As this was being done there appeared a deochbhaire, or cup-bearer, who distributed goblets of ale or cider instead of water. Fidelma recognised the young girl Ségnat, but pretended not to know her.
‘Your ale is good,’ Fidelma said, turning politely to Cronán. ‘I presume the community brews it?’ She felt it best to maintain the fiction of being in an abbey.
‘We try to be self-sufficient,’ agreed the abbot. ‘That is the aim of all Osraige.’
‘All Osraige?’ she queried.
‘When Tuaim Snámha succeeded as Prince of Osraige ten years ago, it heralded years of plenty and a promise for our people. We are no longer a small impoverished land between two great kingdoms. One day I shall …’ He paused and then reached for his goblet.
The door opened unexpectedly and the young steward, Anfudán, hurried in and made straight for the abbot, seeming not to notice anyone else. It was clear that he was bursting with some news.
‘Urgent information, my lord,’ he gasped, stopping by Cronán’s chair. Cronán did not look happy and was rising to usher the young man aside when Anfudán blurted out: ‘Our friend has returned from the south. It is confirmed that Bran Finn is dead.’
There was a sudden hush in the room and the abbot sank back into his chair with what sounded like a sigh of annoyance. If looks could kill, then Anfudán would have already been laid out for burial.
‘Bran Finn, Prince of the Déisi Muman?’ Fidelma could not help her exclamation of surprise. ‘I thought he was a young man. How did he die?’
Anfudán suddenly seemed to take in the presence of Fidelma and the others. His face went a deep red.
Cronán’s voice was cold. ‘Brother Anfudán, you may tell our friend that I will see him in my chamber after the evening meal is finished.’
As Anfudán hurried away, Cronán turned to Fidelma and forced a smile of apology.
‘You must excuse him. Our young Brother Anfudán has much to learn. The announcement of a death during a meal is unforgivable. Did you know Bran Finn of the Déisi Muman?’
‘As far as I am aware, I never met him,’ returned Fidelma. ‘However, I heard that he was newly come to office among the Déisi and that he was young. I gathered that he was recently visiting the Abbey of Imleach after he had paid his respects to my brother. That was why I was surprised by the news.’
Cronán examined her features carefully before replying. ‘My people like to keep me informed as to what happens along the borders of Osraige. The Déisi Muman are our close neighbours south of the great River Suir. Indeed, my own cousin was once married to a noble of the Déisi. So it is natural that I take an interest in their affairs.’
‘A noble of the Déisi? Would I know your cousin or this noble?’
‘Alas, the noble died many years ago.’
‘And your cousin? Is she still alive?’
‘I have not seen her for many years, for she stayed with her children and did not return to Osraige.’
‘It is sad news, made sadder by the fact that Bran Finn was so young.’
‘Of course, of course,’ the abbot said quickly. ‘We will remember him in the community prayers.’
‘If you hear how he died I shall be grateful to be informed.’ Fidelma implied that the matter was of little concern. ‘There are still isolated reports of the Yellow Plague in the land. We must always be vigilant.’
‘Of course, the plague has taken many from this land. And now,’ he glanced towards Brother Sillán, ‘we must go and see what news has been brought to us. You and your companions have had a long tiring day, so we will absolve you from attendance at evening prayers and allow you to retire for an early night’s repose.’
The excuse actually suited Fidelma well, and she rose with the abbot.
‘Tomorrow morning, when we break our fast, you must tell me more about this sad news and, in return, I will give you all the news from Cashel,’ she promised, a false smile on her face.
Later, in their room, Eadulf flung himself on the bed. His face was full of anxiety.
‘I am nervous,’ he began.
‘That much is obvious,’ she replied, picking up her cíorbholg and beginning to rummage through it before extracting her comb.
‘This girl, Ségnat, tells you that we are prisoners in this abbey and she can help us escape. Do you trust her?’
She sat on the edge of the bed next to him. ‘We are not yet prisoners, Eadulf. But we cannot continue to pretend to be gullible. Cronán is playing with us like a cat with a mouse. He is trying to find out what we know and what my brother knows. Once he discovered that we are alone here, immediately we became vulnerable. And, yes, I do believe what Ségnat has told me.’
‘So we have to escape before first light? That sounds easier said than done.’
The soft tapping at the door held an urgent quality and yet it seemed as if the person was trying to rouse them by making as little noise as possible.
Eadulf swung off the bed and strode to the door. He had barely finished pulling back the bolt when Enda pushed his way in with a muttered apology.
‘What is it, Enda?’ Fidelma kept her voice deliberately calm. It was clear that the warrior was in a state of agitation.
Enda paused to gather his breath and then tried to speak slowly and clearly. ‘Lady, I have just seen the man who called himself Brother Biasta!’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘Is Gormán in the next chamber?’ asked Fidelma. She did not appear to react immediately to Enda’s news.
The young warrior looked puzzled but answered, ‘I think so, lady. He was preparing for bed when I saw him last.’
‘Eadulf, ask Gormán to join us. Wake him, if necessary, but do so quietly.’
When the sleepy-eyed warrior, who was still dressed, had joined them and Eadulf had closed the door so that the four of them were alone, Fidelma asked Enda to tell what he had seen.
‘I needed to visit the …’ he coloured a little. ‘I needed to visit the necessarium.’
‘Go on,’ Fidelma said impatiently, not interested in the warrior’s embarrassment. ‘And what happened?’
‘I remembered where it was from when …’ He saw the frown deepening on Fidelma’s brow and realised that she did not like superfluous information. ‘It is on the ground floor, in the main passageway. I was about to return here when I heard a voice which stopped me. Like you, lady, I have a good ear for voices. This one was familiar and I recognised it immediately. It was that unnatural sibilant speech that brought to mind someone speaking with a mouthful of honey.’
‘You recognised Biasta’s voice?’ she asked.
‘Not only his voice. Near to the necessarium is a doorway which leads into one of the smaller courtyards. I glanced through the doorway and saw the two men standing under the light of a brand torch. One of them was Biasta. There was no mistaking that cadaverous murderer even if his voice had not betrayed him.’
‘Who was Biasta talking to?’ Eadulf asked.
‘It was the young steward, Anfudán.’
‘I presumed that Biasta was the “friend” who arrived with news of Bran Finn’s death,’ Fidelma said.
‘It will be awkward for us if we encounter him face to face,’ muttered Eadulf.
‘He already knows we are here,’ Enda said flatly. ‘He was asking why Cronán had not imprisoned us already. Anfudán confirmed what the girl, Ségnat, told you: Cronán is going to try to find out what we know about him first, and whether anyone else knows. But it is clear that we will not be allowed to leave here.’