‘That is good,’ Brother Metellus commented.
‘But there is also bad news,’ added Macliau. ‘The survivor of the attack did not live the night. You did not tell us that there was a survivor?’
‘The wound was a bad one but I did not think it life-threatening,’ Eadulf blurted in surprise.
‘We forgot about him,’ Fidelma said quickly. ‘Dead, you say?’
‘The physician at the abbey told my men that his condition had been very bad,’ continued Macliau. ‘In fact, he said that there was no hope for him. He was surprised that the man survived long enough to get to the abbey.’
Eadulf’s lips compressed in annoyance. That had certainly not been what the physician had told them when they had seen the man at the abbey. And Eadulf had not told anyone that he had spent some years at Ireland’s foremost medical school of Tuam Brecain, studying the healing arts. He knew that the man should not have died. He glanced at Fidelma but saw the warning look in her eyes.
‘So now we have no one who can identify the attackers,’ Brother Metellus sighed, having also picked up the warning glance.
‘And that is a pity,’ Fidelma said heavily.
‘Indeed,’ agreed Macliau. ‘Moreover, my warriors also tried to follow the tracks of Biscam’s donkeys. They led into the marshy land before they disappeared.’
‘Is it not worrying to you that your sister Trifina has left this fortress early this morning, apparently alone?’ Fidelma suddenly asked.
Macliau chuckled and shook his head.
‘My dear lady, my sister and I were born and grew up here. We know these woods like the backs of our hands. And no one would dare to challenge us in this, our own territory. Anyway, Trifina has probably gone back to our island of Govihan. She frequently goes there. And, wherever she goes, she takes a couple of warriors.’
‘You have no worries about her safety in the circumstances?’
‘When you are home in your brother’s kingdom, does your brother come running after you, lady?’ replied Macliau.
‘If there were raiders wandering loose, he might well be worried,’ Fidelma replied sharply.
‘I think they will have fled back to their lair, having carried out such an attack. That might be anywhere.’
Fidelma sniffed. ‘Perhaps. But it would be better to be certain.’
‘Well, lady, it is a matter of speculation. I have no evidence to the contrary. Speculation without knowledge is pointless,’ Macliau said glibly.
Fidelma coloured as the young man used a phrase she was fond of declaiming.
‘Anyway, Argantken and I have arranged to go hunting,’ he continued, still with an amused expression. ‘So the hospitality of Brilhag is yours to do with as you see fit.’
The statement surprised both Fidelma and Eadulf. After his late night and heavy consumption of wine, they were amazed that the young man had been able to rise before noon. Seeing their expressions, he interpreted them as concern for his safety under the present conditions.
‘You need have no care for me either,’ he told them smugly. ‘I shall have my warriors with me. I will return this evening but, meanwhile, this fortress may be considered your home. Ask of Iuna what you will, for she is in charge of the household.’
‘I look forward to your safe return, Macliau,’ Fidelma replied coolly.
It was Eadulf who thanked him for his continuing hospitality, feeling that perhaps Fidelma had been a little too abrasive with the young lord. The latter merely nodded in acknowledgement, turned away and whistled — at which sound his little dog came bounding towards him.
Fidelma and Eadulf looked from one of the windows of the great hall and saw that horses were already saddled in the courtyard outside. Argantken was mounted and waiting for Macliau. Two warriors and two others, huntsmen by their attire, were also in attendance. When Macliau had joined them, the party set off through the gates, with Albiorix the dog yelping and scampering behind them.
After they had gone, Brother Metellus addressed Fidelma sternly.
‘You made your disapproval of the conduct of Macliau very obvious. I feel it my duty to point out that you are here under the laws of hospitality, and that although you are honoured in your country of Hibernia, being the sister of a king, here you are a stranger in a strange land. Macliau is the son of the mac’htiern of Brilhag, a descendant of the rulers of Bro-Waroch, and he should be treated with all respect.’
Fidelma’s eyes flashed warningly, which only Eadulf interpreted, and he spoke quickly before she did.
‘You are right to point these things out, Brother Metellus, and we accept them. But these are trying circumstances and we should not have to repeat warnings of the dangers.’
Brother Metellus was also serious. ‘I had some role in this matter, as I recall.’
At once, Fidelma was contrite.
‘My apologies to you, Brother Metellus. You saved us from death. But do you not find it odd that the man we left, well on his way to recovery, was now said to be so ill that he did not survive the night?’
Brother Metellus hesitated a moment. Then he spoke quietly.
‘I am not forgetting why we came to this fortress. I am not forgetting the banner that Biscam held in his lifeless hand — the banner that flies above this very place. But truly I cannot see what reason there would be for the family of Brilhag to be involved in either sea raiding or robbing merchants passing through their country. Having said that, I cannot deny the evidence of the banner.’
‘For the moment, what we know about that banner must remain between us,’ Eadulf advised.
‘Do not worry,’ returned Brother Melletus. ‘I am as concerned about the truth of this as you are.’
‘Then we are agreed,’ Fidelma said. ‘I will try to be more circumspect, but it is frustrating to feel that there is a mystery here and no path to follow to seek it out.’
‘Let us consider this logically,’ Brother Metellus invited. ‘Why would the mac’htiern of Brilhag be behind these actions? Why would he turn sea raider or thief when he is lord of all on this peninsula and indeed, can claim authority throughout all of Bro-Waroch?’
‘You ask good questions, Brother Metellus,’ Fidelma replied. ‘I cannot supply the answers to them yet. In those answers is the solution to the conundrum that faces us: whoever is behind these crimes does them under the banner of this fortress. Now you tell me why that is?’
But Brother Metellus was unable to offer an explanation, and as he struggled to do so, a faint trumpet sounded from beyond the gates.
‘What does that signify?’ asked Eadulf, as he saw Brother Metellus raise his head with a puzzled expression. ‘Is Macliau in trouble?’
‘It is a call to alert the guards of the approach of someone of importance.’
The trumpet sounded again, closer to the fortress, and they all went out together to watch the newcomers’ arrival.
Several guards had now taken up positions. A line of horses was trotting along the track towards the open gates. Warriors rode the first two animals. The next carried a woman, who rode on her own. She was a tall, slim figure, richly clad. Behind her came another woman, then two more warriors, and finally two attendants who were holding the lead reins of two asses on which baggage was strapped.
The cavalcade entered the fortress and came to a halt before the steps leading to the doors of the great hall where Fidelma’s little party stood.
One of the warriors, a good-looking young man, immediately leaped down from his horse and went over to the tall woman’s mount, where he knelt, so that she could use his broad back as a step to alight. No one else moved as she did so. Then she walked slowly over to the steps where Fidelma, Eadulf and Brother Metellus stood. The young warrior came behind her, eyes narrowed as he held them in his keen gaze, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. They halted at the foot of the steps.