In the feasting hall, the musicians were still playing lively tunes, the instruments making a noisy counterpoint to the laughter and conversation of the guests.
Fidelma had sought out Murgal and seated herself beside him. She could see Orla and Colla on the far side of the hall and among the others she noticed were Rudgal and Ronan. There was no sign of Laisre or anyone else she recognised. Murgal glanced uneasily up at her as she joined him.
‘I did not expect you to join these festivities this evening, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he observed.
‘It may well be my last night in Gleann Geis,’ she replied gravely.
‘Do you really believe that you can clear up everything tomorrow morning?’ Murgal asked dubiously.
Fidelma refused the offer of mead but did not reply to his question. He was about to say something else when the musicians ceased to play and a quiet descended in the hall. Ronan stood forward and began to sing with a surprisingly good tenor voice for the rough calloused farmer who preferred to spend his time serving Laisre’s bodyguard. He sang a song of warriors and warfare.
‘My straight spear is of red yew -
vanquisher of polished spears -
it is mine by right and no warrior dare
affront it.
‘My sharp sword is of white polished iron -
cleaver of the opposing armour -
it is silent in its sheath of bronze for fear of
shedding blood.
‘My hardened shield is of golden bronze -
it has never been reproached -
for it protects me from all aggressors and their
weapons.’
He sat down to a resounding applause and Murgal glanced at Fidelma with amusement.
‘You sang a good song the other night. Will you sing something else to entertain us?’
Fidelma declined gravely.
‘A song must swell out of the soul for the moment and not be summoned from a tired mind merely for entertainment’s sake, to while away the passing of the hour. Perhaps you have another song about Cashel to set the diversion?’
Murgal chuckled disarmingly at her gentle taunt.
‘Not this time,’ he admitted. He hesitated and then he asked: ‘Do you feel the apprehension in this hall tonight?’
‘Apprehension?’ she asked.
‘The news that you will name the killer of Solin and the others tomorrow morning has spread through the ráth. Many people wonder who you will name. There is much tension here.’
‘Only the guilty need feel anxiety,’ replied Fidelma.
‘There are many who feel that you will name the innocent merely to escape the guilt yourself. They remember that you only cleared your name on a technicality of law and not by revealing who actually murdered Solin. Many think you still killed Solin because you were rivals in your Faith. Many have not forgiven you for trying to put the blame on Orla, for she is popular among our people.’
‘I suppose that I also killed Brother Dianach and made Artgal disappear? Or, indeed, perhaps I slaughtered those thirty-three young men myself?’
Murgal was not perturbed.
‘Anything is considered possible about a person in minds that are antagonistic to that person.’
‘To your mind?’
‘Fidelma, I am a Druid and a Brehon. At first I was prepared to dismiss you as I have most of your Faith. Small, bigoted people, intolerant of the beliefs of others. They will not bear anyone who does not think as they do. I found you unlike those others of your Faith that I have encountered. I trust you. I believe that you are free from any guilt. Perhaps you will trust me to help you?’
For a wild moment Fidelma found herself about to tell him all she knew. She had even opened her mouth to respond when she realised the danger. She shut her mouth with a snap. Murgal had suddenly become too friendly. Perhaps there was another motive for his change of attitude?
At that moment she realised that Laisre had entered the chamber. He had a cloak around him for it was a chill evening outside. He had walked across to the fire where his chair had been placed, just before a carved wooden screen. The screen stood at shoulder height, providing a barrier to the draughts. He went behind the screen for there was a small table beyond it where cloaks and weapons were placed during the feasting.
Fidelma let her eyes follow him quizzically across the room and watched his head atop the screen as he discarded his cloak. He turned. Then she realised that Laisre was looking directly at her across the top of the wooden screen. She could not see his lower face. Only his eyes and the top of his head so that she was unsure of the expression on his face. But for a moment their eyes met. She felt the malignancy of his expression. A cold shudder went through her. Then she inhaled softly and calmly. She turned back to Murgal.
‘I am sorry,’ she said, ‘what were you saying?’
‘I was saying that you should trust me, Fidelma of Cashel, for I might be able to help you. Tomorrow you must explain your suspicions or finish your business with Laisre and be gone back to Cashel. If you return to Cashel without offering an explanation for what has transpired here then there will be many suspicious minds left behind. You will still be blamed for Solin’s death.’
Fidelma studied Murgal thoughtfully for a moment.
‘You and the people of Gleann Geis will have the resolution of this matter tomorrow morning. That I swear.’
She caught sight of Eadulf entering the hall and noticed that his face was flushed and he looked anxious. She made her excuses to Murgal, rose and went across to him.
‘What’s wrong, Eadulf?’ she asked curiously. ‘You have a melancholy expression.’
‘Wrong?’ He asked indignantly. He seemed to have difficulty keeping control of his ire. ‘That girl Esnad is wrong. Even Nemon, the prostitute, is more honest than she is.’
Fidelma laid a pacifying hand on his arm.
‘Walk with me back to the hostel and tell me about it.’
‘Do you know that the girl tried to lure me into her bed?’
Fidelma shot him an amused glance.
‘She is youthful and attractive,’ she pointed out.
Eadulf made an inarticulate sound.
‘I presume that you were not attracted by the offer?’ Fidelma added with a mischievous grin.
‘She had me play a game of Brandub and demanded a wager be set. If she won she was going to demand I go to bed with her. If I won she expected me to make the same demand of her.’
‘Did you?’
