Although Fidelma had quit the religious, Eadulf had not and so still kept to his Roman tonsure and robes, though at times he felt a little drab standing at his wife’s side.

  He stirred himself and hurried forward to help his son from his horse, a fraction of a second before the echaire, who looked after the stables, had reached the group.

  ‘Hello, little hound,’ Eadulf greeted the child. ‘Have you had a good ride?’ He used the literal meaning of the boy’s name as a term of endearment.

  The boy fell into his arms with a laugh of greeting.

  ‘We had a wonderful time, athair,’ he replied. ‘We were riding through the forest and surprised some deer. They ran away from us. Then we were coming home and saw a lot of men putting up a new building.’

  ‘A new building?’ Eadulf frowned for a moment.

  ‘He means the repairs to the south-western wall,’ explained Fidelma. ‘They are putting up a temporary wooden framework to support the workmen and their materials while they repair the wall.’

  Eadulf recalled that there had been a rockfall under the wall of the King’s fortress during the winter, which had caused damage to that extremity of the fortifications. The Rock of Cashel, on which the great fortress of the Eóghanacht Kings of Muman was built, rose from the surrounding plain with almost inaccessible limestone faces to a height of sixty-two metres from its immediate base. On top, nearly a thousand square metres were enclosed by the fortifications that the Eóghanacht had erected since they chose the site as their principal fortress nearly four centuries before.

  Eadulf was about to warn the little boy of the dangers of going near a building site but Alchú was continuing, ‘And we saw two strange women and we saw…’

  Smiling, Fidelma had dismounted and handed her horse to the care of the stable-master, while dismissing the warrior Aidan with a wave of her hand.

  ‘You’ll be able to tell your father all about it as soon as you have cleaned yourself up,’ she told the boy. ‘See? Here is Muirgen come to take you for a wash and something nice to eat afterwards.’

  Muirgen, the nurse, had appeared and the boy went to take her outstretched hand without any sign of reluctance. Eadulf was mildly surprised at Fidelma halting the boy’s enthusiastic recital of his morning adventures, but then he caught something in her eye and knew she wanted to speak to him privately.

  ‘I’ll come along soon, little hound,’ Eadulf called after his son, as the nurse led him away. ‘You can tell me all your adventures then.’

  Alchú’s mind was clearly on the promised snack so he barely acknowledged his father but trotted off happily with the nurse.

  The horses had been led off to the stables and the courtyard had emptied when Eadulf turned back to Fidelma.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked softly.

  ‘I am not sure,’ she replied. ‘I met someone I knew on the way to Cashel. We stopped for a chat.’

  Eadulf raised an eyebrow in query. ‘The strange women of Alchú’s story?’

  Fidelma grimaced. ‘I suppose Abbess Líoch would seem strange to a little boy. As you know, in this land we love bright colours in our dress and the religious are no exception. But since Líoch has returned from the Saxon lands, she has affected black in all her garments; even her cenn-barr or head veil is black, as well as all the fasteners for her upper garments. There is not a precious stone to be seen unless it be a black stone in dark metal.’

  ‘Abbess Líoch?’ Eadulf did not conceal his surprise. ‘Has she arrived already?’

  ‘Already?’ Fidelma stared at him, puzzled. ‘You knew that she was expected in Cashel?’

  ‘I know that she had been asked to come here,’ he confirmed. ‘But you tell your story first. I’ll keep quiet and then I’ll tell you what I know.’

  ‘Well, we were on our way back from our ride, joining the main track to Cashel,’ Fidelma said. ‘That was when we saw the abbess and her bann-mhaor, her female steward – I forget her name, but it was one of the sisters of her community. As I know Líoch, we stopped to speak. She told me that she had been asked to come here as there was to be a council. A deputation from one of the kingdoms of the Saxons was expected. It sounded very mysterious.’

  ‘Where is Abbess Líoch now?’ asked Eadulf, looking expectantly towards the gates.

