Valley of the Shadow

tend to our needs. They have refused until recently. Then we heard the joyful news that Laisre had sent to Imleach and Cashel for just such a purpose.’

‘And what is your name?’ asked Fidelma.

‘My name is Rudgal, Sister.’

‘And you are a warrior, I see.’

Rudgal chuckled slightly.

‘There are no professional warriors here in Gleann Geis. I am a wagon maker by trade but answer Laisre’s call every time he needs the services of warriors. Each man here pursues his own calling. Even Artgal, who Laisre considers his chief bodyguard, is also a blacksmith.’

Fidelma remembered what Orla had told her.

‘And why do you make yourself known to us, Rudgal?’ asked Eadulf.

Rudgal looked swiftly from one to the other.

‘In case there is any service I can render. Call upon me should you need anything that is in my power to provide.’

There came the sound of a horn close by. Rudgal gave a grimace.

‘Ah, the trumpet! We are summoned to the feast.’

Eadulf found, even as Fidelma had predicted, that Laisre was a strict traditionalist. Everyone had gathered in the large anteroom before the council chamber of the ráth. This was now converted into the feasting hall. Three officers of Laisre’s household wentinto the hall first. Murgal, as official advisor to Laisre, a bollscare, or marshal, to regulate the order of precedence of those about to be seated, and the trumpeter or fearstuic. At the sound of the next single blast on his horn, Laisre’s shield bearer and others carrying the shields or standards of Laisre’s warriors entered. The shields were then hung on hooks above the chairs according to ranks.

At the third blast, the bearers of the emblems of those of other ranks went in and fixed these devices to indicate where each guest would sit. Finally, at the fourth blast of the trumpet, the guests all walked in leisurely, each taking their seat under their own shields or emblems. In this manner, all unseemly disputes or jostling for places were avoided. No man or woman sat opposite another, as only one side of each table was occupied. This rigid adherence to an order of priority was, Eadulf noticed, the strictest rule.

Large wooden tables had been set up in the chamber. Laisre’s marshal continued to fuss about to assure himself that every person was seated in their proper place according to their rank. Sometimes, or so Eadulf had been told, it was known that serious arguments could break out over the seating arrangements at a feast.

At the top table, Fidelma was seated next to Laisre by right of being an Eóghanacht princess. On her other side was Colla, the tanist, then his wife Orla and their daughter, Esnad. Other members of the chieftain’s family were ranged on both sides. The warriors were seated at another table; the intellectuals, men like Solin and Murgal with others Eadulf could not identify, were seated at another table. Eadulf’s table apparently contained those of lesser professional rank. Sub-chieftains and minor functionaries sat at yet another table.

Eadulf noticed that Brother Solin’s scribe, Brother Dianach, had taken the next seat to his left, just as Fidelma had anticipated. Eadulf decided to begin the conversation by remarking on this emphasis on placing people thus as if it were a strange custom to him. The young cleric overcame his apparent shyness to shake his head in serious reproval at Eadulf’s implied criticism.

‘In my father’s time, it was the placing of Congal Cloén below his proper place at the banquet of Dún na nGéid, which was the main cause of the Battle of Magh Ráth,’ he said in quiet seriousness.

Eadulf decided to develop the conversation.

‘What battle was that?’

‘It was the battle at which the High King, Domnall mac Aedo, annihilated Congal and his Dál Riada allies from across the water,’ answered the young scribe.

An elderly man, seated on the opposite side of Dianach, who had introduced himself as Mel, scribe to Murgal, intervened.

‘The truth of the matter was that the battle marked the overthrow of the old religion among the great kings of the north.’ There was disapproval in his voice. ‘True there was an argument about the insult offered Congal as to where he was seated at the feasting table. But so far as the great chieftains of Ulaidh were concerned, they had long resisted the new Faith and the Christian king Domnall mac Aedo was determined to impose it on them. Their resistance finally came to an end with their defeat by Domnall mac Aedo at Magh Ráth. The old faith was thereafter confined to the small, isolated clans.’

The young scribe, Brother Dianach, tried to repress a shiver and crossed himself.

‘It is true the Faith triumphed after the battle at Magh Ráth,’ he conceded, ‘and thanks be to God for that. It was told that just before the feast two horrible black spectres, one male and one female, had appeared to the assembly and, having devoured enormous quantities of food, vanished. They left a baleful influence. So it was that King Domnall had to lead the forces of Christ against the forces of the Devil. He overcame them, Deo favente!’

The elderly scribe, Mel, uttered a laugh of derision.

‘When did you say this happened?’ Eadulf ignored him and addressed the boy as if he were in sympathy with him.

‘It was in my father’s time; scarcely three decades ago when he was a young warrior. He left his right arm behind at Magh Ráth.’

It was only then that Eadulf realised that he had heard of the battle before. He had studied at Tuam Brecain and in that ecclesiastical college there had been an elderly teacher called Cenn Faelad. He had been a professor of Irish law but had also written a grammar of the language of the people of Éireann which had helped Eadulf increase his knowledge of the language. Cenn Faelad walked with a limp and, when Eadulf had pressed him, he had revealed that as a young man he had been wounded in a battle which Eadulf, mishearing the pronunciation, had thought was called ‘Moira’. As Tuam Brecain was already a leading medical college as well as having a faculty of law and of ecclesiastical learning, Cenn Faelad had been taken there and the abbot, himself a skilled surgeon, had brought him back to health. There Cenn Faelad had stayed learning law instead of war and becoming one of the greatest Brehons of the five kingdoms. Eadulf was about to turn to his companion with this contribution to the conversation when he was interrupted.

Laisre had stood up and the trumpeter gave a further blast onhis horn to bring the assembly to silence. Eadulf wondered for a moment if Laisre was actually going to say a Deo gratias to bless the meal, before he realised his mistake. Laisre merely gave a traditional formal welcome to his guests.

The servants then came in bearing great trays of food and pitchers of wine and mead. Eadulf noticed that the hot plates of meat which were carried in were formally presented in order of rank as well. Particular joints were reserved for certain chiefs, officials and professionals according to their status. The dáilemain, the carvers or distributors of food, went down the tables offering joints to each person in turn. Using the left-hand fingers to catch hold of the joint, the recipient would cut off the required piece of meat with a knife held in the right hand. Each person was careful to respect the area of the joint from which they could cut their meat. It was a great insult if a forbidden joint was inadvertently taken. There was even a law, Brother Dianach, growing quite loquacious, advised Eadulf, which penalised the person who took the curath-mir, or hero’s morsel, a special choice joint reserved for the person who was acknowledged, by general consent, to have performed the bravest and greatest exploit among the guests.

Dishes of breads, fish and cold meats followed the hot meat, and there were bowls of fruit aplenty, all served with pitchers of imported wine or jugs of local mead and ale. The fact that Gleann Geis was able to import wine, although Eadulf assessed it was not a particularly good wine or that it had not travelled well from Gaul, indicated that its chieftain prided himself on his table. Eadulf had taken two clay goblets of the wine before he realised that it was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and decided to change to drinking the local rich honey- mead.

Each person was given a lambrat, a hand cloth, to wipe their hands after the meal.

During the course of the meal, Eadulf did his best to pump the young cleric about the reasons for his journey with Brother Solin. The young man, with an innocence which made Eadulf wonder if it was artfulness, seemed