He was interrupted by Enda. ‘That means that a single ceta, a company of one hundred of our warriors, drove hundreds of raiders from the field. If that is true, there will be no approaching Dego for his vanity and boasting.’
The smith had not finished. ‘According to the merchant, the King’s men did have help. They were reinforced by warriors led by Donennach, the Prince of the Uí Fidgente himself.’
‘Then these raiders were not Uí Fidgente?’ Gormán said. ‘So, who were they?’
‘Everyone is talking about them but this merchant could offer nothing but speculation.’
‘Are you telling us that the raiders have been defeated?’ Fidelma said.
‘The merchant had much more to say but little of relevance to fact,’ lamented the smith. ‘However, I did gather that the battle was fierce and the raiders finally retreated, leaving many dead and a few wounded behind. However, they moved into the western mountains, and the pursuers lost them.’
‘Was nothing learned about who they were or who commanded them?’ Fidelma asked.
‘The merchant only knew that they claimed to be fighting for the True Faith.’
Fidelma and Eadulf exchanged a startled glance.
‘What did they mean by that?’ Eadulf wanted to know.
The smith shrugged. ‘What can I say? I am only repeating what this merchant said and can add nothing of my own. As I said, I doubt whether he was in possession of all the facts himself.’
‘You are right,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘Anyway, tomorrow I shall go to the fortress for there is much I need to discuss with Gelgéis. Eadulf will come with me, while Gormán will see what gossip he can pick up in the market square.’
‘And what of me, lady?’ asked Enda.
‘At first light you, Enda, will ride for Cashel and inform my brother what is happening here and especially of the need to launch an attack to free the Uí Duach in Liath Mór.’
‘Do you really think that there is a threat to Éile from the Osraige?’ Gobán asked. ‘Is Cronán definitely going to attack us?’
‘I am sure of it, but I can’t say when it will happen,’ replied Fidelma. ‘However, I think it will take place soon. We know that new roadways are near completion. Events have already started to occur in Osraige that bear similarities to events in the west. They must be connected.’
Eadulf had never seen her as agitated before. She tried not to show it but he knew her well enough to spot the signs. Usually, even in the most difficult circumstances, Fidelma looked upon problems as a challenge that brought a sparkle to her eyes as she took them on. He realised that she was frustrated because none of the facts that they had gathered seemed to fit into any coherent pattern.
‘Perhaps we should get some rest,’ he ventured.
She looked at him with anger flickering in her eyes. He waited for the inevitable barb of sarcasm, but then she seemed to relax and even smile.
‘I suppose I am being tedious, Eadulf. I fear that I have repeated my frustration about this matter many times of late.’
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘You have always told me that it does not do any harm to reassess what facts are known.’
‘I have also told you that there should be no speculation without information,’ she replied.
‘I do not hear you speculating,’ he said gently. ‘What I hear is the enumeration of the facts that we have gathered which seem related but in such a manner that can make no sense.’
Fidelma chuckled in approval. ‘You are right, of course. It is the mysterious relationship of these facts that vexes me more than if I had no facts at all.’
‘We have come a long way – and in just four full days since the body of the envoy was discovered,’ Eadulf said.
‘Except that he was no envoy.’
Eadulf was just about to demand an explanation when the sound of a distant trumpet made them all start.
Gobán was first upon his feet. ‘That is the sound of some person of rank announcing their approach to the fortress of Gelgéis.’
‘So long as it is not the seventh trumpet,’ Eadulf half-joked with dark humour.
Fidelma rose to her feet. ‘So late in the evening? That is unusual.’
‘Sometimes it happens, lady,’ replied Gobán. The smith had opened the door to his cabin. ‘Nevertheless, there are horses coming this way,’ he added, as he placed his head to one side in a listening attitude.
‘Horses,’ muttered Gormán. ‘Several horses. It sounds like warriors.’
‘Wait here,’ Fidelma instructed. ‘I will go to the entrance of the forge and see who they are as they pass by into the town.’
‘But …’ Eadulf began.
