Atonement of Blood

CHAPTER TWELVE

For the principal fortress of the Princes of the Uí Fidgente, Fidelma saw that Dún Eochair Mháigh was surprisingly small. The arrogant Uí Fidgente rulers had called it Brú Rí — the King’s abode — claiming it as the equal of Cashel. It was true that the stone fortress towered over the eastern bank of the river and the settlement that spread beneath its walls, but apart from its strategic position, there was nothing particularly awe-inspiring about the edifice. Apart from the grey stone dominance rearing above it, the settlement itself appeared as just a peaceful, small farming community. As they approached along the opposite bank of the Mháigh, the riders could see boats plying their trade along the waterway and hear the reassuring ring of a blacksmith’s hammer combined with the noise of cattle being herded. People were moving here and there. But there seemed little movement on the walls of the fortress — whose gates, they could observe, stood wide open.

Socht had brought a company of twenty-five warriors as an escort. He rode at the head of ten of them. The war banner of red silk with the ravening wolf emblem was borne aloft by the standard-bearer at his side. Then came Conrí with Fidelma, Eadulf and Gormán. They were followed by the remaining warriors. It had been an easy ride from the Ford of Oaks. They had kept to a track on the western side of the river, as Conrí had said it would save them time rather than having to follow the wriggling path of the water on the eastern side. Beyond the Ford of Oaks the river seemed to increase the number of twists and turns in its path from where it rose in the distant southern mountains.

Conrí surveyed the settlement. ‘It seems our fears might have been for nothing, lady,’ he observed. ‘The place appears tranquil enough. If there had been an attempt to attack it, we would surely have seen evidence.’

‘Better to be wrong than to have one’s fears set aside until too late,’ Eadulf offered defensively.

Fidelma made no comment as they rode down the short hill towards the riverbank and found a wooden bridge, still under construction, across the river into the centre of the settlement. Although it was still being worked on, the bridge had been reinforced sufficiently to take the passage of horses.

Conrí turned to Socht. ‘Take half of the men and wait on this side of the river. I’ll go with the lady Fidelma to the fortress and see what can be discovered. If all is well, I’ll signal you to join us.’

They walked their horses carefully across the construction, the hooves beating a hollow tattoo on the wooden planks while Socht dispersed his men as instructed. As they moved through the township, some folk recognised Conrí and hands were raised in greeting. Other folk regarded them with looks of curiosity while a few stopped and held whispered conversations as they watched them pass.

They moved directly to the pathway that led up to the gates of the fortress. Now they could observe sentinels. A thickset man was waiting for them in the middle of the open gateway. He stood legs apart and hands on hips, a broad smile on his face.

‘Welcome, Lord Conrí!’ His voice was almost a bellow. ‘We saw your banner across the river. What brings you here?’

Conrí swung down and greeted the man as an old friend.

‘Greetings, Cúana. We come here out of curiosity.’ He waved a hand towards Fidelma and Eadulf. ‘This is the lady Fidelma of Cashel and Brother Eadulf.’

The names registered with the man, who regarded them with a surprised expression before quickly acknowledging them.

‘This,’ went on Conrí, ‘is Cúana, the steward to Prince Donennach. He commands the fortress while the Prince is absent.’

‘That is, I have a guard of just a score of warriors,’ Cúana added with a wry smile. ‘Nothing so imposing as at Cashel, lady.’

Fidelma and Eadulf had dismounted. ‘Is all quiet here, Cúana?’ Fidelma asked.

The young steward frowned. ‘Should it be otherwise, lady?’ he countered.

‘It is just that there have been some strange happenings, my friend,’ Conrí explained. ‘The lady Fidelma has come to investigate the attempted assassination of her brother, King Colgú — an attack which succeeded in killing the Chief Brehon of Muman.’

At once the steward showed concern. ‘Is your brother out of harm’s way then, lady?’

‘So far as we know.’

‘Then what brings you here?’

‘A torturous path,’ she replied. ‘We will talk about it later. Right now, I would like to know if you have heard of any plot against Prince Donennach? Have there been any rumours that some rival to his rule may be plotting to seize this fortress?’

Cúana’s eyes widened and he glanced at Conrí as if for confirmation that she was being serious. When he saw his friend’s expression, he turned back to Fidelma. ‘None that I have heard of, lady. All is quiet here, as I have said. If there is some plot to discredit the Uí Fidgente, then I have seen no sign of it.’

