The Devil's seal

CHAPTER THREE

Eadulf had seen the dead and slain before, but there was something curiously pathetic about this body that had been crouched in a praying position with its throat cut.

The flickering candles illuminated a man of similar age to Eadulf: thin, almost gaunt-looking, with fair, lanky hair and the tonsure of Rome. He was clad in nondescript woollen robes that were midway between white and grey — the dirty colour of undyed wool. In Eadulf’s eye, this identified him as an adherent to the Rule of the Blessed Benedict, which Rome, at the recent Council of Autun, had decreed all religious should follow. Those adhering to it believed they should use only what they found in nature without adornment in their clothing, and that they should follow the simple life of work and prayer.

There was no doubt that this was Brother Cerdic — and now he would no longer be able to answer any questions.

Eadulf reached forward and touch the man’s neck. It was still warm. He sprang up, suddenly alert, because he now realised that Brother Cerdic must have come by his death only moments before he himself had entered the chapel. He peered quickly round into the dark recesses of the interior. There was no sound save the drip of tallow falling on the stone floor from one of the tall candles.

Eadulf moved swiftly to the chapel door and, opening it, saw the aged Brother Conchobhar, together with a younger man, at the far side of the courtyard. He glanced around but no one else was about.

‘Brother, a moment of your time,’ he called.

Brother Conchobhar raised his hand and then made his way to the chapel door with his companion following. The latter was a stranger to Eadulf — a fellow clad in a bright multi-coloured cloak. He had well-formed, handsome features, a pale skin and long black hair that held a shimmer of blue when the pale sun glinted on it. Yet it was the eyes that held Eadulf’s attention: they were of a curious light blue that seemed restless, like the waters of some ocean which threatened to draw Eadulf into their fathomless depths. It was almost an effort to draw his gaze away.

‘You look worried, my friend,’ the stranger said. When he spoke, the timbre and cadence of his voice were such that Eadulf knew that others would fall silent on hearing its haunting quality. It was not often that he had such a reaction to people.

Brother Conchobhar introduced him, saying, ‘This is Deogaire, a relative of mine. He is right. Something is worrying you, friend Eadulf.’

‘Have you seen anyone emerge from the chapel while you have been in the courtyard?’ Eadulf asked.

‘I saw no one,’ answered the old apothecary. The young man also shook his head. ‘Who are you looking for?’

Eadulf simply beckoned the two of them to follow him inside the chapel. Without a word, he pointed to the body lying before the altar.

Brother Conchobhar went directly to the corpse and bent down. His experienced gaze took in the injury and the mottling of the skin tone now visible even in the flickering light.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Frankly, I do not know,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I came into the chapel moments ago in the hope of speaking with this man. I found him crouched here and touched him on the shoulder, thus causing him to slip on his side.’

‘There is no sign of a weapon,’ Deogaire said, gazing about thoughtfully. It was a statement, not a question.

‘I saw none,’ agreed Eadulf.

‘Yet death was caused almost instantly,’ Brother Conchobhar announced, rising to his feet. ‘I would say a slash across the throat which prevented him from crying out, and then a single blow to the heart which caused immediate death.’

Eadulf’s lips compressed a moment. ‘It indicates that whoever did this was skilled in the use of weapons.’

‘With knowledge of anatomy,’ Deogaire added dryly.

‘He is not long dead,’ Brother Conchobhar said. ‘Is that why you asked if we had seen anyone leave the chapel just now?’

‘It was.’

‘Well, there is hardly a place to hide in the chapel,’ Deogaire said, looking around. ‘They must have left just moments before you came here.’

‘This bodes ill for Cashel, my friend,’ Brother Conchobhar said heavily. ‘You obviously know that this was a Saxon religieux, newly arrived here?’

‘Colgú and Abbot Ségdae have told me all about him. Apparently we are expecting a deputation of Saxon clerics to arrive soon, to take part in some council. That is why I was asked to have a word with him.’