  ‘She would ride only as far as the township with us. She and her companion have gone to seek hospitality in the town, although I pointed out that my brother’s palace has room enough to extend food and shelter to them both. The point is, Eadulf, it seems as if she has some trepidation about this gathering. What is it all about?’

  Eadulf exhaled softly. ‘I wish I knew. It is beginning to sound like a mystery.’ He held up his hand as Fidelma was about to question him further, saying, ‘Let me tell you what I know.’

  He quickly described his meeting with her brother, Colgú, and Abbot Ségdae.

  She was perplexed. ‘I see no logic for a council. But there is an interesting point. You said Abbess Líoch was asked to attend?’

  ‘I did. That also seemed curious to me, although Abbot Ségdae seemed to think it was because she had been in Northumbria for some time.’

  ‘Líoch told me that two religieux called at her abbey several days ago. One of them was the Saxon religious you mentioned, called Brother Cerdic. The other was someone from the Abbey of Fearna. She said it was Brother Cerdic who told her that she should attend. Rather, her words were that he said it was “in her interest” to attend. I had the impression that she was troubled by his request.’

  ‘In her interest to attend? That is surely a strange phraseology.’

  ‘Those are the words she used. Do you know this Brother Cerdic?’

  ‘No,’ Eadulf said. ‘I only know what I have just been told.’

  ‘Where is he now? Here in Cashel?’

  ‘He accompanied Abbot Ségdae and his steward, Brother Madagan, to Cashel. In fact, I was just on my way to find him in order to see if I could discover anything further about this strange deputation.’

  ‘And Brother Rónán?’

  ‘He has already returned to Fearna, having accomplished his role as guide. Abbot Ségdae says that Brother Cerdic maintains he acts merely as a messenger to announce the coming of the deputation.’

  Fidelma’s features bore a sceptical expression. ‘Did Abbot Ségdae believe him?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Eadulf replied cynically. ‘It is a long journey to make across the sea to a strange land without knowing something of the intention of the group in which you are travelling. And if he suggested to Abbess Líoch that it was in her interest to attend, then he must surely know more of the matter.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Fidelma. ‘She seems to be nervous of Brother Cerdic. That surely means she knows him or, at least, he has told her why she should come here.’

  ‘I shall contrive to speak with this Brother Cerdic alone,’ Eadulf decided. ‘He might be more forthcoming to a fellow countryman.’

  ‘But first you must keep your promise to Alchú,’ Fidelma said sternly. ‘He wants to tell his father about the adventures he had on his ride. You do that, and I will go and see my brother as I want to hear his thoughts about this strange deputation.’

  A short time later, Eadulf re-emerged in the courtyard on the way to fulfil his errand. He passed Beccan, the steward, crossing the courtyard and asked if he had seen Brother Cerdic. The solemn-faced steward indicated the chapel behind him.

  ‘I think I saw the Saxon entering the chapel,’ he replied. ‘A very unfriendly man,’ he added with a sniff of disdain.

  Eadulf was almost resigned to the fact that whether one was an Angle, a Saxon or even Jute, in the minds of the people of the Five Kingdoms of Éireann, they were all regarded as Saxons. Eadulf entered the chapel discreetly, waited a moment for his eyes to adjust, then peered about in the gloomy interior.

  A figure was kneeling before the altar in a position of supplication.

  Eadulf coughed softly to draw attention to himself. The figure made no motion. It seemed so still: knees and legs drawn up beneath the bent body, the forehead resting on the cold stone floor. Something glinted on the ground beside the figure, and it took some moments before Eadulf realised it was the flickering light of the candle reflecting in a pool of liquid. It was blood!

  With a suppressed exclamation, he went hurrying over and knelt beside the body. He reached out a hand to touch the shoulder of the figure, and no sooner had he exerted a slight pressure than it rolled onto its side. The face was white, the dead eyes wide and staring.

  There was no sign of a weapon but it was clear from the blood both on the floor and across the man’s throat how he had come by his death. The fact that there was no weapon to hand also indicated that he had not died of his own choice.

  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.’