Atonement of Blood(36)

Aona grimaced. ‘Sometimes I forget my age. Those I served with during the days of King Failbhe Flann are all long retired from the service of Cashel or passed on to the Otherworld. But what am I thinking of? You must come inside and drink corma with me.’ He turned and shouted: ‘Adag! Adag!’

From the side of the building a youth came hurrying. He halted a moment at the sight of them and then his face broadened into an urchin grim. Adag had been about eleven years old, the last time they had seen him as a boy fishing on the riverbank. Now he was almost as tall as them.

‘Lady! Brother Eadulf! It is good to see you both again.’

They returned the boy’s enthusiastic welcome.

‘Well, Adag, you must soon be nearing the age of choice,’ remarked Eadulf, as the boy went to take their horses from the care of Gormán.

Aona chuckled. ‘My grandson lacks another year or two before he can make his own decisions, according to the law. But I have no fear that he will make the wrong ones. He is a good boy and a good helper. Now, come in and tell me all the news from Cashel.’

It was some time later as they sat before the smouldering fire, sipping Aona’s home-brewed corma, and talking over the news from Cashel, that the old man turned a worried face to Fidelma.

‘If this is something to do with the Uí Fidgente, then I do fear the future, lady. Why are you and your companions intent on entering their territory? Was there not enough conflict the other month when that crazy woman, Étain of An Dún, escaped from the Glen of Lunatics and persuaded some of the Uí Fidgente to follow her?’

‘Only a few of them were foolish enough to follow her,’ corrected Eadulf. ‘Prince Donennach actually sent warriors to help Cashel confront Étain and her ragtag of fighters.’

Aona made a dismissive gesture. ‘Isn’t there an old saying that there are four things not to be trusted: a bull’s horn, a horse’s hoof, a dog’s snarl – and the friendship of the Uí Fidgente?’

‘Do not concern yourself, Aona,’ Fidelma replied solemnly. ‘We shall take special care. Anyway, this afternoon we hope to reach Cnoc Ulla before dark and there is nothing to fear along the valley between here and there.’

‘It is afterwards that I fear, lady. If this is some plot of the Uí Fidgente, then they will not be content until it is successful or until they are destroyed.’

‘But we don’t know that it is,’ Fidelma said firmly. ‘And that is the purpose of our journey into their territory – to find out what, if anything, is going on.’

‘You are in a good position to hear news from merchants coming out of Uí Fidgente country,’ Eadulf said now. ‘If anything was stirring there, then surely the merchants would have some gossip to spread?’

Aona smiled in acknowledgement. ‘True – merchants always have gossip to spread, Brother Eadulf. The problem is judging whether the gossip is true or false. I swear some of that lot are better than the bards at their storytelling.’

‘But the resourceful listener, such as yourself, can surely detect a lie from the truth?’ Eadulf said.

The tavern-keeper grinned modestly. ‘That is true. Take Ordan for example …’

‘Ordan?’ Fidelma frowned. ‘Ordan of Rathordan?’

‘Himself, no less,’ nodded Aona. ‘He is a frequent traveller between here and the country of the Uí Fidgente and Luachra. When he came here the other afternoon—’

‘When was this?’ Fidelma interrupted.

‘It was three days ago. He arrived about midday.’

‘But that was the day of the assassination attempt,’ Eadulf said. ‘Midday? Don’t you mean midnight?’

‘I may be old but I still know the difference between midday and midnight,’ chided Aona.

‘Go on,’ Fidelma said with a warning look at Eadulf. ‘You were saying … ?’

Aona cleared his throat, took a sip of his corma and then continued: ‘Well, he arrived at midday saying that he had come from Uí Fidgente country. He wanted a meal and he took his time about it. I had the impression …’ He seemed to ponder.

‘You had the impression?’ prompted Fidelma.

‘I might be wrong but I thought he was very preoccupied. You know what a vain man Ordan is, full of bombast and stories. That was why I mentioned him, because of his usual gossip and storytelling. Well, this day he was as quiet as a lamb. He was sitting over there.’ Aona pointed to a dark corner by the window.

Fidelma glanced across. ‘Not by your fire? These are cold days and often raining, when a fire’s warmth is welcome.’