Macliau suddenly caught himself and smiled quickly, saying in more moderate tones, ‘We are petitioning King Alain to allow us to claim some of our ancient rights again.’
‘This Alain is a descendant of King Judicael who forced your family to surrender, isn’t he?’ asked Eadulf.
‘He is the son of Judicael,’ replied Macliau quietly.
Eadulf exchanged a quick glance with Fidelma.
‘Doesn’t that make this claim an…er…uncomfortable one for him?’ he asked tactfully.
The young man realised what he was implying and said immediately, ‘Oh no. Alain Hir is our friend, for he was brought up with my father and neither of them blames the enmity of the past on each other. You will see — Alain will finally return the rights that have been taken from us by the greed and avarice of others.’
‘It is good to hear you say so,’ Brother Metellus said; he had been silent until now. ‘But he has surely been many years as King. Why does the matter of rights arise now?’
Macliau glanced at him with irritation.
‘There was much to be done before he could turn his attention to righting past wrongs done to the house of Brilhag,’ he said defensively. ‘The Franks are always attacking our eastern borders, and some of the western chieftains have been in rebellion against him. Anyway, the matter will soon be resolved.’
The little group stood in silence for a while, looking out on the seascape with the lowering sun sending long shadows across the islands.
‘A beautiful spot,’ murmured Fidelma. ‘Strange that there can be evil and death in such a peaceful landscape.’
Macliau looked up at the sky. ‘It grows late. The evening meal will be prepared soon. Perhaps you would like to retire to your rooms and refresh yourselves?’
It was when Fidelma and Eadulf were alone in their chamber, to which a fussy middle-aged female servant had shown them, bobbing and wringing her hands and enquiring every few minutes if all was in order, that Fidelma finally relaxed, throwing herself on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.
Eadulf stood looking at her with a worried frown.
‘I know what you are thinking, Eadulf,’ Fidelma said, not even looking at him.
‘I am thinking that I feel like a fly who has voluntarily walked into a spider’s web.’
She exhaled in a deep sigh.
‘Sometimes one has to put oneself in danger’s way, to discover the truth,’ she said philosophically.
‘I’d rather not do so. We should have-’
‘Should have done — what?’ Fidelma sat up, her voice tense. ‘Sat still, praying for a ship to take us home? That will not help us find these killers.’
‘But-’ protested Eadulf.
‘Sedit qui timuit ne non succederet,’ she countered. He who feared that he would not succeed sat still and did nothing.
‘That’s unfair!’ Eadulf said.
Fidelma had regretted her sharpness almost as soon as she uttered the phrase. She knew that her temper was never good at the best of times. She said contritely, ‘You are right, Eadulf. I was unfair. But I mean to find these killers.’
‘What I fear,’ Eadulf’s voice was low, ‘is that we might well have found them already. There is one other thing that worries me, apart from the emblem on their flag…’
Fidelma looked at him with an enquiry on her face.
‘Cast your mind back to the image of the commander of those sea-raiders. A lithe figure in white.’
‘And? He was masked so he could not be recognised.’
‘A lithe figure with a voice that was high-pitched. Our host, Macliau, fits that description.’
‘It has not escaped my attention,’ she said slowly. ‘Also, you saw the arrows stacked in the tower? Goose feathers in three sections, the work of an expert fletcher.’
‘And?’ asked Eadulf.
‘You forget so soon,’ she admonished. ‘I’d swear the hand that made them, also made the arrows that killed Biscam and his men.’
Eadulf was shocked. ‘Then what are we doing here, accepting the hospitality of these people?’ he wanted to know.
‘Because there is no better way to resolve this mystery than being at the centre of it. We shall proceed, but arrectis auribus…with ears pricked up,’ she smiled, adding the Latin expression to be on the alert.
Chapter Seven
Dusk was making their chamber gloomy by the time they had bathed and made themselves presentable for the evening meal. A servant — a slim, mournful-looking girl with dark hair and blue eyes — had been sent with a choice of more comfortable clothing for Fidelma and the compliments of Trifina. She had also brought candles of beeswax for illumination. Fidelma spent time putting the finishing touches to her toilette, for among her own people such matters were of importance, although Fidelma did not go so far as to paint her fingernails crimson, nor dye her eyebrows black or redden her cheeks with berries of the elder trees as many women of the Five Kingdoms did. She preferred to keep her long red hair flowing to her shoulders and not even plaited but simply well-combed.
While he waited for her to finish, Eadulf sat on the low windowsill, looking out across the shores and waters of the Morbihan. Now that the dusk had swept over the area he could see lights appearing across the waters, indicating where the myriad islands must be occupied. He also saw lights along the foreshore below the fortress, moving this way and that, which fascinated him for it was not indicative of dwellings but rather of people moving along the shore and even boats setting out to sea. Then, to his surprise, he saw a large dark outline of a ship moving slowly in the gloom. He could just make out its dark lines being towed by two small rowing boats. Then it stopped in the centre of the bay below.
Fidelma had finished combing her hair and he called her over to point this out.
‘It is strange there is so much movement once darkness has fallen,’ she agreed. ‘This is a time when most people should be at the evening meal.’
‘But the ship,’ Eadulf said. ‘Do you think it is…?’
‘If it is, we must be careful. We must not allow them to know that we suspect them.’
‘Can we trust Brother Metellus?’
Before she could reply, the slim, mournful-looking servant returned to announce that Macliau and Trifina were ready to receive their guests for the meal.
Brother Metellus was already seated at the long wooden table in the great hall when Fidelma and Eadulf were shown in. The great hall was lit with ornate bronze oil lanterns, rather like the type called lespaire in Fidelma’s own land. On the table were several candles that gave a warming glow.
Macliau came forward to greet them, appearing as charming as ever. His sister, Trifina, remained in her chair and gave them an expressionless smile of welcome. There were three other guests — two men and the voluptuous-looking Argantken, still arrayed in colourful attire that was very distracting. Ignoring them, she sat eating from a bowl of nuts and swallowing large mouthfuls of what seemed to be white wine from a glass.
Of the two men, one was the tall, handsome-looking warrior called Bleidbara, the commander of the warriors at Brilhag. The second guest was a stranger to them. He was a tall, sallow-faced man of middle age clad in long woollen robes that had once been white but grown dull with age. His dark hair was streaked with grey; he wore it long, with a drooping moustache but was otherwise clean-shaven in the old Celtic fashion. A thin band of burnished copper encircled his head. Around his neck was a gold chain hung with an ancient symbol, a circular solar motif. His cheeks seemed pale and bloodless, in contrast to his thin red lips. In fact, it crossed Eadulf’s mind that the man must have reddened them with berry juice. The dark eyes were restless, moving constantly while they held an unfathomable quality. His bland expression, on the other hand, seemed to hold no emotion.