‘So that is your apothecary shop?’
Marga shrugged almost insolently but Fidelma did not appear to mind.
‘I cannot see the purpose of these questions,’ the pale-faced herbalist said impatiently.
‘Forgive me,’ replied Fidelma contritely. ‘It is my friend here …’
Eadulf was momentarily startled and then tried to compose his features.
The pale blue eyes flickered over him without changing expression.
‘You see,’ Fidelma went on confidentially, ‘my friend imbibed too much of the juice of the vine last night.’
‘Gaulish wine!’ sniffed Marga. ‘It rots in the transport unless it is good. But Laisre is unable to afford better except for himself and his family. Well, there were plenty of others who took more of it than was good for them.’
‘You mean Murgal?’ Fidelma asked quickly.
There was a pause.
‘You have sharp eyes, Christian. Yes, I mean Murgal. But that is none of your business …’
‘Of course not,’ smiled Fidelma. ‘But my friend here is in need of a herbal remedy for his distemper. He thought that he might be able to purchase something from you.’
Eadulf was surprised at the lie for he knew as much about herbal remedies as most, having studied the subject. Marga eyed him sourly. Eadulf flushed before her withering gaze.
‘I suppose you have a headache and feel uncomfortable in the stomach?’
Eadulf nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
The apothecary turned and rummaged in her cart. She drew forth some root leaves eight inches in length, tapering below into a winged stalk, with veins on it. Eadulf recognised them at once. The thimble shape of the foxglove was a common enough plant in the hedges, ditches and wooded slopes.
‘Use the leaves only, boiled in water. You drink the infusion. It will taste bitter but you will eventually feel its advantageous effects. Do you understand, Saxon?’
‘I do,’ responded Eadulf quietly.
He took the leaves from her and reached into his purse.
‘A
‘We have no use for coins in our valley, Saxon. We rely mainly on barter even if we deal with the outside world. Keep your coin and take the leaves as the charity of a pagan to a Christian.’
Eadulf began to thank her gravely but Fidelma interrupted with a smile.
‘I suppose a number of people have been struck with the effect of bad wine?’
‘Not many. Those who drink wine in preference to mead have developed the capacity to accept its potency.’
‘Were there any affected last night, though?’
Marga shrugged.
‘A few. Most of the pigs prefer to lay about and sleep it off.’
‘Does Murgal usually consume so much?’
Marga’s eyes narrowed in temper and then she seemed to change her mind and relax.
‘Well, he has not sought my aid nor would I have given it to him. I’ll applaud you for this, Fidelma of Cashel: last night you answered the pig well.’
‘You do not like him?’
‘Hadn’t you noticed?’ Marga jeered.
‘I had.’
‘Murgal thinks that he can take what he wants in life. He daredlay his sweaty paws on me. Now he has reason to know that he should not take such liberties.’
‘I see,’ Fidelma said gravely.
Marga glared at her in suspicion.
‘Is that what you wanted to know?’ she demanded with some petulance.
‘Not all,’ Fidelma smiled. ‘Eadulf here truly did want something to purge him of his feelings of discomfiture.’
Marga examined them suspiciously for a moment before going to the ass’s head and beginning to lead it away across the courtyard. Then she halted abruptly and turned back to Eadulf.
‘Have a care with that infusion of those leaves, Saxon,’ she called. ‘Unless taken correctly the plant has a poisonous property. The correct dosage varies in each person. For you, I would say no more than a sip or two.’
Then she turned again, dragging the ass after her in the direction of her apothecary.
Eadulf let out a sigh of relief and wiped his brow.
‘I am glad she finally said as much,’ he observed quietly, staring in disgust at the leaves.
‘Why so?’ Fidelma queried with interest.
‘Because, knowing herbs as I do, I thought she was doing her best to poison me. Had she not warned me, and had I known nothing about these leaves, I might be dead soon after drinking the brew. A sip is one thing but drinking the entire concoction is something else.’
Fidelma turned her head and glanced after the disappearing figure of the apothecary with interest.
‘Maybe she didn’t like you at first, Eadulf,’ she smiled thinly.
‘As a stranger, as a Christian or as a man?’ mused the Saxon.
Fidelma chuckled.
‘Well, at least she now likes you well enough to advise against your premature death.’
Chapter Eight
A horn blast shattered the air.
‘That is the signal for the start of the council,’ Fidelma advised Eadulf. ‘Put those leaves away and let us make our attendance.’
Eadulf groaned loudly.
‘I do not think I can last out such a meeting,’ he protested. ‘I swear I feel like death.’
‘You may die after the council,’ she replied cheerfully. Unwillingly, Eadulf followed her towards the chieftain’s building in the ráth.
Several people were moving towards it but they stood aside to allow Fidelma and Eadulf to enter first. In the antechamber, the tall, fair-haired warrior, Rudgal, was waiting for them. As they entered, he moved towards them and saluted Fidelma solemnly.
‘Please accompany me, Sister.’ Then, after a moment, he added: ‘You, also, Brother.’
He led them through the door into the council chamber where Laisre was already seated on his chair of office. The signs of the feasting of the previous night had been cleared away and a semi-circle of chairs had been arranged before Laisre. To the chieftain’s right was an empty seat where the tanist should have sat. Clearly Colla had already departed on his errand of investigation. Behind Colla’s empty chair was seated Orla but there was no sign of her daughter, Esnad.
To the left was a seat with Murgal sprawled on it. He looked as bad as Eadulf felt with red-rimmed eyes and pale face. There was still an angry red mark on his cheek. Behind him was a small table at which the elderly scribe, Mel, with whom Eadulf had spoken the previous evening, sat ready with his stylus and clay writing tablets.
Fidelma was shown to a chair in the centre of the semi-circle. A chair had also been placed for Eadulf, just to one side of Fidelma’s seat. Behind, Brother Solin and Brother Dianach were seated. The other chairs were filled with the lesser dignitaries of Gleann Geis while behind them, pressing around, some of the people of thevalley were crowded to hear what their chieftain would negotiate with the representative of the distant king of Cashel. The hubbub was loud and it was not until the horn blasted again that the noise eventually died away.
