‘Well, I am certainly impressed by the way he counts and with his vocabulary. I nearly flushed in embarrassment when he commented on Ordan’s appearance, but he was accurate. He puts words together to communicate, he knows the difference between time words – yesterday and next week – and he knows emotional words – happiness and disappointment.’
Fidelma said teasingly, ‘I have to say that little Alchú is only showing that he is a normal child.’
‘But he can relate the spoken numbers to objects,’ protested Eadulf.
‘As can any average child at his age.’
Eadulf realised that he was sounding like a proud and boastful father.
‘Let’s go and find Brother Conchobhar now,’ Fidelma suggested. ‘We’ll make sure he keeps an eye on Alchú while we are away. Muirgen means well and the boy will be safe in her hands, but now he is learning so rapidly, she needs a little help. What was good for her when she was growing up at Gabhlán in the shadow of Sliabh Mis is not quite good enough for an Eóghanacht …’ She was about to say ‘an Eóghanacht prince’ but hesitated in case Eadulf was offended. Eadulf pretended he did not notice the slip of the tongue.
They crossed the cobbled courtyard to the small apothecary shop where a dim light could be seen through the window. Fidelma tapped on the dark oak door before seizing the handle to open it. Immediately she and Eadulf were engulfed in the pungent aromas of herbs and dried flowers, combining in an almost overpowering smell that caused them to catch their breath. It took a few moments for them to grow used to it.
From the gloom of the interior Brother Conchobhar moved forward, a lamp in his hand.
‘Ah,’ he smiled as he recognised them. He put the lamp down on a work-bench and proceeded to light a stronger lantern to illuminate the scene. ‘There is still no change in the condition of your brother, Fidelma,’ he said at once. ‘I left him but a short time ago. I do not expect any further change one way or another until tomorrow. At least his heart is strong and the bleeding has stopped. It is not the first time the King has suffered grievous wounds.’
Fidelma drew her brows together. ‘I do not recall him suffering a serious wound previously?’
‘You were away at that time, lady – at the Abbey of the Three Wells, as I recall. It was during the Battle of Cnoc Áine when we defeated the Uí Fidgente.’
‘I did not know.’
‘He still bears a scar on his right side. One of the enemy struck his shield from his hand and managed to bite into the flesh with his sword. He was carried barely conscious from the field even moments before the Uí Fidgente admitted defeat. He recovered quickly, as I am sure he will recover from this wound.’
‘Thank you, Conchobhar,’ Fidelma said quietly. ‘We will pray that you are right.’
‘We came to speak with you on another matter.’ Eadulf intervened to break the awkward silence.
‘Another matter?’
‘Fidelma and I have to leave Cashel,’ explained Eadulf. ‘We need to follow some information which may lead us to discover who the would-be assassin was and whether he was working alone or in some conspiracy.’
Brother Conchobhar’s expression was one between resignation and disapproval.
‘Then I presume that you will both be heading off into the country of the Uí Fidgente?’
‘Gormán will come with us,’ Fidelma said, and when the old man did not show any enthusiasm, she added: ‘Have you seen some warning in the heavens?’
Brother Conchobhar was not only a gifted apothecary but he was a keen observer of the heavens and had a gift for making observations from the stars as to the best and worst of times. It was an art that had helped Fidelma several times in the past and the old man had once advised that it was a gift that Fidelma should develop herself.
Brother Conchobhar, however, simply shrugged. ‘The wheel of the sun can tell many things. Some are clear, some are obscure. What I see presently is that it could be a time of ill-judgement.’
Eadulf smiled and said: ‘I have never known a time when one could not make an ill-judged decision.’
‘True for you, friend Eadulf. But the Red Mare consorts with the warrior and the Fair Mare drinks at the watergate of heaven. It is compounded by the star of knowledge being in the company of the bees while the star that defends is in the sign of the reaping hook.’
Eadulf looked blank as he tried to interpret the unfamiliar names and connect them to the stars.
‘It means,’ went on the old apothecary patiently, ‘that there is much restlessness, impatience and hot temper at this time which could lead to quick judgements and wrong conclusions.’