Atonement of Blood (44 page)

‘So what can we do now?’

‘Now?’ Fidelma glanced out into the darkness that had enveloped the abbey. ‘Now I think we shall avail ourselves of your hospitality. Hot baths and an evening meal. Then a good night’s rest, before my companions and I start back for Cashel in the morning.’

I
t was late the next morning when Fidelma, Eadulf and Gormán began to cross the marshland to the south-east of Mungairit and turn along the road that would lead them back to Ara’s Well on their way home to Cashel. For the first time in a while, Eadulf felt he could talk freely.

‘I shall be glad to get back to Cashel and our son,’ he said to Fidelma, looking at the distant hills. ‘I cannot say I have much desire to return into the country of the Uí Fidgente.’

‘It is all the Kingdom of Muman, Eadulf,’ she reproved.

‘It may well be, but this is not a territory in which I am at ease. Anyway, I feel strangely dissatisfied. It seems to me that there are still questions that remain unanswered.’

‘Such as?’ she asked innocently.

It was Gormán who answered. ‘We have not identified the warrior of the Golden Collar who stayed at Menma’s rath. Why did he leave it and never return after Lugna, or rather Lorcán, destroyed it? If he was in love with Liamuin, why did he not want revenge or even to punish the attackers?’

‘Now that is a good question, Gormán. Yet in the overall scheme of things, his identity does not matter. However, I think I will find an answer to that, once we return to Cashel.’

The young warrior rode on in thoughtful silence for a while before suddenly addressing no one in particular. ‘Knowing what I now know, I realise that I was too hasty in condemning that young girl, Aibell. She was very attractive and to have been a bondservant to that man Fidaig, unjustly enslaved and … Well, one can forgive her temper and …’

Fidelma and Eadulf glanced at each other and Eadulf thought his wife had a smile on her lips.

It was a bright winter’s day as Fidelma and her companions rode into the outskirts of the township sheltering beneath the great stone palace of Cashel. Although the sky was blue, a frost still showed in places where the advancing day had not chased away the shadows. Few people were stirring, apart from those whose work necessitated them to be outside on such a cold morning. They smiled and called a friendly greeting as the three rode by. There was an air of happy prosperity about the town, which was reassuring for Fidelma, for had Cashel been in mourning for her brother, it would have shown. Some part of her had remained sceptical when Fidaig told her a messenger had passed with news of her brother’s recovery.

They were nearing Della’s cabin and paddock and Fidelma saw Gormán look across.

‘Perhaps you would like to inform your mother that you are safely returned?’ she suggested with a smile.

The young warrior raised his hand in acknowledgement and nudged his horse towards the cabin. The other two continued on through the almost deserted town square. They turned up the slope towards the gates of the palace. Enda was on guard and his features broke into a ready smile of welcome as he saw them.

‘It is good to see you home, lady – you, too, friend Eadulf,’ he called. ‘The news of your brother is good, lady. He is completely out of danger. He is still weak, but improving every day.’

‘That is good news, Enda.’ Fidelma was enormously relieved to have the news confirmed. ‘And Brother Conchobhar – is he still in attendance on my brother?’

‘That he is, lady. He was with the King day and night for several days until all danger passed. Praise be, the King is well enough.’

They had walked their horses into the courtyard and dismounted while attendants rushed forward to lead the horses off to the stables.

‘Where is Gormán?’ Enda asked. ‘Did you succeed in discovering who the assassin was and why he carried out this attack?’

‘We left young Gormán at his mother’s cabin,’ Eadulf assured him. ‘And yes, we have resolved the matter.’

‘You found out who the assassin was?’ Enda said eagerly.

‘We did, but that must wait,’ Fidelma interrupted before Eadulf could reply. ‘We must first report the matter to the council.’

Enda looked disappointed but then said: ‘Should I tell my lord Finguine to summon the council?’

‘Not yet, Enda. First, Fidelma must see her brother,’ Eadulf replied, and added softly, ‘And then we must see our son.’

Fidelma caught the intonation. ‘No,’ she said determinedly. ‘We will see our son first – and then I shall see my brother.’