‘Stay here,’ she insisted, and moved quickly to the front of the forge. She hid in the shadow of the building and peered towards the roadway which led past into the town. A dozen riders, carrying torches to light their way, followed by a wagon drawn by two horses, also with lanterns on it, were moving slowly by. Her mouth opened slightly in astonishment as she recognised them.
Her companions waited apprehensively in the cabin for her return. Gormán and Enda had their hands on the hilts of their swords, although what they expected to do if this was some enemy at the gates, Eadulf was unsure. The tension in their bodies was obvious. Judging from the sounds of the horses’ hooves on the road, there was a whole column of riders. It seemed a long time before the clatter of the horses and wagon began to fade into the distance.
Fidelma wore a thoughtful expression as she returned and resumed her seat.
‘Were they more of Gelgéis’s warriors?’ asked Gormán.
‘Not this time,’ she replied simply.
‘Then who were they?’ prompted Eadulf.
‘From the banner they were carrying, they were warriors of the Osraige. I saw it in the light of the lamps they carried.’
‘Osraige? You mean they are Cronán’s warriors!’ Gormán exclaimed. ‘Are they going to attack Durlus?’
‘And how many warriors are there?’ demanded Enda at the same time.
‘About a dozen, I should say,’ Fidelma told them, adding, ‘But I do not think they come as enemies. At their head was none other than Drón.’
Eadulf took some moments to register who she meant. ‘Drón of Gabrán? Do you mean the father of your brother’s wife-to-be?’
‘The very same,’ Fidelma affirmed heavily. ‘Drón – and his daughter Dúnliath is with him. At the end of their column was a wagon containing their belongings. Now what on earth are they doing here? And why have they left Cashel?’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As Fidelma and Eadulf rode up the slope towards the gates of the fortress of Gelgéis of Éile, they could see that this time they had been recognised. One of the guards had disappeared inside, apparently to alert the steward. The other guard greeted them respectfully as they trotted through the gates into the courtyard, and two attendants came forward to hold their horses’ heads while they dismounted. The atmosphere was friendlier than at their first arrival at the fortress – was it only two days ago?
The sallow-complexioned steward, Spealáin, appeared on the steps of the Great Hall, then came forward to greet them with a wary smile of welcome on his dark features.
‘Greetings, lady, and to you, Brother Eadulf. We did not expect you back so soon, especially with the news from the west.’
‘And what news would that be, Spealáin?’ Fidelma asked.
‘Have you not heard, lady? It is bad news, indeed.’
‘I have heard that there has been some battle near Muine Gairid,’ she said, glancing at Eadulf, ‘and that the bandits were dispersed.’
‘That is old news now, lady. Apparently there is to be another and bigger battle expected any day now. Your brother, King Colgú, has led his troops out of Cashel to meet the rebel force. I am told that he has led an entire cath, a battalion of three thousand warriors, into the land of the Uí Fidgente.’
They heard his words in amazement and Eadulf began: �
�But if the bandits had fled after being confronted …?’
‘The raiders apparently rode back into the western mountains where, it is reported, they have regrouped and were joined by many others. Now a large rebel force has gathered.’
‘How did you come by this news?’ Fidelma wanted to know as the steward conducted them into the Great Hall of Durlus.
‘We heard the news only last evening, when Drón of Gabrán and his daughter arrived from Cashel. Your brother had sent them hither for safety in case the day does not go well for him.’
‘They brought this news to you?’ Her tone was slightly incredulous.
‘Indeed, they did, lady.’
‘And they are still your guests here?’
‘They are. They came with an escort of Drón’s bodyguard.’
‘We would like to see the Lady Gelgéis,’ Fidelma said after a brief pause.
‘I will take you to her chambers immediately.’