Brother Conchobhar grimaced sadly. ‘I was told that this man, Brother Cerdic, was causing some upset here with his attitude.’

‘Who told you that?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Brother Madagan, the abbot’s steward.’

‘Upset enough for someone to kill him?’ Eadulf mused.

Deogaire was shaking his head. ‘There are bad times coming to Cashel — evil times. I feel it.’

Eadulf found himself averting his gaze from those bright, deep-set eyes. ‘I must inform Colgú about this,’ he murmured.

Brother Conchobhar was nodding. ‘We shall take care of the body.’ The apothecary usually took charge of the bodies of anyone who died within the confines of the fortress and prepared them in his rooms for the rites of burial.

Eadulf left him and his relative, Deogaire, with the body of Brother Cerdic. He was making his way towards the King’s chambers when Fidelma came hurrying towards him.

‘What news?’ she demanded without preamble. ‘Did you get anything out of your compatriot?’

Eadulf’s expression was grim. ‘He is dead. Murdered.’

Her fiery green eyes widened as Eadulf told her briefly what had happened.

‘That bodes ill for Cashel,’ she said, almost repeating Brother Conchobhar’s words. ‘You saw no one in or around the chapel? No, I know,’ she went on before he could reply. ‘A stupid question to ask since you have already answered it.’

‘We must inform Colgú and Abbot Ségdae about this.’ Eadulf hesitated. ‘By the way, do you know much about Deogaire? I have never heard him mentioned before today.’

‘Deogaire?’ Fidelma was dismissive. ‘He has always been a strange one. Strange but harmless, unless one really believes he has the power of prophecy. Now and then he comes to Cashel to visit his uncle, old Conchobhar, but he likes to be among people who believe in his predictions.’

‘Such as those in Sliabh Luachra?’

‘Exactly so.’

‘He has a powerful personality,’ Eadulf admitted. ‘Even I felt that he has some kind of magnetism.’

‘That, I will not deny. If it were otherwise, he would not be able to fool the people that he does. Oh dear. .’

Eadulf had barely wondered at the reason for her comment when he caught sight of the elderly and sharp-featured figure of Colgú’s Chief Brehon, Aillín, hurrying from the direction of the chapel. His features were drawn into a belligerent scowl as he came up and halted before them.

‘I have just seen Brother Conchobhar,’ he snapped at Eadulf. ‘I am on my way to inform the King.’

‘So were we,’ rejoined Fidelma — and received only a glance of irritation in response.

‘I am told Brother Eadulf was a witness to the murder of his fellow countryman,’ the elderly judge replied. ‘I shall need to know what the Saxon said to you before he died.’

Eadulf’s eyes widened with astonishment. ‘He said nothing to me,’ he protested. ‘He was dead when I found him, so I was not witness to his murder. I did not even know the fellow.’

‘Then why did you seek him out? You are both Saxons. What was he to you?’ The older man almost spat out his questions.

Eadulf exhaled slowly to calm his rising temper. He knew that Brehon Aillín had always resented Fidelma, especially when she had offered herself before the Council of Brehons of Muman for the role that Aillín now held. He seemed to have taken a personal dislike to Eadulf — probably because of his relationship to Fidelma.

‘I am from the Kingdom of the East Angles, while Brother Cerdic was from the Kingdom of Magonsaete. So, if you wish to be accurate, we are not Saxons,’ Eadulf replied, his voice slow but with emphasis.

‘Angle! Saxon! What does it matter?’ Aillín replied aggressively.

Before Eadulf could respond, Fidelma had intervened.

‘Eadulf went to see this religieux on behalf of my brother, in order to discover his purpose in coming to this place. My brother specifically invited Eadulf to meet with him and Abbot Ségdae this morning in order to ask his advice about the matter. It was the King himself who suggested Eadulf seek him out. So if this does not answer your question, any further information on the matter should be addressed to my brother, the King.’

Brehon Aillín blinked; the muscles in his face tightened a little.