Conrí laid a hand on his arm. ‘But what better time for a plot to be put in motion, my friend? What better time to overthrow the rule of Prince Donennach — when he is out of the territory? We must admit there are some among us who resent the peace that was made with Cashel. That is why I hurried here to make sure that all is well with you.’

‘The country has never been quieter,’ the steward assured him.

‘In that case, my friend,’ smiled Conrí, ‘I would formally ask hospitality for myself and my guests as well as for my men.’

‘It shall be granted. I had wondered why you left half of your men on the far bank of the river. Unless my eyes deceive me, Socht, the commander of your guard, is among them. Ah, but I have your strategy. You wanted to ensure all was well here first before you committed them to cross. Well, all is peaceful, my friend. You may signal them to that effect so that your warriors may join us. There is ale aplenty. Come, lady, the fortress is at your command.’

‘I presume all Prince Donennach’s ladies have departed with him?’

‘They have, but we have female attendants if you wish to bathe after your ride. You may be assured that there are women enough to attend to all your wants.’

By this time, they were being led across the courtyard and stablemen were coming forward to take care of their horses. Conrí had ordered one of his men to go back to instruct Socht to bring the rest of his warriors across the river. It seemed that many of the warrior sentinels who paced the walls of the fortress were known to Conrí and his men, for cheerful greetings were being exchanged.

Cúana led the way into the great hall which seemed more impressive on the inside than the outside. Great tapestries hung on the walls, with shields bearing symbols of the owners who had once used them, displayed along with swords. At one end of the hall was the Prince’s chair of office, ornately carved with the icons of the Uí Fidgente. Stretching before it was a long oak table with benches either side where the nobles would sit either in council or when they feasted with the Prince. It was, as Fidelma had noted, not as grand as Cashel, but as good as any territorial ruler could afford.

At the young steward’s call, two attendants hurried in, and when refreshments for the guests were served, they went off to fulfil their tasks. Another attendant appeared and began to build a fire in the great hearth, and Cúana gestured for his guests to be seated before he gave orders for chambers to be prepared for Fidelma, Eadulf and Conrí. Gormán, Socht and the rest of the warriors were to be housed in the long wooden laechtech — the House of Heroes, as the warrior’s’ quarters were called.

Cúana seemed almost jovial as the attendants served the drinks. ‘I will order bathing facilities to be prepared shortly,’ he told them.

Once again Eadulf was reminded of the daily custom of the people to bathe in the evenings before a meal. Usually, fires were kindled and water heated and a large tub or dabach was filled. Often the water was scented with sweet-smelling herbs, and a soap or sléic was used. Now and then he had noticed that the tub was filled with water and then round stones were heated and dropped in to warm it. Fidelma had once told him an ancient story of a mythical king named Fergus mac Léti whose attendant did not properly heat the bath stones, or cloch-fothraicthe as they were called. He threw one of them at her and killed her. Eadulf was brought up in a culture where bathing was not such a priority and a dip in the river from time to time sufficed. The evening bath was the main wash of the day, while in the morning one usually washed the hands and face.

‘So how have you traced the assassin to this place?’ Cúana asked after they had settled with their drinks. ‘And what are these rumours of an attempt to overthrow Prince Donennach?’

‘I did not say I had traced the assassin here,’ returned Fidelma evenly. ‘As yet we do not know who he was or where he came from.’

‘Then what …?’

‘I think that you had better let me ask the questions in my own way,’ intervened Fidelma. ‘It is my right as an advocate of the court.’

Cúana seemed a little put out but gestured for her to continue.

‘I believe that there was once a ferryman here called Escmug. Did you know him or of him?’

‘Escmug?’ The steward seemed genuinely surprised for a moment. ‘He is long dead. He was not only a ferryman but a fisherman who plied his boat along the river here. He would try his hand at anything that made him a living … or rather paid for his liquor.’

‘He was a heavy drinker, then? Tell me something of him.’

‘He was not a nice man, if the stories are to be believed. There was a rumour that he killed his wife. At least, she disappeared. He claimed that she had run away.’

‘Do you recall the name of his wife?’

‘I think it was Liamuin.’

‘Do you remember any details of what happened?’

‘Liamuin simply disappeared one evening,’ the steward replied. ‘Escmug said she had gone off in his boat. He searched for her but never found her. That was when the rumours started that he probably killed her.’