They followed him across the Great Hall which, for the time being, appeared to be empty. Eadulf could see that Fidelma was as astonished by the news as he was. It was astounding to hear that a band of raiders had grown overnight into a large rebel army. However, it seemed unlike Colgú to send anyone away from Cashel for safety. The great Palace of the Eóghanacht was one of the strongest fortifications in the country, rising 200 feet above the surrounding countryside on its base of limestone rock; its walls had never suffered a defeat since the great King Corc had first kindled his fires on it and proclaimed it to be the seat of the Kings of Muman many centuries before. Not even when Colgú had led his troops against the rebellious Uí Fidgente some years before at Cnoc Áine, had there been any necessity to abandon Cashel. This was strange news indeed. She wished that she had not let Enda ride off to Cashel at dawn if all was not well there.
Spealáin accompanied them up a wide stone stairway on the far side of the hall to the next floor, where the senior members of the fortress had their living quarters. At the end he asked them to wait while he knocked respectfully on the door of what turned out to be Gelgéis’s personal reception room. He entered and closed the door behind him, only to reappear a moment later and beckon them in.
Gelgéis had risen from her chair in token of respect to Fidelma. Eadulf, behind Fidelma, saw her body tense a little. Then he realised that Gelgéis had been closeted with Drón, the emaciated-looking noble of Gabrán. He had also risen, and there was something close to a sneer on his thin, red lips. Unattractive as it was, Eadulf knew from past experience that this was the closest the man could come to a smile.
‘It seems that my small fortress has become a place of refuge for the Eóghanacht and their kin,’ greeted Gelgéis dryly.
Fidelma took a deep breath. ‘I am not seeking refuge …’ she began.
‘Then you have not heard the news?’ It was Drón who intervened.
‘The steward has told us a story which we can hardly believe,’ she replied. ‘I find it curious that my brother, the King, should advise you, Lord of Gabrán, to seek refuge away from Cashel whose walls have never once been breached since the Eóghanacht made it their capital. I am told that a rebel army has suddenly materialised as if by magic out of the western mountains.’
Eadulf was sure that the twitch at the corner of Gelgéis’s mouth was one of amusement. She indicated that they should be seated and resumed her own seat.
‘We were just discussing the matter,’ she said. ‘Of course, your brother would be concerned with the safety of his bride-to-be but I think Drón was about to answer this very question when you arrived. If I understand matters correctly, Drón himself made the suggestion that they come here.’
‘I was concerned,’ admitted Drón. ‘I suggested that we removed ourselves from Cashel until this matter of rebellion in the west is resolved.’
Fidelma turned to him. Her expression brought a faint colour to his pale cheeks.
‘I have my daughter’s safety close to my heart, lady,’ he continued defiantly. ‘It was not of myself that I was thinking. I would stay and draw my sword in defence of the King if it were necessary. I have tried to keep Dúnliath out of harm’s way ever since her mother abandoned her. Were it not for my daughter, I would gladly volunteer to join any of the King’s hosting.’
‘Of course,’ agreed Gelgéis in a sweet tone of voice. ‘No one is questioning your loyalty to the King. Yet I perceive no danger to Cashel. You have told me that Colgú is leading an entire battalion of his warriors out to face these rebels …’
‘And yet,’ Fidelma intervened with emphasis in her voice, ‘my understanding was that these same rebels, whoever they are, were just a band of raiders, bandits who had already been defeated by a single company of my brother’s warriors. How have they now grown into a great rebellious army?’
‘The survivors of these rebels were driven back into the western mountains and there they were joined by many others,’ Drón said immediately. ‘That certainly was the story that merchants brought to us and why I decided to hasten here for safety when Colgú left to confront them.’
‘With my brother gone from Cashel, who was left in charge of its defences?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Why, his heir-apparent, I suppose. Finguine.’
‘So Finguine has returned from the Cenél Lóegairi?’
‘He returned a few days ago. However, with rebellion abroad I felt that we should seek protection in a more neutral territory.’
Fidelma’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘A neutral territory? Éile is still part of the Kingdom of Muman,’ she pointed out.
‘Well, whatever the cause of your coming here, Drón,’ Gelgéis said quickly, ‘be assured that you and your daughter are welcome to share the safety of these walls from any enemy, be they foreign or domestic. The freedom of our fortress is yours, Drón. I shall look forward to your company at the midday meal?’
