‘What had happened seemed obvious enough,’ Escrach went on. ‘The girl had that bucket of flammable material near her seat at the front of the wagon. She must have tried to light it and the flames became too strong.’

  ‘But why light such a dangerous mixture while driving along a highway?’ Fidelma said. ‘It makes no sense.’

  Baodain and Escrach exchanged a glance and shrugged at the same time.

  ‘The girl was young,’ Escrach said. ‘Maybe she did not realise her danger.’

  ‘But what would she have ignited this bucket with?’ Fidelma wanted to know.

  ‘No tinderbox was found on or by the wagon,’ interrupted Eadulf, ‘and to guide a team of oxen while at the same time trying to strike a spark to ignite the tinder would require an exceptional talent. It just doesn’t make sense.’

  Baodain struggled with the conundrum and finally gave up. ‘Well, there was no other means and no one else to ignite it. It’s a mystery. We tried to put out the flames and, having succeeded, were about to turn our attention to the driver when you and the warrior arrived.’

  ‘Very well,’ Fidelma said. ‘So let us proceed to another mystery: what caused the death of the girl? The wagon that she drove was suddenly in flames, or rather the part where she was sitting. Let us suppose that she jumped down from her seat as the left side of her body was on fire. She manages to run a short distance before collapsing – dead – on the ground. Between where she had been seated to where she was found was little over a fortach in distance.’

  Eadulf knew that was just less than four metres – or a fortach as it was called in Fidelma’s language.

  ‘The body was found by the rear wheel of the next wagon,’ Eadulf said. ‘That would have belonged to Ronchú, the conjuror, and his wife Comal.’

  ‘That is so,’ Baodain confirmed.

  ‘So, how do you think she died?’ asked Fidelma.

  Baodain again exchanged a puzzled glance with his wife before turning back to her. ‘We assume that she must have been overcome by the smoke, or succumbed to the shock of her burns. Anyway, she was unwell before she joined us.’

  Fidelma frowned quickly. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘When the boy as I thought her to be first joined us, I noticed that his speech was slurred and his breathing quite hoarse and rapid. Comal told me just a while ago that she thought the girl was ill or drunk. Ask her. If anyone can judge if someone has taken too much alcohol, then it is Comal.’

  ‘Why is that?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘On our journey, Comal has become our distiller so that if we camp far from a tavern then she can provide us with a good braccat. But she never allows anyone to imbibe too much, for there is always the safety of the wagons to consider.’

  ‘We will question Comal and Ronchú shortly,’ Fidelma announced. ‘In fact, we shall probably want to talk to everyone. There is a third and possibly even greater mystery, of course. The man in the wagon had been dead for some days when it joined you. So who do you think murdered him?’

  Escrach sighed. ‘Obviously, the girl did. If she did not start the fire by accident, then she must have been trying to hide the evidence by setting her wagon ablaze.’

  ‘Then who killed the girl? For she died from neither smoke nor shock – but was murdered.’

  There was no disguising the shock on both the players’ faces. Escrach recovered first.

  ‘Someone else must have been hiding in the wagon, without us knowing. They must have attacked the girl and then ran off,’ she said belligerently.

  Fidelma smiled softly at her, as if agreeing. ‘A good theory – except if they did so, where did they hide afterwards? You were in the middle of the marsh road, with flat bog country on all sides. Did anyone see this mysterious attacker run off? Where would the murderer run to unless it was straight into a bog which would have been certain death unless they were hauled out? I presume no such person was rescued at the time? There is one other matter that negates that theory.’

  They both stared at her, puzzled.

  ‘When the wagon was opened by Eadulf, both doors were secured from the outside.’ There was a silence as Fidelma watched their expressions and then she said casually, ‘I am interested that neither of you have asked how she was murdered.’

  No one answered her.

  ‘I can tell you now that she had been poisoned a few days before, and only at the time of the fire did the poison complete its lethal task.’

  Baodain was staring at her as if under a hypnotic spell. Escrach had dropped her eyes and was examining her hands. Fidelma waited, as if hoping that one of them would say something.