‘Her body was never recovered?’

‘No. Liamuin was never seen again.’

‘And did Escmug and Liamuin have any children?’

‘There was a girl, as I recall. Liamuin abandoned her, which supported the idea that her husband killed her, for it takes a strange woman to abandon her daughter. For a short time the girl lived with Escmug. He was a brute of a man and worked the girl from morning to sunset until one day, she suddenly took off. Some time later, Escmug’s body was found upriver from here. Again, there were rumours and stories. No one ever saw the girl again.’

‘Was it thought that the daughter had murdered her father?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Who would have blamed her, if she had? Whoever did it had made a mess of his head, or so the locals say. The daughter vanished as surely as the mother.’

‘Does any of Escmug’s family remain here?’

‘None that I can recall. But I will ask around …’ A bell interrupted him and he smiled at them. ‘That signifies that the waters in the dabach have been heated for your baths. So we will continue this conversation at the evening meal.’

It was some while later that Fidelma and Eadulf sat in the guest chamber they had been allotted. They had both bathed and changed and were awaiting the bell that would summon them to the feasting hall for the evening meal.

Eadulf was reflective. ‘So far as I can see, we have not learned much more than we knew before we started out. The girl, Aibell, seems to have told us the truth — except that she could have killed her father.’

‘I don’t believe she did. The father seems to have been killed just after he had taken the girl to sell her to Fidaig of the Luachra. Therefore, she was not free to do so.’

Eadulf acknowledged the point. ‘Yet there is a curious pattern emerging. We have learned that Ledbán had two children. One was Brother Lennán and the other one was Liamuin. Someone calling themselves Lennán attempts to kill your brother, shouting, “Remember Liamuin!” — the name of the real Lennán’s sister. Then Aibell, the daughter of Liamuin, finds herself in the hut used by the so-called Brother Lennán. Then the father of the real Brother Lennán and Liamuin is, so we think, smothered to stop him talking to us about his daughter. Then there is the matter of Ordan the merchant and his activities with the mysterious Adamrae. I have never encountered such confusion before.’

‘It is a puzzle, right enough,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘There is a relationship between all these matters, of that I am sure. The question is finding the common thread.’

A distant bell sounded and Eadulf rose to his feet. ‘Let’s hope the quality of the food in this place is good.’

There was a tap on the door and it swung open to admit a female servant. She was young, not more than twenty years, with fair skin, dark hair and pretty features.

‘I am to escort you to the feasting hall,’ she announced.

Eadulf was about to remark that they could have found the way, unaided, but Fidelma interrupted.

‘What is your name?’

‘Ciarnat, lady.’

‘How long have you served here, Ciarnat?’

‘Since I reached the age of choice at fourteen years, but my mother was one of the coic of this household so I have known no other place but Dún Eochair Mháigh.’

A coic was one of the professional cooks who served in the households of the nobles.

‘So you know this township well?’

‘I do, lady. I was born and raised here.’

‘Do you remember a girl called Aibell, the daughter of Escmug? You look about the same age.’

A troubled look crossed the girl’s features. ‘I knew her,’ she said quietly. ‘She was my best friend, once.’

‘Once?’

‘She and her father left here and never came back. Her father was found murdered. I fear she might have killed him.’

‘What makes you think so?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Her father was a wicked man who used to beat her. He also beat her mother before she ran away. The local people say that he killed her mother.’

The bell rang again with more persistence and the girl raised her head with a fearful look.

‘The evening meal, lady. I will get into trouble unless I take you there at once.’

‘That’s all right, Ciarnat,’ Fidelma reassured her. ‘We will come with you. But tell me, is there any of Aibell’s family still living in these parts?’

The girl hesitated then said, ‘Her uncle is Marban — he is a saer-muilinn.’

‘A millwright?’ asked Eadulf. ‘Where would we find him?’

‘He has a cornmill upriver,’ she confirmed, lowering her voice and giving an anxious glance over her shoulder as if looking for an eavesdropper. ‘It is a place called An Cregáin. You turn west before the Mháigh passes a tributary called the Lúbach. There is a fast-flowing smaller stream that joins the river from the west. Go upstream along it. That stream is still known as the Mháigh. You follow it through a forest and that is where Marban lives. Now, please, we must go.’

‘Just tell me what relation this millwright is to the family of Aibell? Is he brother to her mother or to her father?’

