Atonement of Blood(35)

They left the apothecary, with Fidelma not seeming to have noticed the exchange, and made their way across the shadow-filled courtyard, lit by several brand torches. The shadows darted this way and that as warriors moved here and there, fulfilling their duties as sentinels. They found Gormán at the stables checking the tackle. He looked up as they entered and grinned. He was clearly in a good mood.

‘Caol has already told me,’ he greeted them. ‘We shall journey together. I don’t think Caol was too pleased that he has to stay behind tomorrow.’

‘I suppose he feels responsible that he was not able to defend the King against the assassin’s blow before the damage had been done,’ Eadulf commented. ‘Perhaps there is vengeance in his mind.’

‘That’s probably it,’ agreed the young warrior. ‘He would doubtless like to reinstate himself in your eyes.’

‘He has no call to feel any guilt in that respect,’ Fidelma replied. ‘It happened so fast that none of us were able to move until it was too late. It was so unexpected.’

‘Are you prepared for tomorrow?’ asked Eadulf.

‘The horses will be ready in the courtyard before dawn, friend Eadulf.’

‘We will make our journey in slow and easy fashion,’ Fidelma promised, knowing full well that Eadulf did not regard himself as the best of horsemen.

‘I have ridden to Mungairit in a single day,’ said Gormán solemnly, ‘but that was on a warm summer’s day and I rode from dawn to sunset with scarcely a pause. But do not fear; with these shorter, winter days, we have only half the time to be on the road, otherwise darkness and cold will overcome us. Nevertheless, we could stay overnight at a place called Ulla, among the rounded hillocks. There is a good tavern there, as I recall. We could reach it before dark tomorrow. Then by the next day we will be safely in Mungairit.’

‘It is a good suggestion but we will let the day and conditions dictate our pace,’ Fidelma said sensibly. ‘There is no need to rush, for we are not in pursuit of anyone … yet we are travelling through the country of the Uí Fidgente so we must be vigilant.’

‘That is understood, lady; yet it would be a bad thing when a warrior of the Golden Collar is fearful of travelling in any part of the Kingdom of Muman because of a rebellious clan who ought to have learned their lesson by now.’

‘Even so, as the philosophers say – in ominia paratus. Be prepared for anything.’

‘Then we shall be prepared, come what may, lady.’





CHAPTER SIX





The early morning frost had vanished rapidly soon after they had set out from Cashel. They had taken the westward road with the sun rising behind them, spreading a mild warmth in a cloudless blue sky that was surprising for the time of year. Aware of the length of the journey they were embarking on, and understanding horses and the conditions well, Fidelma had decided they should keep their pace to a slow trot unless faced with an emergency. So it was mid-morning when they were following the track through the marshy approaches to the River Ara, surrounded by the fen sedge and wilting bulrushes, to the spot called Ara’s Well. This was a settlement of a few isolated homesteads sprawled carelessly on both sides of the river.

Fidelma led the way across the shallow ford to where a large building stood near a smith’s forge and other outbuildings. An elderly man was seated outside the door in the lukewarm sun, polishing leather. Hearing the sounds of the horses’ hooves squelching along the muddy path from the river, he glanced up and then rose with a smile of greeting, tossing the piece of leather down on the bench behind him as he strode forward to meet them.

‘Is it truly yourself, lady?’ the old man beamed in disbelief.

‘It is I, Aona, and Eadulf is with me.’

She slid from her horse, as did Eadulf and Gormán, with Gormán moving to take their reins while they went forward to greet the man called Aona.

The tavern-keeper, for such was Aona’s profession, took Fidelma’s hand shyly, and then extended his greeting to Eadulf.

‘It is a while since you have passed this way, lady. But, praise be, time has been kind to us all.’ He glanced at their companion. ‘And is that not young Gormán who rides with you? How are things with my old companions of the Nasc Niadh?’

As a young man, Aona had commanded a full catha or battalion of the bodyguards of the Kings of Cashel, before his retirement to become a tavern-keeper at the Well of Ara.

‘May good health attend you, Aona,’ smiled Gormán. ‘But there is sadness on me that, because of my youth, I cannot bring news of any of your former companions as a new generation now serves the King.’