Fidelma observed from Gelgéis’s expression that she was right. ‘Tormeid reached the far bank in safety. He came here in the land of the Éile but was unable to return to his own clan, the Uí Duach. So he took service with you on this side of the river. Am I correct, thus far?’
The ruler of the Éile blinked rapidly and blushed.
‘You tell a good story, Fidelma,’ was all she replied.
‘I hope it will get better,’ said Fidelma. ‘I have told you that Tormeid was abducted. I was also taken because the abductors thought I was his companion. This was not Muirne, of course, since she was dead. Then who did they mistake me for? I was left for dead by these abductors when they realised I was not Tormeid’s companion. Thankfully, I was rescued by my friends, who had tracked our passage. Tormeid was taken on to the Abbey of Liath Mór. My companions and I followed the abductors there. At Liath Mór, another old friend arrived. This was the person who had called himself Brother Biasta, the man who had murdered Brother Ailgesach. In escaping from Liath Mór, Torna killed Biasta. I had not seen Torna since our abduction until a short while ago when I saw him from the window of Drón’s chamber. In this very fortress.’
Gelgéis’s face was white and strained.
Fidelma smiled without humour. ‘Am I coming closer to an understanding with you, lady? Do you still say that this man, Tormeid — by whatever name he is now called — is not here? He may wish to know that five of his friends and cousins were executed by Cronán as vengeance for his escape and the death of Muirne. I wonder how many will be executed now that he has escaped a second time?’
There was a shocked silence. Gelgéis finally turned to her steward. ‘Spealáin, you had best go down and give the order that the Lady Dúnliath and her party are not to depart until I, or Fidelma, have given permission.’
Spealáin bowed his head without comment and left the chamber.
Gelgéis sat staring at the floor for some moments, tapping her foot absently. Bishop Daig stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if awaiting her decision.
‘This puts me in an awkward situation, Fidelma,’ the Princess said after a while.
‘No situation is so awkward that recourse to truth will not remedy it.’
‘Yet the truth is not entirely mine to share.’
‘That needs a better explanation,’ replied Fidelma.
‘I wish I could provide one immediately, but I would ask that you give me some time before I answer you.’
Fidelma raised her brows slightly. ‘Time? When is the telling of truth dependent on time? Anyway, time is not in a plentiful supply at the moment.’
‘If you give me a short time, you shall have your truth. That I swear. And I also swear this: I am a loyal defender of this Kingdom of Muman and of her legitimate Kings. Everything that I have done is in support of that conviction. I am your brother’s truest ally, lady.’
Fidelma searched the woman’s face, seeking any sign of guile or deceit, but found only anxiety.
‘Very well,’ she agreed at last. ‘But I need a response. When you have discussed the matter with Tormeid, or whatever you call him, I hope he will come and supply me with clear answers to my questions.’
Gelgéis met her gaze and held it, realising that Fidelma knew exactly why she was prevaricating. Then she dropped her gaze and indicated her acquiescence with a nod.
It seemed that she was about to say something when a distant shouting came to their ears. Gelgéis rose from her chair and went to the window. Fidelma and the others joined her, looking down towards the main gate of the fortress. Some riders had arrived in the courtyard and one of them had dismounted and was speaking volubly to Spealáin, the steward. They saw Gormán emerge and greet the newcomer.
‘What is this?’ muttered Gelgéis.
As they watched, Spealáin was leading the newcomer and Gormán towards the main building. In expectation, Fidelma and the others turned to the door, and within a few moments there was a quick knock and Spealáin entered, followed by his companions. The first thing Fidelma noticed was that the newcomer wore the gold collar of the Nasc Niadh, the élite warriors of Cashel.
‘A messenger from-’ began Spealáin.
‘I know who this is,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘I remember Aidan very well from when he helped us rescue Eadulf from the evil intentions of Abbess Fainder of Ferna.’
The young warrior cast a smile at Fidelma, pleased by her recognition, but he was obviously still very agitated. As one of her brother’s élite bodyguards, he was certainly no fool, and it was clear that he had grave news.
‘My companions and I have ridden from Laigin. We bring news of serious import for King Colgú, lady. The southerly routes to Cashel have been cut off, so we have had to make our way north across Osraige territory to reach here.’
Fidelma was surprised. ‘Cut off? In what way are they cut off?’
‘By armed bands of Laigin warriors, lady,’ replied the warrior. ‘We had to take the lesser known paths from Laigin through forests, bog lands and remote places of Osraige to reach here.’
‘What news do you bring that causes you to be so disturbed?’
The warrior visibly braced himself. ‘It is bad news, lady. Muman will soon be under attack from Laigin.’
There was a silence as his words registered. Then Fidelma asked: ‘How do you know this, Aidan?’
‘Fianamail, son of Máele Tuile, the King of Laigin, has issued a call to arms. We saw the crois tara, the fiery cross, being carried from settlement to settlement. His main force has marched from Ferna to gather at Dinn Rig on the west bank of An Bhearú …’
‘That’s on the border with Osraige,’ put in Spealáin, seeing Eadulf’s baffled frown.
‘The fortress of Dinn Rig is just north of Gabrán,’ muttered Bishop Daig, with a meaningful look at Gelgéis.
‘You say the Laigin army has crossed the river of An Bhearú?’
‘His main army is on the west bank,’ repeated Aidan. ‘They are not yet crossed into Osraige.’
‘Do you know this for a fact and not from hearsay?’ Gelgéis demanded of him.
‘My companions and I saw Fianamail’s troops gathering there — and they were not there to look at the sunset over the mountains.’ Aidan’s response was cutting.
‘How long ago was this?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Only two days ago, lady. As I say, we managed to cross into Osraige and travelled by the use of new roads that have been built across the bog lands. If Fianamail gives the order for Laigin to march on Cashel, those new roads are going to allow his army a quick passage across Osraige into Éile and Muman.’
Gormán was grim. ‘I cannot believe it. Muman is at peace with Laigin. It has been centuries since Laigin incurred the wrath of the High King by making an unprovoked attack on a neighbouring kingdom. Have they not learned a lesson from the bórama yet? And why attack at this time?’
‘I don’t grasp the meaning of that.’ Eadulf had not understood the reference that Gormán had made.
It was Gormán who explained to him: ‘Centuries ago, when Tuathal Techtmair was High King in Tara, the avarice of Eochaidh, who was then King of Laigin, caused a great warfare. It resulted in the death of many, including the two daughters of Tuathal. For that crime, as well as others, Tuathal faced Eochaidh with a large army, defeated and killed him. Then the High King imposed a tribute on the people of Laigin, called the bórama — the cow tribute. Five thousand cows had to be paid to Tuathal and to his successors if Laigin ever broke the peace again. The legitimacy of the tribute remains. If Laigin ever breaks the conditions and attempts to go to war with a neighbour, unless that neighbour is invading Laigin, the High King has the right to march his army into the kingdom and demand the bórama fine.’