‘No women are allowed to stay within our community,’ snapped Abbot Maelcar, as if his hospitality was being questioned.
Riwanon gazed sadly at him.
‘Then times have changed, indeed,’ she sighed, before turning to Fidelma. ‘I am glad to hear that Aourken thrives. I must make a point of visiting her before I leave this area. So come, sister, let us draw closer to the fire and you may tell me what you know of the kindly Aourken.’
It was clear that Abbot Maelcar was not regarded highly by the Queen, and Fidelma could not condemn her for it. He was all the things that she held in contempt in a man of rank and one who proclaimed the Faith.
Riwanon’s female attendant Ceingar had reappeared and removed herself to a corner of the hall with Budic, and the pair were chatting gaily away, with now and then a peal of merry laughter. As Fidelma and Riwanon drew apart to talk pleasantly of various matters, Fidelma noticed that, while Eadulf and Brother Metellus sat with Abbot Maelcar as good manners dictated, their conversation was mainly with one another. However, the Abbot seemed to exclude himself and merely sat with a frown contemplating the space before him.
Once when Iuna entered to announce the readiness of the evening meal, Fidelma noticed the Abbot once more staring at the young woman with a curious look. When she returned to the kitchens, he rose and, muttering something about the privy, disappeared. Curiosity seized Fidelma as she noticed this and while Riwanon turned to speak to Eadulf, she rose and moved to the door and stealthily went through it. Along a darkened corridor she could hear raised voices. There was no mistaking the Abbot’s heavy growl and the higher-pitched indignation of Iuna. Fidelma strained to hear what they were arguing about, but when the voices lowered she returned quickly to rejoin the others. A moment later, Abbot Maelcar returned, clearly upset and in an ill temper.
The evening passed without further incident, until Eadulf raised the question that had begun to worry him since darkness had descended across the fortress.
‘Is it not strange that Macliau and Argantken have not returned from their hunting expedition? He said they would be back by evening.’
Brother Metellus rose from his place.
‘Forgive me, lady,’ he said to Riwanon. ‘I will go to the gate and see if there is news of him.’
He was gone for a while and when he returned and resumed his seat, the others looked at him expectantly.
‘Boric, who now commands the guard, tells me that they are not unduly worried,’ he said. ‘Macliau and Argantken left with four men, including his chief huntsman. Boric tells me that Macliau often does not return from the hunt until he has something worthy of returning with — and frequently stays out all night.’
Riwanon was frowning slightly. ‘Boric? I thought Bleidbara was in command of the warriors at this fortress?’
‘Bleidbara has gone as escort to Trifina, lady,’ offered Iuna, who was attending them at the table. ‘They have not returned yet. Perhaps they will not. Trifina often spends more time on the island of Govihan than in this fortress.’
Budic grinned, his expression full of some cynicism, which seemed to be habitual with him.
‘It is a peculiar household where all the hosts vanish and no one is left to offer hospitality save the servants. Who is Argantken, by the way?’
‘Just a local girl,’ muttered Iuna resentfully.
This seemed to amuse Budic even more, but a sharp glance from Riwanon caused him to compose his features.
‘Argantken did not strike me as the sort who took pleasure in staying out all night in pursuit of game,’ Brother Metellus offered, but no one responded to his comment.
There was a sense of relief all round when the meal finished and it was announced that Riwanon would retire to her chamber. Now protocol allowed freedom for the rest of the company to disperse.
As Fidelma was climbing the stairway behind Eadulf, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye: Iuna was clearing away the plates from the table in front of Budic. The warrior caught her wrist and Iuna looked down at him, shook her head and then motioned towards the kitchen and whispered something. Budic glanced around as if to be sure they had not been seen. Thankfully, he did not glance upwards and Fidelma hurried on.
Once Fidelma and Eadulf were in their own chamber, they could talk freely. Eadulf had felt inhibited about saying much in the presence of Riwanon, but now he was eager to ask questions. Fidelma could only agree with him that the absence of Macliau and Argantken, as well as Trifina and Bleidbara, was strange — as well as a breach of all the protocols surrounding hospitality.
‘And what of Abbot Maelcar?’ he demanded. ‘In truth, I have not felt so uneasy in a place since I had the misfortune to stay at the abbey of Fearna.’
Fidelma shivered slightly at the memory of how Eadulf was nearly hanged by the evil Abbess Fainder.
‘Someone wanted Abbot Maelcar to come here,’ she deduced. ‘Yes, I agree that coincidences can happen, but there are enough strange events occurring here that I feel they are happening for a purpose. Omnia causa fiunt, Eadulf. Everything happens for a reason. But we can only speculate after we have the information to do so. And that is the problem. We have no information.’
Eadulf was disappointed and said so.
Fidelma’s thoughts were preoccupied with the curious behaviour of both Abbot Maelcar and Budic towards the girl Iuna. Both seemed to know her and both surreptitiously sought her out. One to quarrel and the other apparently to have a secret assignation. What was the meaning of it?
Fidelma gave a tired smile as she slid into bed.
‘We can only see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps the mystery will soon be sorted. In the meantime, it is sleep we need more than conjecture.’
Fidelma came awake fretfully. Her mind was filled with images of the masked figure in white and that terrible moment when she saw her Cousin Bressal collapsing in his own blood on the deck of the Barnacle Goose. Yet other things, other images, crowded into her mind. She sat up in bed. The prone figure of Eadulf beside her was emitting deep, regular breaths and, for a moment, she was irritated that he was able to sleep so soundly. Then she gave an inward smile. He deserved rest. They had been through much recently.
She drew her tongue over her dry lips and realised just how parched she was. At the window, the racing clouds had passed across the bright orb of the moon and she saw the jug of water by the bed. She reached over — and found that it was empty. For a moment or two she entertained the thought of returning to sleep, but knew that her dry throat and the constant thoughts of the strange sea-raiders would keep her awake. There was no other course than to make her way down to the kitchens behind the great hall to see if she could find fresh water.
With a reluctant sigh, she swung out of the bed and drew on her robe, making her way over the cold wooden boards to find her shoes of soft leather. Then, glancing back into the gloomy half-light of the chamber, she drew open the door and passed quietly out into the corridor. In spite of her robe and the leather on her feet, the cold of the stone walls seemed to permeate her very being. The bright moon cast its light through the tall window at the end of the corridor, throwing eerie shadows.
Fidelma was moving quietly, keeping to the middle of the corridor to avoid the chests and standing vases that fringed the walls. Thus it was that when the figure seemed to leap from nowhere into her path, she had warning enough to move to avoid a collision.
The figure halted a moment and seemed to cower back. It was clear that whoever it was had not seen Fidelma’s approach, but had come rushing from a side door, beyond which a flickering candlelight spread a little illumination.