‘I know the man,’ he said, ‘and if he is not up with his flocks, then he may well be found in Rumann’s tavern. It is a favourite place of the shepherds here.’
With a wave of farewell towards Nessán, Fidelma indicated that they should ride on.
The rath of Ordan was certainly no rath, as Gormán had foretold. The attempt to construct ramparts was no more than a ditch which would scarcely keep livestock in. However, the gate to the homestead was more substantial. It consisted of two stone pillars through which one passed into a large yard before coming to the single-storey house of stone. On top of each pillar were geese carved with beak and wings extended as if threatening the visitors – an odd symbolism for a merchant, thought Eadulf. Indeed, the building beyond seemed full of the owner’s aristocratic pretensions but did not quite measure up to the houses of nobles that Eadulf had seen throughout the country. To one side of the complex were a number of large sheds where the merchant presumably stored his goods, and outside these were two large wagons. To the other side were some buildings that showed that Ordan was self-sufficient in livestock, with pigs and some milch cows in a fenced area.
Three or four people were moving about, pursuing various tasks. One of them, having spotted their arrival, had run to the house, doubtless to inform his master of the arrival of guests.
A moment later, a man emerged through the door, crossing the porch to meet them as they halted in front of the building. He was balding, of stout proportions running to fat, his eyes almost buried in his moon face. His lips were thick, and even when closed presented an ugly shape, and his skin was pale, where it was not blotched with unhealthy pink on his fleshy cheeks. His clothes were certainly of fine quality but hung on his ill-shapen figure without disguising it. He was rubbing his pudgy hands together as he approached and bowing rapidly from his neck.
‘Lady Fidelma! Brother Eadulf! I am honoured, extremely honoured that you have come to my humble house. You are most welcome.’
Little Alchú, seated on his pony now behind Eadulf, with Gormán at his side, spoke up clearly.
‘Who is the ugly fat man, Mother?’
Fidelma’s mouth tightened to hide the smile that twitched at the corner. Ordan wheezed as he forced what passed for a laugh.
‘The little prince is not shy in stating his mind.’
‘Would that all people were as forthright in their opinions,’ muttered Eadulf piously.
‘Come in, come in. My steward will attend to your horses.’
‘We were just passing,’ Fidelma replied firmly. ‘So we will remain seated and not trespass on your hospitality. It was only a brief question.’
Ordan looked disappointed. He had already been mentally building the story of how the sister of the King had visited him and taken his refreshment.
‘As you wish, lady. But my humble house is your house and you have but to ask.’ As he spoke, he kept bowing and they found it distracting.
‘Why is that man doing that?’ Alchú piped up. ‘He’s very funny.’
Fidelma caught Gormán’s eye. ‘Take Alchú to show him the animals,’ she instructed. ‘Go with Gormán, Alchú, and when you come back you can tell me what animals you have seen.’
She and Eadulf waited until Gormán led the boy’s pony towards the barns.
Ordan was waiting, his hands still clasped together in front of him.
‘I am told that you have been away and only returned here last night,’ Fidelma began.
Ordan nodded, but he suddenly seemed uneasy. His eyes narrowed, if such a thing could be possible in his plump features. ‘And, indeed, on my return I heard the terrible news of the attempt on the life of your brother,’ he said unctuously. ‘May the devil take the soul of the assassin. I was told that Brehon Áedo, who was my very good friend, was slain but that the King, God be merciful, has survived. How is your brother, lady? Does he fare well?’
‘He fares well enough.’ Fidelma almost snapped the words to quieten the flow of honeyed tones of the merchant. ‘It appears that you had a passenger on your wagon on your return.’
Ordan blinked rapidly. ‘What has that girl been saying about me?’ he asked nervously.
‘Should she have been saying anything?’ Fidelma asked innocently.
‘Of course not. It’s just …’ The merchant seemed uncomfortable and then closed his mouth.
‘I believe you arrived in Cashel in the hours before dawn?’
‘I did so, and have barely slept since my arrival for I promised to meet a smithy from Magh Méine to do some trade with him. At first I thought it was he who was arriving when I was told you were here.’