‘So it is only a few years old in its composition?’
The singer agreed. ‘It is a beautiful song, Brother.’
‘And sung to a Gallican chant,’ observed Eadulf thoughtfully.
The singer looked at him with a new respect.
‘You know about such things, Brother?’
Eadulf shrugged.
‘Only a little,’ he confessed. ‘I heard something of these chants from Brother Cillin at Ard Fhearta.’
The man was suddenly very interested.
‘Brother Cillin? Are you then one of the Unending Circle?’
Eadulf tried to hide his frown of surprise. Obviously this meant something significant. He had heard the term before. But where, and what did it mean?
He smiled and lowered his voice confidentially.
‘Are not the enlightened all one with the Unending Circle?’ he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
To his surprise the singer held out his hand.
‘Indeed. And the day will surely come soon, Brother. Brother Cillin has promised us that. We shall all be prepared. Perhaps I shall see you soon in Ard Fhearta when we meet again with Brother Cillin?’
‘You know him well?’ asked Eadulf. ‘Brother Cillin, that is?’
‘He was here two moons ago to help us train our little band of singers.’
‘He was here in Daingean?’
‘Indeed, he was.’
The singer was suddenly distracted by one of his companions and he smiled apologetically at Eadulf.
‘Sic itur ad astra!’ he said softly and was gone before Eadulf could respond. Eadulf was still frowning when Fidelma came up.
‘Why so pensive, Eadulf?’ she asked.
‘Sic itur ad astra,’ he said quietly.
‘Thus one goes to the stars?’ repeated Fidelma. ‘What are you trying to say?’
‘I am not sure. It was said to me. What does it mean?’
‘Your Latin is as good as mine. If you want a non-literal meaning, it is something like — this is the path to immortality. So what have you been up to?’
Briefly Eadulf told her.
‘Maybe it is some secret society that Brother Cillin has formed, something connected with choristers perhaps? There are several movements among the churches, but mainly among the Franks and Romans, to set up little groups who fondly imagine themselves to be the elite of their professions. They are little groups of artisans and the like, a bit like boys at play with their secret societies.’
The hour grew late and as Slebene and his lady had already disappeared, Fidelma suggested that the party withdraw to the guests’ chambers, leaving everyone else to the continued intoxication of the night’s merrymaking.
The next morning the sky was blue and cloudless but this also meant it was cold and a frost lay on the ground, hardening the snow where it lay outside the fortress and its surrounding settlement. Winter harshness covered the landscape.
To their surprise Slebene was up and greeted them all with a broad smile when they went in to break their fast in the tech-noiged, the meal room. When Conri returned his greeting without enthusiasm, the chief clapped him on the shoulder with a great roar of laughter.
‘You must have humour, warlord of the Ui Fidgente. Do not take our little ways too seriously. It was but a jest.’
Fidelma glanced uneasily at Slebene.
‘It was a jest in poor taste,’ she said quietly.
Her rebuke did not dent Slebene’s good humour.
‘We are simple folk here, Fidelma of Cashel. We believe in old ways, old customs, and cannot change.’
‘Is there not an old saying that change is refreshing?’ replied Fidelma in admonishment.
Slebene bellowed with laughter again.
‘I presume,’ he said after a pause, ‘that you will set off on your quest as soon as you have eaten?’
‘That is our intention,’ Eadulf confirmed between mouthfuls of wheaten bread and honey.
‘You have heard no word of the missing women of Ard Fhearta?’ Fidelma asked quietly.
Slebene shook his mane of hair.
‘No word has come to me.’
‘I was not clear from our conversation yesterday how far you had looked for them.’
‘I have asked my people to spread the word among the eastern settlements.’ Apparently Slebene did not notice her disapproving look.
‘When you heard word of Abbess Faife’s death and the disappearance of her company, I might have expected you to send your warriors in search of them.’
Slebene looked genuinely surprised.
‘If the marauders along the border have abducted them, it would serve little purpose to send my warriors up into the mountains to be cut down.’
Conri sniffed in his displeasure.
‘Yet you do not mind if we set out alone?’
The chief smiled a little viciously.
‘You are warlord of the Ui Fidgente and have two of your warriors with you. Those who once marauded my eastern borders were supposedly of the Ui Fidgente. I am reminded that Uaman was a prince of your people. I presume then that you would surely be safe enough.’
Conri was on his feet, a hand clapped to his side, before Fidelma could stay him. Had it not been a rule that no warrior could sit at meals without leaving his weapons outside, a blade might have been drawn and worse.
Slebene was sitting back chuckling cynically at his reaction.
Fidelma stood up and caught Conri’s arm.
‘I think we have had enough of your humour, Slebene. The Abbess Faife was of the Ui Fidgente. Moreover, she was aunt to Conri. The fact did not protect her.’
It was obvious that the look of remorse that Slebene assumed was false. ‘Then I am contrite indeed. I never thought of her as Ui Fidgente. She was so devoted to Cashel. Yet the abbess was possessed of a great soul.’
Fidelma moved quickly before Conri took this as a new insult.
‘A bad excuse is better than none,’ she whispered quickly, looking meaningfully at the warlord.
Conri hesitated and then nodded.
‘We should be on our way, lady, and make the best of the day for travelling,’ he said heavily.
‘You are right, Conri,’ she said.
Conri was immediately out of the door pretending to see to his men and organise their horses to avoid the farewell.
Eadulf was embarrassed by the exchange of hostility and he also rose, brushing the crumbs from his clothes.
‘You are welcome to return any time, Fidelma of Cashel.’ Slebene smiled, emphasising the word ‘you’. ‘Then we shall feast and speak of great battles and worthy enterprises. My bard will sing again the great forsundud of the kings of the race of Eibhear and this time add a verse praising your adventures.’
‘Let us pray that the verse will speak of the success of the current adventure, Slebene,’ Fidelma replied solemnly.
‘May success be at the end of your road, Fidelma of Cashel,’ the chief intoned equally solemnly.
A little while later, with Conri’s two warriors bringing up the rear, Fidelma, Eadulf and Conri left the fortress of Daingean and took the road that ran eastward along the peninsula with the mountains rising to their left and the sea at some little distance to their right. They rode in a brooding silence for a long while before Conri burst out in anger.
