She saw a frown pass across her brother’s brow and paused.
‘You always did have acute observation, little sister,’ he sighed.
‘What is it, Colgú?’
Colgú hesitated a moment and then grimaced.
‘I am afraid that it was not for a family reunion that you were asked here,’ he confessed gently.
Fidelma gazed at him, waiting for her brother to elaborate. When he did not, she said quietly: ‘I had not expected that it was. What is the matter?’
Colgú glanced almost surreptitiously around, as if to make sure that no one was eavesdropping.
‘The king …’he began. ‘King Cathal has succumbed to the Yellow Plague. He is lying in his chamber at death’s door. The physicians do not give him long.’
Fidelma blinked; yet, deep down, she was not entirely surprised at the news. For two years now the Yellow Plague had spread itself across Europe, devastating the population. Tens of thousands had died from its virulence. It had spared neither lowly peasant, self-satisfied bishop, nor even lofty kings. Only eighteen months ago, when the plague had first arrived in Éireann, the joint High Kings of Ireland, Blathmac and Diarmuid, had both died within days of one another at Tara. A few months ago, Fáelán, the king of Laigin, had died from its ravages. Still the plague raged on unabated. Throughout the land were countless orphaned children, whose mothers and fathers had been carried off by the plague, left helpless and starving. Some members of the Faith, such as the Abbot Ultan of Ardbraccan, had responded by setting up orphanages and fighting the plague, while others, such as Colmán, the chief professor of the Blessed Finnbarr’s college in Cork, had simply taken his fifty pupils and fled to some remote island in an attempt to escape it. Fidelma was well aware of the scourge of the Yellow Plague.
‘Is that why you sent for me?’ she asked. ‘Because our cousin is dying?’
Colgú shook his head swiftly.
‘King Cathal instructed me to send for you before he succumbed to the fevers of plague. Now that he cannot instruct you, it falls to me to do so.’
He reached across and took her by the elbow. ‘But first you must rest from your journey. There is time enough for this later. Come, I have ordered your old room to be prepared.’
Fidelma tried to suppress her sigh of impatience.
‘You know me well enough, brother. You know that I will not rest while there is a mystery to be explained. You keepgoading my imagination. Come, explain what this mystery is and then I will rest.’
Colgú was about to speak when there came the sound of raised voices beyond the door. There was the noise of a scuffle and Colgú was moving towards the door to enquire what was happening when it burst open and Forbassach of Fearna stood framed in it. He was red-faced and breathing heavily with exertion.
Behind him, his handsome face scowling in anger, was the young warrior, Cass.
‘Forgive me, my lord. I could not stop him.’
Colgú stood facing the envoy of the king of Laigin with displeasure on his face.
‘What does this demonstration of bad manners mean, Forbassach? Surely you forget yourself?’
Forbassach thrust out his chin. His arrogant and contemptuous manner did not desert him.
‘I need an answer to take back to Fianamail, the king of Laigin. Your king is on the verge on death, Colgú. Therefore it is up to you to answer the charges of Laigin.’
Fidelma set her face into an immobile expression to disguise her frustration that she did not comprehend the meaning of this confrontation.
Colgú had flushed with anger.
‘Cathal of Muman still lives, Forbassach. While he lives, his is the voice to answer your charge. Now, you have breached the hospitality of this court. As tánaiste I demand your withdrawal from this place. When the court of Cashel needs to communicate with you then you will be summoned to hear its voice.’
Forbassach’s thin lips twisted into a condescending sneer.
‘I know that you merely seek to delay the answer, Colgú. As soon as I saw the arrival of your sister, Fidelma of Kildare, I realised that you will seek to delay and prevaricate. It will avail you nothing. Laigin still demands an answer. Laigin demands justice!’
Colgú’s facial muscles worked in an effort to control his anger.
‘Fidelma, instruct me in law.’ He addressed his sister without taking his eyes from Forbassach. ‘This envoy from Laigin has, I believe, overstepped the bounds of sacred hospitality. He has intruded where he should not and has been insulting. May I order him to be removed physically from this court?’
Fidelma glanced at the disdainful Brehon of Fearna.
‘Do you make an apology for an unwarranted intrusion into a private chamber, Forbassach?’ she asked. ‘And do you make an apology for your insulting manner to the heir-apparent of Cashel?’
Forbassach’s chin jerked up, his scowl deepening.
‘Not I.’
‘Then you, as a Brehon, should know the law. You will be thrown out of this court.’
Colgú glanced at the warrior called Cass and gave an imperceptible nod.
The tall man laid a hand on Forbassach’s shoulder.
The Laigin envoy twisted in the grip and his face reddened.
‘Fianamail of Laigin shall hear of this insult, Colgú. It will serve to compound your guilt when you are judged before the High King’s assembly at Tara!’
The warrior had spun the Laigin envoy on his heel and propelled him through the doorway without any apparent display of undue force. Then, with an apologetic gesture to Colgú, he shut it behind them.
Fidelma, turning to her brother, who had now relaxed from his stiff posture, showed her bewilderment.
‘I think that it is about time that you told me what is really happening. What is the mystery here?’ she demanded with quiet authority.
Chapter Two
Colgú looked as if he were about to delay once more but seeing the light in his young sister’s eyes he thought the better of it.
‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘But let us go where we may speak more freely and without the danger of any further interruptions. There are many ears attached to heads which may harbour ill-will to the kings of Muman.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow in surprise but made no further comment. She knew that her brother had never been one for exaggeration so she did not press him further. He would explain in his own time.
She followed him from the room without speaking and through the stone-walled palace corridors with their rich tapestries and spectacular artifacts gathered over the centuries by the Eóganacht kings. Colgú led her through a great room which she recognised as the Tech Screptra, the scriptorium or library, of the palace, where, as a small girl, she had learnt to read and form her first letters. As well as the impressive illustrated vellum texts, the Tech Screptra held some of the ancient books of Muman. Among them were the ‘rods of the poets’, wands of aspen and hazel wood on which the ancient scribes had carved their sagas, poems and histories in Ogham, the ancient alphabet, which was still used in some parts of Muman. In that Tech Screptra the little girl’s imagination and thirst for knowledge had been awakened.
Fidelma paused briefly, feeling a little overwhelmed bynostalgia, and smiling at her memories. Several brothers of the Faith were seated there poring over those same books by the light of smoking tallow candles.
She realised that Colgú was waiting impatiently for her.