‘I am your brother’s Chief Brehon,’ he said slowly. His voice seemed to be propelled like a harsh breath through an almost closed mouth. ‘It is my task to investigate this death. I will not have my rôle usurped.’

Fidelma actually smiled, albeit without humour. ‘I know of no one who is seeking to usurp your rôle, Aillín. Therefore I suggest you accompany us to consult my brother, who would be anxious to hear what has transpired from Eadulf’s own lips. My brother will be most anxious about this entire matter.’

With a quick glance at Eadulf, she turned and led the way towards her brother’s council chamber. Eadulf immediately fell in step with her and, after hesitating a moment, Brehon Aillín scurried after them.

Colgú greeted the news glumly. ‘We must inform Abbot Ségdae. Now we know nothing of this Brother Cerdic. How do we begin to cast around for suspects?’

Brehon Aillín cleared his throat. ‘There is one person of his nation in the palace. .’ he began.

Colgú turned to him expectantly and then realised what the man was about to say.

‘Oh, you mean Eadulf here? Well, that doesn’t help, does it? I am talking about the person responsible for his death. We have no suspects.’

‘But Brother Eadulf was with him when he died,’ Brehon Aillín persisted. ‘Therefore. .’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Aillín,’ Colgú said irritably. ‘It’s no joking matter. We must think sensibly about it.’

Brehon Aillín’s mouth closed in a thin, bloodless line. Colgú had interpreted the man’s words as a joke. However, Eadulf knew that the elderly, prejudiced Brehon was far from saying it for amusement. He would have to be careful of the man.

Fidelma had moved on rapidly. ‘Brother Cerdic and Brother Rónán called on Abbess Líoch and invited her to this council. She has apparently decided to stay in the township instead of coming to the palace. As I know her, I shall ask her if she was already acquainted with this Brother Cerdic and whether he said anything specific when he called at her abbey at Cill Náile.’

Colgú shrugged. ‘If you think it worthwhile, then by all means do so. You should also persuade her that we have better guest facilities here than any lodging down in the township.’

Brehon Aillín intervened with another dry cough: ‘May I remind you that as your Chief Brehon, it is my duty to conduct all these enquiries.’

Colgú turned to the man with a look of irritation. ‘I was not overlooking that fact. But now you will be faced with more important tasks, for I wish you to liaise with Abbot Ségdae over the matter of this forthcoming deputation. That is a priority. The death of this religieux can be handled by Fidelma, as she is used to such matters.’

‘But. .’ Brehon Aillín began to object.

Colgú held up his hand to silence him. ‘I suggest that the sooner you consult with Abbot Ségdae, the better. Of course, if you hear anything that you think pertinent to Fidelma’s enquiry about Brother Cerdic, you will naturally inform her.’

The Brehon stared sullenly at the King for a moment and then, with a brief inclination of his head, turned and left.

There was a palpable relaxation between them as the door closed behind him.

‘I swear that man is getting more irascible each passing week,’ muttered Colgú, surprising them by his comment. It was not protocol for a King to criticise his Chief Brehon to others.

‘He is your Chief Brehon,’ Fidelma pointed out gently.

‘Yet not by choice,’ her brother reminded her.

It was true that Aillín had assumed the position by default when Áedo, the elected Chief Brehon of Muman, had been slain protecting King Colgú from an assassin only some months before. Aillín had been his Deputy only by reason of age and experience, and it had been felt, by the Council of Brehons, that he would soon retire and so being appointed Deputy Chief Brehon was a suitable acknowledgement for his service. Then Áedo had been killed. Aillín’s automatic appointment had been accepted in spite of his known prejudices, fastidious attitudes and pedantry. The delays caused by his concentration on unimportant details drove even Colgú to distraction.

The King now turned to Eadulf. ‘Do you have any ideas — about Brother Cerdic’s death, I mean?’

‘Only that I agree with Fidelma’s suggestion of having a further word with Abbess Líoch. It seems the only logical path now. Obviously, there must have been someone here in the palace who knew him well enough to have the motive to kill him.’

