They rode into the ráth of Laisre. The same two stable boys who had greeted them when they had first arrived were in attendance and took their mounts. It was only then that Orla addressed them again. There was a curtness in her voice.
‘Laisre and Murgal will want to speak with you immediately. They will be in the council chamber.’
Neither Fidelma nor Eadulf said anything as they followed her into the council chamber.
Laisre was seated on his official chair speaking earnestly with Murgal and Colla. They broke off their conversation to stare in surprise as Orla ushered Fidelma and Eadulf forward. Laisre did not conceal his expression of dislike as his gaze met Fidelma’s. Colla looked slightly bewildered at her appearance while Murgal’s countenance bore a look of cynical amusement.
‘So,’ Laisre said in quiet satisfaction, ‘you have caught our fugitives, Orla?’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow disdainfully.
‘Caught? Have you given orders for my capture then, Laisre? If so – why? And what is this talk of our being fugitive?’
‘I found her and the foreigner riding back here,’ Orla interposed hastily. ‘She said that had Murgal thought more deeply about matters then he would know why she had left the ráth when she did.’
Laisre glanced at his Druid.
‘Did you know that Fidelma was leaving?’
Murgal shook his head indignantly.
‘Not I,’ he protested. Then his eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘Ah, I think I do know … now. You went to investigate the ritual slaughter? You did not trust Colla’s information?’
‘You did not trust me? Why?’ demanded Colla, apparently affronted.
‘Because she is a
dálaigh.’
‘What has that to do with it?’
‘Because it is the duty of a
dálaigh
to judge evidence for
themselves. What is the triad? Three duties of a good advocate: apprise yourself of the evidence not trusting to the opinion of others when you are able to form your own; a fair judgment and a strong advocacy. A good
dálaigh
would not trust another’s judgment if they could view the evidence themselves. Yes, I should have known, Laisre, that your refusal to allow Fidelma to investigate would have been ignored.’
Neither Colla nor Laisre appeared happy with the explanation.
‘I told you that I wished you to have no more to do with the affairs of Gleann Geis than can be helped,’ Laisre intoned in annoyance. ‘We could have conducted our business this morning and you could have been on your way.’
‘We will conduct our business after the matter of the murders is resolved,’ Fidelma replied firmly. Laisre seemed outraged at her contradiction of his wishes. He was about to speak when Murgal interrupted.
‘Are you saying that you can resolve the mystery?’ The Druid’s keen gaze had swept the features of Fidelma with a strange, unfathomable expression. Fidelma kept her features implacable.
‘I should be able to answer that question tomorrow morning. Tomorrow I shall name the killer of Solin and the cause of the other deaths in this place. Now, it has been a long day, we have ridden far, so we will return to the guests’ hostel. Does Cruinn still refuse to serve us? If so, perhaps you would ensure that our wants are seen to. Baths and food are the duty of a hostel under law.’
Her bright gaze swept the astonished company and then she turned from the chamber, motioning Eadulf to follow her.
Eadulf hurried to keep in step with her as she made her way across the courtyard.
‘Did you see the way Colla was looking at you?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘By saying that you will resolve the problem tomorrow, you are inviting Colla and Orla to act against you tonight.’
Fidelma smiled grimly.
‘I am hoping that they might. It would be a short cut to resolving the matter.’
Eadulf was unhappy.
‘It will be a long night before Ibor gets here.’ Then he paused and his face paled. ‘I hope you are not telling me that you have no other plan to resolve this matter than to frighten Orla and Colla into an attempt on your life in order to prove their guilt?’
‘Ecclesiastics in the book of the Apocrypha,’ she replied enigmatically.
‘Meaning?’ frowned Eadulf.
‘Do not reveal your thoughts to anyone lest you drive away your good luck.’
Eadulf snorted derisively but, wisely, said nothing further.
They made their way to the guests’ hostel. It was deserted. Eadulf took their saddle bags back to their rooms while Fidelma set to banking the fire in the kitchen to prepare hot water for the baths. She was struggling with the logs when Rudgal appeared bearing a basket with him.
‘Let me do that, Sister,’ he insisted at once, putting the basket down on the table.
Fidelma, who had been on her knees struggling with the fire, rose with a smile of gratitude.
‘I shall not be reluctant to hand over the task to you, Rudgal. I presume Cruinn is still displeased with us?’
Rudgal bent to the task of stoking the fire.
‘Cruinn is devoted to the chieftain and his family. I presume she is still angry at your accusation concerning the lady, Orla, and her husband.’
‘She is very opinionated for a hostel keeper,’ observed Eadulf coming down the stairs. ‘She should keep to her place and not pass opinions on those she is supposed to serve.’
Rudgal glanced up at him almost with a scowl.
‘Everyone should keep to their place, indeed,’ he muttered turning back to the fire.
Eadulf had almost forgotten Rudgal’s peculiar manner when he found the girl Esnad with him on the previous evening.
‘Have you brought us some food then, Rudgal?’ Fidelma asked brightly, turning to the basket, apparently not noticing Rudgal’s scowl.
‘Yes, Sister,’ Rudgal replied shortly. He had enticed the fire into a strong blaze. He stood up and moved to the basket. ‘The hot water should be ready soon. Do you want to eat before or after the bath?’
‘We will have our baths before eating.’
‘I will prepare them then,’ Rudgal offered. ‘Perhaps you will keep a watch on this kitchen fire for me while I do so?’
After he had disappeared into the bathing chambers, Eadulf grimaced towards Fidelma and whispered.
‘The man seems to bear a grudge about something and that something appears to concern the girl, Esnad. You don’t think that he is jealous or something? No, that would be nonsense.’
