CHAPTER SIX

  ‘The most interesting point,’ Eadulf reflected, once he and Fidelma had returned to their chamber, ‘is that the girl expected to meet someone here in Cashel.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  Eadulf smiled briefly. ‘Why else was she trying to get here? Her companion is dead. I would say that she probably knew she too had been poisoned and that her fate would be the same as his.’

  Fidelma regarded him in approval. ‘So you believe that she must have had some pressing information to deliver to someone here? And are you now going to suggest that it is the Lord of Cairpre Gabra she was meeting?’

  ‘Well, her oxen team carried the brand of his master, the Prince of Tethbae. And she had in her possession a note referring to this Golden Stone which is known to be in Clochar, in the territory of Cairpre Gabra.’

  ‘All good points.’ Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘But what was so important about the girl and her companion that they should have been poisoned and their wagon set on fire?’

  Eadulf raised his hands in a dramatic gesture of helplessness.

  ‘I acknowledge that there are far too many whys and ifs. I have no suggestions about how we can start to find out, except that perhaps we should go and confront this Lord of Cairpre Gabra.’

  ‘And if he says that he has no knowledge of what we are talking about? There is nothing to link him with the case – except our suspicion that she was coming to Cashel to meet him.’

  ‘What about the brand on the oxen and the Golden Stone?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘That is not evidence and can easily be dismissed.’

  ‘Then what must we do?’

  Fidelma was quiet for a while, thinking deeply. Then she looked up and said, ‘Perhaps the body in the wagon is the key?’

  Eadulf was puzzled. ‘We know even less about that second death than we do about that of the girl. How will that provide us with a lead to unravelling this mystery?’

  ‘I suggest that our next step should be to follow the idea that Brother Conchobhar raised. We start out at the point where she joined Baodain on the marsh road, then proceed back along the track she was observed as coming from. Somewhere along that track we might be able to find traces of her journey and even the point at which her travelling companion died.’

  ‘Three days’ journey in the marshlands could cover a long distance, and there are probably several tracks from the north which she might have taken.’

  ‘We know the exact track at the point she emerged onto the marsh road, as observed by Baodain and his friends. Also, we know the maximum distance that a wagon pulled by oxen can travel on these tracks.’ Fidelma was growing enthusiastic about the idea.

  ‘But that whole area is Osraige land,’ objected Eadulf. ‘It is not the friendliest of places.’ He had not forgotten how they had barely escaped with their lives from the warlord, Cronan of Gleann an Ghuail, who had styled himself Abbot of Liath Mór, disguising the abbey for a sinister purpose to overthrow King Colgú. Osraige was a border territory, paying tribute to the King of Muman but sometimes siding with the neighbouring Kingdom of Laigin; serving whoever suited it best. True, the current Prince of Osraige, Tuaim Snámh, had disowned Cronan. Fidelma’s brother had allowed him to remain petty ruler of the territory on condition he pay compensation to Cashel.

  ‘I don’t think we have a choice if we are to discover more about the curious wagon and its occupants.’

  ‘But it is a lot of territory to cover,’ he said. ‘True, we can estimate the speed of travel of the wagon – but how do we know how long the girl stopped at any point? Searching for the place he died, let alone the place in which he was poisoned, will be like looking for a beetle in a wheatfield.’

  Fidelma was not perturbed. ‘It is not impossible that the beetle can be found. We will take a good tracker with us, for among the marsh-tracks there is a lot of mud, and therefore plenty of signs that we may be able to follow.’

  Fidelma was rising as if she meant to suit her words to action. Eadulf glanced up at the window in dismay. ‘There is not much daylight left today.’

  She chuckled. ‘I did not mean to start out now. Tomorrow morning at first light is time enough. We’ll take Aidan and Enda, who is a good tracker, and be prepared to be away for several days, just in case the search takes that long. But if the girl came out of the marshes and met Baodain just after midday, then she would have only been travelling a short distance that day. She would not have driven a wagon through the marshlands during the hours of darkness. To find where she stopped for the night shall be our first task.’

  Eadulf saw the logic of such a search even though he did not entirely agree with it.

