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‘Nor I, Eadulf. Nor did I expect to see this young one again.’ She glanced anxiously at him. ‘It is only when you lose something that you realise just how valuable it is to you.’

Eadulf eased himself into a sitting position. For a moment he wondered whether Fidelma’s face was red from the heat of the fire or from the mulled wine that she was sipping. Before he could say anything Fidelma went hurriedly on as if drowning out her own thoughts: ‘I have listened now to everything the witnesses have to say. The abduction of Alchú does not seem to be the issue. It was a matter of accident that Corb and Corbnait mistook him for an abandoned baby.’

‘Uaman’s involvement was no accident.’

She inclined her head thoughtfully. ‘I spoke to Gormán. Colgú has already sent some of his guard to bring Fiachrae back to Cashel for a hearing of his conduct. We may get some of the Uí Fidgente to confess to Fiachrae’s involvement with them. But the main mystery remains. Who killed Sárait and precipitated this evil series of events?’

Eadulf rubbed his chin pensively. ‘Have you spoken to Delia further about the cloak you recognised as hers?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Do you think she had lost it on purpose, or had someone taken it?’

‘I don’t think Delia was lying. Why would she want to kill Sárait?’

‘There is an answer. Gormán told us both that he was in love with Sárait. You believe that Delia is more than fond of Gormán. And we know that Sárait’s husband was not the father of her stillborn child. It seems logical that Gormán might have been the father and that Delia…’ He paused and shrugged.

‘It sounds far-fetched,’ muttered Fidelma. ‘Delia is not so blind in her emotions that-’ She stopped short. Where emotions were concerned, all beings could become blind.

Eadulf was silent for a while. Then he sat up and rose from the bed, going to the fire and pouring himself another goblet of the warm, mulled wine.

‘I meant to ask you, what made everyone so certain that the ransom note was genuine? Before I left, it was agreed that proof was to be demanded from the kidnappers. So why were the three Uí Fidgente chieftains released?’

Fidelma stretched in a chair before the fire. ‘Throw another log on,’ she instructed as Eadulf was bending before it. He selected one and placed it on the flames. Fidelma continued: ‘Didn’t Gormán tell you?’

‘Gormán? What has he to do with that?’

‘The innkeeper in the town handed him the response to our demand. It was attached to the door of the local tavern.’

Eadulf whistled sharply. ‘So the person responsible was in the vicinity of Cashel the whole time?’

‘I wonder why Gormán didn’t mention it?’ Fidelma pondered.

‘There was a lot going on at the Tower of Uaman,’ Eadulf said, with a grimace of dismissal. ‘But what was the evidence that was presented?’

‘One of Alchú’s baby shoes … the ones that my brother gave him for a present. I nearly died when I saw it returned to confirm that the kidnappers held him.’

Eadulf stared at her for a moment. ‘But I brought back the baby shoes that he was wearing. Muirgen still had all his clothes.’

Fidelma started to shake her head and then a frown creased her brow. She went to the drawer of her chest and fetched the birch bark note and the shoe that had been sent back.

‘Were these not what he was wearing on his feet?’ she said, holding the latter out to Eadulf. He shook his head.

‘No. He was wearing little woollen booties. Muirgen will testify to that. They are a bit soiled after all this time but they were the only pair missing from the chest. Don’t you remember that your brother asked me to look through his clothing so that a description of what he was wearing could be given when the men went out to search?’

Fidelma was staring at him blankly. ‘I don’t understand.’

Eadulf was patient. ‘Do you recall that Colgú wanted us to check the chest of clothes so that we could identify what clothes and footwear Alchú must have been wearing on the night Sárait took him out?’

Fidelma pursed her lips. ‘Vaguely.’

‘Vaguely would be right, for you were too upset to do it and asked me to check the chest.’

‘The chest?’ Fidelma cast a thoughtful glance at it, then gave an impatient gesture. ‘And so? What are you saying?’

‘Well, the shoe that you are now holding was in the chest when I looked. I mean the pair of shoes was there.’

‘Are you sure?’

Eadulf sniffed indignantly. ‘Perfectly sure. I would know them anywhere. Your brother had a cobbler make them especially for the little one.’ He pointed to the shoe that Fidelma was holding. ‘See the rawhide soles which I thought were too advanced for a baby of his age.’

A curious expression gathered on Fidelma’s face.

‘Do you remember when we returned to our chamber after it had been decided to demand proof from Alchú’s so-called abductors? Wasn’t Gormán lurking in the corridor by our chamber? He would have had an opportunity to take the shoes then.’

Eadulf cast his mind back, recalling the incident. ‘You believe Gormán to be involved?’

Fidelma’s features began to relax. ‘I think that I am beginning to see a light in this curious business, Eadulf,’ she said quietly. ‘I need to see Delia again.’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘It is midnight. Not exactly the right time to go visiting.’

Fidelma hesitated, and then laughed, with a deprecating shrug.

‘You are right. It’s been a tiring day, a tiring two weeks. I’ll go tomorrow. I don’t think the quarry we hunt will have fled.’

It was mid-morning when Fidelma rode down to Delia’s house. With Eadulf’s agreement, she had decided to approach the woman on her own.

Delia gazed uncertainly at Fidelma when she opened the door to her.

‘There is a purpose in your expression, lady. You look like a hunter who has sensed the quarry and is now moving in for the kill.’

Fidelma remembered her words to Eadulf on the previous night.

‘That is a good analogy, Delia. I have sensed the quarry but not yet driven it into the snare.’

‘How may I help?’ The former bé-táide stood aside and motioned her inside the warm little house. In the main chamber, where a fire smouldered, Fidelma sat down and indicated that Delia should do likewise.

‘Let me return to the conversation I had with you.’

‘About the missing cloak?’

‘That as well. I presume that you have told no one about it?’

‘Of course not. You asked me not to.’

‘I would ask you to keep this information quiet also. The dwarf who was sent with a false message to lure Sárait from the palace to her death has arrived in Cashel.’

Delia frowned. ‘But you told me he could not identify the woman?’

‘There may be other ways of identification.’

Delia compressed her lips for a moment but said nothing.

‘You mentioned when we last spoke about Sárait that she had told you that she had been raped?’

Delia nodded. ‘But she never told me who it was.’

‘I remember. Although I think we could deduce from what she said that the man was a warrior who had been at Cnoc Áine. Was it Gormán? Did he rape her?’

Delia flushed. ‘Never Gormán!’ she snapped. ‘He was in love with her.’

‘And he told you that?’ Fidelma said swiftly.

Delia opened her mouth and realised she had said more than she had meant to.

‘You might as well tell me everything,’ Fidelma said. ‘A warrior raped her. Did Sárait ever mention Gormán to you?’

At once spots of colour rose on Delia’s cheeks. ‘It could not have been Gormán.’

‘Are you in love with Gormán?’

To Fidelma’s surprise Delia started to laugh. ‘Of course I love Gormán,’ she said in amusement. ‘Is that forbidden?’