‘Come this way,’ the steward instructed.
He ushered them up the steps into what was the Great Hall. Eadulf whistled to himself as they entered. It was clear that the place had access to the wealth and the produce of merchants from many quarters. It was also clear that Gelgéis appreciated such wealth. Tapestries and statues vied with shields and swords and such weapons which had never seen a battle but had been made purely for show. Tables and chairs of excellent quality were placed strategically. The steward waved to a female attendant and instructed her to inform the Lady Gelgéis of the identity of her unexpected visitors. The attendant peeped towards Fidelma with something like awe before scurrying away on her errand.
There were a few moments of awkward silence, while Spealáin took up a position just inside the main doors, leaving Fidelma and Eadulf standing alone, waiting. It seemed an overly long time before a door at the back of the hall opened and a woman entered. Eadulf was surprised by her youth. She was of average height and slim. Her hair was corn-coloured, with a faint haze of gold, tightly pulled back from her face in a style Eadulf had never seen before. Her full lips were balanced by fair skin accentuating delicate boned features, and her eyes were azure blue. There was the quality of an innocent child about her. Her garments spoke of richness, the blue-dyed silks well embroidered with numerous coloured threads, the predominant one being gold. She looked exactly what she was — a princess.
The girl, for Eadulf could hardly call her a woman, stopped before Fidelma and inclined her head in acknowledgement. Only after she did so, did Fidelma bow her head, though not as deeply — a subtle reminder that while Gelgéis was Princess of the Éile, Fidelma was sister to the King of Muman.
‘You are welcome here, Fidelma.’ The girl’s voice was soft and musical to match her looks. ‘I was not expecting you or I would have made preparations to receive you according to your rank.’
‘I was not exactly expecting to come, Gelgéis, but my footsteps led me here. Allow me to introduce my husband, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, in the country of the South Folk.’ She paused and added with a smile: ‘He is an Angle.’
The blue eyes turned on Eadulf as he bowed slightly. This time Gelgéis did not return the courtesy, for protocol did not demand it. She switched her gaze back to Fidelma.
‘I had heard that you had married a stranger, and one of the religious. I have also heard that you have withdrawn from the religious and sought the office of Chief Brehon to your brother, the King.’
The words were softly spoken and Eadulf wondered if they disguised some antagonism.
‘Then you will also have heard,’ Fidelma replied, equally softly, ‘that I was not successful in the matter but remain a dálaigh still able to pursue the law.’
‘Indeed?’ The girl smiled. ‘News has a propensity to travel quickly but, alas, it often reaches its destination in a form different to that in which it starts out. I hear that it is said that there will soon be a royal wedding feast in Cashel?’
‘I, too, have heard such speculation,’ replied Fidelma blandly, ‘but I am not able to confirm or deny it.’
‘Indeed?’ Gelgéis frowned thoughtfully for a moment. ‘I believe that the people of Gabrán are already celebrating. But then the clans of Osraige can be impulsive. As they are our close neighbours, we are often caught up in their capricious behaviour. Doubtless, then, you have met the Lady Dúnliath?’
‘I have, indeed.’ Fidelma felt a momentary annoyance at being distracted from the purpose of her visit.
‘A pleasant girl,’ sighed Gelgéis, ‘but not overly endowed with intelligence. Oh, do not look so shocked, lady,’ she hurried on, observing Fidelma’s expression. ‘I have already met her, since she accompanied her father Drón here on her way to Cashel. She gives the impression that she has little time for pursuits of the mind. However, I suspect that she is far from just stupid.’
‘If my brother, the King, does choose her for his wife, I think that it would mean that she is very far from stupid,’ replied Fidelma coldly. Then she frowned. ‘How is it they passed through Durlus on their way to Cashel? It is not a direct route.’
‘I understand that the Lady Dúnliath expressed a desire to visit our poor market here. We often get merchants from the north bringing interesting goods to sell.’ She paused. ‘I trust your brother, Colgú, is well?’
‘He is well, lady.’ Fidelma wondered if there was anything unspoken that she should read into the query.
Gelgéis turned towards one of her female attendants who were standing in the background and beckoned her forward. ‘But forgive me, lady. Let me offer you both refreshments as I hear that you have arrived at my fortress on foot. I hope nothing untoward has happened to your horses, as it is a long way from Cashel to Durlus Éile.’
‘Rest assured that we have not walked all the way from Cashel. In fact, I came a good part of the way by boat.’
A puzzled look passed over Gelgéis’s features.
‘An odd mode of travel and not a safe one,’ she said rather coolly. Fidelma realised that Gelgéis’s glance had fallen to her sleeve. There was a tear in it which she had not noticed. But Gelgéis was continuing: ‘It would increase both the distance and the time, and your rowers must be exhausted for they would be rowing against the current of the river.’
Fidelma’s smile broadened. ‘I do not think we need fear for the exhaustion of the rowers.’
The Princess seemed a little at a loss, and when Fidelma did not offer any further explanation, she conducted them to some chairs before the hearth and indicated they be seated, saying, ‘Well, sooner you than me. I nearly lost my life swimming in a river. These days, I always travel on horse rather than entrust myself to a boat. I hate the water. Anyway, what brings you to Durlus Éile?’ she asked, changing the subject. ‘It is many a year since I saw you, Fidelma. Usually I hear of you passing on the road to Tara or proceeding somewhere else, but never coming to Durlus Éile.’
‘You were invited to our wedding,’ Fidelma reminded her.
‘Alas, I had an ague at that time. I was assured my envoy explained matters to your brother, the King. But at least I am well enough to attend your brother’s nuptials.’
‘I am sorry to hear that you were not well enough to attend my wedding. One should be careful of one’s health and well-being. Eadulf here has the gift of healing, having studied at Tuaim Brecain. Without his knowledge I might well have suffocated last night.’
Once again a puzzled frown flickered on Gelgéis’s features as she glanced at Eadulf but then addressed her remarks to Fidelma.
‘Suffocated? Well, I am pleased to see that you have recovered, lady. But you have not spoken of the purpose of your visit. Are you simply passing through Durlus?’
‘I am looking for someone.’
‘And this someone is …?’ She paused while two attendants came in with a pitcher of ale and some freshly baked breadcakes. When they had departed, she repeated: ‘Who do you seek?’
‘Is the name Brother Biasta known to you?’
Gelgéis immediately shook her head. ‘The name means nothing to me. Obviously, he is a religieux. If so, my bishop here might know, He is called Daig. I can call him in, if you like.’
‘I would appreciate that,’ agreed Fidelma.
Gelgéis gestured across to Spealáin, her steward, who had remained present throughout, at a discreet distance.
‘Why are you trying to find this religieux?’ she asked when he had hurried off to find the bishop.
‘I’ll explain further when Bishop Daig arrives. It will save me explaining twice,’ Fidelma replied, and immediately turned the conversation to inconsequential matters such as the artwork on one of the tapestries.