Muirgen sniffed in dissatisfaction. ‘Nothing should spoil your great day, lady.’
Fidelma patted her on the arm. ‘It is, we hope, but a short delay. How is little Alchú?’
‘As quiet as a lamb.’ She nodded to a corner where, on a rug, the baby was playing happily with some furry toys. Fidelma crossed to the baby, who glanced up at her with a gurgling smile and held out his chubby arms towards her. She bent down and swept him up, giving him a hug and a kiss and making some uncharacteristic cooing sounds. Peering across her shoulder, Alchú waved a baby fist towards Eadulf and uttered a series of chuckling noises. Eadulf crossed to join her and, reaching forward, chucked the child under the chin with perhaps a little air of self-consciousness and muttered ‘there, baby, there.’
As Fidelma turned back, with Alchú in her arms, towards Muirgen, the nurse observed: ‘You look very tired, lady.’
Fidelma realised that she had only had an hour or so of sleep during the night. She glanced at Eadulf. He, too, seemed tired.
‘I think that we both need a short rest,’ she said. ‘But first, something to eat and drink. I have not yet broken my fast.
‘Nor I,’ added Eadulf. ‘I did not feel like eating earlier but I could do with something now.’
Muirgen made a clucking sound, like a mother hen rounding up her young chicks. ‘Sit you both by the fire and I will bring something. Then I can take little Alchú into my chamber while you rest.’
She took Alchú from them, replaced him in his play area and left. Fidelma slumped into a chair. Eadulf, yawning, followed her example and then remarked: ‘Abbot Augaire is a curious man.’
Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘More curious than Brother Drón? It seems to me that most people have curiosities in character. We all have our eccentricities.’
‘True, but for an abbot and bishop to openly wish a fellow bishop dead, and then say that he did not accept one of the basic teachings of our Lord Christ, is surely a matter for some surprise.’
‘When it comes down to it, abbots and bishops are human. They are filled with the same qualities that most people have. They can hate and love in equal measure.’
‘And commit murder?’ Eadulf muttered.
‘And commit murder,’ confirmed Fidelma calmly.
‘So he is a suspect?’
‘There is so much more that I want to find out before I even start saying that this or that person is a suspect.’
‘We need to have a word with this noble from the north whom Augaire mentioned. What was his name — Fergus Fanat? You have already said that the more we can learn about Ultán, the more it might point to his killer.’
‘True enough. We must also confirm Abbot Augaire’s story that he was playing brandubh with Dúnchad Muirisci.’
‘You doubt it?’
‘Not at all. But a good dálaigh never assumes anything. Also, it might help us with the time that Ultán went to his chamber and was seen by Augaire arguing with one of the two religieuse in his party.’
‘Do we know that it was an argument?’ Eadulf said. ‘The abbot said that when the woman entered, he simply heard Ultán’s voice raised in a hectoring tone. It takes two for an argument.’
Fidelma yawned and nodded.
‘I am tired,’ she said, as if by way of apology for her oversight.
Muirgen returned carrying a large tray laden with bowls of steaming broth, freshly baked bread and a dish of fruit. She set it down on a table and beamed at them both.
‘Get that down, and then get some rest,’ she advised, turning to scoop Alchú up in her broad arms. The child twisted and gurgled happily. Then, with a quick nod at them, Muirgen left them to their meal and rest.
It was two hours later when Muirgen entered to wake them and tell them that Colgú was waiting outside. They straightened their clothes, rubbed the sleep from their eyes and asked Muirgen to show him in. She did so and then diplomatically withdrew.
Colgú looked anxious but was apologetic for disturbing them.
‘I know that you have not had much sleep, but I wondered how things are progressing?’ he said.
‘We need far more time to investigate, brother,’ Fidelma said, while Eadulf poured cider for each of them.
‘Do you believe Muirchertach is innocent or guilty?’
‘I am prepared to defend him,’ she replied cautiously. ‘We both agree that if he is guilty then he is either a fool or extremely clever. Somehow, I do not think he is either. And as for Abbot Ultán, he certainly seems to have created more than his fair share of enemies and many of them are guests here. There is nothing for it but to postpone the ceremony for as long as it takes.’
Colgú looked unhappy. ‘I know you have a hard task. I know it is your wedding, Fidelma. However, I also have to think of the guests. The High King, the kings of the cóicead and their nobles. They cannot stay here indefinitely.’
‘I cannot force the pace of this inquiry,’ replied Fidelma testily. ‘In spite of the pressure from Brehon Ninnid.’
‘I know that,’ replied her brother. ‘But I must think of distracting the High King and nobles for a while. I have an idea. The weather has been brightening and tomorrow morning at first light I thought that I would entertain our noble guests to a hunt.’
Eadulf looked up in surprise from his mug of cider. ‘A hunt?’
‘A wild boar hunt,’ confirmed the king. ‘There have been reports that a herd of boar are creating havoc in the fields of a farmer about five kilometres east of here. What better way to give some entertainment than to allow our guests to hunt the creatures?’
Fidelma considered the matter. ‘I certainly do not expect the matter to be resolved by tomorrow. Whom do you expect to attend this hunt?’
‘The High King is keen on the idea. In fact, it was he who suggested that something is done to entertain the nobles and their ladies while we wait for a resolution.’
Fidelma pursed her lips.
‘I am sorry that Sechnassach finds this matter of law so tedious,’ she said icily.
‘You cannot ask everyone to be so patient,’ protested Colgú. ‘If you could even give an indication when you might complete this investigation. .?’
Fidelma sighed irritably. She could understand her brother’s predicament but it was too early to form opinions. There was no denying her instinct that Muirchertach was innocent of the murder of Ultán, but that feeling was countered by a further suspicion that he was not being entirely truthful with her. There was something that he was holding back.
‘You know that is impossible, Colgú.’
‘Ninnid tells me that he is ready to prosecute and the Chief Brehon says he is prepared to sit in judgement. They simply await your word.’
‘Well, I am not ready. There is more to this than Ninnid will argue.’
‘Ninnid seems a pompous ass,’ muttered Eadulf.
Colgú glanced at him. ‘Pompous he may be, my friend, but I am told that he has an astute legal mind.’
‘Even with this pressure, we need more time,’ insisted Fidelma.
‘If you delay beyond a reasonable period, Ninnid is within his rights to prosecute without further loss of time.’ Colgú reminded her of the law she knew well. ‘Barrán waits only because of who Muirchertach is and out of courtesy to you. If it had been any lesser person than the king of Connacht accused of this crime, then the trial would have been over by now.’
‘Trial?’ Fidelma retorted. ‘And what sort of trial would that be? Is it unreasonable to allow sufficient time for truth to emerge before a person is rushed to judgement.’
Her brother gave an eloquent shrug.
‘Verbum sat sapienti,’ he said simply. ‘A word to the wise. Barrán and the High King will not wait for ever.’
‘I will not take for ever, brother. But I will not be rushed to trial before I have discovered the truth.’