When Tóla realised the significance of his discovery, he was alarmed: this did, indeed, mean trouble for him. It was only the whimper and the cold muzzle of his dog, the animal sensing that all was not well with its master, that caused Tóla to finally stir. The young noble, whoever he was, had been murdered on his farm, albeit on a right-of-way that was frequently used. The big man rose unsteadily to his feet and tried to control his apprehension while he considered what he should do.
He realised that he was unconsciously staring towards the Rock of Cashel, no more than a short ride to the south. There would be Brehons at Cashel; lawyers and judges. They would know what should be done. They would investigate, they would advise. Tóla had been raised with an implicit belief in the wisdom of the Brehons. He glanced down again at the body, and noted the strange design of the brooch, fixing the cloak at the shoulder of the young man. Perhaps it was an emblem of his clan? Anyway, it would surely induce a Brehon to come here to investigate. Kneeling down once more, he undid the clasp. Then, with a swift glance around, he hastened back towards the farmhouse, with his dog loping along at his side.
Cainnear saw him coming and realised immediately that something must be wrong.
‘What is it?’ she demanded.
‘Is the boy up?’ Tóla asked breathlessly, not answering her question.
‘He was getting the ass ready to move the-’
Tóla turned towards the stable building, shouting, ‘Breac! Breac!’
A boy, not long past the age of choice, emerged from a nearby barn and came running over, a worried look on his freckled face.
‘What is it, Father?’
‘I must go to Cashel immediately, so I will need the ass,’ Tóla told him. Then: ‘I want you to take a weapon and go down to the crossing on the stream. There is the body of a young man there.’ He ignored the gasp given by his wife. ‘Don’t touch it — and don’t let anyone else touch it, or go near it,’ he ordered. ‘I am leaving Cú Faoil with you while I am off to Cashel to bring a Brehon back.’
Breac knew better than to start asking questions. Instead, he hurried to the stable and finished saddling up their ass. Meanwhile, Tóla had exchanged a few swift words of reassurance with his wife, and then, having placed the dog’s collar in the hand of Breac as an indication to Cú Faoil that he must stay, uttering the word, ‘Guard’ several times to the animal, Tóla swung up on to the ass and, with a quick wave of his hand, set the beast in an ambling trot towards the palace of the King of Muman.
CHAPTER TWO
Gormán stood at his ease outside the dark oak doors that led into the private chambers of the King of Muman. The kingdom was the largest and most south-westerly of the Five Kingdoms of the land of Éireann. Gormán was a youthful man, fair of skin with thick, raven-black hair, dark eyes and pleasant features. He wore the gold band, or torque, at his neck with a degree of self-conscious pride because it denoted that he was a member of the Nasc Niadh, the Warriors of the Golden Collar, who were the élite bodyguard of the Kings of Muman. Gormán had a right to be proud of his position for he had won it by his own strength and dexterity against many odds. Usually, members of the élite bodyguard were the sons of chieftains or of great warriors. Gormán had been the son of a bé táide, a former prostitute, but his abilities, not just those with weapons but his intelligence, had caused him to be singled out for a position of trust in the household of the King.
A figure appeared at the far end of the corridor and came towards him. He stiffened a little and then relaxed almost immediately as he recognised the King’s sister. He was still not used to seeing her dressed in anything other than the robes of a religieuse. Today she wore a tight-fitting upper garment in the manner of a short, bright blue coat that reached to the middle of her thighs. It had no collar but, from the shoulders, fastened by brooches, hung a cochnull, a short cloak also of bright blue but with designs in gold- and silver-coloured needlework. She also wore tight-fitting triubhas, trousers from the hips to ankle, so that they showed perfectly the shape of her limbs. Such trousers were held in place by a slender strap passing under the foot. They were also patterned in many bright colours. Her leather boots came above the ankles, and she carried her gloves in one hand.
Her long red hair was carefully combed, separated and plaited in three braids, wound and held in place by silver circlets. This fashion denoted someone who was leading an active life. The fact that the top of her head was covered in a small silk scarf of matching colour to her coat, provided the information that she was married or of mature age. At her waist she wore a girdle, a críss or belt, from which hung her comb bag, the cíorbholg, which all women carried, containing the articles needed for toiletry.
‘You are abroad early today, lady.’ Gormán allowed a smile of greeting to spread across his features. ‘Are you going riding?’ The manner of her dress, the fact that she held a pair of leather gloves in one hand, needed no intense thought to reach such a conclusion.
Fidelma of Cashel, sister to King Colgú, returned his smile. She had once helped defend his mother, Della, from unjust charges and since then had been a friend to both her and Gormán. The young warrior had acted as her bodyguard many times.
‘It is going to be a fine day. Better not to waste it by lying a-bed,’ she told him. ‘Anyway, I was roused very early by the sound of horsemen leaving the fortress. Was anything amiss?’
‘That was Finguine and a few companions,’ replied Gormán.
Finguine mac Cathail was the tánaiste, the heir apparent, to Fidelma’s brother.
‘What takes him away from Cashel so early in the morning?’
‘I believe that the Cenél Lóegairi are behind in their tribute to Cashel and, as the harvest is now over, the tánaiste decided it would be prudent to visit their chieftain and remind him of his due.’
The Cenél Lóegairi was a clan in the south-west of the kingdom which had a reputation for being reticent in fulfilling its obligations to the King of Cashel. Finguine was Fidelma’s distant cousin from a branch of her family known as the Eóghanacht Áine. He had become heir-elect to the kingdom four years before, after the death of the former heir-apparent, Donndubhán, who had unsuccessfully plotted to assassinate Colgú and take over the kingdom. Finguine was known for his conscientious attention to administrative work on behalf of the King.
Fidelma indicated the closed doors behind Gormán with a gesture of her hand. ‘Has my brother arisen yet?’
‘He was also up before dawn, lady, but Abbot Ségdae is already with him.’
Ségdae was Abbot and Bishop of Imleach, the premier prelate of the kingdom.
‘It’s early for the abbot to seek a meeting with my brother. I did not even know he was in Cashel.’ Disappointment crossed her features. She had been hoping to entice her brother to accompany her on her morning ride. ‘Why are there such early-morning stirrings?’
‘Abbot Ségdae arrived with the dawn, lady. He must have ridden through the night and was accompanied by only one of his brethren. He had a troubled look and demanded to see Colgú immediately.’