‘Brother to Escmug, but people say that he hated him. Marban rarely came to Dún Eochair Mháigh.’

Then the girl turned and hurriedly led the way along the corridors towards the feasting hall with Fidelma and Eadulf hastening in her wake.

Cúana and Conrí were waiting before a large fire in the central hearth. They had been joined by Socht and Gormán. A table was already prepared.

Fidelma immediately apologised for keeping them waiting. ‘I am afraid I needed some adjustments to my hair and this young girl helped me.’

Cúana nodded, as if understanding, and gestured to the table.

‘Pray, seat yourselves. I have asked Donennach’s harpist to attend and provide us with some distraction.’

Fidelma looked and saw an old man seated in a corner with his clarsach in front of him; at a sign from the young steward, he started to pluck at the instrument with agile fingers. It was the custom for musicians to play while nobles ate, and Cúana obviously did not believe in stinting on the rituals simply because his Prince was absent. As steward, he first ensured that everyone was seated in the appropriate order of priority. In attendance was a deochbhaire or cup-bearer to see that each guest’s goblet was filled, and a dáilemain who would carve and serve the meat dishes.

The meal was impressive. It was mainly composed of meat dishes: spit-roasted venison joints, basted with honey and salt, sausages made of pork and lamb, and a dish of hard-boiled eggs which, by custom, were eaten cold. There was also fish, and Fidelma observed that these had been cooked on an indeoin or griddle; nearby were complementary dishes of craobhraic or samphire, and a braised pottage of herbs. There were other vegetables such as onions and watercress, and kale spiced with wild garlic. Later, there would be platters of nuts and apples. The knife was used in the right hand and the left was used to pick up the food. When needed, an attendant came forward with a basin of water to wash the fingers and a lámbrat, or small linen cloth to dry them on. Throughout, the deochbhaire continued to keep all the goblets filled with ale. If Cúana was trying to impress them, he was succeeding.

Cúana took an opportunity presented by a pause in the harpist’s repertoire to report to Fidelma. ‘I have made enquiries about the matter you were interested in, and I am told no one exists these days who was connected with the family of Escmug or Liamuin.’

Eadulf’s brow creased; he was just about to say something when Fidelma said quickly, ‘That is a shame. It would seem that our enquiries here have come to nothing.’

Conrí nodded absently. ‘So what do you intend to do now, lady?’

‘I intend to take the road south to the territory of the Luachra,’ Fidelma announced.

Cúana was astonished. ‘The Luachra, lady? That is a dangerous country to travel.’

‘Have no fear. I have met Fidaig before.’

‘But why go there?’ It seemed even Conrí was surprised.

‘A few more enquiries, that is all.’

‘You mean the Luachra might be involved in this affair at Cashel?’ asked Cúana.

‘That is what I intend to discover. In the meantime, I know I can leave this territory in the safe hands of Conrí and yourself, Cúana. But I would urge you both to be vigilant.’

Eadulf tried to hide his surprise. It was unlike Fidelma to give up so easily, especially now they had already learned that there was some relative of Aibell dwelling not far away. He realised that she was up to something.

‘Of course,’ Conrí replied at once. ‘When will you leave Dún Eochair Mháigh?’

‘I see little need to tarry here now. We’ll be on our way tomorrow morning.’

‘We can supply you with an escort to the borders of the Luachra territory,’ offered Conrí, and Cúana immediately agreed.

Fidelma said politely, ‘Thank you, but there is no need. We will not be long in their territory for we have already been away from Cashel too long. You forget that when I left, my brother was barely surviving his wound. I need to return as soon as possible.’

‘Of course, lady,’ Conrí replied. ‘We would hope that, should the worst happen, it will be understood that whoever the assassin was, it was not a member of the Uí Fidgente loyal to Prince Donennach.’

‘We know how the Uí Fidgente are regarded in some parts of this kingdom,’ Cúana added. ‘And perhaps this assassin tried to mislead you, making it seem that it was an Uí Fidgente plot while it was something that arose closer to home.’

‘Closer to home?’ Eadulf was puzzled.

‘Why not?’ Cúana replied with a thin smile. ‘The Eóghanacht Áíne dwell on our eastern borders. Isn’t Colgú’s heir apparent Finguine of that same clan?’

Fidelma remained surprisingly calm in the face of his outrageous suggestion. ‘You have made an interesting point and I shall bear that in mind,’ she replied coolly.

