‘I see no need for sadness. She is still attractive and she does not seem to be in want.’
‘I tell you this so that you may not refer to it ever again. Della was a woman of secrets.’ She used the term
‘Woman of secrets?’ Eadulf frowned, struggling with the euphemism. Then his face lightened. ‘Do you mean that she was a prostitute?’ He dredged from his memory the word
Fidelma nodded curtly. ‘That was why I did not want you to say more in there. It is a sensitive matter.’
They had turned from the side street into the main street through Cashel and passed a tavern on a corner. A shadowy figure was standing outside with a drinking horn in his hand. The man stared at them and then hurried inside. Eadulf pretended not to notice him but once they had ridden past, he turned to Fidelma.
‘I have just seen Nion in the doorway of that tavern back there. It is obvious that he has seen us but does not want to be seen himself.’
Fidelma was not perturbed. ‘After he paused at Aona’s inn this morning, I would have expected him to be in Cashel.’
Eadulf was disappointed by her reaction but interested in returning to the subject of Della.
‘How did you become friendly with Della?’ he asked.
‘I represented her when she was raped,’ replied Fidelma calmly.
Eadulf pulled a cynical face. ‘A prostitute
Fidelma’s face became a mask of irritation. ‘Cannot a woman be raped simply because she is a prostitute? At least we have the provision which allows a woman compensation in such circumstances even if she is a
Eadulf stirred uncomfortably at the vehemence in her voice. He spoke penitently. ‘It is just that I thought that a prostitute was not entitled to such compensation nor did I think that she could acquire a property.’
Fidelma became a little mollified. ‘She can inherit property from her parents but, generally, she cannot acquire property through marriageor cohabitation and, if a profit has come through her work in such a union, she has no claim to a share of it.’
Eadulf smiled in satisfaction. ‘So I was right?’
‘Except that you neglected the fact that a prostitute can renounce her previous way of life and, if so, can be reinstated in society.’
‘Is that what happened with Della?’
Fidelma gave an affirmative gesture. ‘To a certain extent. She renounced her previous life after the rape. After the case in which I represented her, she withdrew to the house that had been owned by her father. This was a few years ago. Many people, sadly, still treat her with contempt and her means of protection has been to become a recluse.’
‘That is no answer,’ Eadulf replied. ‘You only find in solitude what you take into it.’
Fidelma glanced at him. Now and then Eadulf came out with such pertinent remarks that she knew clearly why she had come to like and almost rely on the Saxon monk. At other times he was clumsy and did not seem sensitive to people and events. He was a man of paradoxes; brilliant and intuitive on the one hand, slow and unheeding on the other. There seemed no continuity in his character. It was so against her own clear, analytical nature and her trenchant temperament.
They relapsed into silence as they rode through Cashel. Many people recognised her and some greeted her with a smile while others stood in groups along the way, watching her in undisguised curiosity and whispering among themselves. They continued up to the gates of the towering royal palace of the Kings.
Capa, the captain of the guard, was at the gate.
‘Welcome back, lady,’ he greeted, as they rode in. ‘The Prince of Cnoc Aine arrived this morning, so we knew you would be arriving sometime late today.’
Fidelma exchanged a look with Eadulf.
Before she could speak, her cousin Donndubhain, the heir-apparent to Colgú, came hurrying out of some nearby buildings, smiling in welcome.
‘Fidelma! Thank God that you are safe. We have heard all about the attack on Imleach. Of course, Prince Donennach is denying any Uí Fidgente involvement in it … but he would, wouldn’t he?’
Fidelma dismounted and was embraced by her cousin. She turned to unstrap her saddle bag while Eadulf followed her example.
‘You must have a lot to tell us about the attack on the abbey!’ Donndubháin sounded excited. ‘When we heard — why, I was hard pressed to prevent your brother leading a guard to Imleach. But-’ he glanced around in conspiratorial fashion — ‘that would have leftCashel unguarded and there is Gionga and his Uí Fidgente troop to consider.’
Fidelma turned to Capa and instructed him to ensure that the horses were taken to the stables and cared for. Then she turned back to her cousin.
‘Has anything else transpired here that I should know of?’
Donndubháin shook his head. ‘We were hoping that you had brought some news that will resolve the mystery.’
Fidelma smiled wanly. ‘Things are never simple,’ she commented in a tired tone.
‘Your brother, the King, wants to see you right away,’ her cousin went on. ‘Do you mind? Or do you want to refresh yourself from your journey first?’
‘I’ll see Colgú first.’
‘There is no need for Brother Eadulf to accompany you,’ Donndubháin said hurriedly, as he led the way.
‘I will see you later then,’ Fidelma smiled, a trifle apologetically at her companion.
Colgú was waiting for Fidelma in his private chambers. Brother and sister exchanged affectionate greetings and Fidelma immediately asked after her brother’s wound.
‘Thanks to our Saxon friend, the wound is healing well. See?’ He raised his arm above his head and moved it about to show its mobility. ‘There is slight discomfiture but no infection and it will be all right soon, just as he promised it would.’ He paused then asked: ‘Is Brother Eadulf not with you?’
Fidelma glanced to Donndubhain who was standing by the door with a frown.
‘I understood that you wanted to see me alone?’
Colgú looked puzzled for the minute.
‘Ah, so I did. Very well, Donndubháin. We will join you shortly.’ After he had left, Colgú motioned her to a chair. ‘Donndubháin has become an ardent believer in the conspiracy theory, that enemies lurk everywhere. I hope Eadulf was not insulted. He is a person whom I can trust.’
Fidelma smiled quickly as she seated herself. ‘I think your trust will not be misplaced.’
‘What information have you been able to gather at Imleach? We have had the news of the attack. Our cousin, Finguine, the Prince of Cnoc Aine, arrived earlier today. He gave us details.’
‘So I understand,’ Fidelma replied. ‘There is little to add, apparently. Abbot Ségdae and the witnesses from Imleach should be here in the next day or so.’
‘Witnesses?’ queried Colgú, hopefully.
‘I believed that the events at Imleach, the disappearance of the Holy Relics and the attack on the township, are all connected with the attempted assassination. How is the Prince of the Uí Fidgente, by the way? I neglected to ask about his wounds.’
Colgú was sardonic. ‘He bears a slight limp. The wound is better but his temper is worse. Otherwise he is in good health and still claiming a plot against us. His bodyguard Gionga hardly ever leaves his side.’
‘Did you know that Gionga placed warriors at the bridge over the Suir to prevent me leaving here?’
Her brother looked troubled. ‘I found that out afterwards. Gionga, or his Prince, was cunning. Once it was known that you had reached Imleach safely, Prince Donennach came to me and explained that Gionga, through zeal, had placed a guard there to prevent any accomplices of the assassins escaping. Misinterpreting their orders, they tried to prevent you from going to Imleach. Donennach apologised profusely and said he had ordered the warriors to disperse.’
Fidelma chuckled derisively. ‘If one believes that …! They had specific orders to prevent
‘But can we prove it? Just as Donndubhain argues his conspiracy theory against the Uí Fidgente, what
