‘Did I do that?’ she queried, in surprise, bending to examine it. Gobnat almost snatched it up.
‘It is nothing. An old cauldron, lady. An old dent.’
Capa, coming in, was frowning as he glanced at Gobnat holding the cauldron.
‘I heard that your husband was in trouble, lady. Is there anything I can do?’
Fidelma had the impression that he was diverting the conversation for some reason. She shook her head. Her next move would be to see Ferloga. If it was not Conchoille who had sent Eadulf riding towards the abbey of Coimán, then it was something Ferloga had said. She was not going down Brehon Dathal’s path of reasoning, she thought angrily. Eadulf had left because he had heard something about Alchú. Of that much she was certain.
She suddenly saw that Gobnat was regarding her with a concerned expression.
‘Are you worried for your man, lady? That is the curse of all women, for there is little constancy in men. They come and they go and do not give heed to the grief that they leave behind.’
Capa frowned in annoyance at his wife.
‘Still your tongue, woman. The king’s sister does not want to hear your philosophy.’ He went on hurriedly, ‘I am told that the crossan, the players we encountered at Cnoc Loinge, have arrived this morning and are setting up their camp behind the township.’
‘The company was due to perform in Cashel,’ Fidelma explained.
‘It is sad that the dwarf who dressed as a leper was killed,’ went on Capa. ‘He might have been able to identify the woman who pretended to be my wife and sent him with the message to Sárait.’
Fidelma was still thinking about Eadulf. Gobnat mistook the meaning of her thoughtful features.
‘Perhaps some other person will be able to identify the woman who pretended to be me. It should be easy to find someone who wears such a distinctive cloak.’
Fidelma nodded absently. ‘Let us hope so, for if the Uí Fidgente are not involved in this matter, then we have to find…’
The noise of a galloping horse caused her to pause. A moment later a voice cried out: ‘Sister Fidelma! Lady!’
Capa reached the door first, followed by Fidelma. A messenger from the palace sat outside on horseback.
‘What is the matter?’ demanded Capa, annoyed that one of his warriors should seem so undisciplined.
‘I was told the lady Fidelma would be here,’ the messenger cried. Then he spotted Fidelma behind Capa. ‘Brother Eadulf, lady! It is reported that he is at the bridge across the Suir and on his way to Cashel… and he has Alchú with him. Safe and well, according to one of our sentries who rode here immediately to alert us.’
Fidelma stared at him without speaking.
‘It is true, lady,’ the man confirmed. ‘He will be at the palace shortly if not already. Caol and some warriors have been sent to greet him. Your baby is safe home again, lady. Safe!’
Fidelma was already running for her horse.
Eadulf and his party had crossed the bridge over the River Suir and seen one of the guards on it despatched at a gallop towards the distant Rock of Cashel. Eadulf and Basil Nestorios rode ahead with Gormán just behind, and a light wagon driven by Nessán the shepherd, with Muirgen at his side carrying the baby, brought up the rear. They had proceeded a fair distance when Gormán raised his arm and called to Eadulf.
‘Here comes our escort, Brother.’
A group of horseman came trotting along the road towards them, and Eadulf immediately recognised Caol at their head. The warrior raised his hand in greeting as they came up. His expression was serious.
‘Is it true?’ he demanded, looking curiously from Eadulf and Gormán to Basil Nestorios and then to the couple on the wagon. His eyes fell on the baby in Muirgen’s arms. Eadulf nodded towards the infant with a smile.
‘Alchú is safe and well and we are bringing him home. Does Fidelma know?’
‘Someone has gone to tell her. Much has happened since you left, Brother Eadulf.’
Eadulf frowned when he saw no lightening of the serious expression on the other’s face.
‘This should be a moment of joy, Caol. Yet you seem unhappy.’
‘Everyone has been wondering why you left Cashel so quickly.’
‘Haven’t an itinerant herbalist and his wife arrived in Cashel?’
Caol stared at him a moment as if he did not understand. Then he shrugged.
‘I am told that travelling players and a herbalist are encamped outside the town, ready for the forthcoming fair day.’
‘And they have not spoken to anyone yet?’
Caol shook his head.
‘Well, I’ll explain when we get to the palace,’ said Eadulf. ‘Meanwhile, we can rejoice at the safe return of Alchú.’
‘There are many questions to be answered first.’ Caol turned to Gormán. ‘And I suppose that you have a good excuse for deserting Cashel at this time?’
Gormán flushed. ‘I felt my duty was to go in support of Brother Eadulf.’ There was a slight note of defiance in his voice at the censure implied by his comrade’s words.
‘And were it not for Gormán,’ added Eadulf, ‘I and my good friend Basil Nestorios,’ he nodded to his companion, who was looking bewildered, ‘would not be here at all.’
‘And who are these others?’ asked Caol.
‘They are a shepherd and his wife, who have come to look after Alchú on our journey back to Cashel.’ There was anger in Eadulf’s voice now. ‘What is wrong? Why this strange greeting when you should be filled with joy for Fidelma and myself?’
Caol looked at him apologetically.
‘Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, I am acting on the orders of the Brehon Dathal, Chief Brehon of the kingdom. I have no other choice but to make you my prisoner. You have been charged with murder.’
Eadulf gasped in astonishment.
‘Murder? Of whom?’ he demanded.
‘Of Bishop Petrán.’
Eadulf sat on the single cot in his cell-like chamber in the section of the palace given over to prisoners and hostages. The final leg of the journey to Cashel had been a curious experience. Fidelma had arrived soon after Caol. After fussing over the baby, she, too, appeared shocked when Caol told her that Eadulf was formally a prisoner. She demanded on whose authority Caol was acting and, when told that it was on the specific order of Brehon Dathal, had told Eadulf not to worry and gone riding off like a mad thing towards the palace.
Caol had been correct in his behaviour and during the time he rode as escort with Eadulf he sought to bring him up to date on all that had happened during his absence. When they arrived at Cashel, Eadulf was led immediately to the area where prisoners were kept and told he must wait for Brehon Dathal to question him. Caol promised to take Muirgen and Nessán directly to Fidelma and also to look after Basil Nestorios. Capa, he was told, would probably reprimand Gormán, as he was commander of the guard. With little more ado, Eadulf had been left to his own devices in the small stone chamber. He felt a black despair. He had endured so much, and now to be falsely accused of killing the old bishop … His mind went back to his false imprisonment in the abbey of Fearna. Fidelma had come to his rescue then, but now he was imprisoned in the palace of Fidelma’s own brother and charged by his chief judge. Despair and anger fought within him but despair had the upper hand.
Several hours seemed to pass before the door opened abruptly and Fidelma appeared.
He sprang towards her and for a few moments they held each other tight.
‘How is the boy?’ he asked.
Fidelma smiled. There were tears in her eyes.
‘He is fine. Muirgen and her husband Nessán are still looking after him. They have Sárait’s old chamber next to ours. They have told me their part in the story. I have also been talking to Basil Nestorios. I can’t wait to hear the full tale from you. But first we must deal with this matter. This is all Brehon Dathal’s doing.’