‘Perhaps you should discover what ails Rudgal,’ Fidelma reflected. ‘After we have eaten, I think you should seek out this Esnad and find out what it is all about.’
Eadulf looked uneasy.
‘I do not want to leave you alone until Ibor gets here. If you are going to put yourself in the position of lure to snare Orla and Colla, then you stand in great danger.’
Fidelma shook her head.
‘After we have bathed and eaten, I intend to go to Laisre’s feasting hall and make Orla and Colla feel uncomfortable. They can scarcely do anything to me in front of the assembly. It is my belief that if they intend to attempt anything they will do it in the night when all is quiet.’ She gave him a mischievous grin. ‘Maybe you will be in more danger from Esnad than I will be from Orla and Colla?’
Eadulf blushed furiously.
‘She is only a young girl,’ he muttered. ‘But you are right. There is something that needs to be explained about Rudgal’s behaviour.’
It was an hour or so later when Eadulf left Fidelma at the door of the feasting hall and went off in search of Esnad’s apartments. He knew where they were for he recalled that they were in the building where Murgal’s library was. The same building was shared by the apothecary, Marga, and by Orla and Colla themselves. Walking across the courtyard he saw the portly figure of Cruinn emerging from Marga’s apothecary and he greeted her brightly. The pudgy woman whirled round in the dusk, glared at him, said nothing but hurried away. It was clear that the hostel keeper was firm in her new-found dislike of him.
Eadulf turned into the building. He was surprised to find Laisre standing in the entrance hall. The chieftain also appeared taken unawares to see him and demanded, in a gruff voice, to know what he was doing there. Eadulf felt that he should not mention Esnad and made an excuse that he was going to Murgal’s library. Laisre merely gave a grunt and moved off without another word. He seemed as anxious to leave Eadulf’s company as Eadulf was for him to do so.
Eadulf climbed the stairs to where he had seen the entrance to Esnad’s apartments. He hesitated a moment to summon courage and then knocked on the door. The girl’s voice called for him to enter and he braced his shoulders and did so.
Esnad looked up from a chair in momentary surprise. Then she smiled, almost a proprietorial smile. Before her was a wooden table laid out with the Brandub board and pieces set ready. She was seated at the board and had obviously been examining it for a strategy of play. Eadulf cast a look round. The girl was alone. A fire burnt in the hearth for it was chilly in spite of the summer. A cool evening
gloom hung outside. The girl already had a lamp lit and suspended from the ceiling over the table.
‘Ha, Saxon! I heard that you had returned. Have you come to play Brandub with me?’ she greeted.
‘Er, not exactly,’ he muttered, wondering how to question her.
‘Do not worry, I will show you how to play it.’
Eadulf was about to refuse on an impulse when he realised that he would learn nothing from the daughter of Orla if he let his emotions get the better of him.
‘Come in and close the door,’ she instructed with all the authority of someone of mature years.
He entered and closed the door.
She looked at him with a speculative expression.
‘Have you never played Brandub before?’
Eadulf was about to admit that he had played hardly anything else with his fellow students at Tuam Brecain. However, he caught himself in time and shook his head.
‘I will follow your instructions,’ he announced gravely, as he took the seat opposite her. It was a good opportunity. As the game proceeded he would be able to put his questions to her.
She did not drop her eyes to the gaming table.
‘You know what Brandub means?’
‘That’s easy. Black Raven.’
‘But do you know why we call the game so?’
He had heard the explanation several times but feigned ignorance.
‘The raven is the symbol of the goddess of death and battles. It is the symbol of danger. The purpose of this game is to survive an attack from the hostile forces of the other player – one player attacks and the other defends. Therefore we call the game after the symbol of danger.’
Eadulf tried to appear engrossed by the information, as if he had not heard it before.
‘There,’ the girl gestured with her hand to the board on the table, ‘you see a board which is divided into forty-nine squares, seven squares by seven squares. In the centre square you have one large king piece, you see it?’
He nodded automatically.
‘That symbolises the High King at Tara. Around the High King are four other pieces. Each one represents a provincial king. There are the kings of Cashel in Muman, Cruachan in Connacht, Ailenn in Leinster and Ailech in Ulaidh.’
‘I understand,’ he said gravely.
‘On each side of the board there are two attacking pieces, eight in all. The attacker moves them across the board unless checked by a combination of the provincial king pieces. The purpose is to drive the High King piece into a corner from which he cannot escape. When that happens, the game is won. You follow? But if the attacker cannot overcome the defenders then he loses the game.’
‘I understand.’
‘Then I shall attack first,’ the girl smiled with forced sweetness. ‘I like to attack more than I do to defend. You will defend. Are you ready?’
Eadulf nodded compliantly.
The girl began her moves with Eadulf countering in the required form. He had to admit that the girl attacked with determination and while she lacked a carefully thought out strategy she took chances which sometimes paid off. Force before strategy seemed her technique.
The girl was soon frowning in concentration as he played automatically, having quite forgotten that he was supposed to be a novice at the game, once he had been absorbed in it.
‘You catch on fast, Saxon,’ she finally said begrudgingly as Eadulf continually parried her moves.
‘Merely luck, Esnad,’ he replied, suddenly realising that he’d better allow himself some mistakes in case of angering the girl before he could extract any information from her. He was gratified when she responded to his poor play with a happy smile as she rushed her pieces to capitalise on his ‘errors’.
He gave her a crooked grin.
‘What did I say?’ he said, after he conceded a defeat. ‘The earlier play was mere luck. Let me take my revenge with a second game. I do not mind defending again.’