A Prayer for the Damned

”

Fidelma shot him a glance of disapproval. ‘Then learn the meaning. It is a saying used by some of our coastal peoples and refers to what they might expect when the sails of raiding ships are sighted.’

Eadulf heard the familiar sharpness in her voice and sighed. ‘Then why be suspicious of these compatriots of mine? It is probably chance that brought them here at this time. After all, it is chance that rules men and not men chance.’

‘So you have indicated before,’ she observed. Then she smiled and shrugged. ‘I am probably just restless. Something that old Brother Conchobhar mentioned. .’

Eadulf smiled. ‘What has that old soothsayer been up to? Looking at patterns in the night sky again and foretelling doom and gloom?’

Fidelma knew that Eadulf respected Brother Conchobhar in spite of the levity in his voice so she did not rise to the bait. ‘He believes that we should have a care over the next few days, that is all.’

Eadulf saw the seriousness in her eyes and was serious himself for a moment before smiling again. ‘Have no fear. There is little that can go wrong now. Caol has been telling me that even the High King is coming to acknowledge the ceremony. And with all the nobles and warriors come to pay their respects to you, what is there to fear?’

There was a tap on the door and Muirgen returned.

‘The bath is ready,’ she announced, ‘and, lady, your brother the king wishes you both to attend the feasting tonight.’

Eadulf rose and drew his robe round him. ‘Then I shall go and soak myself in the tub. I am even getting use to this daily bathing custom of yours,’ he added with a grimace.

He left the room. Muirgen was about to follow when Fidelma stayed her with a gesture of her hand. The nurse closed the door after Eadulf and waited patiently.

‘How is little Alchú?’ Fidelma enquired.

The nurse’s face softened. ‘He is sleeping peacefully, lady.’ She hesitated. ‘Is something troubling you?’

Fidelma started to shake her head, and then admitted: ‘I am just a little worried, that’s all. Have the guests started to arrive?’

Muirgen nodded quickly. ‘Some have, but I am told that tomorrow is when the majority of guests are expected. Prince Finguine is going to arrange the erection of tents on the plains below, for many are coming and the fortress cannot accommodate them all.’ Finguine was the king’s tánaiste or heir apparent. ‘Are you nervous, lady? All five kingdoms are coming to rejoice for you.’

Fidelma hesitated. ‘I am not worried about the ceremony. However, make sure that you and Nessán keep a careful eye on little Alchú during these next days.’

‘As if he were our own, lady,’ replied the woman immediately. ‘You need have no fear that we will neglect our duties, especially after. .’

Fidelma rose immediately and went to embrace the woman.

When little Alchú had been kidnapped, Uaman the Leper had given the baby to Muirgen and Nessán, then shepherds in the distant western mountains, to raise as their own. He had not told them who the child was, or that it had been kidnapped. Being childless, they had welcomed the ‘gift’. When Eadulf had recovered Alchú and it was discovered that Muirgen and Nessán had played their part in innocence, Fidelma had asked Muirgen to be the child’s nurse.

‘I cast no aspersions, Muirgen. But I am fearful. . old Conchobhar sees bad signs and I respect his ability in the art. He has been right before.’

Muirgen sniffed and nodded. ‘Then lay aside your fears, lady, for I will guard the child with my life, as will my man.’

‘All the same, I cannot shake this feeling of foreboding.’

She turned and went to the window, and drew aside the heavy curtain to peer out at the inclement evening. The storm was renewing itself with intensity beyond the distant round peaks of the Slieve Felim mountains. Only when the lightning flashed behind them did their hazy shadows show up through the sheeting rain. The thunder rumbled low and menacing. Its threatening force was even more disturbing to Fidelma than the outright rage of a tempest directly overhead. A shudder ran down her back and she pulled the curtain firmly back into place.

‘This is silly,’ she told herself firmly. And while she knew that it was so, nevertheless she could not rid herself of the vague feeling of apprehension that had come over her. It was not merely Brother Conchobhar’s warning. She had felt this presentiment for some time and it was a feeling that she could not share with Eadulf.

CHAPTER THREE

The ominous clouds had departed overnight to the north and a pale blue sky canopied the great plain around Cashel. The sun had risen as a soft pale orb without warmth. To the west, there was what sailors called a ‘mackerel sky’, small cloud globules floating as if in ripples which indicated that there was still unsettled weather to come. The storm had left swollen rivers and areas of sticky mud in the low-lying areas.

Finguine, the tánaiste, had been up since dawn with bands of enthusiastic helpers who would be erecting the canvas pavilions in which those who could not be accommodated in the fortress or the town’s inn and hostel would stay. King Colgú had proclaimed three days of festivities and many people were already pouring into Cashel for the marriage rituals, which would start the next morning. Finguine had ridden through the area, trying to choose high ground that had not been so muddied by the torrent of rain that had fallen on the previous day. He directed his men to mark a spot here and there as it caught his approving eye.

Fidelma and Eadulf had also risen early, spent some time with Alchú, and then breakfasted before going down to the great hall to greet the arriving guests. There were the Eóghanacht princes — Congal of Locha Léin, Per Dá Lethe of Raithlin, and many others whose names simply passed above Eadulf’s head; there was even Conrí, warlord of the Uí Fidgente, who had come with his prince, Donennach, the new chief of the former blood enemies of Cashel.

As he moved through the throng of distinguished visitors, Eadulf realised, perhaps for the first time, that he was essentially a shy man. Yet here he was, the centre of attention and subject of scrutiny by what he felt to be the entire population of the five kingdoms of Éireann. For the first time, he wanted to escape from it all. He was but an hereditary gerefa, a magistrate of his own South Folk, the East Angles, who had only turned his back on the gods and goddesses of his people in his teen years. Since the fateful meeting at the great Council of Witebia he had come to realise that his life was inseparably linked with Fidelma of Cashel. However, it had taken some years for them to decide on a trial marriage. Under Irish law they had bound themselves together for a year and a day during which Fidelma had become his ben charrthach, the ‘loved woman’. Eadulf had been happy to be her fer comtha with rights as husband for that period. During that time their son little Alchú, ‘gentle hound’, had been born. Now the trial period was over, and either of them could move on without recrimination or compensation. But they had decided to confirm their marriage vows.

Eadulf had thought it would be as simple and as unremarkable as it had been when exchanging the vows at the trial marriage. But this was becoming an uneasy experience for him. He had not fully taken into account that Fidelma was a princess of the Eóghanacht, the ruling house of Muman, whose brother Colgú was hailed by the senachaí, the hereditary genealogists, as the eightieth direct generation from Gaedheal Glas, eponymous father of the Gaels, and the fifty-ninth generation since Eibhear Fionn son of Golamh called Míldih, who had brought the children of the Gael to Éireann. Eadulf had heard the genealogies, the forsundud as the bards called them, sung a thousand times. But he had not realised that this official marriage of Fidelma would draw such crowds of kings and nobles and onlookers to Cashel. He felt unsettled. With a feeling of guilt, he made an excuse about going to the chapel for a morning prayer, and left the great hall.

Sitting in the quiet solitude of the chapel, Eadulf was startled to realise that he wanted no part of life in a