‘Why do you say that? Couldn’t a stranger have done this — someone who had a grudge to bear against the man’s race, or way of keeping the Faith? Don’t forget, many of our churchmen and their followers have recently been chased out of the kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons after the decision at Streonshalh to follow the ways of Rome. . Why, even some of the Angles and Saxons have sought liberty to follow their Faith by coming here — for example, Brother Berrihert and his companions who have settled in Eatharlach.’

‘A good point,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘But Brother Cerdic knew his attacker. I don’t think it was random.’

‘What is your reason for saying so?’ queried Colgú.

‘Because Brother Cerdic was not suspicious of his attacker. He allowed whoever it was to come close enough in order to inflict those two mortal wounds. The victim did not suspect what was going to happen. He died without a sound or protest.’

‘That’s a reasonable deduction,’ Fidelma commented.

Colgú suppressed a sigh. ‘Then follow your thoughts by all means. It would be good if we could resolve this matter before Bishop Arwald and his companions arrive. I do not want other distractions clouding whatever is behind the reason of their coming.’

‘We’ll do our best to resolve things. Don’t worry,’ Eadulf replied, rising.

Fidelma rose with Eadulf and moved towards the door. She was opening it when Colgú called after them: ‘Post equitem sedet atra cura.’

Outside, Eadulf said: ‘I didn’t catch the meaning of that.’

‘It was from an ode by Horace,’ Fidelma explained with a brief smile. ‘Behind the horseman sits black care.’

‘Even a king is not free from worry,’ Eadulf re-interpreted philosophically. ‘I must confess, there seems much to concern him.’

They collected their horses from the stables, rode across the courtyard and approached the main gates. The commander of the guard, a warrior called Luan, greeted them with a respectful salute.

‘We are just going into the township, Luan,’ Fidelma said. ‘If anyone enquires, we shall not be long.’

‘Where will you be, lady?’

‘We are going to find the lodgings of Abbess Líoch.’

‘But you have just missed her, lady.’

Fidelma exchanged a quick glance of surprise with Eadulf. ‘What do you mean, just missed her?’ she asked.

The warrior shrugged. ‘She and her companion have only just left the palace. Why, you will overtake her on her way back to the township as they are both on foot.’

Fidelma knew Luan had been at the gates when she had arrived after her morning ride with little Alchú. But she had left her friend, Líoch, and the abbess’ companion at the track leading into the township which sprawled on the southern side of the great limestone rock on whose top the palace of her brother rose. She restrained herself from asking Luan if he was sure. He would not have said so, otherwise.

‘When did the abbess arrive?’ she asked.

‘Shortly after you did, lady,’ replied the man. ‘You were talking with friend Eadulf in the courtyard and then you parted. It was just after that they arrived.’

Fidelma said thoughtfully, ‘She must have changed her mind about going into the town and followed us.’

‘But Luan has just said that she and her companion were on foot,’ Eadulf reminded her. ‘Didn’t you say that they were on horseback?’

Fidelma turned back to Luan. ‘You did say that the abbess and her companion arrived on foot?’

‘I did, lady,’ confirmed the warrior.

‘Another mystery,’ Eadulf muttered, almost to himself.

‘But one we can easily resolve,’ replied Fidelma, urging her horse forward through the gates.

They overtook Abbess Líoch and her companion as the women were crossing the market square of the township. They were not on foot but on horseback. As Fidelma called to her friend, the abbess turned her head and then drew rein while her companion followed suit.

‘Líoch!’ greeted Fidelma, as they rode up. ‘We missed you at the palace.’

Eadulf wondered if he had mistaken a nervous exchange of glances between the abbess and her companion, but nothing was said.

‘My brother insists that you accept the hospitality of our guest quarters and will take “no” as a personal insult,’ went on Fidelma pleasantly. Then, before the abbess could respond, Fidelma indicated Eadulf. ‘By the way, this is Eadulf, of whom you have heard me speak. Eadulf, this is Abbess Líoch of Cill Náile.’