  ‘So the deaths are nothing to do with us?’ Escrach asked finally. ‘She and the man – the second death in the wagon – they were poisoned before they joined us.’

  ‘Yet there is the matter of the mysterious fire,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘I have yet to complete my enquiries. Until that happens, you will remain encamped in this spot until I give you permission to move. I have to warn you and your troupe once more, not to create such scenes as I witnessed when I arrived here. You will keep the peace and behave in a manner in which we expect all citizens of Cashel to behave. The warriors of the Nasc Niadh, the King’s Bodyguard, will be vigilant, so please do not try their patience. If you co-operate with us, tell the truth and keep the peace, then we will treat you fairly.’

  Baodain grimaced. ‘We have no option, lady.’

  In response, Fidelma’s lips formed a thin line. ‘That is right. You don’t.’

  She rose with Eadulf and set off back to where Aidan was waiting for them. After a few paces, she stopped and turned back to Baodain and Escrach.

  ‘I almost forgot … Cleasamnaig Baodain, the Performers of Baodain. I presume each one of those travelling in your company is a performer of some art or other. What feats do you and your wife perform?’

  ‘I run the company,’ Baodain replied with a shrug. ‘I tell stories, sing songs, and my wife and I play several instruments. I usually play the timpan and the cuslennach, while Escrach is wonderful on the cruit.’

  Eadulf knew the timpan was a small three- or four-stringed instrument hit by a bow while the cuslennach were pipes, but he found it difficult to envisage the belligerent Escrach playing sweet melodies on the cruit, which was a type of harp. He glanced at Fidelma and saw the twitches in the corner of her mouth and realised she was sharing his thought.

  As they walked back to Aidan, Eadulf could hardly contain himself, for it was the first he had heard of the girl being the victim of poison.

  ‘So I was right,’ he said. ‘The girl was poisoned. I mentioned my suspicion to Brother Conchobhar.’

  Fidelma swiftly told both men of her meeting with the old physician earlier and some of the conclusions that had been drawn.

  She turned to Eadulf. ‘Brother Conchobhar believes that the girl imbibed Devil’s Bread, as you call it, but that would not act immediately even in a massive dose.’

  ‘I was taught some classic symptoms at the great medical school of Tuaim Brecain,’ Eadulf replied. ‘Baodain has just mentioned two of those symptoms – difficulty in breathing and the slurring of speech as if one was drunk.’

  ‘Which only confirms that the girl had been poisoned before she joined Baodain’s travellers,’ agreed Fidelma.

  ‘Well, I think the murderer will be found among Baodain’s Players,’ Aidan said obstinately. ‘The fire must have been set to hide the evidence. To me it is clear that the person who killed the girl is either part of this band or is hiding in one of their wagons.’

  ‘The fire is one thing, but the poisoning happened some days before the girl joined Baodain’s troupe,’ Fidelma repeated. ‘That is the mystery.’

  ‘I still reckon someone in the troupe must be involved,’ Aidan said. ‘Should I double the guard around them?’

  ‘I don’t think they will give you any more trouble,’ Fidelma assured him, ‘but your company should certainly remain alert.’

  ‘Did Brother Conchobhar agree that the girl was probably poisoned at the same time as the man in the wagon?’

  ‘It seemed a logical assumption but it is an assumption nevertheless.’

  ‘But it shows us that the members of Baodain’s troupe are innocent of poisoning them.’ Eadulf glanced at Aidan.

  ‘There is still the mystery of the fire.’ The warrior was stubborn.

  ‘I agree. Let us ask some questions of this Ronchú and Comal who first alerted the company to the fire,’ Fidelma decided.

  Eadulf indicated one of the wagons; he had recognised the couple. A young, fair-haired woman stood on the driver’s seat, engaged in tying a piece of the canvas covering to a support. A man sat on a camp stool nearby and rose nervously as he saw them approaching, calling to the woman to draw her attention to them. She descended from the wagon with a supple dexterity. The pair stood side by side, waiting as the others approached.

  ‘I am told you are Ronchú and Comal,’ Fidelma greeted them.

