Adnár suddenly raised his head in a listening attitude. A moment later Fidelma heard the crunch of shoes on the frosty ground and turned. Coming along the woodland path was the figure of a religieuse, head bowed and cowled, a sacculus slung across her shoulder. She did not see Adnár andFidelma until she was ten yards away when Fidelma hailed her.
‘Good day, sister.’
The girl halted and glanced up startled. Fidelma recognised her immediately. It was the young Sister Lerben.
‘Good day,’ she mumbled.
Adnár rose smiling.
‘It seems a custom of the abbey religieuses to tread this path this day,’ he observed ironically. ‘Surely it is dangerous to be alone here, sister? It will be dark before long.’
Lerben’s eyes flashed in annoyance and then she dropped them.
‘I am on my way to see,’ she hesitated and glanced at Fidelma, ‘to see Torcán of the Ui Fidgenti.’ Her hand went automatically to the sacculus.
Adnár continued to smile and shook his head.
‘Alas, as I was just explaining to Sister Fidelma, Torcán has just left my fortress and will not return until this evening. Can I give him some message?’
Sister Lerben hesitated again and then nodded swiftly. She removed a small oblong object wrapped in a piece of cloth from her sacculus.
‘Would you ensure that he is given this? He requested its loan from our library and I was asked to deliver it.’
‘I will pass this on with pleasure, sister.’
Fidelma reached forward and effortlessly intercepted the package before Adnár could take it. She unwrapped the cloth and gazed at the vellum book.
‘Why, this is a copy of the annals being kept at Clonmacnoise, the great abbey founded by the Blessed Ciarán.’
She raised her eyes to see an anxious look on Sister Lerben’s face. But Adnár was smiling.
‘I had not realised young Torcán was so interested in history,’ he said. ‘I will have to speak with him about this.’
He reached forth a hand but Fidelma was glancing through its vellum pages. She had spotted some stains on one page, ared muddy stain. She had time only to see that the page contained an entry about the High King Cormac Mac Art before Adnár had gently but firmly removed it from her hold and rewrapped it in the cloth.
‘This is not the place to study books,’ he observed jocularly. ‘It is far too cold. Do not worry, sister,’ he told Lerben. ‘I will make sure the book is safely delivered to Torcán.’
Fidelma rose to her feet and began to brush the leaves, twigs and dusty, rotting wood from her dress.
‘Do you know Torcán well? It is a long way from the land of the Ui Fidgenti.’
Adnár tucked the book under his arm.
‘I hardly know him at all. He was a guest of Gulban at his fortress and has come down here as a guest of Olcán, to hunt and see some of the ancient sites for which our territory is renowned.’
‘I did not think that the Ui Fidgenti were welcomed by the people of the Loígde.’
Adnár chuckled dryly.
‘There have been battles fought between us, there is no denying that. It is time, however, that old quarrels and prejudices were overcome.’
‘I agree,’ Fidelma said. ‘But I point out the obvious. Eoganán, the prince of the Ui Fidgenti, has conspired in many wars against the Loígde.’
‘Territorial wars,’ agreed Adnár. ‘Were everyone to keep to their own territory and not try to interfere in the concerns of other clans then there would be no need for warfare.’ He grinned crookedly. ‘But, thanks be to God that there was need for warriors when I was a young man otherwise I would not have risen to my present station.’
Fidelma gazed at him a moment, head to one side.
‘So you, who won your wealth in wars against the Ui Fidgenti, are now entertaining the son of the prince of that tribe?’
Adnár nodded.
‘It is the way of the world. Yesterday’s enemies are today’s bosom friends, although, as I pointed out, to be precise, the young man is Olcán’s guest and not mine.’
‘And yesterday’s brother and sister are today’s bitterest enemies,’ added Fidelma softly.
Adnár shrugged.
‘Would it were otherwise, sister. But it is not otherwise but thus.’
‘Very well, Adnár. I thank you for your frankness with me. I shall expect Brother Febal tomorrow.’
She turned to where Sister Lerben had been standing nervously, as if unable to make up her mind whether to depart or join in this conversation. Fidelma looked at the young girl with a warm smile. Lerben was surely no more than sixteen or seventeen years old.
‘Come, sister. Let us return to the abbey and we will talk on the way.’
She turned down the path and began to retrace her steps through the wood. After a moment, Lerben fell in step with her, leaving Adnár standing by his horse, absently stroking the horse’s muzzle as he watched them disappear among the trees. He took the book from under his arm and, unwrapping the cloth covering, stared moodily at it, seemed locked into his thoughts for a long time before rewrapping it, thrusting it in his saddle bag, untying the reins of his steed and clambering up. Then he nudged his horse’s belly with his heels and sent it trotting along the forest track in the direction of his fortress.
Chapter Nine
Sister Fidelma was awake even before the tense voice cut through the darkness. Her sleep had been disturbed by the turning of the handle on her small chamber door and her mind, alert to possible dangers, caused her to become wide awake in an instant. A shadow stood framed in the doorway. It was still night and only the ethereal light of the moon illuminated the space beyond. The cold was intense and her breath made clouds as she struggled upwards in the pale blue light which bathed everything.
‘Sister Fidelma!’ The voice was almost a nervous cry from the tall figure of the religieuse.
Fidelma recognised it in spite of the unnatural tone of the voice. It was the Abbess Draigen.
Immediately Fidelma was sitting up in bed, reaching for the flint and tinder to light the tallow candle.
‘Mother abbess? What is the matter?’
‘You must come with me straight away.’ Draigen’s voice was cracking with ill-concealed emotion.
Fidelma managed to light the candle and turn to the figure.
The abbess was fully dressed and her face, even in the yellow glow of the candle light, seemed pale and her features were etched in horror.
‘Has something happened?’ Fidelma realised that her question was superfluous almost at once. Without waiting for a reply, she rose swiftly from her bed. She was now oblivious to the cold as she realised something terrible had taken place. ‘What is it?’
The figure of the abbess stood trembling but more from some fearful emotion than from the cold night air. She appeared unable to answer coherently. She seemed to be suffering from some kind of shock.
Fidelma threw on her cloak and slipped into her shoes.
‘Lead the way, Draigen,’ she instructed calmly. ‘I am with you.’
The abbess paused only a moment and then turned, moving towards the courtyard. It was almost as bright as day outside for there had been another snow flurry which now reflected against the light of the moon.
Fidelma glanced at the sky, noting automatically the moon’s position, and judged that it was some hours beyond midnight. It was still, however, well before dawn. The stillness of the night seemed absolute. Only the sound of their leather shoes, crunching on the icy snow of the courtyard, sounded in the silence of the night.
Fidelma noticed that they were heading for the tower.
She followed behind the abbess, saying nothing, one hand holding the candle and the other shielding its flame from any wayward breath of wind. But the cold, wintry night was so still that there was hardly a flicker from the flame.