Eadulf inclined his head in greeting. ‘I have often heard Fidelma speak of you, Abbess.’

Abbess Líoch returned his greeting with a quick scrutiny but said nothing. Eadulf could see why little Alchú had described her as ‘strange’. She was not much older than Fidelma but with dark eyebrows and deep-set, dark eyes. The features were attractive although plump; the cheeks rosy, the lips full and red without the necessity for highlighting them with berry juice. However, as Fidelma had described her, the abbess was clad in black robes from poll to feet. It was unusual dress for the country, although he had seen similar costumes worn among the elderly in Rome.

‘I am sorry. I have forgotten your name, Sister.’ Fidelma turned brightly to Abbess Líoch’s companion, ignoring the silence which greeted them.

‘This is my bann-mhaor,’ the abbess answered for her. ‘Sister Dianaimh.’

The abbess’ companion was, by contrast, dressed in the usual colourful robes affected by the people of the Five Kingdoms. Her fair hair showed in wisps under the caille — the hood or veil worn by those who entered the religious — and her features were sharply moulded but otherwise attractive and youthful. She regarded them with suspicion from bright blue eyes.

‘As I said, my brother insists that you stay in our guest quarters, especially during the visit by these foreign clerics. You cannot refuse.’

The abbess seemed to reflect for a moment and then gave a shrug. ‘If it is the King’s order, then it must be obeyed.’

Eadulf noted the reluctance in her voice.

‘We missed you when you came to the abbey,’ Fidelma persisted, a slight inflection in her voice. ‘When I left you, I thought that you were coming straight to the township.’

The abbess cleared her throat. ‘After you left, I realised that I should at least report my presence to Abbot Ségdae, for you told me that he was at the palace.’

‘Of course. The guard mentioned that you came up on foot,’ Fidelma said, with an air of innocence. ‘It is surely tiring to do so when you could have ridden up?’

‘The horses were fatigued.’ There was a sudden edge to the abbess’ tone, which was unexpected. Seeing their expressions, she added less abruptly, ‘We thought to rest them and saw a youth by the track. We asked him to remain with our horses while we climbed up to the palace.’

‘Ah, so you saw the abbot?’ Eadulf asked.

Abbess Líoch shook her head quickly. ‘He was nowhere to be found, and so we returned to get our mounts and look for somewhere to stay in the town.’

‘A wasted journey, then?’ commented Fidelma.

‘Just so,’ replied the abbess dryly.

‘Come,’ Fidelma said, turning her horse back towards the palace. ‘Let us get you settled at our guest quarters. At least we can offer you better food than you might otherwise find in the township.’

After a moment or two, during which Eadulf wondered whether the abbess might refuse, she and her companion also turned their horses. Eadulf also wondered whether Fidelma was going to neglect the purpose of their seeking out of Abbess Líoch until later, but Fidelma suddenly said: ‘My brother and, indeed, Abbot Ségdae, are perplexed about this deputation. You said that the Saxon emissary, Brother Cerdic, came to your abbey and suggested you attend?’

‘I did,’ frowned the abbess.

‘We have no understanding of why this Bishop Arwald should be coming here. Did Brother Cerdic mention the reason for this visit?’

‘Only that they came with some ecclesiastical authority.’

‘Interesting that he stopped at your abbey before he journeyed on to Imleach to see Abbot Ségdae.’

The abbess was keeping her gaze firmly on the track before her, as if concentrating on guiding her horse.

‘He came from Laighin, therefore Cill Náile lies on the road before Imleach,’ she pointed out. ‘It is natural he and Brother Rónán would pass it before they went on to Imleach.’

‘Of course,’ agreed Fidelma lightly. ‘However, why would he have come to you with this request? You gave me the impression earlier this morning that it was a specific request for you to attend.’

