It was Eadulf who articulated the problem that had been uppermost in Fidelma’s thoughts since they had left Aona’s inn.
‘Is it wise to bring Brother Mochta into Cashel itself?’ he asked. ‘There might be dangers there for him and it is still a few days before the hearing in front of the Brehons.’
Brother Mochta was feeling somewhat better after his night’s rest, with his wounds not paining him so much.
‘Surely no harm will come to me among the religious at Cashel?’ he asked.
‘I would be happier if the presence of yourself and the reliquary in Cashel was not known until the last moment,’ Fidelma announced. ‘There is an unused back road which will bring us to the edge of the town close to where a friend of mine lives. Mochta can stay with her until the day of the hearing.’
‘In the town itself?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Is that wise?’
He was referring to the fact that in towns the people hardly barred their doors and were always in and out of their neighbours’ houses. Towns were usually made up of dwellings of many extended families. There was no fear of strangers.
‘Don’t worry,’ replied Fidelma, ‘my friend is one who does not welcome guests.’
‘I think that you are going to a lot of trouble for nothing,’ Brother Mochta averred. ‘Who could harm me at the royal palace of Cashel?’
The corner of Fidelma’s mouth turned downward momentarily. ‘That is precisely what we have to discover,’ she said quietly. ‘My brother asked the same question.’
They came to Cashel some time later by the back road which Fidelma had led them along. When they came to the edge of the town, Fidelma left Eadulf and Brother Mochta in the shelter of a small copse, after she’d explained that she would go ahead to prepare the way. It was a matter of minutes before she came back. Brother Mochta looked concerned for she was not carrying the reliquary which she had kept carefully since they had left Imleach. She saw his anxious gaze and assured him that she had left it safely with her friend. She led them to a house on the edge of the town, standing a little apart from the others. It was a medium-sized structure with its own outhouse and barn. Fidelma led them immediately into the barn which served as a stable. Eadulf helped Brother Mochta down from the colt while Fidelma secured the horses.
With Eadulf supporting Brother Mochta, Fidelma preceded them to the house. The door opened and together they helped Brother Mochta inside. Fidelma gave a quick glance round, as if to see whether they had been observed, before closing the door behind them.
Inside stood a woman of short stature. She was in her forties yet maturity had not dimmed the youthfulness of her features and the golden abundance of her hair. She wore a smock-like dress which emphasised a good figure whose hips had not broadened and whose limbs were still shapely.
‘This is my friend, Della,’ announced Fidelma. ‘This is Brother Mochta who will stay with you and this is Brother Eadulf.’
Eadulf smiled appreciatively at the attractive woman.
‘Why is it that I have not seen Fidelma’s friend at the court of Colgú?’ he asked in greeting.
He was immediately aware that he had said something wrong.
‘I do not venture out of this house, Brother,’ replied the woman called Della. Her voice was solemn but there was an attractive quality to it. ‘I am reclusive. People in Cashel respect that.’
Fidelma added, almost sharply, as if to cover some error of courtesy: ‘This is why Brother Mochta will be safe here until the day of the hearing.’
‘A reclusive?’ Eadulf was confused. ‘Surely it is hard to be a reclusive in this town?’
‘One can be isolated in the midst of many,’ replied Della calmly.
‘You will look after Brother Mochta, Della?’ Fidelma’s glance told Eadulf that he had said enough.
Della smiled at her friend. ‘You have my word, Fidelma.’ She had already helped the injured monk to a seat. Nearby stood the reliquary of St Ailbe, the sight of which caused Brother Mochta to visibly relax.
Fidelma took Eadulf arm, for he would have stopped and talked more on the principles of solitude, and hurried him to the door.
‘We will be back in time for the hearing, Brother Mochta. Take care of those injuries.’
She raised a hand in farewell to the monk and smiled appreciatively at her friend.
Outside, as they mounted their horses once again, Eadulf remarked: ‘You have a curious friend there, Fidelma.’
‘Della? No, not curious. She is merely a sad woman.’
‘I see no need for sadness. She is still attractive and she does not seem to be in want.’
‘I tell you this so that you may not refer to it ever again. Della was a woman of secrets.’ She used the term bé-táide.
‘Woman of secrets?’ Eadulf frowned, struggling with the euphemism. Then his face lightened. ‘Do you mean that she was a prostitute?’ He dredged from his memory the word echlach.
Fidelma nodded curtly. ‘That was why I did not want you to say more in there. It is a sensitive matter.’
They had turned from the side street into the main street through Cashel and passed a tavern on a corner. A shadowy figure was standing outside with a drinking horn in his hand. The man stared at them and then hurried inside. Eadulf pretended not to notice him but once they had ridden past, he turned to Fidelma.
‘I have just seen Nion in the doorway of that tavern back there. It is obvious that he has seen us but does not want to be seen himself.’
Fidelma was not perturbed. ‘After he paused at Aona’s inn this morning, I would have expected him to be in Cashel.’
Eadulf was disappointed by her reaction but interested in returning to the subject of Della.
‘How did you become friendly with Della?’ he asked.
‘I represented her when she was raped,’ replied Fidelma calmly.
Eadulf pulled a cynical face. ‘A prostitute raped?’
Fidelma’s face became a mask of irritation. ‘Cannot a woman be raped simply because she is a prostitute? At least we have the provision which allows a woman compensation in such circumstances even if she is a bé-táide. Half of her honour price is paid.’
Eadulf stirred uncomfortably at the vehemence in her voice. He spoke penitently. ‘It is just that I thought that a prostitute was not entitled to such compensation nor did I think that she could acquire a property.’
Fidelma became a little mollified. ‘She can inherit property from her parents but, generally, she cannot acquire property through marriageor cohabitation and, if a profit has come through her work in such a union, she has no claim to a share of it.’
Eadulf smiled in satisfaction. ‘So I was right?’
‘Except that you neglected the fact that a prostitute can renounce her previous way of life and, if so, can be reinstated in society.’
‘Is that what happened with Della?’
Fidelma gave an affirmative gesture. ‘To a certain extent. She renounced her previous life after the rape. After the case in which I represented her, she withdrew to the house that had been owned by her father. This was a few years ago. Many people, sadly, still treat her with contempt and her means of protection has been to become a recluse.’
‘That is no answer,’ Eadulf replied. ‘You only find in solitude what you take into it.’
Fidelma glanced at him. Now and then Eadulf came out with such pertinent remarks that she knew clearly why she had come to like and almost rely on the Saxon monk. At other times he was clumsy and did not seem sensitive to people and events. He was a man of paradoxes; brilliant and intuitive on the one hand, slow and unheeding on the other. There seemed no continuity in his character. It was so against her own clear, analytical nature and her trenchant temperament.