The refectory bell began to toll, summoning the brethren to the evening meal. Fidelma turned towards the door without answering.
‘A moment!’ snapped Eadulf.
Fidelma turned back to him, surprised at the sudden anger in his voice.
‘I think,’ Eadulf said, his voice suddenly cold, his tone measured, ‘that you should tell me what you intend to do before we join the others. You should tell me, even if you have no respect for me as your husband, for the sake of the fact that I am the father of Alchú, who is my son as well as yours.’
Fidelma flushed in annoyance. For a moment she said nothing as a strange combination of guilt and anger welled in her, rose up until her tongue was ready to articulate it. Then something seemed to spread like a cooling tide through her mind. Her guilt suddenly outweighed her impulse to anger.
She realised that the fault lay with her. She had taken Eadulf for granted and she had used arrogance to disguise her feelings of guilt for fear of showing them. Eadulf was right. Had she pushed the good nature of the Saxon too far? She stared at his resolute features. They seemed so alien now, so cold and impassive. She had never seen him look so controlled and distant before.
‘Eadulf…’ she began, but found her lips suddenly dry.
He waited a moment.
‘Well?’ he demanded harshly. ‘What do you intend? Am I to be told or do you prefer to make decisions without informing me? Don’t let it concern you. I am used to those at Cashel nudging one another, smirking and treating me with disrespect. There goes the foreigner! It is right that he is treated like a servant for he is not worthy of marriage to our princess.’
Fidelma stared at him, shocked.
‘Who says this about you?’ she demanded after a pause.
Eadulf’s features formed into a sneer. She had never seen him like this before.
‘Are you claiming that you are blind to what happens at Cashel? Are you deaf to the whispers in the corridors of your brother’s palace? It is obvious that I am not thought worthy of you and you have often demonstrated that you share that opinion. I am considered…’
The angry words faded away as he failed to find suitable ones to express the months of built-up frustration and anger that lay within him.
Fidelma stood still, watching him. She suddenly felt that he had become a stranger to her. She was shocked by his suppressed passion. He stared back, his mouth a thin line, waiting for her to react. Finally, she sighed deeply.
‘I was going to suggest that we continue west until we reach Cnoc Loinge, the Hill of the Ship, to see if we can learn anything further about the dwarf Forindain,’ she said quietly.
‘That,’ replied Eadulf in a tight voice, ‘is acceptable to me.’
He brushed quickly by her and left her staring in confusion after him.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Fidelma turned her horse westward. She had hardly spoken to Eadulf since their harsh words of the night before and a long, uncomfortable silence hung between them. To Capa she had merely said: ‘I am in a mind to go to Cnoc Loinge, the Hill of the Ship. It will take us a few hours out of our journey, that is all.’
Capa had protested.
There is nothing there, lady.’
‘Except a fair that I have a mind to see.’
Capa raised his eyebrows in surprise but said nothing further. After a while, Fidelma decided to unbend and confided in Capa and his men what the purpose of going to Cnoc Loinge was.
Capa was clearly not enthusiastic.
‘You say that this dwarf, Forindain, might be the messenger that lured my sister-in-law from the palace? A leper? And we are going to Cnoc Loinge to see a band of travelling players among whom this Forindain might be hiding? It sounds a waste of time to me.’
‘Nevertheless,’ Fidelma assured him, ‘that is why we are going there.’
Capa glanced at Eadulf, who had remained silent. It was clear that he recognised the unease between them. He regarded them with a troubled expression but said no more.
The distinctively shaped hill lay scarcely five kilometres from the abbey of Imleach. It was a pleasant and easy ride through wooded countryside until they came to the settlement nestling under the long, narrow hill. But just before they reached their destination, Eadulf saw that several travellers were joining the road. Soon the track was crowded and they had to pick their way among all manner of pedestrians, riders and those driving carts drawn by sturdy donkeys. It was clear that they were all heading for the fair, and when they reached the settlement they became aware of festivities taking place.
Apart from the wooden buildings of the village, there were stalls and tents erected on the main green, an area called the faithche that was set aside for the purpose. Fidelma knew that the smaller fairs throughout the country were presided over by the local chieftain, who assigned certain people to clear away the brambles and rubbish from the area on which the fair was to be held. Fences and mounds marked out the ground on which stalls were erected, and there was also an area set aside for sports such as jumping and running, and displays of weaponry and wrestling. To one side, she could see a cluichi mag had been prepared. This was a grassy level, where the ancient game of camán or hurling would be played. A local fair like this was called an oirecht as as opposed to the major festivals of the Féis.
However, for such a small fair, there were a lot of people attending. It was probable that most of the population of the outlying areas had come to attend or participate in the sports or be entertained by the travelling players.
The stalls were crowded with people selling their wares, from farmers selling goats and pigs to those selling fruits and baked produce such as pies. Above the hubbub and shouting of the crowds came the sound of music. Here and there an airfidig or solitary minstrel wandered, singing ballads and reciting poetry, while in one corner a group of musicians, including a cruit or harp player, a cnamh-fhir or bone man who played bone castanets, and a drummer, entertained a crowd, with cuirsig, pipes and flutes.
Fidelma’s sharp eye caught a small stage. It was empty but had obviously been erected for an entertainment. A notice attached to a pole read, ‘The Love of Bebo of the Faylinn to be played here.’ So the dwarfs were still here, she noted with satisfaction. Of course, it did not mean that the leper, Forindain, was with them, but she felt intuitively that she would find him.
She drew her horse to a halt and called to a man, who looked like a local, who was standing by a stream that meandered along the edge of the fairground where people could water their horses. This man, however, held a great wolfhound on a lead, and it was lapping at the waters.
‘Greetings, my friend. Where is the suide-dála, the convention seat, and will your chieftain be there?’
The man, tall with ginger hair and the look of a smith rather than a farmer, glanced quickly at her with bright blue eyes, his gaze travelling from her attire to the golden necklets of her companions announcing them to be the élite of the king of Cashel’s warriors. He inclined his head in obeisance.
‘You are welcome to Cnoc Loinge, lady.’ He had obviously deduced that she was no mere religieuse but someone of importance. ‘If you follow this stream here you will come to the convention seat by the camán field, the large blue tent, where our chieftain, Fiachrae, takes his rest before the game starts.’
‘Thank you.’ Fidelma turned towards the tent the man had indicated. They had not gone far when Capa called to her.
‘Lady, do you want us to set about finding the dwarfs and discovering if they know the religieux leper?’