  ‘Now we’d better see my brother and tell him what is happening,’ Fidelma announced. ‘He was worried enough this morning about this matter, so I don’t expect him to be happier at our proposed absence now. But he should be informed of our progress…’

  ‘Or lack of it,’ Eadulf added dryly.

  * * *

  Colgú received them in his private chambers, sprawling in his favourite chair before the log fire. His features were brooding and he had already deduced from Fidelma’s expression that she had no good news for him.

  ‘Well, you have brought us a fine mystery, Eadulf,’ the King greeted him, waving at them both to be seated.

  ‘There was no other place to take it,’ Eadulf replied irritably.

  ‘I suppose not,’ Colgú conceded. ‘It’s just that the timing of this mystery becomes a problem with the Great Fair being only a few days away, and the fact that these people you are holding as suspects are supposed to be there to entertain everyone.’

  ‘That raises a point,’ Fidelma remarked. ‘Did you know that Baodain and his troupe had been seeking to perform at the Uisnech Fair before deciding to come here?’

  Colgú was indifferent. ‘You should know that I do not organise the event. That is left to the Fair Master.’

  ‘Who is your Fair Master?’

  ‘It is usually my rechtaire, my steward.’

  ‘But you have no steward at the moment,’ Fidelma said.

  ‘As you well know,’ Colgú sighed. It was only a matter of weeks since Beccan, who had not been long in the position of steward, had been murdered by his co-conspirators. The King had not seemed anxious about appointing a replacement because Dar Luga, the housekeeper, was more than capable of running the household. But a steward had other duties and Fidelma had reminded her brother several times that he needed someone to help him run the affairs of the palace over and above just the domestic arrangements.

  ‘So are we to presume that the Great Fair will be run by itself?’ Fidelma’s tone was sarcastic.

  It was not the first time that Eadulf had witnessed a sibling spat between the two red-haired offspring of King Failbe Flann. They both had short tempers, did not tolerate fools gladly, and the warning signs were the way their eyes seemed to change colour so at one time they appeared cold blue and at others changed to a flickering, fiery green.

  The corner of Colgú’s mouth quirked in annoyance, and then he suddenly smiled and relaxed. ‘I doubt that even the great Druid Magh Ruith could cause that to happen. In spite of what you consider my procrastination, sister, I have actually appointed a Master of the Fair – Ferloga.’

  ‘Ferloga who runs the inn at Rath na Drinne with his plump wife, Lassar?’

  ‘The very same,’ Colgú confirmed. ‘As a matter of fact he is in the kitchen with Dar Luga at this very moment. He is waiting to see me to discuss some aspects of the Great Fair.’

  ‘Why Ferloga?’ frowned Eadulf. ‘I thought he and Lassar were happy simply running their inn…’

  ‘An inn, my friend, that is placed at the site of the Fortress of Contentions where the Great Fair is always held. Ferloga benefits from the visitors to the Great Fair and has seen enough of the fairs to be able to organise one with a blindfold on.’

  ‘I would like to ask him a few questions before he leaves,’ Fidelma said.

  Colgú spread his hands with an ironic smile. ‘You are the dálaigh, sister. But please don’t start arresting him. My need for him is desperate, to ensure the Great Fair goes ahead.’

  ‘Do not worry,’ Fidelma assured him, taking his response seriously. ‘I shall send him to you after I have finished.’

  Colgú dismissed the matter with a shrug and then rose to place another log on the fire. ‘Tell me then, are these murders connected with the Great Fair?’

  ‘That we cannot say for sure,’ she replied. ‘Baodain and his fellow performers have not exactly been open in their answers to us. But we must investigate further.’

  ‘Knowing that you have been lied to,’ commented the King, ‘is a step forward, at least.’

  ‘Speaking of steps forward, Eadulf and I will have to leave Cashel for a few days.’

  Colgú was startled. ‘With the Great Fair so close? Is that necessary?’

  ‘It is. And I am afraid that we shall need both Aidan and Enda to accompany us. You must insist that whoever is appointed to command your bodyguard will ensure that Baodain and his players do not stir from the confines of the spot where they have been placed under guard.’

