below ground level. It was a plain, iron-studded wooden door. He was about to go down the steps to investigate when he heard a cry.
It was a child’s cry. There came the sound of a harsh command. Footsteps were approaching.
For a moment Eadulf froze in indecision. It was shadowy here but there was only one spot that afforded any cover. Hastening to the barrels, he crouched down behind them. He heard the clang of bolts being drawn on the iron gate, a chain being unfastened and a rough voice giving orders. The footsteps halted and there was a faint moan of a child before a scuffling sound.
He chanced peering out around the barrel and saw the child first, a young boy no more than eight or nine years old. Following him were two religieuse, women in torn and dirty robes. Behind them was a warrior, with drawn weapon, a short sword, and then another man whose back was towards him.
Eadulf’s eyes widened in surprise as he realised that the two women and the boy had their hands bound before them. The warrior was prodding them down the steps to the door. There he used the base of his sword-hilt to hammer on the door in a curious series of knocks. The door was opened and the trio were pushed through.
Then the man half turned. It was good that he did not turn fully, for had he done so then his gaze would surely have fallen on the astounded Eadulf.
Eadulf recognised the man, even in profile.
He had last seen him only a few months before and that was in An Uaimh on the banks of the great river that flowed through the High King’s territory called the middle kingdom of Midhe. The man had been in the process of being banished from the kingdom under Fidelma’s sharp tongue, and he had turned and said: ‘I shall remember you, Fidelma of Cashel.’ And he had not meant it as a kind thought.
Of all the people in the world, the fact that Verbas, the merchant of Peqini, was here in the villa of Lady Beretrude came as a complete shock to Eadulf.
Fidelma had found herself moving through a series of small, exquisitely fragrant gardens, each separated by trelliswork or other fencing, some with hanging plants. There were stone seats and little figurine fountains again, each one different, and they seemed to stretch along the side of the villa, all bathed in the warm glow of the lowering sun. Fidelma had seen such gardens before when she had been in Rome but none had been executed with such miniature precision. The plants and design were pleasing to the eye. She thought of the more natural and, perhaps, rugged gardens of her own land, and wondered whether such a form could be transferred to Cashel, although these plants might not thrive in a more rainswept and colder climate.
As she bent down to examine the plants more closely, there was a slight rustle behind her and she heard the sharp accented tone in Latin.
‘Ah, the lady Fidelma.’
Fidelma swung round and found Lady Beretrude smiling at her from a mask-like face.
‘I am sorry if I intrude in your private gardens,’ Fidelma began. ‘I was lured by the fragrance of your plants and herbs.’
To her surprise, Lady Beretrude showed no resentment.
‘It is my indulgence to spend time in this garden,’ she replied. ‘I have many herbs here that are not to be found elsewhere. Friends have brought them from eastern countries and I do my poor best to cultivate them.’
‘Indeed,’ Fidelma replied politely.
‘We grow olives here and crush them into oil.’
‘I was admiring those trees. I have not seen their like before.’
‘Ah, the cypresses.’ The woman glanced across. ‘As you know Greek’-was there a touch of bitterness in her tone? — ‘you will know that the cypress is associated with Hades, the Greek God of the Dead and the subterranean kingdom of the dead.’
Fidelma pretended to be interested in the plants as she could think of no suitable reply.
‘There are some curiosities in that corner which you may find of interest,’ went on Lady Beretrude. ‘Go, take a look; feel free to examine the plants.’
She waved her hand to a corner of the garden where a multitude of green flowering plants grew and whose fragrance was powerful.
‘That is basil in the front-my cooks use it in the food. It is quite pleasant and comes from the east. It is named from the Greek
Under the watchful gaze of Beretrude, Fidelma bent and pretended to become absorbed in the flowers. In fact, it was not a total pretence because part of her mind was, indeed, fascinated by the plants here.
‘If you go behind the basil you’ll see an evergreen shrub with pink flowers,’ instructed Beretrude. ‘Step over the little fence and you can bend down to smell it.’
Fidelma had noticed that there was a border of wooden boards around this part of the garden, which separated the herbs from the row of evergreen bushes behind. It was only about sixty millimetres high.
‘It is called oleander, the plant that grows in the south of the country,’ continued the woman. ‘Ah, excuse me…I am being called away. Stay and enjoy the fragrances.’
She moved away.
Fidelma pulled a face, wondering if Lady Beretrude was trying to make up for her previous lack of civility by this show of friendliness. She bent down to smell the strange pink flowers that hung in clusters from among the leathery, dark green leaves. She had one foot in the bordered shrubbery enclosure and the other outside when she became aware of something sliding by her foot. Her mind registered a grass snake.
‘Fidelma?’
Eadulf had appeared in the garden and saw Fidelma standing near the shrubbery. She turned, with one foot still across the fence.
‘I was just looking at the herb garden. What is it?’ She noticed that he seemed excited.
‘You will never guess who I have just seen here in the villa,’ he began.
Fidelma gave a sudden yelp of pain. ‘Something has bitten me,’ she said.
Eadulf hurried forward, glanced down and swore in his own language. Then he reached forward and pulled her out of the shrubbery onto the path.
‘An adder!’ he cried. ‘Quick.’ He was undoing the belt at his waist. As she watched, puzzled, Fidelma began to experience numbness around her ankle. A pain was creeping up her leg. She felt her heart beginning to thump wildly and a sick and dizzy feeling overcame her.
Eadulf was strapping something around her leg and drawing it tight. Then she seemed to be falling to the ground. A moment later she was dimly aware that he had lifted her in his arms and was hurrying along the path. She tried to speak, and then all seemed to go black.
Abbot Ségdae saw Eadulf first as he came around the side of the villa into the main garden, carrying the inert form of Fidelma.
‘What has happened?’ he demanded, running forward. Several other Hibernian delegates came crowding round.
‘We must get her to an apothecary!’ cried Eadulf. ‘She has been bitten by a poisonous snake. An adder.’
Bishop Leodegar, followed by Lady Beretrude, came elbowing his way through the throng. He had heard what Eadulf said.
‘Bitten by an adder, you say?’
‘Take her into my villa, and I will send for my apothecary,’ instructed Lady Beretrude.
Eadulf shook his head. ‘We’ll take her back to the abbey to Brother Gebicca,’ he said firmly.
‘But that will take time,’ protested Lady Beretrude. ‘She’ll be much better off here. I will personally look after her. If the poison isn’t treated quickly it could be dangerous…fatal even.’
‘I know that,’ Eadulf snapped. ‘I have some knowledge. Someone guide me back to the abbey. Quickly!’
At once several of the Hibernian delegation, including Ségdae, volunteered to accompany him. Eadulf managed, with their help, to hoist Fidelma on his back and he, without another word, began to hurry forward in a trot surrounded by the Hibernian clerics; those in front and either side seemed to clear the way. For a moment it looked as though the warriors of Beretrude would halt them at the gates but Lady Beretrude made a signal to indicate they should be allowed to pass. She stood, without emotion, watching their departure with Bishop
