‘Then, in the absence of Brother Ailgesach, I would say that you should bring the body into the chapel and we shall lay him out there. Come, warrior,’ this was addressed to Enda. ‘I will help you down with your burden.’
Between the two of them, they took the body and carried it into the small, dark chapel. Fidelma swung down and followed them.
‘Perhaps you can help us further, Saer?’ she said, after a thought had occurred to her. ‘Unwrap the winding-sheet from the face, Enda. Saer, look on the man’s features and tell us if you have seen him before. Perhaps he passed recently along the highway here?’
The carpenter gazed on the face of the corpse and then shrugged. ‘There are always strangers passing along this highway from Durlus to Cashel and in the other direction.’
‘Look closely, if you will. This was a young noble and of rich and striking appearance.’
Saer peered closer at the pale bloodless features. ‘He does bear a resemblance to someone who called to see Brother Ailgesach many days ago. But I can’t swear to it.’
‘A resemblance?’ pressed Fidelma eagerly.
The carpenter shook his head. ‘I can’t swear that it was the same person. I was passing by here when I saw Brother Ailgesach entering the chapel with a young man. He was richly dressed. This could have been that man. I walked on without further interest. I was on my way to the tavern.’
‘You saw nothing else? Did you notice whether the man had a horse?’
To her disappointment the carpenter shook his head again and repeated, ‘I am sorry, lady.’
‘And you never saw Brother Ailgesach’s visitor again?’
‘During the last several days I have been at my hut in the woods cutting planks for this job.’ He jerked his thumb towards the chapel roof. ‘New planks were needed because the roof was letting in water.’
‘I suppose no one else has spoken of any such person to you?’ enquired Fidelma.
‘As I say, I have been at my hut in the woods cutting timber. I spoke only briefly to Brother Ailgesach when I came to fix the roof earlier. He did not mention any visitors.’
Fidelma nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, we shall go to the tavern of Fedach Glas and speak with Brother Ailgesach. You have been very helpful, Saer.’ She reached forward and placed something in his palm, at which he raised a hand to his forehead in thanks. They left the interior of the chapel, remounted their horses and Fidelma led her companions back to the highway, where they turned north.
‘Well, if the carpenter says this Brother Ailgesach is regularly at the tavern, then it seems he believes in taking the advice of the Blessed Paul to Timothy,’ Eadulf commented, breaking the silence.
Fidelma frowned absently. ‘What?’
‘“Take a little wine for thy stomach’s sake”,’ Eadulf joked. This did not, however, raise a smile from Fidelma who had been deep in thought.
The bruden of Fedach Glas lay only a short distance along the highway. Gormán knew the place, saying that it was not one of the higher class of hostels that were to be found along the main highways of the kingdom. These hostels or taverns could be run by either men or women. The higher classes of hostel were, in fact, provided by the landowner, sometimes a chieftain or even the king of the territory himself. The laws proclaimed that these hostels were required to entertain guests without asking questions or payment. The bigger ones would employ men on the approaching roads to advise travellers of their locations and to extol the comforts of the facilities they provided. And after dark, each bruden had at least one lantern on a tall pole to advertise itself to travellers.
The smaller hostels were more like wayside inns where charges were made and questions asked. One thing all bruden had in common, as Fidelma well knew, was that they were a place of refuge. A suspected murderer could claim sanctuary from summary arrest and punishment in a bruden until they were assured of a fair trial before a Brehon. The system of the bruden had been carried abroad by the missionaries of Éireann, providing accommodation and food for those pilgrims travelling to Rome, along the roads through Gaul, Frankia and the other Germanic lands.
Fedach Glas’s hostel was a series of rough-built log cabins surrounding the main house, and with stables for the horses. As they reined in before the entrance, a man came hurrying towards them. He had grey hair and a full beard, a sallow skin and dark mournful eyes. His gaze ran over their mounts and manner of dress. It was obvious that he quickly made up his mind what manner of travellers they were.
‘Welcome lady, welcome sirs. We are no brugaid-lethech but only a poor bruden. Do your honours wish to alight here?’
It was a polite way of pointing out that the tavern of Fedach Glas was not used to catering for people of rank. Gormán assumed the lead. ‘We do not intend to stay, but will refresh ourselves inside with your ale.’
They dismounted and tied their horses to the wooden hitching-rail.
The host, for such the man who greeted them turned out to be, went to the door and ushered them inside. It was gloomy, although a smoky wood fire was crackling in the hearth over which a cauldron was simmering; the pleasant aroma of meat and vegetables filled the place. A thin-faced, elderly woman with her hair tied back in a scarf but still showing wisps of grey about her forehead and neck, was stirring the contents with a long wooden spoon. She glanced up at them with surprise and then returned to her task. The man took his place before a crude wooden counter.
‘Welcome again, your honours,’ he greeted with a smile. ‘How may this humble tavern be of service to you?’
This time it was Fidelma who stepped forward. ‘My companions wish for refreshment, your finest ale. As for myself, do you have wine?’
The man shook his head. ‘Wine, lady, is for the nobility and the clergy of rank. We cannot afford to import it here for we rarely have such distinguished guests. All we have is corma or lind.’
Corma was a strong intoxicating spirit distilled from barley while lind was weaker ale.
Fidelma realised her mistake and quickly said: ‘Then we will all have ale.’
They turned to some benches by a table and seated themselves, watching as the brugaid, the tavern-keeper, filled a jug of ale and set it before them, together with four clay drinking vessels.
‘Can I serve you further?’ asked the man, obviously used to his guests pouring their own drinks. Gormán decided to fill the mugs for all of them.
‘I presume your name is Fedach Glas?’ asked Fidelma.
The man moved his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. ‘That it is,’ he answered.
‘Then I am told that in this tavern we might find Brother Ailgesach. He is the religious who is in charge of the nearby chapel.’
Fedach Glas frowned, and his eyes flickered to a dark corner of the tavern before returning to meet her gaze. ‘Why would you seek him?’ he countered.
Enda snorted indignantly. ‘It is incumbent upon you to answer the questions of a dálaigh, especially-’
‘Especially when a hosteller is responsible to his guests,’ Fidelma interrupted, annoyed that Enda had revealed her rank.
Fedach Glas’s eyes widened a fraction. ‘A dálaigh?’
‘Is Brother Ailgesach here?’ she repeated loudly.
A figure stirred in the gloom at a far corner of the tavern, then rose to its feet somewhat unsteadily. It moved forward a pace, supporting itself for a moment with one hand on the table at its side.