  ‘But Aidan is now in command of the Nasc Niadh,’ Colgú protested. ‘I shall be left without a commander of my bodyguard. ‘You propose to take two of my best warriors! Where are you going, or is that a question I should not ask?’

  ‘We are going to the place where the dead girl joined Baodain’s wagons. From there we will try to retrace her route to the point where her male passenger was killed. Unless I am much mistaken, the answer will lie somewhere in the marshlands of Osraige.’

  ‘Osraige?’ Colgú was even more startled. ‘How in the name of all the saints did you deduce that?’

  ‘Simple enough, brother. Old Conchobhar tells us that the corpse in the girl’s wagon had been decomposing for about three days. Certainly not less than two. The maximum distance a wagon drawn by oxen of the type she was driving can travel in a day is roughly one hundred and twenty-five forrach.’

  As she made these swift calculations, Eadulf worked out that this was about seven and a half kilometres.

  Colgú thought for a moment. ‘Osraige is a country of marsh and conspiracy,’ he reflected. ‘Remember Cronan?’

  ‘I have not forgotten,’ his sister replied grimly. ‘But Cronan is dead.’

  ‘Indeed. But I would not trust Tuaim Snámh, the Prince of Osraige.’ Colgú grinned suddenly. ‘Anyone who does not change his name after his parents have given him that awful name deserves no sympathy.’

  Colgú explained for Eadulf’s benefit. ‘The name means “mound that swims”. It must have referred to the sight of the boy’s earliest efforts in the water, or his mother swimming when she was heavily pregnant.’

  ‘Have no fear about our safety in Osraige, brother,’ Fidelma said. ‘Aidan and Enda will protect us.’

  ‘Any idea where in Osraige this girl, her wagon and her dead passenger would have come from?’

  This time Fidelma was not quite so confident. ‘Well, we know the spot on the marsh road where she joined Baodain, and we can identify the route: the tracks lead from the north.’

  Colgú was pessimistic. ‘North? There is little there but marshland as far as the eye can see. To the north-east lies Durlus Éile on the border of Osraige. Why not go there, for the wagon might have passed through the town of the lady Gelgéis. I would start with the simple path first.’

  Fidelma knew that her brother had developed some attachment to Gelgéis, the Princess of the Éile, thanks to the latter’s help in foiling the plot by Cronan. The complex conspiracy to overthrow the Kingdom of Cashel had, it turned out, implicated Dúnliath, whom Colgú had expected to marry.

  ‘You are a king but I am a dálaigh,’ she reminded him. ‘I will start from the point where the girl joined the marsh road. Anyway, the road to Durlus is a long one and there are many side turnings off it. It would take many days to travel from there by wagon if she did not come down the main highway. My hope is to pick up information along the way from the point where we enter the marshes.’

  The King shook his head. ‘And you don’t even know who she is.’ It was more of a comment than a question.

  ‘True enough,’ she agreed. ‘But we do know that the wagon she drove is an unusual one; one that no wainwright in this island would have built. Also, we know that the oxen she was driving bore the brand of the King of Tethbae.’

  ‘The Fox?’ Colgú had now ceased being surprised at his sister’s revelations.

  ‘The same. And there is an interesting point – well, two interesting points.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘The first is that the girl had a piece of parchment on her with the words “Stone of Gold” on it.’

  Colgú was unimpressed. ‘Stories of stones of gold proliferate all over the Five Kingdoms. There is even a local legend about one of them, mixed up with Druids and the like.’

  ‘Old Brother Conchobhar has told me of the legend of a stone of gold at the place where the Abbey of Clochar was founded by the Blessed Aedh Mac Carthinn. That is in a territory which borders Tethbae, and whose prince acknowledges the suzerainty of Tethbae.’

  There was a few moments’ silence while Colgú digested this. Then he said: ‘You mentioned two interesting points.’

  ‘At this moment, in Rumann’s tavern, a new guest has just arrived. His name is Cerball, Lord of Cairpre Gabra. That is the territory which owes allegiance to Tethbae.’

  ‘Both interesting points,’ conceded Colgú. ‘But what sense do they make? Do they help you to identify the girl and the dead man with whom she was travelling?’

