Fidelma was not thinking of her toiletries but of the gold coin that she had, thankfully, placed in it. A thought struck her. ‘If these are the people who killed poor Lady Gunora, then they may have brought Prince Romuald here as a prisoner.’
‘Do you think these men are truly the killers of Lady Gunora?’ Brother Eolann’s nervousness was evident.
‘Why else would they have been lurking around that particular area?’
Brother Eolann looked uncomfortable. ‘It is a situation that is new to me. I am not able to guess who they are or their motivations. This must be the fortress of a local war lord. That is all I know. As I said, I am not familiar with this part of the country. What can we do?’
‘Do? I don’t think there is anything we can do until our captors make the next move.’
‘We can’t just wait, hoping they will bring us food.’ Brother Eolann’s voice rose in protest.
Fidelma gave him a look of pity. ‘Were you never taught the dercad?’
The dercad was an ancient form of meditation which some church leaders disapproved of as it was practised in the time before the Faith of Christ came to the shores of the Five Kingdoms of Éireann. It was a way of making the mind as still as water in a dark mountain pool, ridding oneself of the chaos of emotions and fear, the worst of all the emotions.
‘Of course I was,’ protested the scriptor. ‘But how does that help us now?’
‘I suggest we can occupy the time in no other constructive manner than by ridding our minds of expectation and fear.’
Fidelma took a seat on the other bed, sitting cross-legged with her hands folded in her lap. Then she closed her eyes and began to breathe slowly and deeply.
Brother Eolann pursed his lips for a moment or two, then shrugged and copied her.
How much time passed was difficult to say. But the day had grown dark. They could hear faint sounds, laughter, shouting and conversation from around them. Suddenly the stillness was broken by the scraping of the wooden bar beingraised and the door was pushed open. Fidelma’s eyes opened immediately and she rose from her position. Brother Eolann stirred and looked about sleepily, showing that instead of being in a true state of the dercad, he had actually fallen asleep.
A man entered carrying a lighted oil lamp which he set on the table; he then withdrew without a word. But even as he left, another man came in bearing a pitcher and clay beakers. These were placed on the table in silence, and then the first man reappeared with wooden platters on which was bread, cold meats, cheese and fruit. He turned and left just as Fidelma found her voice.
‘Wait! Who are you? What do you want with us?’
Her words were spoken in Latin and she was going to tell Brother Eolann to translate them when a deep voice answered her.
‘Peace, little sister. All will be answered in good time.’
In the door stood a big man, so large that his shoulders seemed to brush either side of the frame. He looked fat but on closer inspection he was built of solid muscle. He had a mass of black curling hair and dark eyes that blazed curiously as they reflected the lamplight.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Fidelma again.
‘I am Kakko, little sister.’
‘And is this your fortress?’
The big man threw back his head and roared with laughter, as if she had said something exceptionally funny. She waited patiently until his mirth subsided. She was aware that Brother Eolann was staring longingly at the food and drink that had been placed on the table, trying to restrain himself. However, this was an opportunity not to be missed.
‘Have I said something to amuse you?’ she asked coldly.
‘I am only the steward here, little sister.’
‘Then whose fortress is it?’
‘This fortress and the lands along this valley belong to my lord.’
Fidelma suppressed a sigh of impatience. ‘And who is your lord?’
‘My lord is Grasulf son of Gisulf.’
She looked across at Brother Eolann but he shook his head, indicating that the name meant nothing to him.
‘And who is Grasulf exactly?’
Kakko’s dark eyes widened almost in horror. ‘You do not know of the Lord of Vars?’
‘We are strangers here.’
‘Strangers?’
‘We are of Hibernia. I had been in this land but a few days when your warriors abducted me and my companion.’
The big man stared thoughtfully from Fidelma to Eolann. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded of Fidelma.
‘I am Fidelma and he is Brother Eolann, the scriptor at Bobium.’
Kakko was staring at Brother Eolann. ‘Hibernians, eh? There are many in this land. Perhaps too many. They are the ones who set up Bobium in the first place.’
‘As I have said,’ Fidelma added firmly, ‘I have been in your country but a few days and plan to stay little longer. I do not know why you have taken me captive but I demand my release.’
The steward’s eyes widened again and then a big smile spread over his features. Humour seemed to come easily to him.
‘You demand?’ he grinned. ‘I will tell that to my lord Grasulf when he returns.’
‘When he returns?’ snapped Fidelma. ‘Returns from where?’
‘My lord is on a boar hunt and is not expected back until tomorrow.’
‘So who gave instruction for our abduction?’
‘It has become a standing practice that any stranger in his territory should be detained and questioned,’ Kakko told her.
Finally, Brother Eolann was stung into speaking. ‘When has the Valley of Trebbia been in your lord’s domains? It is Lord Radoald of Trebbia who governs there.’
‘You were on Mount Pénas,’ pointed out the steward.
‘On the Trebbia side of the mountain. We were at the sanctuary of Colm Bán when your men captured us,’ he protested.
The steward was unmoved. ‘You may present your complaint to Lord Grasulf on his return.’
‘What is this Lord Grasulf afraid of?’ Fidelma suddenly said.
This drew a frown from Kakko. ‘Who says my lord is afraid of anything?’ he hissed.
‘He is afraid of something, otherwise why would he give orders that strangers be seized and brought here for questioning, even when they are not found in his domain?’
‘You are a stubborn person, little sister,’ Kakko mused, still retaining his good humour. He gestured to the food on the table. ‘You have not eaten. You are the guests of my lord Grasulf, and he would be displeased if you were not treated well.’
‘Then your lord will be disappointed, for we have not been treated well at all, starting with our abduction,’ Fidelma replied coldly. ‘Then we have had our bags taken from us. If we are kept prisoners overnight, I demand the return of them.’
Kakko spread his hands in a gesture almost of resignation.
‘I will ensure that they are returned. We needed to be certain that you carried no weapons or secret messages.’ Fidelma’s look was enough to quell him.
‘As soon as this Grasulf returns, I demand to see him at once — do you understand?’
Kakko turned, shaking his head. ‘You are more than a mere religieuse, Sister,’ he said quietly. ‘Your manner betrays you.’ Then he was gone, shutting the door. They heard the wooden bar being set in place.
‘I don’t think you were wise, lady,’ Brother Eolann muttered through a mouthful of bread and cheese. ‘I told you not to reveal your rank.’
‘I did not,’ replied Fidelma.
‘As the man said, your manner did. An ordinary Sister of the Faith would not be asserting herself in such a fashion.’