Eadulf turned so that she did not see his smile.

As soon as they entered their chamber, little Alchú gave a scream of delight and came running towards them, abandoning some toy he had been playing with. Muirgen the nurse looked on approvingly as they embraced the boy.

‘Has all been well, Muirgen?’ Fidelma asked, detaching herself from the child.

‘Everything has been very well, lady,’ she replied.

There was no need to ask as to the health of their son, for the little boy’s robustness demonstrated it. Alchú was even now excitedly tugging at the sleeve of Eadulf.

‘
Athair
,
athair
, I can play
fidchell
.’

‘Really?’ Eadulf regarded him with wide-eyed solemnity. ‘But that is a very difficult game.’

Fidchell
was one of the popular board games among the intellectual class of the Five Kingdoms.

‘It is so! It is so! But I can play it. Isn’t it so,
muimme
?’

Muirgen smiled at her small charge. ‘It is so, my pet. You can play
fidchell
. Goodness, he is a bright boy. I never learned the game,’ confessed the countrywoman.

‘If you have become so good, I dare not play the game with you,’ Eadulf told the boy, keeping back his amusement by assuming a serious tone. ‘Who taught you this wonderful skill?’

‘Why, King Am-Nar,
athair
. King Am-Nar came and played with me,’ the child said.

‘King Am-Nar’ was the term by which the boy called his Uncle Colgú, as he could not pronounce the word
amnair
, the word for a maternal uncle, when he was younger. The name had stuck.

Fidelma turned to Muirgen in surprise to ask a question, but the nurse preempted it.

‘The King is recovering well, lady, and has visited here several times to play with the boy.’

A short time later, Fidelma and Eadulf made their way to the King’s chambers. Caol, the commander of his bodyguard, was on duty outside the doors. He smiled a nervous greeting.

‘Is all well?’ he greeted them.

‘Surely that is what we should be asking you?’ Eadulf answered in amusement, clapping him on the back.

‘Oh.’ The commander of the King’s bodyguard looked flustered for a moment. ‘Everything is well here – very well. The King is almost recovered. It is good to see you both returned unharmed from the country of the Uí Fidgente.’

‘Is my brother within?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Brother Conchobhar is with him. He comes to check on the King twice a day.’

‘Excellent.’ She knocked, and then without waiting for an answer, she opened the door. Followed by Eadulf, she stepped into the familiar chamber beyond.

Fidelma’s brother was seated before a blazing log fire. He was clad in loose-fitting clothes and she could see that he still wore bandages under his shirt. He glanced up and his features broadened into a grin. Fidelma went over and leaned down to embrace him.

‘Brother Conchobhar told me that he had heard that you had just returned,’ smiled Colgú, extending his hand to Eadulf. ‘Are you both well?’

‘Better for seeing that you are improved, brother,’ replied Fidelma, before turning to beam at the old apothecary who had risen from the other chair at her entrance.

‘I was just about to take my leave, lady,’ the old man said. ‘Your brother is fitter than I am. But try to make him relax more. He has been the worst of patients.’

Colgú grinned at the apothecary. ‘And you have been the most dictatorial of physicians,’ was his riposte. When the old man left, he waved Fidelma and Eadulf to seats. ‘Now you must tell me everything.’

‘Everything?’ protested Fidelma. ‘Not now. I do not want to have to repeat my story to the council meeting.’

Colgú looked disappointed for a moment. ‘Well, Finguine is here, and so is Aillín.’ He hesitated and then said: ‘Following Áedo’s death, the Council of Brehons decided to confirm Aillín in his place as Chief Brehon of the Kingdom.’

He knew Fidelma had earlier aspired to the office. However, she responded with a shrug of dismissal. ‘Brehon Aillín has many years of experience. Anyway, perhaps it will not exhaust you if you could call the council this evening – I could make my report then.’

‘That is a good idea. Why not immediately?’

‘Because there are a few things I must do first. For example, I need to see the girl that I had confined on suspicion. She should be released with something to compensate her. I did her an injustice.’

