‘One of your friends slipped and fell on those steps, and that was while we were riding at anchor,’ he volunteered airily. ‘Landlubbers !’
‘Was he or she hurt?’ demanded Fidelma, aghast at the youth’s callousness.
‘Only their dignity was bruised, if you know what I mean,’ he replied lightly. ‘This way, Sister.’
He entered a doorway — Fidelma wished she could remember the correct nautical terms — and started down a narrow, dingy set of stairs into the cabin space below. Fidelma came to know that it was called a companionway. A single storm lantern swung and bounced on a chain in the passageway, giving a dim illumination to the darkness.
‘You’ve been placed in a cabin with one of the other Sisters atthe far end here.’ The boy pointed. ‘The other travellers occupy the cabins along here. When I am not on deck then I sleep in the big cabin through there.’ He waved his hand for’ard. ‘That’s where we prepare food and eat. It’s called the mess deck. I am always around, if anything is needed.’ He threw out his chest in an attitude of pride. ‘The captain … well, he likes the passengers to deal with me and, if there is anything of an urgent nature, I can pass it on to him. He doesn’t like to have much to do with those who take passage on the ship …’ The boy paused as if waiting for some response.
‘Very well, Wenbrit,’ Fidelma acknowledged solemnly. ‘If there are any problems, I will consult you first.’
‘There will be a meal at midday and the captain will attend in order to explain the running of the ship to you all. But he doesn’t usually eat with the passengers. He makes an exception on the first day out to ensure everyone knows what’s what. And, of course, don’t expect hot meals on the voyage. Which reminds me, if you light candles below decks, make sure they are not left unattended. I’ve heard of ships flaring up like a tinder box.’
Fidelma did her best to hide her humour at the boy’s studied self-confident air of a veteran sailor.
‘There is a meal at midday, you say?’
‘I will ring a bell which will summon the passengers to the meal.’
‘Very well.’ Fidelma made to turn to the cabin door indicated by the boy.
‘Oh, one more thing …’
She turned back enquiringly towards him.
‘I am required to tell you that these cabins are aft in the vessel. That’s the stern. On the deck above is the captain’s cabin and other quarters. For’ard lies in that direction. It is also called the bow of the ship. There is a privy at the stern here, through that door there. And there is one up in the bow. Anyone will tell you where it is, should the need arise. If there are any problems, if we need to abandon ship, there are two small boats lashed to the deck athwart ships — that is in the middle of the ship. That is where you should make for if we get in trouble. Don’t worry, one of the crew will inform you of what you should do.’
The boy turned abruptly and hurried back on deck.
Fidelma stood, letting a smile spread across her features. It was clear that young Wenbrit did not have a high regard for ‘landlubbers’ as he called the passengers. She turned back towards the cabin door which he had indicated. As she did so, a door opened on the other side of the passage just behind her. She heard a sharp intake of breath andthen a soft masculine voice said: ‘Fidelma! What in God’s name are you doing here?’
She swung round, trying to identify the voice from some long-past memory, a memory that she had almost managed to expunge.
A tall man stood there, irregularly illuminated by the light of the swinging lantern.
Fidelma took an involuntary step backward, reaching out a hand to grasp the wooden wall as if for balance. This was her first bout of dizziness since coming aboard The Barnacle Goose, and it had less to do with the sea’s swell than with the welling of her emotions.
Chapter Three
‘Cian!’
Like a wraith arising from some ghostly past, there stood before her the man who had been her first love; who had awakened her sensuality as a young girl and then brutally discarded her for another.
In one breathless moment, memories came pouring through her mind. Fidelma remembered their first meeting as vividly as if it had been yesterday. Yet it had been ten years ago now; ten long years …
Old Brehon Morann had allowed his students time off to attend the great triennial fair of Tara — the Feis Teamhrach. Had he not allowed them time off, then they would probably have attended anyway, for the great fair was a major event of the year. The fair had been founded by the High King Ollamh Fodhla some fourteen centuries ago. Its official purpose was to review the laws of the Five Kingdoms. The High King and the provincial Kings were in attendance, together with the most distinguished representatives of all the learned professions from the Five Kingdoms.
Even though it had been a hundred years since the High Kings had abandoned Tara as their principal royal residence, on account of a curse pronounced against it by the Blessed Ruadan of Lorrha in Muman, the great festival itself had not been so abandoned and was held there every third year. No one could devote themselves to study during the seven days of the fair. It started three days before the Feast of Samhain and ended on the third day afterwards.
While learned professors and lawyers, and the Kings and their advisers, discussed affairs of state and the application of the laws, and considered what, if any, new laws should be applied, sports, competitions and feasting were provided for the general public as well as the richer folk who came to see and be seen. Merchants arrived from not only the Five Kingdoms but from many corners of the world — as did entertainers, songsters, jugglers, fools and acrobats. It was a time for relaxing and making merry, for the ancient laws of the fairproclaimed that a sacred armistice was in force during its existence, when all were exempted from arrest or prosecution unless they violated the peace of the fair itself by rowdiness, violence and theft.
Fidelma was barely eighteen years old and had never been to one of the great fairs like Tara. She and her companions from Morann’s law school moved eagerly through the good-natured jostling crowds, gazing at the stalls selling all manner of food and drink and also goods from far-flung lands. They paused now and then to look in awe at groups of professional clowns and jugglers, while musicians and songsters created a not-unpleasing cacophony of sound.
Fidelma and her friends halted before one juggler who had nine sharp short swords in his hands which he flung up into the air, one by one, and which he did not let fall to the ground but caught and flung up again quickly and without injury to himself. The whistling sound the swords produced as they passed through the air was like the sound of buzzing bees.
A terrific cheering drew Fidelma and her companions on to the edge of a crowd around a sward of ground where a game of imman was in progress. Each player, armed with a wooden caman, or stick of ash over a metre in length, carefully shaped and smoothed with the lower end flat and curved, attempted to strike at a ball of leather filled with wool. The name of the game meant urging or driving while the stick took its name from the word cam reflecting on its crooked or curve part.
A goal had just been scored by one of the two teams, and as the young students pushed their way to the front of the crowd, the play had commenced again with the ball being thrown up into the middle of the field. The two teams, at opposite ends of the level grassy rectangle, began to run towards it, each trying to drive the ball through their opponents to the narrow goal formed by two poles.
Fidelma’s group waited until another goal had been scored, then continued on their good-natured way. It was a happy, carefree day even though Fidelma, at the back of her mind, knew that their mentor, Brehon Morann, had hoped his students would not only indulge themselves at the fair but would also attend the great debates on the laws and thus expand their knowledge of their subject. Fidelma was about to remind her comrades of this when they found themselves pushing through the crowd to where a horse race was about to commence.