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.’