Gormán and Eadulf exchanged a look, for both of them knew that Finguine was greatly trusted at Cashel and had frequently shown himself to be a very worthy heir apparent to Colgú.

Fidelma suddenly smothered a yawn. ‘Well, it has been a long day today and it may be an even longer one tomorrow. If we are to leave in the morning, then we should be a-bed now.’

She rose and they followed suit. Eadulf and Gormán declined an invitation to continue to sit longer before the fire and thus left the others in the feasting hall with jugs of corma and ale.

Outside, Fidelma grimaced in disapproval. ‘We shall be well away from here before they are stirring,’ she said. ‘Perhaps that is good.’ She turned to Gormán. ‘Are you comfortable for the night?’

The young warrior grinned. ‘I have had worse accommodation, lady. I have a good cot in a corner of the laochtech.’

‘Then I want you to have our horses ready in the courtyard just before first light.’

‘Very well, lady. Anything else?’

‘For the time being, nothing. There is something that troubles me about Cúana. So have a care and sleep with one eye open.’

Gormán raised a hand to his forehead before turning towards the laochtech — the House of Heroes where the warriors slept.

As Fidelma and Eadulf made their way to the guest chamber, Fidelma saw that Eadulf was about to speak and quickly placed a finger on her lips, indicating that she felt it better to reach their chamber first.

Once inside, Eadulf said with a frown, ‘I am missing something here.’

‘I am afraid that we are both missing something — but I am not sure what,’ Fidelma replied, sitting down on the bed, her brow furrowed in thought.

‘The girl said that Escmug had a relative who ran a cornmill nearby. That would surely be known to Cúana, yet he denied knowledge of such a relative. A cornmill and its owner is not of insignificance in this sort of community.’

‘Well observed, Eadulf. So what was Cúana’s reason?’

‘That he did not want us to know?’

‘But why? That is the more important question.’

‘And that is also the mystery.’

‘There is a conspiracy here, but what is it? It is strange that Cúana attempted to place suspicion on Finguine. He may be my brother’s heir apparent but he has demonstrated himself to be trustworthy many times. When Colgú was about to be betrayed by his then heir apparent, Donndubháin, it was Finguine who helped save the day and that was why he was elected tánaiste instead. Since then he has been loyal. Look how he dealt with the recent Osraige conspiracy.’

‘However, you could ask how long Donndubháin was loyal to your brother as former heir apparent before he decided that he wanted to become King.’ Eadulf felt he should play the devil’s advocate.

‘That is true,’ agreed Fidelma quietly. ‘Do not worry, Eadulf. I am not totally blind to treachery. But I cannot find any motive for our cousin Finguine to be involved in a conspiracy. The other credible motive would be jealousy, and jealousy is not in Finguine’s nature. He is quite happy being my brother’s administrator. He enjoys ensuring that the nobles pay their tribute, that the chieftains fulfil their obligations by taking care of the roads, the hostels and the hospitals. He is happy seeing that no one wants in any part of the kingdom. This, of course, may present a reason for enmity against him rather than from him.’

They were silent for a moment or two and then Eadulf said, ‘Nevertheless, there is something going on that is dark and mysterious.’

‘I agree and I am not abandoning the search for answers to the question. I merely think that it is time to part company with Conrí and Socht. That is why I am pretending to go directly to Fidaig’s territory, before returning to Cashel.’

‘Wouldn’t that alarm Conrí and Cúana if they are involved in this?’

‘It would alarm them more if we said that we had given up our search and were heading directly back to Cashel. Then they would know that we are suspicious. So I let them think we are heading to the mountains of the Luachra to search for more information.’

‘So we are to see this millwright, Marban, on the way back?’

‘That is the idea,’ she smiled. ‘We must ensure that we keep our wits about us at all times.’

There came a soft tap on the door. Eadulf and Fidelma exchanged a quick look of surprise before Eadulf moved to the door and unlatched it.

It was the girl Ciarnat. She looked nervous. She pushed quickly by Eadulf, who then peered out into the passageway. There was no one about and so he shut the door behind her.

Fidelma smiled encouragingly at the girl. ‘You want to see me?’ She patted the bed beside her. ‘Come — sit down and tell me all about it.’

‘I should not have told you about Marban,’ the girl blurted out.

‘Why not? Is he not the relative of Escmug? Did you not tell me the truth?’

The girl hesitated. ‘I do not want to get into trouble, lady.’