  ‘Not directly,’ Fidelma admitted. ‘But it is a start. There is also something that Baodain said. The girl asked him if she could join his wagons as she was heading for Cashel. Our theory is that she was coming here to meet someone.’

  ‘You think it was Cerball of Cairpre Gabra? Then why not confront him?’

  ‘I don’t want to pre-empt the matter without knowing more,’ Fidelma explained. ‘He could merely deny it and we would have to accept his word. That is why we shall leave tomorrow at first light to see what we can discover along the marsh road.’

  ‘If the Lord of Cairpre Gabra has arrived in Cashel, and if he believes in protocol, then he will come to the palace to pay his respects to me,’ her brother said. The matter of besgnae, or protocol and custom, was not one to be disregarded lightly. ‘When he does, what shall I say?’

  ‘If he is concerned with the matter, he may well see the wagon in Rumann’s barn, which is where Aidan has it placed for safety. He might also recognise the oxen with the King of Tethbae’s brand on them. If so, he will certainly question Rumann, who will tell him how they came to be there. There is no hiding the events from him, but the warriors should prevent him from questioning Baodain and his performers. Whether he believes in protocol or not, he will come here to get further information. Tell him nothing, brother, but simply say that I am investigating matters and should be returning shortly.’

  ‘I presume that you have already made arrangements with Aidan and Enda to accompany you?’

  ‘I intend to do so right now,’ she replied. ‘We leave tomorrow at first light.’

  ‘Then I’ll place Luan in temporary command of the warriors.’ Colgú sighed. ‘I still wish Finguine was here…’

  ‘We have to play the fidchell pieces as they fall on the board,’ replied Fidelma testily, referring to the popular board game. ‘Neither your heir apparent, the Chief Brehon, nor Gormán are here. So you had best put up with me, brother.’

  Colgú glanced at Eadulf and pulled a face. Eadulf thought he saw a resigned humour in the King’s expression.

  ‘You continue to be a dálaigh, Fidelma, and I’ll continue to be King,’ he replied gravely. ‘We are both allowed our doubts and questions. So you will leave at first light. You’ve no idea when you will return?’

  Fidelma shook her head. ‘It will depend on what we find or what we don’t find.’

  ‘Very well. After you have spoken to Ferloga, can he get on with organising the Great Fair?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll have a quick word with him now and then send him to you. If we do not return before it is time for the Great Fair…’ She raised a calming hand as her brother’s brows started to knit together. ‘I am not saying that this will happen, but if it does, then Baodain and his party may perform but must remain in Cashel until I return.’

  ‘Understood,’ her brother acknowledged with a sigh.

  ‘There is another thing that I would like you to do,’ Fidelma went on.

  ‘Very well – within reason.’

  ‘Take Alchú riding when you can and also give him a game of brandubh or fidchell now and then.’

  Colgú laughed. ‘No need to ask that. I will make sure that my wise little nephew,’ he used the endearing term mo nia cétfadach, ‘is well looked after in your absence.’

  ‘Then we shall be content.’ Fidelma smiled and rose. ‘And now we shall go to have a few words with Ferloga.’

  Colgú rose as well. A slightly worried look crossed his features. ‘Look after yourself, little sister,’ he said gently as he embraced her. Then, turning to Eadulf with a quick smile, he added: ‘Ensure that she does nothing foolish, my friend.’

  The couple left Colgú and walked to the great kitchen of the royal house. A few people were there preparing the evening meal while Dar Luga fussed over them, tasting one dish and then another, adding advice or scolding for some mistake. In a corner, sipping at a mug of ale, sat the man they were looking for. Ferloga was the innkeeper from Rath na Drinne – and they knew him of old. The inn itself lay by the great ring whose name meant Place of Contentions, for it was here the townsfolk came to witness contests in athletics and other sports, and where the fairs were usually held. Ferloga had been an innkeeper most of his adult life, and Fidelma and Eadulf had often spent time at his inn for it lay on the road from Cashel across the plain to the Cluain Meala and beyond the mountains of Mhaoldomhnaigh to Lios Mhór. It was only two years ago that Fidelma had been involved in discovering the truth behind the mysterious death of a guest in Ferloga’s inn.