Atonement of Blood(2)

The clan society of the Five Kingdoms was also based on a fosterage system. When boys and girls reached the age of seven years old, they were sent away for their education in what was known as fosterage. It was practised by persons of all classes, but especially by nobles. Nobles fostered other nobles’ children; kings fostered other kings’ and nobles’ children. There were two kinds of fosterage – for affection or for payment. Among the nobles it was usually for affection. In this manner, the closest of ties were developed between the ruling families and the relationship was regarded as a sacred bond, as if it was a blood tie. In such a deeply based kin-society it was a sure way of preventing conflict and warfare.

In many ways, Eadulf felt it was a laudable system. It was just that the closeness of the fosterage system seemed to have caused a change in language whereby the blood parents were addressed in formal terms while the foster-parents were addressed in intimate terms.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Fidelma’s voice cut into his thoughts.

Eadulf turned and gave her a quick smile. ‘I was wondering what the reason was for this special feast that your brother has called for this evening?’

‘It is held in memory of a great poet and churchman of our people who died seventy years ago,’ she replied. ‘His name was Colmán mac Lénine.’

‘And are his poems worthy of such a celebration?’

‘Some would appear to think so,’ she said. ‘He was acclaimed as the royal poet of Muman. However, it is his services to the Faith that the abbots and bishops of Muman feel should be celebrated. He left the service of the King of Cashel and decided to travel through the kingdom preaching the New Faith. He finally established his own abbey at Cluain Uamha.’

‘The meadow of the cave?’ translated Eadulf. ‘Isn’t that an abbey to the south-west of here?’

‘Your knowledge is very good.’

‘So I suppose Abbot Ségdae of Imleach will be attending this feast?’

‘No. The Feast of Colmán keeps him in Imleach. One of Colmán’s achievements was to find the lost shrine of the Blessed Ailbe of Imleach, who brought the Faith to our kingdom. The ancients who buried Ailbe had kept his shrine a secret for fear it would be molested. The time came when no one left alive knew the secret. It was Colmán who solved the mystery and so he is blessed at Imleach and remembered there each year accordingly.’

Eadulf wondered aloud, ‘So does tonight’s feast commemorate the religieux or the poet?’

‘This feast celebrates the whole man,’ Fidelma replied.

The chamber was suddenly lit by a flash of white light, followed within a split second by a crash of thunder. The echo rumbled in the distance, then died away. There was a moment of silence, then a sound like pebbles being scattered on stone. They could see the urgent flurry of lumps of water-ice landing on the window-ledge. Eadulf peered out, through the hailstones, to the dim outline of the town below. A moment later, the hail gave way to heavy rain.

‘You are right, Fidelma. Rain, it is. But let us hope that I am also right and this is no more than a passing rainstorm.’

A short while later, the couple made their way towards the great hall where the young warrior Gormán, of King Colgú’s élite bodyguard, the Nasc Niadh, stood sentinel at the doors. He grinned as they approached, for he had shared many adventures with them.

‘Are you not joining the feast tonight?’ Eadulf greeted him as they came up.

The young man shook his head. ‘Tonight I have drawn the short straw for guard duty here. No matter.’ He opened the doors of the feasting hall to allow them to pass inside.

The great hall was a long, narrow room. Along each wall were the tables, leading to another placed broadside on at the head of the chamber and raised on a dais. This was where the King and his personal retinue would sit. On the walls behind the benches were hooks from which shields or pennants, depending on the rank of the guests, were hung. Seated at the tables were some of the lords of the territories of the kingdom, each attended by their shield-bearers. With them were their wives. No one sat opposite one another; only one side of the table was occupied, that being the side next to the wall. Fidelma did not need to examine their shields or pennants to recognise them all. She also knew that each guest had been seated by the steward of the household according to a known priority, thus avoiding any unseemly dispute.

On the dais, Fidelma’s cousin Finguine, the young heir apparent to the kingdom, was already in his position to the right of the empty chair designated for the King. To the right of Finguine were the Chief Brehon, Áedo, and his deputy, Aillín. The commander of the King’s bodyguard, Caol, the only man allowed to carry his sword into the feasting hall, stood behind the empty chair. To the left were others of the King’s household and their ladies. Acknowledging greetings, Fidelma and Eadulf made their way to their appointed seats on the left. In all, it seemed that there were about forty people gathered for the feast.