Atonement of Blood(37)

‘Indeed, lady. Usually Ordan would make himself comfortable on a chair before the hearth and be talking non-stop. But that day he went and sat over there alone while I remained at the fire.’

‘So?’ Fidelma prompted again when he paused to take another swallow from his beaker.

‘He had eaten his meal and was having a drink when another traveller came in. He was difficult to place for he wore a long cloak and was hooded. I know he arrived on horseback, because Adag went to tend to it. The traveller asked for corma and went to sit just there, between the fire and near where Ordan was sitting.’

‘You saw nothing by which you could identify this man?’

Aona shook his head.

‘Was his cloak of good material; and what of his boots?’ asked Eadulf, meeting Fidelma’s nod of approval.

‘Ah, I see. His cloak was of heavy wool. It was a good weave, edged with beaver fur and doubtless expensive. He kept the hood covering his face. The cloak was tightly pinned with something … now, what was it? Ah, I have it. A polished bronze brooch. I can’t remember the pattern, but I know it kept the cloak so tight around him that I could not see what manner of clothes he was wearing beneath. The boots I noticed were of treated leather and appeared well-made.’

‘Are you suggesting that Ordan might have been waiting for this person?’ Fidelma asked.

Aona shrugged. ‘I can’t swear it was so, lady.’

‘Yet you felt it? Did they speak to one another?’

‘No more than a curt acknowledgement as the man entered. The sort of greeting strangers give when they confront one another in a confined space.’

‘But you’re not convinced?’ Fidelma said, picking up on the intonation of the tavern-keeper.

‘Funny thing – the newcomer asked me to make sure that Adag was looking after his horse correctly. I assured him he would be well cared for, but he insisted that I go to check. On my way back, I thought I heard quiet voices, but no – when I re-entered, the stranger and Ordan were still sitting in the same places. Some time later, the stranger rose, made his farewell, collected his horse and left.’

‘Do you recall what his horse looked like?’ Eadulf asked suddenly.

The old inn-keeper looked surprised for a moment but then said: ‘As a matter of fact, I do. It was grey in colour with white legs above the hocks. Even young Adag remarked on it, as it was the sort of hunter that a noble would ride.’

Eadulf smiled in satisfaction. ‘So the stranger left. What did Ordan do?’

‘That was what puzzled me. He stayed here, sipping at his ale until it began to grow dark and then he demanded another meal, it being so late. It was not until near midnight that he rose to pay his dues and said he would travel on to Cashel. I asked, was it wise to travel on during darkness? After all, I saw that his wagon was heavily laden with goods and it is not unknown for merchants to have been waylaid and robbed at the bridge over the River Suir on the road that leads to Cashel. There are some wild youths among the Múscraige Breogain who dwell in that area.’

‘And what was his answer?’ prompted Eadulf after the tavern-keeper hesitated.

‘He did not seem worried. He said that he was under the protection of the King’s warriors and that no one would dare molest him.’

‘It is true that Ordan often carries a banner on his wagon.’ Gormán spoke for the first time. ‘It is a symbol of the Nasc Niadh which he uses to frighten any would-be robbers.’ He added with a smile of pride: ‘Often, it works – for the warriors of the Golden Collar have a reputation.’

‘Indeed,’ nodded Aona. ‘That’s what I mean. The fat merchant often boasts of his personal friendship with the King of Cashel and how well-protected by the Nasc Niadh he is. Of course, it is all arrogance. Tall tales.’

Fidelma wore a thoughtful expression. ‘You say that he was heading with his wagon for the bridge across the River Suir?’

‘That was the peculiar thing,’ the innkeeper replied, scratching his head. ‘He said that he would go by a safer route, away from the bridge. He had decided to go south and cross by the Ford of the Ass.’

‘That is a longer route,’ Gormán pointed out. ‘And you say it was near midnight when he left?’

‘How far south of the bridge is it to the Ford of the Ass?’ asked Fidelma.

‘It is quite a distance from the main track, lady. It would add extra time on one’s journey and in a heavy wagon …’ The warrior shrugged.

‘But it would explain why Ordan was crossing the Ford of the Ass and picked up the girl, arriving in Cashel before dawn,’ observed Eadulf.