"I must speak with you," whispered the young black-haired lad, as if he were scared of being overheard.
Fidelma raised an eyebrow in the gloom.
"It is inconvenient now. I am on my way to see the abbot. Let us meet later…"
"No, wait!" The voice almost rose to a wail of despair. Fidelma found Cétach's hand clutching imploringly at her arm.
"What is it? What are you frightened of?"
"Salbach, the chieftain of the Corco Lofgde, is with the abbot."
"This I know," Fidelma said. "But what is frightening you, Cétach?"
"When you speak with him do not mention me or my brother."
Fidelma tried to examine the boy's features, annoyed that the shadows obscured his expression.
"Are you scared of Salbach?"
"It is too long a story—I cannot tell you now, sister. Please, do not mention us. Do not even say that you know us."
"Why? What do you fear from Salbach?"
The boy's grip tightened on her arm.
"For pity's sake, sister!" His voice was filled with such fear that Fidelma patted his shoulder in reassurance.
"Very well," she said. "You have my promise. But when I am finished, we must talk and you must tell me what this means."
"You promise that you will not mention us?"
"I promise," she replied gravely.
The boy abruptly turned and scurried away into the shadows leaving a bemused Fidelma staring in the gloom.
She waited a moment or two before heaving a sigh and then she began to mount the steps.
Abbot Brocc was waiting impatiently for her. He had apparently been pacing before his table and stopped as she entered his chamber. Her eyes immediately fell on a figure sprawled indolently in a chair before the great fire in the abbot's chamber. The man was leaning back in the carved wooden chair, usually reserved for the abbot, one leg dangling over an arm, a large goblet of wine in one hand. He was a handsome man with hair the color of jet, contrasting with a white skin and ice-blue eyes. He was in his early thirties. There was something saturnine about his slim features. His clothes told of wealth for they were fine woven silks and linens and he wore a small fortune in jewelery. The sword and dagger he wore were worth the full honor price of a ceile, a free clansman of the kingdom. All this Fidelma took in at a glance but one thing, of all the visual information, registered with her; the cold blue eyes of the chieftain had a close, foxy look. Here was a shrewd and cunning man.
"Ah, Fidelma!"
The abbot was clearly relieved as she entered.
"I was told that you had sent for me, Brocc," she said, closing the door behind her.
"I have, indeed. This is Salbach, chieftain of the Corco Lofgde."
Fidelma turned towards the chieftain. Her mouth tightened as the man made no effort to rise but continued to sprawl in his chair, sipping his wine with deliberate slowness.
"Sister Fidelma from Kildare is my cousin, Salbach," the abbot said nervously, seeing the clouds gathering around Fidelma's brows.
Salbach regarded her coldly over the rim of his goblet.
"I am told that you are a dálaigh" he said. There was a tone in his voice as if he found the subject amusing.
"I am Fidelma of the Eóganacht of Cashel, sister to Colgu, heir-apparent of Muman," she replied with a tone of steel. "I am qualified in law to the level of anruth."
Salbach returned her gaze for a moment or two without moving. Then he carefully put down his goblet and, with exaggerated slowness, he eased himself from the chair and stood before her. He bowed ungracefully with a jerky movement of his neck.
That Fidelma had to remind him of his manners in greeting her was a source of irritation to her. It was not because she had an abundance of vanity that made her demand that he recognize her as the sister of the heir-apparent to the kingdom, nor that she was so conceited that she had to draw attention to the fact that she possessed the status of anruth, only one degree below the highest that the colleges of the five kingdoms could bestow. It was the scorn that Salbach implied towards her, which she took as an insult to her sex, that caused her to demand the traditional hero's portion that was due to her. Yet even when she gave way to this emotion she recalled her mentor, the Brehon Morann, saying: "Respect received from fear is not respect. The wolf may be respected but it is never liked." Generally, Fidelma ignored social conventions provided people showed regard and consideration for one another simply as fellow humans. But when she came across individuals who showed no natural respect she felt she had to make the point as example. Salbach appeared to respect no one but himself.
"I apologize, Fidelma of Cashel," he said in a tone which she felt gave no value to his words. "I did not know that you were related to Colgu."
Fidelma seated herself and her expression was bland.
"Why should my relatives dictate good manners?" she demanded softly.
Abbot Brocc coughed hastily.
"Fidelma, Salbach has come in response to the message I sent him."
Fidelma found herself being scrutinized again by the cold blue eyes of Salbach. He returned to his sprawling position in the other chair and took up his wine again. There was something hooded about those eyes. They reminded her of the unblinking eyes of a buzzard regarding its prey before swooping to bear it away.
"That is good," Fidelma replied. "The sooner the crime committed at Rae na Serine is dealt with, the better."
"Crime? I am told that some frightened, superstitious people, afraid of the plague at Rae na Serine, attacked the village in an effort to drive the people into the mountains and fire the place so that the plague might not spread. If there was a crime there, it was a crime of fear and panic."
"Not so. It was a calm and deliberate attack."
Salbach's mouth twitched and his tone was sharp. "I have come here, Sister Fidelma, because I have heard your accusation against one of my bó-aire, a magistrate that I myself appointed but recently. I presumed that there was some mistake."
"I take it that you refer to the man Intat? If so, there is no mistake."
"I am told that you have accused Intat of leading a band of his warriors in the destruction of the entire village? My information is that a band of panic-stricken people from some neighboring village burnt it down."
"You have heard incorrectly."
"That is a serious accusation."
"It is a serious crime," confirmed Fidelma coldly.
"I shall need evidence before I can act on such a charge," Salbach replied stubbornly.
"The evidence will be found in the charred ruins of Rae na Serine."
"That proves the village was burnt and perhaps that people were killed. What evidence is there that Intat was responsible?"
"Cass, of the bodyguard of the King of Cashel, and I rode into the village while the terrible deed was being done. We spoke with the man called Intat. He turned us away with threat to our lives."
Salbach's eyes widened a fraction with incredulity.
"He let you go? Surely, if he were engaged in such a crime, you would not be here to tell of it?"
Fidelma wondered why it seemed that Salbach was attempting to protect his bó-aire.
"Intat did not realize that we had seen what he was doing. We doubled back to the village after we had left him on the highway. Nor did he realize that there were survivors from the village who can give better testimony as to what happened than we can."
Did Salbach swallow nervously? Did a look of apprehension grow over his features?
"There were survivors?"
"Yes." It was Abbot Brocc who replied. "There were half-a-dozen survivors. Some children…"