Slebene glanced at him with interest.
‘How do you know that Uaman is dead, my Saxon friend?’
‘Because I saw him die. I was a prisoner in his fortress but escaped and watched him perish in the quicksand and the tides that separated his island from the mainland.’
The chieftain regarded him in some astonishment.
‘I had heard rumours that he died screaming. I did not know there was a witness to his end. But you claim to be that witness, Saxon?’
‘I do.’
‘Are you sure he died?’
Eadulf coloured a little.
‘Do you doubt my word?’ he said testily.
‘If you say that you saw him die then I accept it. However…’ Slebene paused. ‘I have reports from the eastern border of my lands that say he is still seen among the mountain passes, still raiding and demanding tribute from my people.’
‘That cannot be. He was caught in the quicksand.’
Eadulf grew impatient.
‘It is not Uaman that concerns us but-’
The chief held up a giant paw of a hand to still him.
‘I am sure that there is no need for you to worry. We’ve always had raiders in these waters. Pirates in search of a cargo. Seanach’s community has never been harmed before, why would they be now?’
Fidelma was piqued.
‘Are you saying that you will not send a vessel and men to investigate?’
Slebene shrugged.
‘I see no great need for it…’ He paused, catching the dangerous glint in her eye. Then he chuckled. ‘But if you feel that I should… then of course I’ll send a vessel. And if they encounter these pirates,’ he chuckled again, ‘then we will see how they fight when they have real champions to contend with.’
Conri pushed out his lower lip. He was angry at the implied insult to him and his warriors.
‘There is an old saying, Slebene,’ his voice was dangerous, ‘that any man may laugh on a hillside.’
The chief’s eyes narrowed and for the first time there was a look of hostility in his eyes. The meaning of the saying was that it was all very well to ridicule one’s foes from a safe position. He was about to reply when Fidelma intervened.
‘At least we had good Ui Fidgente warriors with us who managed to halt their attack, whoever the raiders were,’ she said quietly.
The big man blinked, hesitated and then roared with laughter again, clapping his hand to his knee.
‘A dog knows his own faults, Fidelma,’ he replied with a smile and using another old saying to counter Conri’s. ‘I am sure the warlord of the Ui Fidgente will understand that no slight against him or his men was intended.’
‘Therefore no slight is taken,’ confirmed Conri. tightly.
‘That is well said,’ Fidelma added smoothly. ‘Yet let me point out that there is a contradiction when you assume that the religious hermits on the island stand in no danger.’
‘A contradiction?’ demanded Slebene with interest. ‘What contradiction?’
‘The very thing that has brought us here. The slaughter of the Abbess Faife and the disappearance of her religieuse who were on their way to Breanainn’s mountain.’
The chief became serious.
‘Ah, Abbess Faife. I grieved when I heard the news. She had passed through Daingean many times with pilgrims on the road to the mountain. A sadness has been on me since I heard of her death. But it happened in the eastern passes where we have reports of these marauders. When Uaman the Leper used to control-’
‘Did you send warriors to investigate?’
Slebene shook his head, unabashed at her tone.
‘There was no need. Travellers told me that the body of the abbess was recovered and taken back to Ard Fhearta. Is it about this matter that you have come here, Fidelma of Cashel?’
‘I am here to find the missing members of the community of Ard Fhearta as well as to find out who was responsible for the abbess’s death.’
The chief did not appear particularly concerned.
‘Then this evening you will be my guests and we will feast. I will send my steward to fetch you when all is ready. Tomorrow you may travel where you will with my blessing and authority to conduct your inquiries in my territory.’
His tone clearly dismissed them from his presence. Slebene’s good humour seemed to have evaporated. His mood was sullen. Fidelma rose with the others.
‘Thank you,’ she said, with dignity. ‘In that case we shall withdraw and bathe before the feasting starts.’
Slebene of the Corco Duibhne knew how to arrange a good feast, of that there was no doubt. The meal had been organised in the great hall and there were some forty guests. Fidelma, Eadulf and Conri were apparently not the only visitors to Daingean that day. There were some merchants and local chieftains who had come to pay their respects and tributes to Slebene. An officer known as a bollscari was employed to instruct guests where they should be seated at the lines of willow tables. Fidelma and her companions found themselves placed at the top table facing the lines of guests of lesser rank. When all the guests were seated, two seats remained empty at the table at which Fidelma and the others sat. Behind one of these empty chairs a broad, muscular man, with bushy red curly hair and beard, whose attire and accoutrements proclaimed him to be a warrior, had taken his stand with folded arms. Fidelma noticed a tattoo on his right arm, a curious image of a serpent wrapped round a sword. This was against all convention for the young men of Eireann did not usually adorn themselves in such a fashion. But this unusual body decoration was not the cause of Fidelma’s disapproving frown. It was unusual for warriors entering feasting halls to carry weapons. This man was well armed with sword and daggers. She presumed that the man was Slebene’s tren-fher, his personal champion and bodyguard. But it was a sign of bad taste to invite guests for a feast and parade an armed warrior to protect the chief in the feasting hall.
As soon as all the guests were seated, the fear-stuic, the trumpeter, at a signal from the bollscari, gave a single blast on his instrument. The company rose and then Slebene and a young woman entered. She had a hard-faced beauty and arrogant poise. It was not until after the meal that Fidelma heard that this was the chief’s latest mistress. Whether Slebene was out to impress them or the other guests, Fidelma was not sure. The chief of the Corco Duibhne entered the great hall clad in fine regalia; in satins and silks and wearing a silver circlet on his head in which were embedded clear purple amethysts and bright green emeralds. Fidelma had only seen such ostentation at the ceremonial feasts of the High King himself. Of all the company, only Fidelma remained seated as he entered, not as an insult, but as she was entitled to do by her rank as sister to the king of Muman.
Another blast of the trumpet and the formalities were almost complete. In came the deoghbhaire, the cupbearers, with wines, ale and mead, to be followed by attendants carrying bowls of steaming beochaill, a broth of meats and herbs, a favourite dish at this time of year for the winter was chill. Attendants came forward to place basins of water by the plate of each diner and a lamhbrat, or handcloth, for them to cleanse and dry their hands after the meal. With the empty bowls of broth removed, there came another trumpet blast and three attendants came to present large dishes of uncarved meat for Slebene’s inspection. One dish was of roasted pig, another, Eadulf could tell, was venison while the third he was not sure of.
The chief, who seemed to have recovered from his sullen mood, glanced at the dishes and then pointed to the pork with a grin. The other dishes were removed to the side and the chosen meat was placed on the table before Slebene. One of the attendants came forward with sharpened knives. He was known as the dailemain, the attendant responsible for carving the meal and distributing it to the guests. A choice joint was expertly carved from it, placed on a platter and handed to Slebene, who stood up, took it in both hands and held it up at eye level.