It made sense to Fidelma but it was frustrating that she could not question Eadulf immediately. She knew it was unlike him to go wandering about without informing her and he was certainly not one prone to accidents.
At that moment Gormán entered, looking anxious.
‘I heard …’ His eyes went to Eadulf lying on the bed. ‘Is he …?’
Fidelma turned to the physician without answering the warrior. ‘Are you sure he is out of danger now?’
Brother Seachlann shrugged. ‘The physician who says he is sure of anything is a physician to be wary of. When Brother Eadulf wakes he should be fine apart from a bruise and a gash on the forehead which he needs to keep bound for a few days.’
‘Then if Gormán will stay with Eadulf, perhaps you will show me the spot where you found him.’
Brother Seachlann looked surprised. ‘For what purpose?’
‘For my own satisfaction,’ Fidelma replied firmly.
Brother Seachlann led the way across to the site. One or two men already at work regarded them with curiosity. The physician halted and pointed to a spot close to the supporting columns of a door. There was no lintel on it; the lintel stone was lying on the ground close by, ready to be hoisted into place.
‘I found him lying there, by that wooden post,’ the physician said.
Fidelma moved forward and inspected the thick wooden post beyond. There was a dark discoloration on it. She licked the tip of her finger and ran it over the stain.
‘Dried blood,’ she muttered. ‘So this is what Eadulf encountered with his forehead.’
‘He must have tripped and hit his head,’ suggested the physician. ‘A place like this is dangerous in the darkness.’
‘Well, one thing is certain,’ Fidelma replied, ‘he did not walk up to the post and bang his own head against it.’
‘Hey! Be careful!’ They turned at the shouted warning to find Glassán hurrying towards them with Saor, his assistant, at his side. ‘What are you doing there? It is dangerous to wander around a building site like this.’
‘That has already been discovered,’ Fidelma replied drily.
Glassán spotted the lintel. ‘What happened there?’ he demanded. ‘Surely that was secure and in place when we finished work last evening.’
Saor looked uncomfortable. ‘I swear it was. Maybe it was not fitted properly.’
‘Even so, it would need a push to get it off its resting place,’ Fidelma observed, looking thoughtfully at the door supports.
Glassán glanced at the lintel and then at her.
‘What do you mean?’ he demanded. ‘Pushed off?’ There was a note of unease in his voice.
‘It could have fallen down,’ Saor suggested as he examined it.
‘It seems Brother Eadulf tripped over something last night. Perhaps that stone,’ suggested the physician.
Glassán’s bewilderment increased.
‘Brother Seachlann found Brother Eadulf last evening,’ Fidelma explained. ‘He was lying unconscious at this spot. It seems he tripped and knocked himself out on that wooden post there.’
Glassán’s face paled; his jaw muscles tightened. Then he turned to Saor. ‘Better be about the work. There is much to do to refit this lintel.’ When Saor had left, he turned, licking his lips nervously. ‘How is your husband, lady?’
‘He is recovering,’ intervened the physician. ‘He has a bad gash on the forehead and a headache. Nothing more. Now I should like to get back to my patient.’
Fidelma dismissed him with a motion of her hand.
‘What was Brother Eadulf doing here last night?’ Glassán asked. ‘I am truly sorry to hear that he has been hurt but I must point out that I cannot be held responsible for anyone entering a building site without permission and injuring themselves.’
‘No one is accusing anyone of culpability just yet. We do not know the facts and will not know them until Eadulf has recovered enough to tell us.’
The master builder hesitated. Then he said quickly, ‘Just so, just so. Well, there is much to be done.’
Fidelma continued to examine the scene carefully. When she had seen everything she wanted to see, she finally turned and picked her way from the area of the doorway. Glassán followed her. As they came to the edge of the new building, she saw the young boy, Gúasach, hurrying round the corner. He saw them and smiled a greeting to Fidelma and then spoke to Glassán. ‘Good morning, aite. Where am I to work this morning?’
Fidelma gazed at him in surprise. The term aite was one that denoted foster-father.
Glassán answered gruffly, telling him to report to Saor. The lad nodded, turned and hurried off across the building works.
‘You have young workers here, Glassán,’ commented Fidelma.
‘The boy is my dalta, my apprentice, under fosterage,’ the master builder replied. ‘In another six years he may be able to leave fosterage and start a career of his own in this art.’
‘Has he been with you long?’
‘Since he was seven, as the law prescribed.’
Most male children were sent away to fosterage, or altram, between the ages of seven and seventeen, when they reached the togu aismir, the age of maturity, when they had full responsibility under the law. ‘Fosterage’ was a keystone of society and practised in all the Five Kingdoms since remote times and by all social ranks. Fosterage in this context denoted education, since the fosterers were supposed to teach their charges the skills necessary for their adult life. Some were fostered for affection, usually because they were kin, and some for payment determined by law, depending on what class and degree the child was.
‘He seems a bright boy. Is he a relative?’
‘I am paid an iarraith, a fee, for his fosterage,’ Glassán said shortly. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, lady.’
Fidelma nodded and turned to make her way back to Brother Seachlann’s little hospital. Gormán was still there, sitting anxiously by Eadulf’s bedside; the physician was mixing some potion at the table.
‘I doubt if he will be awake before midday,’ the physician said as she entered. ‘Better to let him sleep naturally and deeply. Do not worry. I shall take care of him. After a good sleep he will be able to go back to his own cubiculum this evening.’
Fidelma motioned to Gormán to accompany her and left the physician with Eadulf.
‘Have you found out what happened?’ asked the warrior.
‘Only that something took him to the building site last night, that he tripped and hit his head on a post, knocking himself unconscious.’
They were making their way across the quadrangle when Abbot Iarnla came hurrying across to them.
‘I have just been told of Brother Eadulf’s accident. Terrible! Terrible!’ The elderly abbot was distraught. ‘How is he?’
‘Your physician tells us that he will make a good recovery after rest. There are no bones broken,’ replied Fidelma.
‘Deo gratias,’ intoned the abbot. ‘But how did it happen? I am told he was on the building site in the middle of the night.’
‘Who told you?’
‘Brother Lugna. I think he was told by Brother Máel Eoin.’
She was about to speak again when she saw Brother Lugna himself approaching.
‘I am distressed to hear the news of Brother Eadulf. I trust he is recovering well,’ he greeted them. His voice was entirely without emotion.
‘He is,’ Abbot Iarnla replied impatiently before Fidelma could respond.
‘That is good,’ Brother Lugna replied, still looking at Fidelma. ‘But what was he doing at that place in the middle of the night? Doesn’t he understand that it is dangerous to be wandering about such a construction site?’
Abbot Iarnla nodded in agreement. ‘That is just what I was asking.’
‘We think that Eadulf was looking for something and fell, that’s all.’
Brother Lugna was puzzled. ‘Looking for something? In the middle of the night and on the building site?’