‘And where did you meet this merchant?’ Fidelma enquired.
‘I had reached the banks of a great river just west of here and had resigned myself to trying to sleep near a ford there when I saw this wagon crossing.’
‘Did you know the name of the ford?’ demanded Gormán.
‘I am a stranger here,’ she replied. ‘How would I know it?’
‘Tell us about this merchant, then. Did you find out his name?’
‘As a matter of fact, I did. It was a stupid name for a merchant — something about dignity and honour.’
Fidelma wrinkled her brow in perplexity but Gormán’s eyes widened.
‘Ordan, lady,’ he said. ‘Ordan often trades in the west. “Dignity” indeed is the meaning of his name.’
Aibell nodded confidently. ‘That was his name. Ordan. A fat, ugly man as far as I could see in the light of his lantern.’
‘He has that land just east of here, lady,’ the young warrior reminded Fidelma.
‘I know it. He calls it Rathordan.’ Fidelma turned back to the girl. ‘So you were picked up by Ordan the merchant?’
‘He offered me a seat on his cart,’ affirmed the girl. ‘He would have offered me much more had I agreed to it. He was a pig of a man!’
‘When was this? When did he pick you up?’
‘About midnight.’
‘And why did he put you off here, on the western edge of the town at dawn?’
‘Because I made him do so.’
‘Why did you not want to go into the centre of town?’
‘Because I refused to share his bed, which was his intention. As soon as I saw the outskirts of the town, I demanded that he let me off his wagon. In fact, I had to jump from it.’
Gormán was thinking carefully. ‘The road from the Ford of the Ass, which I presume must have been the ford Ordan crossed over the River Suir, runs by the far side of that field.’ He pointed to the north side of his mother’s paddock. ‘There is no other ford nearby, only the road across the bridge further to the north.’ He turned to the girl. ‘Are you trying to tell us that you came across the paddock and into this wood and found this hut purely by chance? Or did someone guide you here?’
Aibell glowered at him. ‘I did not say that I had found my way here by chance.’
‘That is true,’ said Fidelma slowly. ‘Therefore we would be interested in knowing exactly how you came here.’
‘Simple enough. I was told the hut was here.’
‘By whom?’
‘By a man going early to the fields.’
Fidelma tutted in exasperation. ‘A man who just happened to be passing in the darkness of early morning? Do you expect us to believe this?’
‘I do not expect anything. It is the truth.’
‘Why are you here, Aibell?’
The girl laughed for the first time.
‘Why should I not be here?’ she countered.
‘What are you doing in Cashel?’ Fidelma insisted.
‘Because this is where I have stopped to rest. Had I been left in peace, I would have been elsewhere when the sun reached its zenith.’
‘Brother Lennán!’ It was Eadulf who suddenly rapped out the name. ‘What is he to you?’
The girl regarded him for a moment in silence before she said, ‘I know no one of that name and am now tired of all these questions.’
‘As we are tired of asking them and receiving no convincing responses.’ Gormán was clearly irritable.
‘I can only respond as I see fit. Whether you accept my replies is no concern of mine.’
‘Oh, but it is,’ Fidelma said tightly. ‘I am afraid that you will have to come with us until we are satisfied that you are telling us the truth.’
‘Under what authority?’ challenged the girl, her truculent manner returning.
‘Under my authority as a dálaigh, under the authority of the Chief Brehon of this kingdom, under the authority of-’
Aibell interrupted with a derisive snort. Fidelma wasted no more time on her. ‘Eadulf, help me carry the things that Gormán found in the hut. Gormán, take charge of this woman. We have stood long enough in this wood. Let’s go back to Della’s place, so that we can examine what you have found in more comfortable circumstances.’
At once the girl started to protest but Gormán seized her right arm in a firm clasp.
‘By order of the King’s sister and a dálaigh of the courts, you are to accompany us until we are satisfied that you have given us a truthful account of yourself. There are two ways for you to accompany us — of your own free will or by force.’
She glared up at him. ‘You wouldn’t dare use force!’ she said. But there was no conviction in her voice.
‘Oh, but I would,’ he replied grimly. ‘And don’t try to use your knife again, because this time you will get hurt.’
They stared at each other for a moment before the girl recognised the determination in his fierce gaze and then tried to feign indifference. She fell in step beside Gormán, who kept his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
Eadulf and Fidelma picked up the saddle-bag and the horse’s equipment and led the way back towards Della’s cabin. Della had seen them advancing across the paddock and came to open the gate for them. She seemed surprised to see the young woman.
‘We need to request your hospitality for a short while, Della,’ explained Fidelma.
‘Come in and be welcome, lady,’ she replied.
‘This is Aibell,’ Fidelma added, as they entered.
Eadulf left the saddle and bridle on the porch outside. They all went into the large room where crackling logs produced a fierce heat. A cauldron of aromatic-smelling stew was simmering above the fire. The morning’s autumnal sunlight shone through the southern-facing windows so that the room was bright in spite of the weakness of the pale yellow orb.
Della bade them be seated and asked if she could provide refreshment. Fidelma had spotted the girl’s eyes lingering on the cauldron and saw the quick, nervous movement of her tongue over her dry lips.
‘I should imagine that Aibell has not yet broken her fast. I am sure she would like something to drink and eat, if you can manage it.’
‘Of course!’ At once Della became almost a mothering figure, making sure the girl was comfortably seated at one end of the table and fetching a small mug of ale and a wooden platter containing some cold meat and cheese with a hunk of freshly baked bread. The girl hesitated at first, but as Della turned to enquire if anyone else wanted refreshment, she immediately began to tackle the food. Although Fidelma appeared to be ignoring her, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aibell was consuming the food as if she had not eaten for many days. She hoped that none of her companions were watching the girl so as not to embarrass her.
‘First we need to examine the contents of this saddle-bag,’ Fidelma announced as a way of distracting them.
Eadulf opened it and took out the garments inside, placing them one by one on the table for everyone to see.
There was a bratt, a cloak of a striking blue colour that would stretch to the knees of an average-sized person. It was loosely shaped and had a fringe of beaver fur around the neck and down both edges in front. There was an over-garment, a coat without a collar, ending about the middle of the thighs, and a pair of triubhas, sometimes called ochrath — tight-fitting breeches made of thin, soft leather, which were drawn on over the feet. The criss or leather belt had a purse attached to it, containing some silver.
Eadulf examined the bag and the clothing to make sure there was nothing hidden inside. Having satisfied himself, he turned to Fidelma and said, ‘There is nothing here that would give us a clue to the assassin’s identity.’
‘What of the clothes themselves?’
Eadulf lifted them each in turn. ‘They are not the kind of clothing worn by a noble; that is for sure. But then neither are they the apparel of a poor man or a labourer.’
‘That is true.’ Fidelma was approving. ‘However, these must be the clothes that our assassin changed out of when he put on religieux robes.’