
‘Assíd? But that is a name of Éireann,’ replied Cenn Faelad in astonishment. ‘Where are you from and how came you in this state?’
‘I do not remember where I am from, lord. I recall being on a boat with those I was later told were probably followers of the god Christ. Then there was fighting. I was taken from the ship and many of those on it were killed. I remember another ship. Then I was taken to a land where I was put in a cage. I think that was when this was placed on me.’ He raised a hand to touch his iron collar. ‘And I was given to this man, Verbas.’
Verbas interrupted sharply and was obviously asking Assíd what he was saying.
‘Tell him,’ Cenn Faelad instructed quickly, ‘that I am asking about the goods you have.’
The boy did so and this seemed to appease the merchant.
‘You remember nothing else before being on the ship?’
The boy shook his head.
‘But was this the language you spoke? Are you of this country?’
‘I seemed to know the language, lord,’ the boy said hesitantly. ‘There was a woman who was in Verbas’s house. She was older than me and spoke it as her native tongue. I learned more from her. She said she had been a pilgrim on her way to the holy land of Christ when her ship was seized and she was sold to Verbas, our master.’
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