It was clear that Drón was being dismissed. He did not look happy but rose reluctantly to make his exit with formal etiquette. However, as he passed by Fidelma, he paused and whispered: ‘There is a matter I wish to speak with you about. Urgently.’
‘Then I will find you later,’ nodded Fidelma.
When the door had closed behind him, leaving Gelgéis alone with Fidelma and Eadulf, the Princess of the Éile seemed to relax.
‘I cannot forget that Drón is of the Osraige and I find it difficult to trust him,’ she confided. ‘So now, Fidelma, you seem sceptical of the news he brings. You do not believe that there is a full-scale rebellion in the west of the kingdom rather than just a series of bandit raids?’
‘What do you believe?’ countered Fidelma.
‘I think Drón is more timid than he likes to admit.’ Gelgéis smiled. ‘I believe he came here fearing more for his own safety than that of his daughter. But I can’t see him inventing the idea of your brother having to lead an entire army to the west if he was just going to put down a few bandits.’
Fidelma was thoughtful for a moment.
‘I could understand the matter of a western rebellion more readily if the Uí Fidgente had joined it. For a long time they tried to overthrow Cashel, but the defeat of their warriors at Cnoc Áine some years ago saw an end to such ambition. Prince Donennach, who rules now, is a wiser head than his predecessors. He has brought the Uí Fidgente to a peaceful and productive state of affairs. And, of course, we have heard that these western raids were as much against their settlements as anyone else.’
‘Added to the fact that the bandits have never been large in number,’ according to reports, it seems curious that an entire army has suddenly emerged to frighten Drón,’ Eadulf said.
Gelgéis was nodding slowly. ‘I cannot disagree with your observations.’
There was a tap on the door and Spealáin came in, looking anxious. He hurried over to Gelgéis and murmured in her ear. She visibly started and her expression matched that of the steward. Then she rose.
‘You will have to excuse me,’ she said. ‘Some urgent matter needs my attention.
I shall be busy for a while but I trust you will join me for the midday meal. We shall talk more then.’
Fidelma and Eadulf rose in surprise at this brusque dismissal.
‘We were hoping to put some questions to you,’ Fidelma protested.
‘The hospitality of Durlus is yours, lady,’ replied Gelgéis. ‘I hope, before long, that I may fully explain my situation. But, like you, until I can understand certain things and who is involved, I can trust no one … not even the sister of a King.’ She turned to Spealáin. ‘See to the wants of our visitors,’ she instructed him.
As Spealáin was ushering them from the chamber, Fidelma saw that Eadulf about to speak, but she shook her head in his direction to stop him making any remarks in front of the steward.
‘How may I be of service to you?’ asked Spealáin.
‘Where is Drón at the moment?’ Fidelma enquired.
‘He went to the stables where some of his men are tending their horses.’
‘His Osraige warriors are at the stable?’
‘Some of them. Others are playing buanbaig in the courtyard.’
Buanbaig was, like fidchell and brandubh, a popular board game.
‘Do you have a good garrison here?’
Spealáin appeared to realise what her question implied.
‘Enough to protect Durlus,’ he replied distantly. ‘But I fear that your question is inappropriate. I can answer only to the Lady Gelgéis on matters of detail of the security of this fortress.’
‘Inappropriate or not,’ Fidelma said steadily, ‘I would be on constant alert, with warriors from the Osraige being allowed unhindered access to this fortress.’
The steward stared at her for a moment and then gave an eloquent shrug. ‘You share my lady’s concerns. Don’t worry. They will be watched – as will all the strangers within this fortress.’ The last sentence was added softly, almost as an afterthought.
They had come to the main door of the Great Hall where the steward halted and said apologetically, ‘If you will forgive me, I have other duties to attend to. But you can see the location of the stables from here. Unless you have specific need of me, I will let you find Drón by yourselves.’ With a swift nod of his head, he vanished into the hall.
23- The Seventh Trumpet Page 25
