‘I don’t understand,’ frowned Eadulf.
‘Easy enough. A is ailm, a pine tree; B is beith, a birch tree; and C is coll, a hazel tree and so on.’
‘Ah, it is the way some of our scholars teach young children. A is for apple; B is for boy; and C is for cat.’
‘It seems a good idea,’ Fidelma conceded. ‘So long as someone in the future does not think that there is more symbolism in the concept and start forming other ideas beyond seeing it as a simple way of children remembering their letters.’
Brother Conchobhar chuckled. ‘I don’t think we need have any fear of that.’ He turned and picked up a leather-bound vellum book from a shelf and showed it to Eadulf. ‘I shall leave it in the tech screpta, the library, for your return, friend Eadulf. Then you will see some of the matters that I shall pass on to your son.’
‘Fair enough,’ Eadulf nodded. ‘I will rest easy now that you will look after him, for he is an intelligent lad and has the sharp mind of his mother.’
Fidelma playfully punched Eadulf on the arm for she was not displeased with the compliment.
‘And now we must find Gormán and warn him of our journey tomorrow,’ she said.
As Eadulf was about to pass out of the door after Fidelma, Brother Conchobhar suddenly tugged at his sleeve and pressed something round and metallic into his hand. The old man said softly: ‘Fidelma has left the religious, I know. She believes that she no longer needs their help. The time may come when you might — especially where you are going. This is the silver seal of Ségdae of Imleach, whose authority is known throughout Muman. He gave it to me some time ago. Show it to any religious in the kingdom and they will respect its authority.’ Then he raised his voice and wished Eadulf ‘good luck’ on his journey.
They left the apothecary, with Fidelma not seeming to have noticed the exchange, and made their way across the shadow-filled courtyard, lit by several brand torches. The shadows darted this way and that as warriors moved here and there, fulfilling their duties as sentinels. They found Gormán at the stables checking the tackle. He looked up as they entered and grinned. He was clearly in a good mood.
‘Caol has already told me,’ he greeted them. ‘We shall journey together. I don’t think Caol was too pleased that he has to stay behind tomorrow.’
‘I suppose he feels responsible that he was not able to defend the King against the assassin’s blow before the damage had been done,’ Eadulf commented. ‘Perhaps there is vengeance in his mind.’
‘That’s probably it,’ agreed the young warrior. ‘He would doubtless like to reinstate himself in your eyes.’
‘He has no call to feel any guilt in that respect,’ Fidelma replied. ‘It happened so fast that none of us were able to move until it was too late. It was so unexpected.’
‘Are you prepared for tomorrow?’ asked Eadulf.
‘The horses will be ready in the courtyard before dawn, friend Eadulf.’
‘We will make our journey in slow and easy fashion,’ Fidelma promised, knowing full well that Eadulf did not regard himself as the best of horsemen.
‘I have ridden to Mungairit in a single day,’ said Gormán solemnly, ‘but that was on a warm summer’s day and I rode from dawn to sunset with scarcely a pause. But do not fear; with these shorter, winter days, we have only half the time to be on the road, otherwise darkness and cold will overcome us. Nevertheless, we could stay overnight at a place called Ulla, among the rounded hillocks. There is a good tavern there, as I recall. We could reach it before dark tomorrow. Then by the next day we will be safely in Mungairit.’
‘It is a good suggestion but we will let the day and conditions dictate our pace,’ Fidelma said sensibly. ‘There is no need to rush, for we are not in pursuit of anyone … yet we are travelling through the country of the Uí Fidgente so we must be vigilant.’
‘That is understood, lady; yet it would be a bad thing when a warrior of the Golden Collar is fearful of travelling in any part of the Kingdom of Muman because of a rebellious clan who ought to have learned their lesson by now.’
‘Even so, as the philosophers say — in ominia paratus. Be prepared for anything.’
‘Then we shall be prepared, come what may, lady.’
CHAPTER SIX
The early morning frost had vanished rapidly soon after they had set out from Cashel. They had taken the westward road with the sun rising behind them, spreading a mild warmth in a cloudless blue sky that was surprising for the time of year. Aware of the length of the journey they were embarking on, and understanding horses and the conditions well, Fidelma had decided they should keep their pace to a slow trot unless faced with an emergency. So it was mid-morning when they were following the track through the marshy approaches to the River Ara, surrounded by the fen sedge and wilting bulrushes, to the spot called Ara’s Well. This was a settlement of a few isolated homesteads sprawled carelessly on both sides of the river.
Fidelma led the way across the shallow ford to where a large building stood near a smith’s forge and other outbuildings. An elderly man was seated outside the door in the lukewarm sun, polishing leather. Hearing the sounds of the horses’ hooves squelching along the muddy path from the river, he glanced up and then rose with a smile of greeting, tossing the piece of leather down on the bench behind him as he strode forward to meet them.
‘Is it truly yourself, lady?’ the old man beamed in disbelief.
‘It is I, Aona, and Eadulf is with me.’
She slid from her horse, as did Eadulf and Gormán, with Gormán moving to take their reins while they went forward to greet the man called Aona.
The tavern-keeper, for such was Aona’s profession, took Fidelma’s hand shyly, and then extended his greeting to Eadulf.
‘It is a while since you have passed this way, lady. But, praise be, time has been kind to us all.’ He glanced at their companion. ‘And is that not young Gormán who rides with you? How are things with my old companions of the Nasc Niadh?’
As a young man, Aona had commanded a full catha or battalion of the bodyguards of the Kings of Cashel, before his retirement to become a tavern-keeper at the Well of Ara.
‘May good health attend you, Aona,’ smiled Gormán. ‘But there is sadness on me that, because of my youth, I cannot bring news of any of your former companions as a new generation now serves the King.’
Aona grimaced. ‘Sometimes I forget my age. Those I served with during the days of King Failbhe Flann are all long retired from the service of Cashel or passed on to the Otherworld. But what am I thinking of? You must come inside and drink corma with me.’ He turned and shouted: ‘Adag! Adag!’
From the side of the building a youth came hurrying. He halted a moment at the sight of them and then his face broadened into an urchin grim. Adag had been about eleven years old, the last time they had seen him as a boy fishing on the riverbank. Now he was almost as tall as them.
‘Lady! Brother Eadulf! It is good to see you both again.’
They returned the boy’s enthusiastic welcome.
‘Well, Adag, you must soon be nearing the age of choice,’ remarked Eadulf, as the boy went to take their horses from the care of Gormán.
Aona chuckled. ‘My grandson lacks another year or two before he can make his own decisions, according to the law. But I have no fear that he will make the wrong ones. He is a good boy and a good helper. Now, come in and tell me all the news from Cashel.’
It was some time later as they sat before the smouldering fire, sipping Aona’s home-brewed corma, and talking over the news from Cashel, that the old man turned a worried face to Fidelma.