Eadulf stared at the nurse for a moment, surprised at her understanding. ‘I swear that you would make a good philosopher, Muirgen.’
She chuckled. ‘Why, sir, I was raised in a family of country folk. Being close to nature, we are closer to all living creatures than most people who are raised in townships. Your brother keeps his thoughts and emotions to himself. That is all.’
‘So you advise me to let matters take their natural course?’
‘Yes, that is my advice.’
‘And not try to challenge or correct the boy?’
‘Exactly so.’
‘So be it,’ agreed Eadulf. Then: ‘Have you seen Fidelma? It must be nearly time for the eter-shod.’
The eter-shod was the midday meal.
‘There is food prepared in the adjacent chamber and the lady Fidelma has said she would return for it after she had finished speaking with her brother.’
‘Is there a place laid for Egric?’
‘Naturally.’ Muirgen seemed slightly offended and Eadulf apologised immediately.
But Egric did not return to eat with them. Fidelma and Eadulf made no mention of the fact in front of Alchú as they ate the light meal which was usual at this time of day. Only after they had finished and Muirgen had removed the boy did Fidelma broach the subject. Eadulf described the stilted encounter between their son and his uncle, and then spoke of Alchú’s dislike and Muirgen’s views on the situation.
Fidelma sighed absently and asked: ‘Egric knew he was to eat with us?’
‘He did.’
‘Perhaps you had better check on him. I want to have a further word with Brother Conchobhar.’
Eadulf did not really want to return to Rumann’s tavern to remonstrate with his brother for not joining them for the midday meal. He was sure that Egric would resent the fact. However, as he made his way down to the courtyard he saw Gormán, and some instinct made him ask if the guard commander had seen Egric return to the palace.
‘I think he is still in Rumann’s tavern, friend Eadulf. I was on my way back from my mother’s place and had cause to have a word with Rumann. He and Dego were still in there. They are as thick as thieves and talking about fishing or something.’
Eadulf said in bewilderment, ‘I am surprised he is so interested that he has forgotten to come back for his meal.’
They were interrupted by a shout. It was from Enda, who was on watch-duty in the tower above the gate. ‘Riders!’
‘From the east?’ called Gormán, having been warned to watch for the arrival of Bishop Arwald’s deputation.
‘No, from the south. Six men — four look like warriors. One of them carries a banner.’
‘Whose banner?’ demanded Gormán.
‘I can’t see it from here. They are crossing through the township and making for the palace.’
‘Sing out when you can identify the banner,’ Gormán replied, turning back to Eadulf. ‘Well, at least they don’t appear to be the visitors that the King expects. I have some men placed on the hill to the east, so they should give us ample warning of their approach.’
‘There is certainly a lot of tension about their coming.’
Gormán was in agreement. ‘To be honest, friend Eadulf, some people are a little unnerved by the pronouncements of Deogaire.’
‘Evil from the east?’ Eadulf feigned a laugh. It sounded hollow and he knew it. ‘I would take little notice of that.’
‘I am not personally concerned,’ replied the warrior, ‘but there are others who cleave to the old superstitions.’
‘The riders are approaching!’ Enda called down. ‘I can see the banner now. . yes, it’s that of Cummasach.’
Gormán whistled softly. ‘Whatever brings the Prince of the Déisi to Cashel? That’s a rare occurrence.’
‘Wouldn’t it be because of the attack on my brother and his companion?’ Eadulf asked, coming to the logical conclusion.
The warrior clicked his tongue in annoyance. ‘Of course, that must be it! But even an event like that makes it unusual to get the Prince of the Déisi to stir himself north of the Siúr. They have a strange history, these Déisi.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Time was when they were a wealthy and powerful people, living in the fertile lands of Midhe — the Middle Kingdom. Legend has it that an argument broke out and their chieftain cast a spear at the High King and took out his eye. The Brehons met and decided that one half of the Déisi, under that Prince, Aonghus of the Terrible Spear, should be banished across the water to the east. They settled and created a kingdom called Dyfed. The other half of the Déisi were sent south where the King of Cashel allowed them to settle south of the great River Siúr.’
Eadulf was startled. He recalled how he and Fidelma had been shipwrecked on the shores of Dyfed and realised that there was some close affinity with the people there and those of the Five Kingdoms.
‘When were they sent into exile?’ he enquired.
‘Oh, that was centuries ago. Don’t worry — the Déisi of Muman are peaceful enough and pay regular tribute to Cashel.’
‘I realise that,’ Eadulf replied, a little defensively, ‘for have I not often accompanied Fidelma through their territory?’
A horn suddenly sounded from the path leading up to the palace gates. It was customary for armed strangers to announce their presence in such a fashion.
‘Make the response,’ called Gormán to Enda. ‘I will greet them.’
Enda drew his hunting horn and gave an answering blast as Eadulf followed Gormán across the courtyard to the main gates. By the time they reached them, the band of horsemen were entering and Eadulf stood back in the shadows while the Commander of the King’s Bodyguard went forward to formally greet them.
The leader was a broad-shouldered man, with wiry brown hair and beard and an expression of authority. His colourful clothes, the cloak and arms, proclaimed him as a man of rank. Next to him rode a warrior carrying a pole with a banner — the emblem of the Déisi. Behind them came a man of advancing years, his dress and insignia proclaiming him to be a Brehon. It was the youth who accompanied him who caught Eadulf’s attention, for his hands were tied with rope before him. His clothes were torn and dirty. There was dirt and blood on his face and his mouse-coloured hair was ragged and askew. In spite of his appearance, the boy wore a smile of superiority and seemed to concentrate his gaze upon the middle distance. Bringing up the rear of the group were two warriors.
Gormán moved forward and greeted the leader.
‘Welcome to Cashel, Cummasach. I am Gormán, Commander of the Nasc Niadh, Bodyguard to the King.’
Cummasach glanced down at the warrior, his glance neither friendly nor antagonistic. The ritual of greeting was a formality.
‘I thank you for your welcome, warrior of the Golden Collar. I have come, with my Brehon, Furudán, to speak with Colgú.’
‘I will have Colgú informed of your arrival, Cummasach. Your escort will be attended to, but who is it that accompanies you as a prisoner?’
‘His name is Rudgal and he is, alas, a renegade of my people.’
Gormán glanced quickly at the indifferent prisoner. ‘Is he. .?’
Cummasach interrupted irritably, ‘You were to inform your King, if you please. It has been a long and tiring ride and I do not wish to tarry longer than can be helped.’
Gormán remembered protocol and turned quickly to one of his warriors.
‘Call the echaire and attend to the horses. Have the warriors conducted to the House of Heroes and offered refreshment.’
Eadulf stepped forward and said to Gormán: ‘I will inform Colgú.’
He was aware of the sharp gaze of Cummasach directed at him as he turned and hurried off. As he left, he heard Cummasach telling Gormán that he wanted his prisoner taken to a secure place under guard. Eadulf bumped into Fidelma as he hurried along the corridor to the King’s council chamber.