  ‘We were not part of the protest against your guards,’ the man replied immediately. He was a thin individual with gaunt features as if he had never eaten well. His sandy hair was uncombed and his grey eyes had a rheumy quality. This was deceptive, for Fidelma quickly saw how they flickered from side to side and appeared not to miss the smallest movement or expression. He appeared to have a nervous habit of massaging his left wrist with his right hand – and he did so throughout the conversation.

  ‘That is right,’ chimed in the woman. ‘We want no trouble. That Escrach can be too domineering at times. She has most of the performers under her thumb.’

  Fidelma smiled pleasantly. ‘But she doesn’t boss you?’

  Comal was young. Fidelma put her at half Ronchú’s age, and attractive, with fair hair and violet eyes set in a face that would cause any man to look twice. Eadulf had already formed the theory that she was Ronchú’s assistant because audiences would have their eyes focused on the girl and therefore allow the conjuror to perform his sleight of hand. Eadulf was a confirmed cynic about such entertainers as conjurors.

  The girl was about to respond to Fidelma when Ronchú interrupted. ‘Baodain and his wife are the leaders of our troupe of performers, lady. It is their right to lead while we are with them.’

  ‘And how long have you been with them?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘We joined them at the Oenach Tailtean last summer.’

  The Great Fair of Tailtean was held in Midhe, the Middle Kingdom, which was the territory of the High King and regarded as one of the oldest and greatest of the gatherings being held at the ancient Feast of Lughnasa.

  ‘And how long have you been performing together?’

  ‘I joined Ronchú the year before,’ intervened the girl.

  ‘And you come from…?’

  ‘We are always between places. Such is the nature of travelling folk performing at the various fairs,’ explained Ronchú.

  ‘And you are conjurors, I am told.’

  ‘Ronchú is the conjuror while I assist and help him set out his equipment,’ said Comal.

  ‘And what sort of tricks do you do?’ Eadulf asked rather contemptuously.

  It was evident that neither Ronchú nor the girl liked their act to be dismissed as mere tricks.

  ‘We perform ceremonial magic,’ Comal began but Ronchú nervously interrupted her, for he knew that it was ill-advised to speak of ceremonial magic to a religieux.

  ‘We perform many harmless illusions to entertain the ordinary folk, Brother.’

  ‘I am also told that you, Comal, brew braccat for the company when you are travelling. That is quite an accomplishment.’

  The girl made a dismissive gesture. ‘I learned the art of distilling strong drink from my mother. Sometimes our journeys are long and we pass through uninhabited terrain, so my skill comes in handy.’

  ‘I believe that you were the one who sounded the alarm to tell the others that the end wagon was on fire?’ Fidelma said.

  ‘That is so. I blew the horn as soon as I noticed the flames and smoke coming from behind. Ronchú brought the wagon to a halt and ran back to see what he could do while I let the others know.’

  ‘Tell us about it … no, first tell us what you knew about this strange wagon that had joined you and also of its driver.’

  Comal glanced at her partner and then shrugged. ‘Neither of us knew anything about it. We were watering our horses at a spring along the marsh road when her wagon joined us. We believed it was driven by a young boy until … well, until the Brother here told us differently.’

  ‘You did not notice anything unusual about it or its driver before the fire?’

  ‘We meet so many wagons on the roads when we’re travelling,’ Ronchù said, ‘and there was nothing to distinguish this one from any of the others that we had seen. It was unusual in design, I’ll grant you that – but I have seen such vehicles before. Some have been brought over by the Britons who escaped into this country when the Saxons invaded their land. As for the driver, we just thought that he was a boy. That’s all.’

  ‘One thing I did notice, and I told Baodain about it because I disapprove of it in such a young person,’ the girl put in, ‘was that he, or she, seemed to be drunk.’

  ‘How did you know?’ Fidelma enquired.

  ‘I was standing nearby when he asked Baodain if he could join us as he was alone and travelling on the road to Cashel. Baodain told him to follow the last wagon in the line, which was, of course, our wagon.’

  ‘But the “boy” was drunk?’

  ‘His speech was very thick and indistinct. He stood unsteadily, and I noticed that he seemed to be breathing very heavily.’