‘You mean the girl, Aibell?’ replied Colgú with a smile. ‘Don’t worry. I have spoken with her and allowed her to stay with Della in the township. Della has promised to look after her.’

Fidelma’s eyes widened, annoyance spreading on her face. ‘You saw her? But I gave Dar Luga strict instructions that—’

Colgú held up his hand. ‘I am not that incapable, sister. I had her brought here and questioned her and she told me her sad story. You are not the only judge of character in this family. I thought it more appropriate that she stay with someone who would show her some sympathy and friendship. She is an attractive girl, the sort that people easily fall in love with.’

Fidelma winced at the familiarity of the phrase. ‘So was her mother,’ she muttered. ‘So Aibell is being looked after by Della?’

‘I have someone check surreptitiously each day. But, so far, she has proved that I made the right decision. I am told that they get on like a mother and daughter.’

Fidelma and her brother stared at each other, jaws thrust out pugnaciously, each determined to be right. At that moment Eadulf saw the similarity of temperament between the two red-haired siblings. There was tension for a moment and then they both relaxed with smiles.

‘I would have done the same,’ Fidelma admitted. ‘In fact, I can think of no better place for Aibell to be at the moment than with Della, especially now that Della’s son Gormán has returned home.’

Her brother looked uncertain. ‘What has Gormán to do with it?’

‘Oh, I think we might safely leave the future in Gormán’s hands,’ Fidelma said enigmatically. Then she added: ‘I am glad to see you so well again, brother.’

‘No more than I am happy to be well and look forward to your explanation behind this assassin’s attempt on me. I am still sure that the name Liamuin does not mean anything to me,’ he added. ‘Aibell told me about her mother and I have certainly never heard of her, nor any other woman called Liamuin.’

‘I know it. However, there are a couple of things I would like to know from you, before you call the council.’

‘Which are?’

‘I just wanted to clarify something that happened during the Battle at Cnoc Áine. I understand that you were wounded there. I heard it was a grievous wound.’

‘Stories spread after battles. Not everything you hear is strictly accurate. It was not serious at all,’ Colgú said. ‘Stupidly, it was in the first charge: a blow from a spear hit against my head and knocked me unconscious. As I was being hurriedly carried to my tent, to a physician, I came to and demanded to return to my men. You see, in such moments come victory or defeat: if the men are dispirited by seeing their leader injured, then a battle can be lost. Why, the blow did not even break the skin but caused a bruise, that’s all. Why the concern now?’

‘I presume that it was in this incident that you lost your shield?’

‘That’s a curious question,’ replied Colgú.

‘I just need to have it confirmed.’

‘As a matter of fact, I don’t remember. I suppose that when I was unconscious and the attendants picked me from the battlefield, they left my shield lying where I had fallen. Anyway, due to the privileges of a King – I had three shields in my tent ready for use.’

‘I have brought the one you lost back to you,’ Fidelma said. ‘Back from the Abbey of Mungairit.’

Colgú stared at her in surprise. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I will tell you everything later, during the council. But now a third question. When the battle was won, when Prince Eoganán fell, and his nobles were dead or had fled, you appointed your commanders, members of the Golden Collar, to take charge of various Uí Fidgente territories. It was my understanding that this was only a temporary measure to ensure the country stayed at peace until Prince Donennach had negotiated a peace with you. Is that so?’

‘That is exactly so. It worked well except …’ He hesitated. ‘Except that I made the mistake of appointing Uisnech, of the Eóghanacht Áine, in overall command. It was a bad choice. He bore a deep hatred against the Uí Fidgente that I had not counted on. I later heard reports of many evil things he did. When these stories came to me, I was on the point of recalling him, but then I heard that the Uí Fidgente had taken matters into their own hands. They ambushed and killed him.’ Colgú shrugged eloquently. ‘I cannot blame them. Thankfully, about that time, the
derbhfine
, the electoral college of the Uí Fidgente, had met and Prince Donennach was made Prince. He had been the son of Óengus, whom Eoganán had displaced years before, so the choice was a just one.’