‘You will be in no trouble if you have told me the truth.’

Ciarnat bit her lower lip.

‘One of the attendants told me of some of the conversation at the feasting table. The steward has denied knowing about Marban.’

‘Why do you think he did that?’ Eadulf asked quickly.

The girl looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. Cúana knew Marban well enough. I think that I should not have mentioned Marban, for now it seems as if I was not telling the truth.’

‘Or that the steward was not telling the truth?’ Fidelma pointed out.

Ciarnat looked confused.

‘Are you saying that Cúana knew that Marban was a relative of Escmug?’ asked Fidelma gently.

‘Why, everyone knows that.’ She caught herself. ‘I mean …’

‘I know what you mean,’ Fidelma said brightly. ‘Don’t worry. He shall not learn from me that you told us about Marban. However, if everyone knows this fact, we could have learned it from anyone. It is curious that Cúana does not wish us to know it.’

Ciarnat sat looking unhappy.

‘Since you knew Aibell, tell us something about her,’ invited Fidelma.

‘There’s little enough to tell. We were young girls growing up together. We explored and played together — but that was only when Aibell’s father was away working. He had a boat and often went fishing, and sometimes that kept him away for a time. These were the happy times, for when he was at home he was usually drunk.’

‘But during happy times, how was it?’

Ciarnat smiled. ‘It was good. Aibell was a great friend.’

‘What of Aibell’s mother, Liamuin? What was she like?’

‘She was young and attractive. But she was a sad person.’

‘Was she now?’ Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘Was she younger than Escmug? I know it might be difficult to say, as a child is not a good judge of age.’

‘Oh, but I do know. Escmug was evil and old. Liamuin was young, and many a man would have willingly exchanged places with him. I heard men speaking. I did not understand much then, but I remember what they said.’

‘So she was attractive and what did Aibell think of her?’

‘She loved her mother and it was not one-sided for Liamuin was Aibell’s only protection against her father. Aibell would often appear with a bruise or two. After her mother disappeared, things were very bad for Aibell.’

‘When was this?’

‘About the time I came to the age of choice. That was …’ she frowned ‘… four years ago, just after the great Battle at Cnoc Áine.’

‘Did you think it odd that Liamuin disappeared and left Aibell?’

‘I did. It was known that Liamuin loved poor Aibell and that she would never have left her behind at the mercy of Escmug. He drank more than ever and treated Aibell like … like …’ She ended with a shiver. ‘I cannot say the words.’

‘But Aibell’s mother did run away.’

‘True. Everyone hoped that she had run away and found somewhere safe, but few places were safe at that time.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Eadulf asked, curious.

‘For six months after the defeat of our army at Cnoc Áine, we had warriors of the King of Cashel quartered throughout the clan lands, and many of our nobles who had sided with Eoganán decided to flee rather than live under their orders. They took to the fastnesses and fought in small bands. Eventually, they accepted defeat and Prince Donennach made a treaty with Cashel. Things became better after that.’

‘But not at first?’ asked Fidelma.

The girl was uncomfortable. ‘Begging your pardon, lady, most of the Eóghanacht treated us fairly but there was one man, the commander, Uallach of Áine, who believed all Uí Fidgente should be treated no better than animals. He was eventually killed in an ambush. Then the treaty with Cashel was agreed.’

It was Eadulf who suddenly posed the question. ‘Did the King of Cashel, did Colgú ever come to this place during that time?’

Ciarnat stared at him in bewilderment. ‘Why would he do so?’

‘I meant, after the Battle at Cnoc Áine, when Eoganán was defeated, I am told Eóghanacht warriors were quartered in all parts of the Uí Fidgente territory. Did Colgú come here?’

Ciarnat shook her head. ‘I never heard that he was in this part of the country. He never came here to visit Prince Donennach. Donennach always had to go to him.’

There was a sound outside in the corridor. They stopped speaking and heard footsteps, the slap of leather shoes on wooden boards. The girl rose nervously. She waited until the steps faded.

‘I must go. I have said more than I intended. I don’t want to get into trouble.’

‘Then say nothing further to anyone,’ Fidelma advised with a reassuring smile, ‘and you will not get into any trouble. We shall be gone in the morning.’

The girl paused at the door. ‘If ever you find out what happened to Aibell and you can tell me, I would like to know. She was once my friend.’ Then she disappeared, closing the door quietly behind her.