‘Of course I am unharmed!’ he snapped. ‘There are boundaries that even you may not trespass across. What do you mean by this outrageous behaviour?’
‘I gave specific instructions to Caol not to leave your side until I said so.’
‘That’s not his fault. I ordered him to leave as I was not alone.’
‘And I instructed him not to leave your side, no matter who was with you,’ replied Fidelma with equal firmness.
‘I was with my betrothed, Fidelma. How dare you …?’
Dúnliath had controlled her shock and anger now. Her features had resumed their usual benevolent expression.
‘Come, beloved,’ she said to Colgú, ‘don’t be angry with your sister. That she is so concerned with your welfare is much to be praised. She was worried for your safety.’
‘Yet your worry was unnecessary,’ Colgú ranted at Fidelma. ‘Caol was outside and Ailill is in the next room. I had but to call, and either of them could have reached us if it were necessary. And why would it be necessary? The only way to surprise me in here would be an attack through this window, and that is a long climb from the courtyard. I doubt anyone would risk it. So now we have a splintered door as the result of your concern, and that must be repaired. You will have to apologise to Gelgéis and to her steward.’
Fidelma did not reply but stood looking around the chamber. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she examined the features of the fair-haired girl.
‘Alas, lady, I have some sad news for you and that precipitated my anxiety for my brother.’ She saw the girl’s face tighten, but she said nothing.
‘What sad news, Fidelma?’ Colgú asked curiously.
‘Dúnliath’s mother has been found dead.’
Apart from a further tightening of the girl’s face, she remained silent, immovable.
‘Dúnliath’s mother?’ Colgú was puzzled. ‘Found dead? Where? How do you know? I have no understanding of this.’
‘In a vault in this fortress,’ replied Fidelma.
Colgú remained bewildered. Then he looked at the girl. ‘Who is your mother, Dúnliath?’
The girl did not reply. She had become as rigid as a statue. It was left to Fidelma to supply the answer. ‘Étain of An Dún,’ she said quietly.
Colgú’s gasp of astonishment was louder than that of Eadulf and either Caol or Gormán.
‘I thought your mother had died a long while ago,’ he said to Dúnliath.
Fidelma did not take her eyes from the girl.
‘Dúnliath told me some time ago in Cashel that her mother’s name was Étain. Drón of Gabrán married twice. His second wife was the mother of Dúnliath, who left him. Dúnliath was then raised by his dormun, a concubine.’
There was a growing noise along the corridor and Spealáin and his guards were crowding at the door. Fidelma turned to Eadulf, who was the only one unmoved by the revelation, and asked him to assure them that Colgú was well and to wait at the end of the corridor. When he had done so, she found Colgú was staring incredulously at Dúnliath.
‘Is it true?’ he finally asked. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
She spread her arms as if in surrender. ‘I cannot be blamed for who my mother was,’ she replied. ‘In truth, I had little knowledge of her except her name. She left when I was a baby.’
‘Did your father ever divorce Étain?’ pressed Colgú.
‘As your sister says, I was brought up by his dormun, my father’s concubine,’ the girl said defensively. ‘For many years I even thought she was my blood mother.’
‘But Étain had been married before she married your father, hadn’t she?’ Fidelma pointed out.
The girl nodded. ‘It was only a few days ago that I was told that my real mother had originally married a noble of the Déisi Muman, by whom she had two sons. When he died, my mother married Drón. Then, when she deserted my father, she left me behind and I understood she returned to the Déisi fortress at An Dún where she raised her sons. She never acknowledged me.’
‘When did you last see your mother?’ Colgú asked.
‘I saw her once some years ago when she passed through Osraige on her way to Gleann an Ghuail.’
‘You had not heard that she was condemned to incarceration in the Glen of Lunatics earlier this year after she had murdered one of her sons?’
‘I did not.’ Fidelma found there was little to learn from the fixed expression on the girl’s features.
‘You did not know that she had escaped and was leading a band of rebels in the west?’
‘As I did not know she was there in the first place, then I could not have known that she had escaped,’ replied Dúnliath flatly.
‘You did not know that she had been brought here, to Durlus, as a prisoner this very day?’
‘I did not.’
‘This is all hard to believe,’ sighed Colgú, having exhausted himself with his rapid questioning.
The girl’s chin came up defiantly. ‘I can only tell you the truth.’
Colgú suddenly remembered what Fidelma had said first of all. ‘You say that Étain is dead?’ he asked his sister. ‘How? Did she refuse to surrender?’
‘She was murdered.’
The King’s eyes widened a little. ‘Murdered? I don’t understand. She escaped from her confinement and …?’
‘She did not escape: she was released. I suspect that whoever released her tried to persuade her to come here and murder you. They failed because Étain had become hopelessly deranged. She was impossible to control and more of a hindrance than a help to the conspirator, and so they had no choice but to kill her. I will speculate, although it is not in my nature to do so, that they hoped that her body would remain undiscovered until they could come to your chamber and kill you.’
All eyes had turned on to Dúnliath. The girl was trembling.
‘It is not so. I did not … it is all a fabrication!’
Eadulf spoke quietly. ‘You will be interested to know that when we found your mother, she was not quite dead. She said two words before she expired.’
‘She identified her killer?’ Colgú asked.
Eadulf regarded Dúnliath sadly. ‘Your mother had two sons by her first marriage. That we know. How many daughters did she have?’
‘As far as I know, I was her only daughter,’ the girl replied, puzzled.
‘The two words that she spoke were — my daughter.’
Dúnliath staggered and would have fallen, had not Colgú caught her and lowered her to a chair.
‘Get water quickly,’ he ordered as he tried to massage her hands.
Eadulf handed him a goblet from the side table, but Fidelma suddenly struck it from his hand. She smiled apologetically.
‘Let us take all precautions,’ she advised and then asked Gorman to go for fresh water.
The girl was moaning and coming back to consciousness by the time Gorman returned.
‘Are you charging her with being part of this conspiracy, Fidelma?’ asked Colgú in a hollow tone.
To everyone’s surprise she replied, ‘Not yet. It is late now. I suggest that we ask Áedo, as Chief Brehon of Muman, and Brocc, as Gelgéis’s Brehon, to convene a court in the Great Hall tomorrow so that they may judge my explanation of these events.’
‘Very well,’ Colgú agreed, almost in relief.
‘Tonight, my brother,’ Fidelma said softly, ‘you must heed my advice and be very well-guarded.’
The morning heralded a bright, crisp and clear early-autumn day. There were no clouds in the azure sky but the sun was weak and high and there was a chill in the air. That morning, the news arrived that Fidelma had been waiting for. It came in the persons of Enda and Tormeid. Spealáin conducted them directly to Gelgéis’s personal reception chamber where she and Colgú were breaking their fast with Fidelma and Eadulf. It was clear both newly arrived warriors were excited.