Abbess Líoch tutted in annoyance and Fidelma gave her an apologetic smile. ‘You must forgive me, my friend,’ she said soothingly. ‘You know that I am a dálaigh, and isn’t it a lawyer’s manner to ask silly questions? Questions are now second nature to me but I have no wish to pry in matters that are not my affair.’

‘I have no wish to give the impression that I resent your questions,’ Abbess Líoch said.

‘So, apart from geography, why would Brother Cerdic call at Cill Náile and ask you specifically to attend this council?’

Abbess Líoch thought for a moment. ‘I can only presume that he had heard that I had lived and worked in the Kingdom of Oswy of Northumbria. Perhaps he thought I could be useful, for I have some knowledge of the tongue of his people.’

‘Indeed. So you had not met Brother Cerdic during your time in Oswy’s Kingdom? I remember that you were in our party when we crossed to I-Shona and came with us on the journey to Streonshalh. As I recall, you did not accompany us to Hilda’s abbey and attend the council. Didn’t you decide to stay and work in a place. .?’

‘Laestingau,’ supplied the abbess. Her voice was sharp. ‘The Abbey of Laestingau. In answer to your first query, no, I had not met Brother Cerdic before he arrived at Cill Náile. Why do you ask these questions, Fidelma?’

Fidelma turned and looked at her. She said quietly: ‘I do not want to cause you alarm but I must tell you that Brother Cerdic has been found murdered.’

Abbess Líoch pulled on her horse’s reins so roughly that the animal whinnied in protest and its forelegs kicked at the air in front of it before returning to a standstill. Her face was white, and she looked in the direction of Sister Dianaimh, who remained silent although it was clear from her expression that she was troubled.

‘I presume that you did not see Brother Cerdic when you came to the palace to look for Abbot Ségdae?’ Fidelma went on, apparently ignoring their reaction.

‘We did not,’ replied the abbess immediately. ‘Are you saying he has only recently been found?’

‘He was found dead in the chapel,’ Eadulf confirmed. ‘I found him.’

‘And he was murdered, you say?’

‘Stabbed to death,’ confirmed Eadulf, deciding to leave aside the fact that his throat had been cut.

‘That will cast a blight over this visit,’ muttered Abbess Líoch.

‘Whatever this visit is about,’ Fidelma said, adding, ‘I was hoping that you might be able to shed some light on it, as no one else seems able to do so.’

‘I can tell you no more than I have already. All I know is that this deputation is coming to discuss some matters with the King and our Chief Bishop, Abbot Ségdae of Imleach. The rest is beyond my understanding.’

‘I hoped that you might know more. No matter. I presume you saw nothing while you were looking for Abbot Ségdae?’

‘What, for instance?’

‘Perhaps you went near the chapel?’ Fidelma suggested. ‘You might have seen someone nearby; someone entering or leaving?’

‘We saw no one,’ the woman replied firmly.

They had reached the gates of the palace and Luan, still on guard duty, came forward.

‘Get the echaire, the stable-master, to take our guests’ horses,’ instructed Fidelma. ‘Then send someone to find Beccan so that he may arrange accommodation for the abbess and her steward.’

A few moments later, Fidelma and Eadulf watched as Beccan conducted the abbess and her companion away towards the guest quarters.

‘Do you believe her?’ Eadulf asked.

Fidelma sighed. ‘It will not help us at this stage to confront her. What should we confront her with, anyway? Something is definitely not right here. . yet the Líoch I knew was never given to subterfuge. However, I have not seen much of her since she returned from Oswy’s Kingdom and became Abbess of Cill Náile. She appears to have changed considerably. The carefree young girl I knew has gone. She seems so morose! You noted the black mantle she now wears, and her manner of speaking to me as if she is speaking to a stranger?’

‘And was that how she greeted you earlier when she met you and Alchú on the track here?’

‘It was, although I did not set any store by it then.’

‘And now?’

‘There is little we can do until we obtain some more information.’

‘We can question her companion,’ Eadulf suggested. ‘If Abbess Líoch is not forthcoming, perhaps she will be.’