  ‘Did you speak to – him er, her?’

  Comal shook her head and Ronchú added: ‘No one did. Now Comal reminds me, he was afflicted with some breathing problem. He did not say much – in fact, he seemed incapable of saying much. I saw him run his tongue around his lips several times as if they were dry, and he kept sipping at a goatskin water bag on the wagon seat.’

  ‘So no one really had any conversation with the newcomer, apart from Baodain?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘So you set off along the Cashel road and the girl followed?’

  ‘That’s right – and we proceeded on for some distance,’ agreed Ronchú.

  ‘And then I started to hear a crackling sound,’ the girl said. ‘You know, the sort that dry wood makes when it is alight? It was that sound.’

  ‘What did you do? Take me through it slowly.’

  ‘Well, I heard it from behind and so I turned. I saw the smoke and flames from the wagon that had recently joined us, but I could not see the driver. I yelled to Ronchú to halt our wagon and reached for the horn that we all carry in case of emergencies. The wagons all stopped and I held the reins while Ronchú jumped off and took our bucket to find water. He was soon joined by others.’

  ‘This is so, lady,’ confirmed Ronchú. ‘We always carry buckets on the side of our wagons and there was a small stream alongside the road. So I filled it and hastened back … others were joining me.’

  ‘On which side of the wagon was the stream?’ Fidelma knew already but wanted to make sure of Ronchú’s position.

  ‘On the left-hand side, lady.’

  ‘And when was the body of the driver noticed? She would have been lying almost level with your rear right-hand wheel.’

  ‘Baodain came running by and shouted out that the driver was overcome with fumes. Everyone’s first concern was to put out the flames because fires can spread on the wind and travel from wagon to wagon.’

  ‘So you went to help the driver?’

  ‘Not immediately. I had to calm our two asses that were pulling the wagon. The oxen behind me were uneasy, and before my team were two very skittish horses.’

  ‘Before?’ Fidelma was puzzled.

  ‘I mean the horses attached to the rear of the wagon in front of me. That was Echdae’s wagon,’ Comal said, as if that explained matters.

  ‘Why would his horses be in front of you at the back of his wagon and not pulling it from the front?’

  ‘Echdae and his wife, Echna, are bareback riders and performers and they have two good horses which are hitched to the back of the wagon when we are travelling. They don’t use those beasts to pull the wagon. A moment passed before Echna took charge of the horses while Echdae and Tóla, their groom, ran back to help douse the flames.’

  ‘When did you go to help the driver?’ The question was put to Comal.

  She paused to think. ‘I suppose it was as soon as the asses were under control and Echna had calmed the horses.’

  ‘So, Ronchú,’ Fidelma turned to the conjuror, ‘you were the first to throw water on the fire. What happened?’

  ‘What happened?’ The man looked bemused, as if he did not understand the question. Then his face lightened. ‘Oh, yes. When the water hit the burning material, it was not extinguished. I have encountered that material before – I think it is called picc or tar – and realised that we had to smother the flames using sodden rags or beat it with birch-twig brooms. It was not a great fire; otherwise there would have been little hope.’

  Fidelma summed up: ‘As far as you were both concerned, then, the fire you had to deal with was an accident?’

  ‘What else would it have been?’ asked Ronchú, perplexed. ‘As Comal says, it did not take long to extinguish the flames.’

  At that moment, Aidan came hurrying towards them.

  ‘Lady, one of the performers has fled from the encampment.’

  Fidelma whirled around. ‘Fled? Do you know who?’

  ‘It is a man called Tóla. One of my men spotted him riding away on horseback and leading a second horse. He was gone before my man could stop him.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tóla was a small man whose deceptively slender frame carried well developed muscles and strong hands. He was of middle age, with dark hair and eyes that glowered at them all from under bushy eyebrows. His skin was tanned by a life lived mainly out of doors, but the darkness of his skin threw into relief a white scar that ran from the corner of one eye down to his thin-lipped mouth. He stood before Fidelma and Eadulf, with Aidan and two of his men guarding him from behind. Another warrior was holding the reins of two horses – the mounts that Tóla had been riding.