Tell me more about the pilgrims,’ Fidelma queried, leaning forward slightly to give emphasis to her interest.
The man frowned as if gathering his thoughts, pausing for a moment before replying.
‘Little to tell, lady. We passed them on the road, for they were on foot and we were on horseback. We came here and eventually they caught up with us. There were about six of them. I have seen their sort many times en route to holy sanctuaries in search of cures for their ailments. There was nothing to distinguish them, one from another. Each one of them was clad in robes, and they had their heads covered in cowls so that we could not tell age or even sex. There were no children with them; any babies, that is.’
Fidelma examined him with a frown.
‘What makes you qualify your statement?’
The man hesitated and shrugged.
‘I thought one of them might have been a child, a short, almost misshapen poor soul.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘A misshapen child?’ Her voice was sharp.
The warrior shrugged as he considered how best to describe what he had seen.
The pilgrim was not what I would call a child. The figure was quite stocky. And about so high…’ He was a tall man and raised a hand to the level of his waistband.
Capa was looking on with disapproval. ‘You did not check the identities of these travellers, I gather? You surely know that we are looking for the misshapen child who brought the message to Cashel? You should have stopped this pilgrim.’
The man looked unhappy. ‘I was not told about a misshapen child, Capa, only about the baby, Alchú. That is all. Anyway, when we went closer to the pilgrims to question them, this small figure produced a bell — a leper’s bell — and rang it. I noticed the other pilgrims tended to keep their distance. Therefore we did not venture nearer but let them pass on to Imleach.’
Fidelma exhaled slowly. It was her only sign of exasperation. The warrior turned to her with an expression that was almost woeful.
‘Truly, lady,’ he said, speaking directly to her, ‘we were not told to search for a misshapen child — only for a baby.’
Capa looked irritable. ‘Who gave you your orders, warrior?’
‘Why, my lord Finguine did so.’
‘Well, now you know, although I fear it is too late,’ Capa replied. ‘A misshapen child brought the message to Cashel that lured Sárait to her death. Keep a careful watch from now on.’
The warrior nodded glumly.
Low down behind the distant western mountains came a rumble of thunder. Fidelma stirred reluctantly.
‘We should press on to the Well of Ara before the storm breaks.’ Capa turned and led the way across the bridge with Fidelma and Eadulf following and their escort of Caol and Gorman bringing up the rear.
The warrior on the bridge watched their going with a glum face. Then he seemed to relax and pulled himself up with a disdainful gesture of his shoulders. Capa was mad if he expected the men to start searching passing lepers too closely.
The rain was just starting to fall in heavy droplets and the rumble of thunder was growing more prevalent as, some kilometres further on, the party came to a small rise beyond which the road dipped towards another substantial river. On both banks of this river, and connected by a series of easily fordable shallows, lay the settlement of Ara’s Well. In fact, the waters barely came up to the fetlocks of the horses as they splashed through the crossing and halted before a tavern situated exactly by the ford.
A youth, scarcely out of his boyhood, certainly no more than fourteen, opened the door of the inn and came forward to greet them.
‘Welcome, travellers. You are welcome to…’
His eyes suddenly fell on Fidelma and then on Eadulf and a broad urchin grin lit up his features.
‘Greetings to you, Adag.’ Fidelma smiled as she swung down from her horse. ‘Are you well?’
‘Well, indeed, lady. Welcome. Brother Eadulf, welcome. You are both most welcome.’
Eadulf smiled and ruffled the boy’s already tousled hair.
‘Good to see you again, Adag. You have grown since I last laid eyes on you.’
The boy drew himself up. He looked different from the small eleven-year-old whom Eadulf had first seen sitting by the river bank, casting his line into the waters and trying to lift the wild brown trout for the pot.
‘How is your grandfather, Adag?’ asked Fidelma, as the boy took her horse’s reins. The boy paused before he turned to gather the reins of the other mounts.
‘He is inside, lady. He will be happy to see you. I will take your horses to the stable and attend to them. But my grandfather will take care of your wants. Will you be staying? I can look after your horses, if so?’
Fidelma glanced at the sky, just as a lightning flash lit it. She blinked and silently counted, reaching four before the thunder reverberated in the air.
‘It is near enough,’ she observed in resignation. ‘We will wait out the storm.’ With a smile, she added: ‘How long do you think that will be, Adag?’
The boy tilted his head to one side with a serious expression as he surveyed the sky.
‘It will be gone before the hour is up, but there is time enough to take a bowl of stew and a mug of my grandfather’s corma. I will feed and rub down the horses.’
Capa, who had been silent during this exchange, frowned.
‘My men are capable of tending to their own mounts…’
Fidelma raised a hand. ‘Adag can take care of all our mounts, Capa. He is capable enough. Come inside and leave him to do his job.’
She turned and pushed into the interior of the tavern. It was dark inside but a dancing fire provided a curious light, where flames ate hungrily into a pile of crackling logs. There was an aroma of mutton stew simmering in its large pot from a hook above the fire.
An elderly man was placing drinking vessels on the table. He turned as they entered and opened his mouth to welcome them, then halted as he recognised them.
‘Hello, Aona. Are you well?’
‘I am the better for seeing you, my lady. And with our good Saxon friend, Eadulf. Life has been quiet in my tavern since last you visited us.’
‘Ah, I pray that it may continue to be so, Aona,’ replied Fidelma in solemn humour. ‘Better peace than conflict, eh?’
Capa looked irritated at being excluded from this friendly exchange. His handsome features seemed disdainful of the intimacy between Fidelma and the innkeeper.
‘Landlord, fetch us food and drink,’ he said officiously.
Fidelma turned to him and only Eadulf saw the swift look of annoyance cross her features before it was gone.
‘Aona, let me present Capa. Capa now holds the position that you once held.’
Capa frowned, not understanding, colouring at the implied rebuke. Then he peered at the old innkeeper with an expression of surprise as memory came to him.
‘Are you Aona who was commander of the guard of Cashel in the days of my grandfather? Aona whose deeds and combats are still spoken of?’
Behind Capa, Caol and Gorman were regarding the old innkeeper with something approaching awe. They were both young men, full of pride at being chosen to wear the golden necklet of the élite bodyguard of Cashel. But over their fires, at night, they had also heard of the deeds and valour of the great warriors who had gone before them and whose image they wanted to live up to.
The old innkeeper chuckled at their expressions.
‘I am Aona who once served as commander of the guard,’ he replied. ‘But you make me sound positively ancient, my young warrior.’ His grey eyes glinted like steel as he regarded the younger man. ‘So you are now commander of the guard, eh? Well, command is not merely in the strength of one’s muscles, young friend. Let us hope your mind is as agile as your body.’
Capa’s chin came up defensively.
‘I pride myself that Colgú has no cause to complain of me,’ he retorted.