‘You could not do that,’ Cuirgí muttered but his voice was not confident.
‘You cannot know the pain of a mother whose child is threatened if you think I would refrain from any means to protect my baby,’ replied Fidelma quietly.
Cuirgí examined her for a moment and then shrugged.
‘When we meet our deliverers, I shall pass on your message.’
Fidelma stood up abruptly.
‘Then gather what things you need to take. The jailer will take you to the gates shortly and you will be escorted to the northern road and set upon it.’
She left the chamber before they could stand or respond.
The ferret-faced jailer let her out of the Duma na nGiall back into the main complex of the palace. She went straight to her chamber and poured a beaker of corma and swallowed it in one draught. She felt weak and angry with herself, for she had not meant to go so far as to threaten anything so serious as the glam dicín. If that threat came to the ears of even Bishop Ségdae, who was a fair-minded and progressive member of the Faith, she could be excommunicated. It was a serious matter. Yet the primitive anger that welled within her as she thought of her baby had got the better of Fidelma’s emotions. She could think of no other weapon to threaten the Uí Fidgente with.
She sat down on the bed and groaned aloud, holding her head in her hands.
‘Oh, Eadulf! Where are you when I need your calm strength?’ she whispered. She rocked to and fro on the edge of the bed for a few moments and then, with a sniff, she tried to draw himself together. What was he up to? Where had he gone?
She rose, hearing movement in the yard outside. Leaning from the window she looked down and saw horses being prepared. Colgú was even giving the chieftains mounts to allow them to make the journey back to their land at speed and in comfort.
She left her chamber and hurried along the corridor and down the stairs into the yard. She looked round for Gorman, who was to escort the Uí Fidgente chieftains. There seemed no sign of him but she spotted Caol leading a horse forward from the stables.
‘Where is Gorman?’ she asked curiously.
‘Gone,’ replied Caol laconically. It was clear that he was preparing his own mount for the escort of the chieftains.
‘I thought he was going to escort the Uí Fidgente and put them on the northern road?’
Caol shrugged. ‘All I know is that Gorman asked me to do this duty and said he had important matters that took him from Cashel.’
‘Important matters?’
‘He had his horse saddled.’
Caol mounted as the three Uí Fidgente were escorted forward. Fidelma hurried on to the gate where Finguine was waiting to watch the former hostages make their departure.
‘Do you know what mission has sent Gorman from Cashel?’ she asked without preamble.
Finguine looked at her blankly.
‘No mission of mine, cousin, that’s for sure. I thought he was escorting the chieftains.’
‘Caol has been asked to undertake that task. He and the chieftains are leaving any moment.’
‘Ah well, maybe it was some personal business that he had to deal with.’ Finguine turned to one of the guards at the gates. ‘Did Gorman tell you what business drew him from Cashel?’
The guard shook his head. ‘No, lord Finguine. He rode past me a short time ago but said nothing.’
Fidelma was frowning.
‘I don’t suppose you happened to see what direction he took?’ she asked on impulse.
‘I watched him go down the hill then turn through the township. He took the west road.’
Fidelma suddenly felt a chill sensation. So Gorman had turned west, west along the road that Eadulf had said he was taking; west to the abbey of Coimán.
Chapter Twelve
Eadulf had spent the night at a wayside inn a short way to the west of Cnoc Loinge. He had not really wanted to be beholden to the hospitality of Fiachrae the loquacious chieftain of the settlement and so he had skirted it and ridden on for a while. Aware of the oncoming dusk and a mist rolling down from the surrounding hills, he had started to wonder whether he had made the right decision when he saw the bobbing light in the distance, set by a crossroads. A moment later he had halted his horse under the lantern, which was swaying in the evening breeze whispering through the trees that towered on all sides. The sign said ‘Bruden Slige Mudán’.
Eadulf never ceased to admire the concept of hospitality expressed in the five kingdoms by the establishment everywhere of public hostels for free lodging and entertainment of all who chose to claim them. Each clan appointed a public hostel manager or innkeeper called a brugaid whose duty was to keep an open house for travellers. The brugaid was allotted a tract of land and other allowances to defray the expenses of the inn. His office was held in high regard. Most public hostellers were of the rank of bo-aire, magistrate, and were empowered to give judgement on certain cases brought before them. In local terms, each was able to hold court in his course for the election of a chieftain of his clan. At least one bruden was maintained in its territory by each clan.
Not all inns were free, however. Ferloga’s inn, like Aona’s at Ara’s Well, as Eadulf had discovered, was an independent inn at which guests had to pay.
Eadulf had spent a pleasant night in the hostel of Mudán’s road, as it was called, at least so far as his physical wants were concerned. The food and drink were excellent and the bed very comfortable. The hosteller was friendly and answered Eadulf’s questions as to the exact directions to the abbey of Coimán. There had been several travellers on the road recently, he said, but he could not recall anyone specifically during the period that Eadulf was concerned about. However, he did warn him that within a short distance the road would enter the country of the Uí Fidgente at its most southerly border. The hosteller had little respect for his neighbours and uttered some colourful curses which Eadulf was hard pressed to understand. His host several times expressed a desire that cats should eat the women of the Uí Fidgente, but the man had not been able to tell him the origin of such a curse.
Eadulf rode on. The day had turned out to be cold and there were one or two snow flurries from the greying sky but, thankfully, the snow had not lain and the flurries eventually ceased. In spite of the shortness of the day, Eadulf made good time. Although not an expert horseman, he seemed to hold his own when Fidelma was not there to criticise his efforts. The journey through the long stretches of forest which covered the broad plain that spread westward from Cnoc Loinge was without incident. It was an easy ride and there were no signs of hostility from the Uí Fidgente. On the contrary, the natives of the area, on the occasions when he encountered them, seemed as courteous as anyone else. It took some time to cross the broad tree-covered plain and now and then, when on a rise through the thickets of the trees, he could see mountains rising to the south which the road skirted across their foothills. A mist was hanging on the mountain tops when he rode through a pass between higher hills and came to a broad river.
Frustrated, he turned southward along its bank searching for a ford or a bridge. He had not gone far when he came across a woodcutter. The man instructed him as to the location of a ford and told him that the broad expanse of water was called Fial’s River. Eadulf made the mistake of wondering aloud who Fiai might be and the woodsman was nothing loath to tell him that she was the elder sister of Emer daughter of Forgall Manach. And when Eadulf made the further mistake of saying he did not know these personages, the man began to explain that the great hero of Ulaidh, Cúchulainn, had rejected Fiai as his lover and turned to her young sister Emer. The lecture delayed him considerably. Darkness was already beginning to fall when he managed to find the ford across the river.