‘Sister Dianaimh? The bann-mhaor is so quiet, it’s as if she is but a shadow. You would almost think that she did not exist. She has a strange name — one that I have not encountered before.’ Fidelma grimaced without humour. ‘It’s a Laighin name, and means “Flawless One”. She should have been named “Silent One”. Well, I suppose there is little we can do but find out if anyone was seen lurking around the chapel when you were in there. You said that Brother Conchobhar didn’t see anything?’

‘Nothing. You know — Aillín is right,’ Eadulf suddenly declared.

Fidelma turned to him. ‘Right about what?’

‘If I were in his place, I would suspect me.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped.

‘You forget that I am an Angle. I could easily have known Brother Cerdic before. I know something of the kingdom from which his bishop comes. Who is to say that I did not know him or anything about this curious deputation?’

Fidelma suddenly chuckled, causing Eadulf to look puzzled.

‘It’s the first time I have heard someone demanding to be a suspect in a murder.’

Eadulf grinned. ‘All I am saying is that Aillín has a point.’

‘Aillín is a bitter old man who was not talented enough to be endorsed as Chief Brehon by the Council of Brehons. Only Áedo’s death caused him to reach the position he has, as my brother said. Unfortunately, he has no breadth of vision, no imagination to see beyond literal fact. Anyway, enough of Aillín. Let us go and speak with Brother Conchobhar and see if he has anything more to tell us, now that he has examined the body.’

But Brother Conchobhar could tell them nothing more than to confirm the manner of Brother Cerdic’s death, which they already knew. With a feeling of frustration the couple left the apothecary. A call arrested their attention and they turned to see Gormán hurrying after them.

‘Gormán!’ Fidelma smiled at the newly appointed commander of her brother’s bodyguard. ‘It is good to see that you have returned safely. Did you resolve the dispute at Áth Thine? Is all well?’

Gormán returned the greeting with a big smile. ‘Áth Thine was nothing more complicated than an argument that a local Brehon could have resolved, lady. It was a simple dispute over cattle straying across the border. However, there seems to be a more serious dispute brewing among the Déisi.’

‘More serious?’ queried Eadulf.

‘Some travellers were attacked on the river east of the Field of Honey, and two boatmen and one of the travellers, an elderly religieux, were killed. It occurred on the river just beyond Brother Siolán’s little chapel,’ confirmed Gormán. ‘We were just crossing the Mountain of Women, heading for the Field of Honey in the late afternoon, when we came across the scene.’

Fidelma was shocked. ‘Who attacked these travellers?’

‘We heard that Prince Cummasach of the Déisi has been having trouble with some of his young men of late. We reported the matter to the Brehon at the Field of Honey and he will investigate. One of the travellers survived and said they had arranged to meet a Brother Docgan there. We asked around, but no one had heard of such a man.’

‘Docgan is a Saxon name,’ Eadulf told them. ‘It means “a little dog”.’

‘You say there was a survivor?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Yes. We brought him here with us. I think you should speak with him, friend Eadulf. I have taken him to your chamber.’

Eadulf gazed at the young warrior for a moment, waiting for him to explain further.

‘You are being very mysterious, Gormán.’ It was Fidelma who made the comment.

The warrior shrugged diffidently. ‘I just need to make sure that the man I have escorted here is who he says he is. Friend Eadulf needs to see the man first.’

Eadulf was puzzled, but quickly realising that he would get no more information from Gormán, he said: ‘Then the sooner I see this survivor, the better.’

He turned and led the way to the chambers that he shared with Fidelma.

Entering, they were aware that Gormán had apparently left Enda to watch over the guest. The warrior greeted them with a quick nod and smile before they turned to examine the figure on the far side of the chamber, standing with its back towards them, gazing out of the window. Hearing their entrance, it slowly turned. It was a young man.

Eadulf moved involuntarily backwards with a gasp. ‘You!’ was all he said.