‘He helped you escape from Fidaig?’ Fidelma was surprised.
‘One night he took me on his horse. We avoided the guards and rode off into the mountains. Fidaig sent his warriors after us. Once or twice they nearly caught us. Then we were sheltering in the Glen of Ravens — a grim solitude in which, Deogaire told me, the old Goddess of Death and Battles dwelled. From our hiding place, we saw Fidaig’s men searching for us and realised that it would not be long before they discovered us.
‘Deogaire said we would have to part company. If we both fled on our single horse, we would soon be overtaken and captured. If he fled using my cloak, he might be able to convince them that I was clinging to his back. He could then lead them away from the Glen of Ravens. He told me that as soon as he drew them off, I should make my way out of the mountains and go eastward, where he would try to join me. It happened as he said. I saw him galloping down the valley and, in hue and cry after him, rode a score of Fidaig’s warriors. As soon as they were out of sight, I set off on the route he had instructed me to follow.’ She looked at Fidelma. ‘I never saw him again.’
‘And you eventually reached the Ford of the Ass where Ordan the merchant picked you up,’ Fidelma repeated. ‘And you have not heard of Deogaire since your escape?’
‘Alas, I have not heard of him again — that is, until now.’
Brother Conchobhar seemed cheered by her story. ‘Then there must be some good in him, after all.’
‘Good? How could you doubt it?’ demanded the girl, showing a touch of her old aggressiveness. Then before Brother Conchobhar could answer, she went on: ‘I suppose it is because he will not give up the old religion of our people that others condemn him? Why should he accept the New Faith from the east? Because someone does not agree with you, it does not make them bad. I would rather have Deogaire’s friendship and support than someone like my father, who claimed all his life to uphold the New Faith.’
Brother Conchobhar shifted uneasily. ‘I would hope that Deogaire is not beyond redemption,’ he muttered piously.
‘Redemption? Does he need to be delivered from what you see as a corrupted state? When we hear of the quarrels among those professing the New Faith, arguments of whether this interpretation or that is right or wrong — arguments which have often led to bloodshed — who has the right to judge that someone like Deogaire stands in need of being saved from his beliefs? Is there something better to be offered by this New Faith?’
Della looked unhappy, glancing towards young Alchú who was sitting in wide-eyed solemnity at the passionate-sounding adult discussion. ‘Aibell, we are all of the New Faith here,’ she chided gently. ‘Surely you are not saying that you uphold the old ways?’
Aibell flushed and then seemed to calm herself. ‘I am sorry, Della. I do not mean to sound insulting. I am not sure what I believe after the way my father treated me. I simply cannot abide someone like Deogaire being criticised because his beliefs are different. They were the beliefs of our people a thousand years before the coming of those new ideas from the east. They were the beliefs of the time before time. Surely he is entitled to them?’
There was a silence and then Fidelma leaned forward and patted the girl’s arm. Secretly, she felt sympathy with the logic of her arguments. ‘No one will condemn a person for their beliefs,’ she said. ‘Everyone is entitled to their own views, so long as those views do no harm to anyone else.’
‘Deogaire is up at the palace?’ Aibell was still animated. ‘I must come up and see him.’
Fidelma said uncomfortably, ‘I have told you that it will not be possible immediately. He is being held under guard while an investigation into several deaths is being conducted.’
The girl’s expression was shocked. ‘Are you serious? He is being accused of involvement in these deaths?’
‘Among other things,’ confirmed Fidelma.
‘Then. . then you must defend him,’ Aibell burst out. ‘You are a dálaigh. You will clear him.’
Fidelma hesitated a moment or two. What was the old saying? Even truth may be bitter. ‘I am the one doing the investigating, Aibell,’ she said quietly. ‘It is I who have ordered his incarceration because of the evidence so far.’
The hope seemed to die from Aibell’s face. Then she said in a fierce but respectful tone: ‘I will not accept that Deogaire has harmed anyone. I refuse to believe it.’
‘Then let us hope that we can support your belief.’ Fidelma rose. ‘Come, Alchú. We must be getting back now.’ She turned to the girl. ‘I will keep you informed, and as soon as it is possible to see Deogaire, I will send for you, Aibell. You have my word.’
She then thanked Della for her hospitality. Her friend looked troubled as she handed the bags of herbs to Brother Conchobhar and bade them all farewell. Aibell sat silently at the table, staring unseeingly before her and forgot to even say goodbye to Alchú.
After they had ridden a little way, Brother Conchobhar ventured a look at Fidelma. ‘You are worried,’ he commented.
Fidelma glanced quickly at little Alchú on his pony. His mind seemed occupied with his mount at that moment so she replied in an undertone: ‘I am worried. This is a new development. Has Deogaire ever spoken to you of Aibell?’
‘He keeps many things secret,’ sighed the old apothecary. ‘I suppose there is no reason why he should have mentioned her. He probably did not even know that she was in the township.’
‘Aibell seems to have a very high regard for him,’ Fidelma said. ‘That is quite apparent.’
The old man nodded slowly. ‘You mean that she is enamoured of him? Well, there is no denying it. I too can see the signs. I think that you are now worried about young Gormán?’
‘I knew Gormán and liked him even before I found out that my old friend Della was actually his mother. Remember how that was hidden until they were accused of both murder and incest — and then the truth emerged?’
‘At least that truth emerged,’ Brother Conchobhar replied. ‘And you were the instrument of it coming to light.’
‘I saw that Gormán was stricken with Aibell from the first moment he saw her. I have heard tales of what they call the teinntide but did not really know it existed until I saw Gormán’s reaction to her.’
‘Teinntide — the lightning bolt.’ Brother Conchobhar gave a deep chuckle. ‘It is the thing that all the bards rhapsodise over. When young lovers are smitten at first sight and-’
‘Gormán suffered that malady,’ interrupted Fidelma stiffly. ‘I had believed that there was some reciprocation from Aibell, but seeing and hearing her speak about Deogaire just now, well. . I think there is another vying for her affections.’
‘That is hard,’ agreed the old physician. ‘I think a lot of people “suffer the malady” as you call it. Didn’t you, when you first met Eadulf?’
Fidelma fell silent. She was not thinking of Eadulf but of earlier days, when she was a young student at the law school of Brehon Morann and had experienced the teinntide. A young warrior named Cian stole her heart and then went off with another, leaving her desolate. She had not been able to overcome the effects of the affair until, many years later, she re-encountered Cian on the pilgrim voyage. She had recognised Cian for the vain and self-centred personality that he was and always had been. Her feelings for him had been no more than an infatuation and not an emotion that would have grown and strengthened through the years. She had to say that she had never felt that way with Eadulf. It was merely a friendship that had grown until such time when it was impossible to turn back. They had become inseparable, even though she had tried several times to break the bond between them. Now she acknowledged that it was real love and not the teinntide, although Eadulf had always claimed that he had known his feelings from the moment they had first bumped into each other, hurrying from opposite directions around the corner of a corridor in Hilda’s Abbey in Streonshalh.