Without waiting for an answer, Conrí clapped his hands and an attendant appeared and began to pour drinks as they made themselves comfortable. Socht took up a position at the side of his chieftain’s chair of office.
Fidelma did not feel like recounting how they were robbed, but Conrí was already moving on to other things as he sat relaxing with his drink.
‘When did we first meet?’ he mused.
‘Three years ago, as I recall, when we were dealing with those terrible murders at Rath Raithlen,’ Fidelma reminded him.
For a moment a shadow crossed Conrí’s face. ‘Indeed. When my brother, Dea, and his men were slaughtered. Had you not shown that the Cinél na Áeda were innocent of their deaths then another war might have erupted between our people.’ He sighed, then waved his hand around the hall. ‘Now you are welcome as a guest to my home. As I told you three years ago, we are a small impoverished people who now labour under the yoke of defeat. My fortress does not resemble the grand palace of Cashel but, such as it is, you are welcome to its hospitality.’
‘We are on our way to Dún Eochair Mháigh, but our journey was delayed by the storm. Now it grows dark, so we will accept your hospitality with gratitude.’
‘You have but to ask, and if it is in our power, then you shall have it. We hope we may provide entertainment even for a noble warrior of the Nasc Niadh,’ smiled Conrí, glancing towards Gormán.
‘There is little of nobility in my blood,’ grunted Gormán, who was not convinced that any noble of the Uí Fidgente was worthy of courtesy.
‘Then, my friend, the fact that you are of the Nasc Niadh must be proof of your nobility in other ways,’ Conrí said smoothly.
Gormán’s hand went automatically to his neck where the golden collar of the élite warriors of Cashel should have been adorning him. He frowned: was there some hidden meaning to the smile that the action drew from Conrí?
‘The Ford of Oaks is a beautiful spot, Conrí,’ Fidelma said hurriedly, sensing the tension from Gormán. ‘And your house is elegant. Do not denigrate it. Better to wake with the aroma of wood around you than cold and soulless stone. Don’t you agree, Eadulf?’
Eadulf had been lost in his own thoughts and now started at the prompt that Fidelma had given him.
‘Eh? Oh – oh, yes.’ He managed to find the memory of the last remarks. ‘I was brought up in a wood-built house in a similar situation to this. It too was a small settlement by the side of a river. My father was the gerefa – a bó-aire, you call it here and—’
‘So you see,’ Fidelma cut into Eadulf’s sudden burst of nostalgia, ‘it is not everyone who has to endure being raised in a stone palace. It is better to be among the perfumes of wood and the scents of the countryside.’
‘I would agree with you, lady,’ Conrí said pleasantly, ‘but I think Eadulf has something on his mind that is preoccupying him.’
Fidelma turned to Eadulf with a question on her features.
‘It was something Socht said when he met us on the road,’ Eadulf mused.
Conrí’s smile broadened. ‘Which was?’ he invited.
‘He said that he had been waiting patiently for us. I was not sure that I had heard him correctly. Sometimes, my use of your language lacks subtlety. But now I reflect on it … yes, that is what he said. If that was so, how did he know that we would be on that road?’
Fidelma realised that Eadulf was right and that she, of all people, had overlooked the meaning of that innuendo.
Conrí glanced up at Socht and it seemed they were exchanging a silent joke. Then he turned back to them.
‘Well, to be honest, we did not know where you would turn up. I had sent riders south to Dún Eochair Mháigh as the most likely place that you would head for. I had entirely forgotten that the Abbey of Mungairit might be another natural place for you to make your goal.’
Fidelma was looking bewildered. ‘But how did you even know that I was in the territory of the Uí Fidgente?’ she asked.
‘You must forgive me, lady – and forgive me, friend Eadulf. I was enjoying the superiority of confusing you. Indeed, Fidelma, I was hoping that you would solve the mystery so that you might add another story to your fame as one from whom it is impossible to hide a secret.’
Fidelma was growing irritable but tried to disguise it. ‘In this case, I have little enough information to present a solution to your conundrum, Conrí.’
‘Then I will show you.’ The warlord clapped his hands for his attendants again. Fidelma and her companions rose and followed him to a table at one side of the hall. The top was covered with a large linen sheet and it was clear there were objects underneath. The attendants hurried forward and, at a nod from Conrí, they grasped the cloth, removing it from the table and revealing the items that had been concealed from them.