Conrí turned to Socht. ‘Take half of the men and wait on this side of the river. I’ll go with the lady Fidelma to the fortress and see what can be discovered. If all is well, I’ll signal you to join us.’
They walked their horses carefully across the construction, the hooves beating a hollow tattoo on the wooden planks while Socht dispersed his men as instructed. As they moved through the township, some folk recognised Conrí and hands were raised in greeting. Other folk regarded them with looks of curiosity while a few stopped and held whispered conversations as they watched them pass.
They moved directly to the pathway that led up to the gates of the fortress. Now they could observe sentinels. A thickset man was waiting for them in the middle of the open gateway. He stood legs apart and hands on hips, a broad smile on his face.
‘Welcome, Lord Conrí!’ His voice was almost a bellow. ‘We saw your banner across the river. What brings you here?’
Conrí swung down and greeted the man as an old friend.
‘Greetings, Cúana. We come here out of curiosity.’ He waved a hand towards Fidelma and Eadulf. ‘This is the lady Fidelma of Cashel and Brother Eadulf.’
The names registered with the man, who regarded them with a surprised expression before quickly acknowledging them.
‘This,’ went on Conrí, ‘is Cúana, the steward to Prince Donennach. He commands the fortress while the Prince is absent.’
‘That is, I have a guard of just a score of warriors,’ Cúana added with a wry smile. ‘Nothing so imposing as at Cashel, lady.’
Fidelma and Eadulf had dismounted. ‘Is all quiet here, Cúana?’ Fidelma asked.
The young steward frowned. ‘Should it be otherwise, lady?’ he countered.
‘It is just that there have been some strange happenings, my friend,’ Conrí explained. ‘The lady Fidelma has come to investigate the attempted assassination of her brother, King Colgú — an attack which succeeded in killing the Chief Brehon of Muman.’
At once the steward showed concern. ‘Is your brother out of harm’s way then, lady?’
‘So far as we know.’
‘Then what brings you here?’
‘A torturous path,’ she replied. ‘We will talk about it later. Right now, I would like to know if you have heard of any plot against Prince Donennach? Have there been any rumours that some rival to his rule may be plotting to seize this fortress?’
Cúana’s eyes widened and he glanced at Conrí as if for confirmation that she was being serious. When he saw his friend’s expression, he turned back to Fidelma. ‘None that I have heard of, lady. All is quiet here, as I have said. If there is some plot to discredit the Uí Fidgente, then I have seen no sign of it.’
Conrí laid a hand on his arm. ‘But what better time for a plot to be put in motion, my friend? What better time to overthrow the rule of Prince Donennach — when he is out of the territory? We must admit there are some among us who resent the peace that was made with Cashel. That is why I hurried here to make sure that all is well with you.’
‘The country has never been quieter,’ the steward assured him.
‘In that case, my friend,’ smiled Conrí, ‘I would formally ask hospitality for myself and my guests as well as for my men.’
‘It shall be granted. I had wondered why you left half of your men on the far bank of the river. Unless my eyes deceive me, Socht, the commander of your guard, is among them. Ah, but I have your strategy. You wanted to ensure all was well here first before you committed them to cross. Well, all is peaceful, my friend. You may signal them to that effect so that your warriors may join us. There is ale aplenty. Come, lady, the fortress is at your command.’
‘I presume all Prince Donennach’s ladies have departed with him?’
‘They have, but we have female attendants if you wish to bathe after your ride. You may be assured that there are women enough to attend to all your wants.’
By this time, they were being led across the courtyard and stablemen were coming forward to take care of their horses. Conrí had ordered one of his men to go back to instruct Socht to bring the rest of his warriors across the river. It seemed that many of the warrior sentinels who paced the walls of the fortress were known to Conrí and his men, for cheerful greetings were being exchanged.
Cúana led the way into the great hall which seemed more impressive on the inside than the outside. Great tapestries hung on the walls, with shields bearing symbols of the owners who had once used them, displayed along with swords. At one end of the hall was the Prince’s chair of office, ornately carved with the icons of the Uí Fidgente. Stretching before it was a long oak table with benches either side where the nobles would sit either in council or when they feasted with the Prince. It was, as Fidelma had noted, not as grand as Cashel, but as good as any territorial ruler could afford.
At the young steward’s call, two attendants hurried in, and when refreshments for the guests were served, they went off to fulfil their tasks. Another attendant appeared and began to build a fire in the great hearth, and Cúana gestured for his guests to be seated before he gave orders for chambers to be prepared for Fidelma, Eadulf and Conrí. Gormán, Socht and the rest of the warriors were to be housed in the long wooden laechtech — the House of Heroes, as the warrior’s’ quarters were called.
Cúana seemed almost jovial as the attendants served the drinks. ‘I will order bathing facilities to be prepared shortly,’ he told them.
Once again Eadulf was reminded of the daily custom of the people to bathe in the evenings before a meal. Usually, fires were kindled and water heated and a large tub or dabach was filled. Often the water was scented with sweet-smelling herbs, and a soap or sléic was used. Now and then he had noticed that the tub was filled with water and then round stones were heated and dropped in to warm it. Fidelma had once told him an ancient story of a mythical king named Fergus mac Léti whose attendant did not properly heat the bath stones, or cloch-fothraicthe as they were called. He threw one of them at her and killed her. Eadulf was brought up in a culture where bathing was not such a priority and a dip in the river from time to time sufficed. The evening bath was the main wash of the day, while in the morning one usually washed the hands and face.
‘So how have you traced the assassin to this place?’ Cúana asked after they had settled with their drinks. ‘And what are these rumours of an attempt to overthrow Prince Donennach?’
‘I did not say I had traced the assassin here,’ returned Fidelma evenly. ‘As yet we do not know who he was or where he came from.’
‘Then what …?’
‘I think that you had better let me ask the questions in my own way,’ intervened Fidelma. ‘It is my right as an advocate of the court.’
Cúana seemed a little put out but gestured for her to continue.
‘I believe that there was once a ferryman here called Escmug. Did you know him or of him?’
‘Escmug?’ The steward seemed genuinely surprised for a moment. ‘He is long dead. He was not only a ferryman but a fisherman who plied his boat along the river here. He would try his hand at anything that made him a living … or rather paid for his liquor.’
‘He was a heavy drinker, then? Tell me something of him.’
‘He was not a nice man, if the stories are to be believed. There was a rumour that he killed his wife. At least, she disappeared. He claimed that she had run away.’
‘Do you recall the name of his wife?’
‘I think it was Liamuin.’
‘Do you remember any details of what happened?’
‘Liamuin simply disappeared one evening,’ the steward replied. ‘Escmug said she had gone off in his boat. He searched for her but never found her. That was when the rumours started that he probably killed her.’