The young man hesitated and then shrugged.
‘I had special dispensation from the king of Ulaidh,’ he explained hurriedly. ‘I did not learn the news about the defeat of the Uí Fidgente until I reached their lands where I had been expecting to find Eoganan.’
‘Then what brought you here? The Uí Fidgente live beyond the northern mountains,’ Fidelma asked.
‘I told you,’ the young man was a little aggrieved, ‘there was devastation and destruction there. No one wanted to barter for a thoroughbred horse when their cattle herds had been taken for fines. I did not want to take the horse north again and so I came here. One of the Uí Fidgente told me that Laisre of Gleann Geis was a shrewd judge of horse flesh.’
Fidelma turned to Laisre with curiosity.
‘And have you made a judgment on the beast?’
‘I have not seen the horse as yet. Ibor has just arrived and the horse is stabled below at Ronan’s farmstead. I shall see it within the next day or so once our guest has rested from his journey.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Ibor. ‘I promised Ronan’s woman, Bairsech, that I would return to bathe and refresh myself from my journey and I am already late. So forgive me, I must go now.’
‘I will escort you as far as Ronan’s farmstead,’ Murgal announced. ‘I need to go in that direction. My … my foster-daughter lives within Ronan’s hamlet.’
‘That is good of you, Murgal.’ The words were not reinforced by his tone of voice. The young man did not seem pleased to have Murgal’s company. He turned courteously to Fidelma. ‘I am honoured to have met you, Fidelma of Cashel.’
‘I am always interested in meeting a trader in horses, especially one who travels great distances to come to this small corner of the kingdom of Cashel.’
Together, he and Murgal left the ráth.
‘A personable young man,’ remarked Laisre as he and Fidelma stood watching them leave.
Fidelma was cynical.
‘A foolish young man.’ When she saw Laisre look at her questioningly, she continued: ‘It is a fool who rides alone through the country of the Uí Fidgente with a valuable horse in these turbulent times.’
‘Perhaps it is not so dangerous in the country of the Uí Fidgente as you may think,’ Laisre commented. ‘Brother Solin and his young acolyte were there a few days ago.’
Fidelma did not hide her reaction of surprise.
‘Brother Solin actually came here by way of the lands of the Uí Fidgente? Surely that was a curious choice of route?’
‘It is a logical route from the northern kingdoms,’ returned Laisre.
‘I suppose it is,’ Fidelma conceded reluctantly. ‘But not one that I would venture.’
‘My council and I will be gathering later this afternoon to iron out our differences and we may plan to resume our negotiation tomorrow before noon. I apologise once again for this morning. Murgal is an honest man but he is not yet convinced that tolerating the new Faith will bring us anything but a disappearance of our people. He fears the changes it will bring.’
‘It is an understandable attitude,’ accepted Fidelma. ‘However, Heraclitus once said that nothing is permanent in this life but change.’
Laisre smiled wanly.
‘A good saying but it will take much to change Murgal’s mind.’ He paused and then added: ‘We will have another feasting tonight.’
Fidelma winced slightly.
‘Perhaps you will excuse Brother Eadulf and myself?’
The chieftain frowned slightly. To refuse to attend a feast was approaching an insult. Fidelma knew the laws of hospitality. She went on hastily: ‘I am under a geis, a prohibition that on each day after the full moon, I must spend the evening with simple fare and in meditation of my Faith.’
Laisre’s eyes widened a little.
‘A
Fidelma nodded seriously. A geis was an ancient prohibition, a taboo or a bond which, when placed on someone, compelled them to obey the injunction. The concept of the geis still survived in the Brehon Laws. The legendary warrior-hero of Ulaidh, Cúchulainn, had been given a geis never to eat the flesh of a dog. Trapped by his enemies, he eventually had to eat dog flesh and this infringement brought about his inevitable death. The ignoring or transgression of the prohibition exposed the one on whom the geis had been placed to rejection by society and would place them outside the social order.
Fidelma told the lie after the briefest struggle with her religious conscience. Did not the Brehon Morann say: ‘Never to lie is to have no lock to the door of your house. Mendacity is permissible as a means of protection from a greater evil.’ She knew that Laisre could understand and would not question such a prohibition.
‘Very well, Fidelma. I will press you no further.’
‘There is one thing, however …’ Fidelma stayed him.
‘You have but to ask.’
‘Is there a library at the ráth?’
‘Of course.’ Laisre seemed momentarily indignant. ‘It is not only Christians who keep libraries.’
‘I did not mean to imply otherwise,’ Fidelma pacified. ‘Where do I find this library?’
‘I will show you. It is, in fact, under Murgal’s control as my Druid and Brehon.’
‘Will he mind if I examine it?’
‘I am his chieftain,’ Laisre replied curtly in explanation.
He led the way across the courtyard to the same building where the apothecary’s shop was placed. There was a main entrance, a little further beyond the shop, and through this door was a flight of wooden steps leading to other storeys. Laisre climbed the stairs to the third and final storey and proceeded along a passage which led into a square tower room. The squat tower dominated the ráth.
‘That is Murgal’s apartment.’ Laisre indicated an adjacent room. ‘And here is the library.’
Fidelma entered a single, small chamber with the walls lined with wooden pegs from which hung book satchels, each satchel filled with a particular leather-bound volume.
‘Were you looking for something particular?’ Laisre asked as Fidelma moved down the lines of pegs and satchels, searching each book’s title in turn.
‘I am looking for the law books.’
Laisre pointed to several works in one corner. He stood hesitating as she began to peer through them. Fidelma took no further notice of him and he finally cleared his throat.
‘Then if you have no further need of me …?’ he queried.
Fidelma looked up, as if she had forgotten his existence, and smiled apologetically.
‘I am sorry. I will not be long in looking up the reference I require. But you need not wait for me. I can find my own way back.’
Laisre hesitated, then nodded in acknowledgment.
‘Then, unless our paths cross later, I will see you in the council tomorrow before noon.’
Fidelma turned back to the book satchels as he left. She was looking for a copy of a specific law text and wondered if the Brehon had it in his collection of the score or so of legal texts.
She finally found what she was looking for. It was a tract called the
She left the room with a contemplative expression on her face and retraced her steps down the stairs to the courtyard, making her way confidently to the hostel.
Chapter Ten
Fidelma was crossing the courtyard when the sound of clattering hooves at the gate of the ráth made
