flesh and blood. If people are forced to suppress the emotion of love for their fellow human beings then they certainly can’t have love for anything else, including God. Anyway, it probably does not matter to us what Petrán thinks as he is shortly to leave on a pilgrimage to the city of Lucca, which is north of Rome, where the Blessed Fridian of Éireann was bishop about a hundred years ago.’
Eadulf was torn a little between admiration for her philosophical arguments and a feeling of inadequacy. He wished he had the retentive knowledge to quote entire sections of the scriptures, as Fidelma was able to do. The scholars of Éireann had, for centuries, practised the art of memorising entire passages of learning. Indeed, Fidelma had told him that in the times before the New Faith had come to the country, it was traditional that no philosophies of the old religious should be written down. Men and women would spend as many as twenty years learning the ancient codes and practices solely by memory.
‘I suppose we are twice damned in Bishop Petrán’s eyes,’ Eadulf said, rising and moving to the corner of the room where a crib stood.
‘Don’t wake him,’ Fidelma instructed sharply.
‘I won’t,’ Eadulf assured her. He gazed down at the baby that lay asleep there. There were fine strands of red hair across its forehead. Eadulf’s features lightened in a smile of paternal pride. ‘It is still difficult to realise that we have a son,’ he said softly, half to himself.
Fidelma rose swiftly to join him, laying a hand on his arm. ‘You’ve had four months to grow used to the fact of little Alchú’s arrival in this world.’
‘Gentle hound.’ Eadulf translated the name softly as he gazed down at the baby. ‘I wonder what he will grow up to be?’
Fidelma’s mouth turned down almost in disapproval. ‘There is a great deal of growing ahead of him before we can begin to ask that question, Eadulf.’ She turned back to the fire and sat down again. ‘Sárait should be here soon to look after him for we have been asked to attend a feasting in my brother’s hall this evening.’
Eadulf rejoined her at the fire. Sárait was Fidelma’s servant, who also occupied the position of nursemaid to little Alchú. While living in her brother’s palace of Cashel, Fidelma was not treated as a religieuse of the Faith but, according to her right, as an Eóghanacht princess, sister to the king of Muman.
‘What is the occasion for this feasting?’ Eadulf asked.
‘I am told that the chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda arrived this afternoon and is seeking my brother’s help. Colgú has asked us to join him at the meal.’
‘Help? What sort of help?’
Fidelma shrugged indifferently. ‘I do not know, and have been wondering what brings him to Cashel at this time. Doubtless, our curiosity will be assuaged at the feasting.’
‘And who are the Cinél na Áeda? I thought I knew most peoples of your kingdom but I cannot recall hearing of them.’
‘They dwell in the hills south of the River Bride. That’s an easy two-day ride to the south-west of here. The chieftain’s fortress is a place called Rath Raithlen. The chieftain is called Becc and he is a distant cousin of mine, for his people are a sept of the Eóghanacht. Becc’s grandfather Fedelmid was king of Cashel some four score years ago. I haven’t seen Becc or been in his territory since I was a little girl.’
‘So, it is not often that he visits Cashel?’
‘He visits rarely,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Except for important convocations of the assembly of the kingdom, Becc never comes here on social visits.’
In fact, Fidelma was more curious about the reason for her distant cousin’s visit than Eadulf. She was still turning the matter over in her mind when she and Eadulf made their way to the private chambers of Colgú, king of Muman. The king’s steward had informed them that Colgú wanted to see them in his private chambers before going into the feasting hall. The young king was waiting alone to receive them. There was no doubt as to the relationship of Colgú and Fidelma for both had the same tall build, the same red hair and changeable green eyes. They shared the same facial structure and the same indefinable quality of movement.
Colgú came quickly to meet them with a warm smile and embraced his sister before reaching out a hand to Eadulf.
‘The little one is well?’ he enquired.
‘Alchú is well, indeed. He is in the safe hands of Sárait,’ replied Fidelma. She glanced quickly round the room. ‘I see that your guest is not here, brother. This means that you have some news that you wish to discuss with us before we greet him.’
Colgú grinned. ‘As ever, you have a discerning sense, Fidelma. In fact, I did want a word with you before the feasting. However, the news is something that I want you to hear directly from the mouth of our cousin. I want to bring him in to speak with you before we go into the feasting hall where the atmosphere will not be congenial to anything but the most superficial discussion.’
Eadulf coughed awkwardly. ‘Perhaps I should withdraw, if this is a matter concerning your family?’
Colgú threw out a hand towards him in a staying motion. ‘You are part of this family now. Husband to my sister and father to her child. Besides, this matter also concerns you, so stay.’
Fidelma seated herself in one of the chairs before the fire and Eadulf waited for Colgú to indicate that he could also be seated before he sank into another. This was protocol, because Fidelma, aside from being sister to the king, was also qualified to the level of
‘From your remarks. Colgú, I presume that the matter Becc wishes to discuss is not some superficial family concern?’ said Fidelma.
‘Far from it,’ agreed Colgú. ‘He brings talk of evil and death. There is a great fear abroad among the Cinél na Áeda.’
Fidelma raised her eyebrows in surprise.
‘Evil and death?’ she repeated softly. ‘Evil is an emotive word but death is always with us. How do they come together?’
‘He talks of superstition and, perhaps, the spectre of unholy rituals among the dwellers in the dark woods that surround his people.’
‘You intrigue me, brother. Tell us more.’
‘I will bring Becc in to tell his story,’ replied Colgú. ‘It is best, as I say, that you hear his tale at first hand.’ He reached forward to a side table and took up a small silver bell. Scarcely had the sharp peal of the bell died away when the king’s steward opened the door and, on receiving a nod from Colgú, stood aside to usher in an elderly man, with a bushy beard, whose face retained the good looks of his youth and whose general appearance showed the well-muscled figure of a warrior which age had not yet diminished.
‘Becc, chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda,’ announced the steward before withdrawing and closing the door.
Only Eadulf stood up awkwardly as the handsome chieftain, his tall frame belying the meaning of the name he bore — for Becc meant ‘small one — came forward. He bowed formally to Colgú before turning to Fidelma with a soft smile and the faintest forward motion of his head.
‘Fidelma, I scarcely recognise you as the little girl whom I met many years ago. Now your fame precedes you in all the corners of our kingdom.’
‘You are kind, cousin Becc,’ replied Fidelma gravely. ‘Allow me to present my companion, Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, in the land of the South Folk.’
Becc tumed to acknowledge Eadulf. The chieftain’s quizzical blue-green eyes examined the other humorously.
‘I have heard Brother Eadulf’s name mentioned in the same breath as that of Fidelma of Cashel. They are names synonymous with law and justice.’
Eadulf was not looking exactly happy. He had a vague suspicion of something prompting these compliments and a hidden purpose behind this meeting.
‘Be seated,’ invited Colgú and both men obeyed. ‘I have asked Fidelma and Eadulf to come here and
