‘Are you absolutely determined to set out after these pilgrims?’ Colgú began, helping himself to a goblet of wine and stretching before the blazing hearth.
‘I have said as much,’ Fidelma replied shortly.
‘And you agree?’ Colgú turned to Eadulf. ‘You will go as well?’
‘Of course,’ Eadulf was about to add that he felt insulted that such a question should even be posed but compressed his lips. Colgú knew how he felt about Fidelma and must know how he felt about his lost child. ‘We must take any opportunity, however slight, of tracking down those responsible for the disappearance of Alchú and returning him to our care.’
The king inclined his head in silence for a moment.
‘Go then you must,’ he sighed. He glanced quickly at Fidelma. ‘You do not look well.’
The beginning of an angry frown crossed her face and then she carefully controlled her expression.
‘There is nothing wrong that some sleep or simple relaxation will not cure. Have no concern for me, brother. I have vented my emotion and am now in control, and will remain in control until I have come to a resolution of this matter.’ She looked quickly at Eadulf, almost in reproof, before turning back to her brother. ‘Whatever you have heard, I am capable of investigating this matter. My mind is now clear and ordered. My feelings are restrained until such time as I can indulge them.’
Colgú hesitated and then shrugged.
‘Very well. But there are many aspects of this matter that give me concern and you need a clear mind to consider them.’
Fidelma examined her brother with a frown.
‘Then there is something worrying you? I do not simply mean your immediate concern for Alchú. Something else worries you.’
‘I think Brehon Dathal can be a fool at times,’ Colgú said unexpectedly.
Fidelma could not repress a quick grimace. ‘Have you only just reached such a conclusion?’
Colgú almost smiled. ‘I begin to think he is growing more eccentric as he ages. However, in truth, sister, I fear that this is some extraordinary plot either against you personally or against our house in general. Why, or who is behind it, I cannot guess at the moment. I think that you both share my feeling — this is neither an infant being randomly snatched by someone wanting a child, as Dathal fondly believes, nor, apparently, a means to some financial recompense.’
Fidelma looked thoughtfully at her brother. ‘I thought that I was alone in that view.’
Eadulf compressed his lips in annoyance at being excluded. ‘You will remember that I pointed this out when Brehon Dathal was-’
‘The point is,’ cut in Colgú, ‘that you have both made enemies, both within and without this kingdom. There are many who might like to seek revenge on you.’
‘I think we are well aware of it,’ Eadulf said softly. ‘I would say that anyone engaged in the enforcement of law is open to those who nurse grudges. You cannot gain the reputation that Fidelma has without creating enemies — and often in high places.’
‘This is true,’ agreed the king. ‘But there are other areas from which danger might come, and not just from enemies that you have made in your pursuit of the law. Enemies with a personal grudge. You should consider these as well.’
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘I presume that you mean danger from those who object to my liaison with a foreigner?’ she demanded.
Colgú shot an apologetic look at Eadulf and shrugged.
‘Do not take this the wrong way, Eadulf, but we must examine all possibilities. Fidelma is of the royal house of the Eóghanacht, a daughter of a king and a sister of a king. Do you know what this means to us, Eadulf? Not just to our family, but to those of our culture?’
Eadulf’s jaw rose a little. He spoke coldly.
‘In my own land, Colgú, the lineage of our Saxon kings is held sacred. Each king of the Angles and the Saxons traces his descent from one or other of the seven sons of Woden. Many Angles and Saxons still believe in the divinity of Woden, chief of the raven clan, the All-Father of our people. My people have worshipped Woden from time immemorial, whereas the New Faith has only been accepted among us for a generation or so, far less in many places.’
Colgú smiled at the soft tone of belligerent pride in Eadulf’s voice.
‘Then you will appreciate it when I tell you that the Eóghanacht trace their lineage back to the beginning of time. Our bards, the Keepers of the Word, hail me as the ninety-sixth direct generation from the loins of Adam, the eightieth generation from Gaedheal Glas, son of Niul, who led the children of the Gael out of the Tower of Babel. I am the fifty-ninth generation from Eibhear Fionn son of Milidh who brought the children of the Gael to this land.’
‘What is the point you are making, brother?’ asked Fidelma softly.
‘The point is that there are many, and many I suspect within our own family, who, as you say, object to you being the ben charrthach of a Saxon — and one of lower rank than you.’ He held up his hand as Fidelma and Eadulf made to speak at once. ‘I am merely pointing out a fact, not commenting upon it. It would not do to blind yourselves to this fact. Many would be outraged when you became mother to Eadulf’s child.’
‘You need not tell us that,’ Eadulf replied quickly. ‘It is not something that I am liable to forget or be allowed to forget.’
Fidelma glanced at him, surprised at his tone. The words were spoken softly, and there was no obvious bitterness in them, but she felt the suppressed anger behind them. She was on the verge of saying something then closed her mouth firmly. Her face became a mask.
‘I presume that these are just general observations, brother? You have no immediate suspicions?’
Colgú regarded her for a moment without expression and then shook his head.
‘I cannot point to anyone and accuse them. I believe that everyone within our household behaves with proper etiquette but feelings can often be hidden, secret things. There may be some who think that a daughter of the Eóghanacht should be the mother of a son of Éireann and not a son of Saxony.’
‘Alchú has … will have … a choice of cultures and lands,’ replied Fidelma. ‘His is the choice that will determine his own future. We will not presume to do that for him. And in this Alchú is in no way unique. Did not Oswy, king of Northumbria, have a child with Fina, daughter of the old High King Coimán Rímid? His name is Aldfrith and I hear he is a promising young scholar in Beannchar but is at home both in his mother’s culture and in that of his father.’
The king smiled, a little sadly. ‘You have good intentions. But again, I am not commenting, merely pointing out things that you should both be aware of. And there is something else.’
‘Something else?’ Eadulf mused cynically. ‘I thought that we had enough to be meditating on.’
‘It will not have escaped your notice that, apart from the considerations of nationality, you are both members of the religious. You have decided to pursue your talents primarily in the service of the New Faith. It was not so long ago that all our learned folk, whether judges, lawyers, bards or physicians, were accepted among the orders of druids. We accept that the New Faith has replaced the druids in most corners of the five kingdoms. Now, those following the New Faith do so without diminishing their personal lives. We accept that, like the druids before them, the religious of the New Faith can marry and bear children. There are mixed houses. You, Fidelma, were trained in the conhospitae of Kildare, the double-house founded by Abbess Brigid and Bishop Conlaed.’
Fidelma frowned. ‘What are you trying to say, Colchú? Have you been converted by this new movement within the religious that argues that those who serve Christ should not be married nor consort with others of the opposite sex? Not even the Bishop of Rome has agreed that this should be a dogma of the Faith. It would be unnatural to forbid relationships between men and women. It is only small groups of ascetics here and there that argue thus. There have always been such people in all religions, who believe that they show faith and loyalty to the Deity by sublimating all human desires.’