Dancing With Demons

heavy plate — that was how he described it — a plate of silver in his saddlebag. He gave it to the woman — the ceannard — but when the attack started and he decide to leave with his companions, they stole it back and Cuan took it with him.’

‘So they are now heading for the coast?’ There was a tone of excitement in Fidelma’s voice.

‘For the Bóinn River,’ confirmed lrél. ‘Cuan told them he knew of a ship currently anchored there whose owner, he felt, was the sort who would take them across the Sruth na Maoile for a small consideration.’

‘Sruth na Maoile — where’s that?’ asked Eadulf.

‘The strait of water that separates the two Dál Riadas, the one in Éireann and the one in Alba. Apparently, the owner of this ship has no liking for us. He is the one whom Cenn Faelad rebuked in the market a few days ago.’

Eadulf’s eyes widened. ‘Verbas of Peqini?’

‘The same,’ confirmed Irél.

It was at noon the next day that Fidelma and Eadulf were part of a group of five riders trotting along the track which approached the banks of the great River Bóinn. They had entered the wooded plain where the Bóinn, flowing from the southern hills northward, encountered the powerful Dubh Abhainn, flowing from the west from the great Loch Rath Mór, the lakeof the big fortress. The two rivers joined forces to swing eastwards to the sea north of Tara. The settlement at their juncture was curiously called An Uaimh, the cave. The river here was deep enough for some vessels to move up from the coast to anchor. So the settlement, at this confluence of the rivers, was an excellent spot for traders and merchants to meet. It was also the principal town of the Clann Colmáin, according to Ardgal.

Ardgal had agreed to join Fidelma and Eadulf on the journey back to Tara although Fidelma had made it clear that she must first find the ship of Verbas of Peqini and question Cuan. Bishop Luachan had promised to follow them to Tara as soon as his ankle was attended to. He could not add a great deal more to the facts that they had already garnered about his visit to Sechnussach on the night before the assassination. Bishop Luachan had been adamant that the silver disk that he had discovered with Brother Diomsach would be the key to the discovering of the real Roth Fáil, the wheel of destiny, which was so eagerly sought by the dibergach and their strange female priestess. He confirmed that the day before Sechnussach’s murder, he had placed the silver disk in the hands of the High King. Ardgal could only give evidence of Dubh Duin’s character but he was keen to exonerate his clan from being wholehearted supporters of their late chief. However, in any presentation to the Great Assembly, both would be needed as witnesses to what had happened on the Hag’s Mountain.

The settlement of An Uaimh was fairly quiet as the five rode in, but they noticed with some satisfaction that there were three large ocean-going ships tied up against the wooden quays. An enquiry made to one man, lounging against bales of sheep’s wool destined for transport beyond the seas, brought forth the information that the tall masted black vessel was from Gaul and that it was indeed the ship of the merchant named Verbas of Peqini.

When they started to move towards it, the man called them back.

‘If you want to trade with the stranger, he is over at the bruden yonder.’ He indicated one of the quayside inns.

Fidelma turned to Gormán. ‘Take our horses to that other inn,’ she instructed, pointing to a building at the opposite end of the quayside. ‘Make sure they are watered, rubbed down and rested. Then come and join us.’

‘Why not take them with us, lady?’ asked Gormán. ‘After all, we are going to an inn, aren’t we?’

Fidelma smiled wryly. ‘That’s a sailors’ inn. The one back there has stables; this one doesn’t.’

Caol did not hide his grin at his comrade’s irritation. ‘A logical observation,’ he said smugly.

As they began to walk away, a cry of pain rang out behind them, loud and clear. Caol, who was leading, halted and caused those behind him to do so as well. He glanced uneasily towards Fidelma and unsheathed his sword.

‘That’s a child’s cry,’ Fidelma observed grimly.

The cry came again and before anyone could move, the door of the sailors’ inn opened and a small boy darted out; he ran unseeingly towards them, fear on his face. At the last moment, he saw them, tried to avoid them but collided with Brother Eadulf. For a few seconds, the boy struggled and then, seeing the silver crucifix around Eadulf’s neck, he stared up with a sudden hope in his eyes. He did not seem to recognise him as Cenn Faelad’s companion at the market in Tara.

‘Help me!’ he cried. ‘Please. If you are a priest of the Christian god, protect me.’

Eadulf said gently: ‘Of course, boy. There is nothing to fear. I promise.’

The lad almost collapsed in Eadulf’s arms.

Just then, the door of the inn burst open again and a tall man of dark appearance lurched out. He was holding a small length of leather in his hand and stared moodily round. Spotting the boy, he began to move forward with an unsteady gait and a grin of triumph. He had clearly been drinking.

Caol halted the man with his sword-point and demanded to know what he was doing.

Eadulf recognised the man immediately.

‘It’s the merchant,’ he said quietly to Fidelma. ‘Verbas of Peqini.’

Fidelma regarded the man in disapproval.

Verbas of Peqini looked at the group, and lowered his hand with the flagellate. Swaying, he tried to encompass them in an oily smile and said something in a strange tongue. Meanwhile, Eadulf had been examining the boy’s face and arms.

‘This child has been badly beaten, Fidelma,’ he said.

Verbas seemed to guess what he was saying. He looked at Fidelma and shrugged, then said something more in his own language.

‘The child is his slave,’ Eadulf volunteered. ‘He acts as this man’s translator.’

Fidelma had already noticed the metal slave ring around the boy’s neck. Her frown deepened.

‘What language do you speak?’ she asked Verbas, resorting to Latin. ‘Do you speak this language?’

The man nodded slowly. ‘I speak a little,’ he answered, to Eadulf’s surprise. When Eadulf had first met Verbas at the market in Tara, it had not occurred to him that he would speak Latin. But, of course, the Roman Empire had spread its tongue throughout the known world as a language of trade and commerce, and not only the language of the conquering legions. Any merchant worth his salt would need to know Latin in order to conduct his business.

‘What is happening here? Why are you maltreating that child?’ demanded Fidelma.

Verbas frowned. ‘Who are you, lady, who asks this? I am not used to women questioning me.’

‘I am Fidelma of Cashel, a lawyer and sister to a king,’ she said, trying to find the right words to translate her authority.

The man’s eyes widened a little. ‘You have authority in this land?’

‘I have.’

‘Then know, lady, this boy is my slave. He has just tried to escape from me: I am legally entitled to capture and chastise him. His life is mine to do with as I will. I have bought it.’

Assid had now recognised Eadulf and spoke to him. ‘Lord, it was said if I managed to escape I would find sanctuary in this land. I escaped and ask sanctuary. The great lord at Tara promised.’

‘So he did,’ agreed Eadulf in a kindly fashion.

Fidelma, hearing the boy speak, turned to him. ‘You speak our language well, child. What is your name?’

‘I am Assid, lady.’

‘Assíd? It is an ancient name in our land, from one of the ancestors of those they call the hounds of the sea, a tribe that live in Connacht. Are you of this land?’

‘I do not know, lady. I only know that I want to find sanctuary here.

Eadulf quickly explained what Cenn Faelad had promised, should the boy escape.

She nodded thoughtfully. Meanwhile Verbas, who had not understood this exchange since it was in the