father Failbe Fland, trace our descent from Conall Corc, who was son of Luigthech, son of Ailill Flann Bec, the grandson of Eóghan Mór, the founder of our house.’
‘I will accept your word for that,’ smiled Eadulf. ‘These names are beyond me.’
Fidelma was patient.
‘The Ui Fidgente line claim descent from Fiachu Fidgennid, son of Maine Muinchain, another son of Ailill Flann Bec, grandson of Eóghan Mór.
Eadulf struggled to follow her.
‘I think I understand what you are saying. The split between your family and these Uí Fidgente began between two brothers, Luigthech, the eldest, and Maine Munchain, the youngest.’
Fidelma smiled sympathetically but shook her head.
‘If their genealogists are correct, Maine Munchain, the progenitor of the Uí Fidgente, was the eldest son of Ailill Flann Bec. Our ancestor Luigthech was his second son.’
Eadulf threw up his arms in despair.
‘It is hard enough to follow your Irish names but as to your precedents of generations … You are now saying that the Uí Fidgente have a better claim over the kingship because they descend from the eldest son?’
Fidelma was annoyed at his lack of understanding.
‘You ought to appreciate our laws of kingship- succession by now, Eadulf. It is a simple enough matter. Maine Muncháin’s line was deemed, by the
‘I still find it hard to follow,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘But from what you say, the Uí Fidgente descend from a senior line, in primogeniture terms, and this makes them reluctant to accept your family’s authority at Cashel?’
‘Senior line or not, your primogeniture does not enter into our law system,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘And this happened nearly ten generations ago. So long ago that our genealogists, as I say, maintain that the Uí Fidgente are not really Eóghanacht at all but descend from the Dairine.’
Eadulf raised his eyes to the heavens.
‘And just who are the Dáirine?’ he groaned in despair.
‘An ancient people, who nearly a thousand years ago were said to have shared the kingship of Muman with the Eóghanacht. There is still a clan called the Corco Lofgde to the west who claim they are descended from the ancient Dáirine.’
‘Well, my simple brain has taken in enough genealogy and too many names.’
Fidelma chuckled softly at the comic look of woe on his face but her eyes remained serious.
‘Yet it is important that you should know the general politics of this kingdom, Eadulf. You will recall how last winter we came across a plot by the Uí Fidgente to foment rebellion here and how my brother had to lead an army to face them in battle at Cnoc Aine? That was scarcely nine months ago.’
‘I do remember the events. How can I forget them? Was I not captured by the conspirators at that time? But wasn’t the ruler of the Uf Fidgente slain in battle?’
‘He was. Now his cousin Donennach is Prince of the Uí Fidgente and among his first actions was to send messengers to my brother and seek to negotiate a treaty with him. Donennach comes to Cashel to negotiate the peace. This is the first peace between the Uf Fidgente and Cashel in many centuries. That is why today is so important.’
They had walked from the gates of the fortress down the steep path which led to the bottom of the Rock of Cashel and followed the road round until it entered the outskirts of the market town below. The town itself lay less than a quarter of a mile from the great Rock of Cashel.
They found the people of the town were already gathering to witness the entry of their King with the Prince of the Uí Fidgente and his retinue. The column of riders had arrived at the western gateway to the town as Fidelma and Eadulf reached the eastern gate to take up their positions with a group standing to one side of the broad market square.
A group of seven warriors on horseback led the column. Then came Colgú’s standard bearer. The fluttering blue silk bore the golden royal stag of the Eóghanacht of Cashel. Following the standard, the King of Muman sat his horse well. He was a tall man with red, burnished hair. Not for the first time Eadulf was able to mentally remark on the similarity of facial features between him and his sister. There was no mistaking that Fidelma and Colgú were related.
Next came another standard bearer. The banner he held aloft was a fluttering white silk on which there was a mystical red boar in thecentre. Eadulf presumed this was the standard of the Uí Fidgente Prince. Behind this standard rode a young man with thickly set features which were dark but as handsome as the red-haired King of Muman. In spite of claims to a common ancestry there was nothing that reminded Eadulf of any form of relationship between the Prince of the Uí Fidgente and the King of Muman.
The leading horsemen were followed by several warriors, many bearing the emblems of the Order of the Golden Chain, the elite bodyguards of the Eóghanacht kings. At the head of these warriors rode a young man, not much younger than Colgú himself. He bore a vague similarity to Colgú, though his features seemed a little coarser, and his hair was black, even as the Prince of the Uí Fidgente. He sat on his horse with ease but there was a pride to his bearing. His dress spoke of conceit in his appearance as well. He wore a long blue dyed woollen cloak which was fastened at the shoulder by a glittering brooch. It was silver and in the shape of a solar emblem, its five radiating arms marked at each end by a small red garnet stone.
Donndubháin, as Eadulf knew well, was the
There was no doubting the pleasure of the people at the sight of the company as they began to cheer and applaud their arrival. For most the sight of the King of Cashel and the Prince of the Uí Fidgente riding together meant the end of the centuries of feuds and bloodshed; the start of a new era of peace and prosperity for all the people of Muman.
Colgú was relaxed and acknowledged the cheers with a wave of his hand although Donennach sat rigidly and it seemed that he was extremely nervous. His dark eyes flickered from side to side as if watching warily for signs of hostility. Only now and then did a quick smile cross his features as he inclined his head stiffly, from the neck only, to acknowledge the applause of the demonstrative crowd.
The horsemen were crossing the market square to approach the path which led upwards to the rocky outcrop of the seat of the Cashel kings. Even Donennach of the Uí Fidgente’s eyes widened a little as he gazed upwards to the dominating fortress and palace of Cashel.
Donndubháin raised his arm as if to signal the column of warriors to swing round in order to approach the fortress road.
Fidelma had pushed her way forward to the edge of the crowd, followed by the anxious Eadulf, meaning to greet her brother.
Colgú caught sight of her, his face splitting into a grin of urchin-like quality which was so like Fidelma at moments of intense amusement.
Colgú drew rein on his horse and leant forward abruptly to greet his sister.
It was that action which saved his life.
The arrow impacted into his upper arm with a curious thud, causing him to cry out in pain and shock. Had he not halted his horse and bent down, the arrow would have impacted in a more mortal target.
In the shock of the moment, everyone seemed to stand as if turned into stone. It seemed a long time but it was less than a couple of seconds before another cry of pain rang out. Donennach, the Prince of the Uí Fidgente, was swaying in his saddle, a second arrow sticking in his thigh. In horror, Eadulf watched him sway and then topple from his horse into the dust of the road.
The impact of the falling body caused everyone to burst into a frenzy of activity and commotion.
One of the Uí Fidgente warriors drew forth his sword with a cry of ‘Assassins!’ and urged his mount forward towards a cluster of buildings a short distance away across the square. A moment later, some of his men were following him while others hurried to their fallen Prince and stood over him with drawn swords as if expecting an assault on him.
