Atonement of Blood(9)

‘No, lady,’ replied Enda. ‘Caol has placed me here to watch. I am sorry to disturb you.’

‘You did not,’ replied Eadulf, lighting the candle from the lamp. ‘Good night.’ He went back into their chamber with a nod towards the warrior and shut the door behind him.

‘Caol is obviously worried that this assassin might not have been acting alone,’ mused Fidelma, sinking back onto the bed while Eadulf placed the candle to give the best advantage of its dim, flickering light.

‘He is cautious, and rightly so,’ agreed Eadulf as he poured two goblets of wine and brought them to the bed. ‘It is always best to be on guard until we know all the facts.’

‘And we can’t begin to gather the facts until it is lighter,’ Fidelma sighed. ‘Is that what you are thinking?’

‘There is truth in that. The answer does seem to lie in discovering who Liamuin is or was, and why she should be remembered by Colgú at the hour in which this assassin intended his death. We were speaking of ancestry a moment ago. Is there anyone in your ancestry who bore that name?’

Fidelma drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them.

‘I do not think so.’ Then she raised her head with a gasp. ‘How foolish! Wasn’t Liamuin the name of one of the five sisters of the Blessed Patrick? Wasn’t she the mother of Sechnall? Sechnall the poet who wrote that famous song about Patrick?’

‘Audite, omnes amantes Deum …’ intoned Eadulf, remembering the opening of the song. ‘Sancta merita viri in Christo beati Patrici Episcopi … Listen, all you lovers of God, to the holy qualities of Bishop Patrick, a saintly man in Christ …’

His voice died away as a thought struck him. ‘Do you think this attack might have had some religious connection? Is not the feast day of Blessed Sechnall the day after tomorrow?’

Fidelma pursed her lips, pausing for a second before shaking her head. ‘These are traditions of the North and of the Middle Kingdom, Midhe. What quarrel would Colgú have had about the mother of the Blessed Sechnall of Midhe?’

‘There is conflict enough between the Abbeys of Imleach and Ard Macha about Ard Macha’s claims that its abbot should be chief among the bishops of the Five Kingdoms,’ Eadulf pointed out.

Fidelma shrugged. ‘That is purely an argument between the religious. Anyway, apart from the mother of Sechnall, there must be other women bearing the name Liamuin, although I can’t remember anyone else so called. But it is too early to say.’

‘Let us be practical then,’ Eadulf said. ‘The cry was meant to mean something to your brother, so he must hold the answer to this mystery. Let us hope …’ He paused in embarrassment before he hurried on. ‘When he is better, the question must be put to him.’

Fidelma was quiet for a moment before agreeing. ‘You are right and I shall put it to him as soon as I can. I was thinking,’ she went on, then sighed. ‘I believe the point Luan made is worth following when it is light.’

‘You think the assassin stayed somewhere in the town while it was raining and then came up to the palace after the rain stopped?’

‘Exactly so. If he rode to Cashel he must have found a place to stable his horse and change his clothes. If he was not a religieux then the clothes might offer a clue to his identity. But did he stay at an inn, or was he given shelter by a fellow conspirator?’

‘Let us hope we can resolve the mystery.’

Eadulf glanced towards the window, where the sky was rapidly getting lighter, and blew out the candle. There were already the faint sounds of movement throughout the palace. Eadulf stretched and yawned. It was going to be a long day.

It was still early when Brother Conchobhar met Fidelma and Eadulf outside the doors that led into Colgú’s private apartments. Two of Cashel’s élite warriors stood on guard outside. They were Dego and Aidan, and both were well known to Fidelma and Eadulf. Their faces were set.

‘What news?’ asked Fidelma immediately as the apothecary came forward.

‘He is conscious but in some pain. It has been a bad night but there is little fever, thank God.’

‘Can he speak?’

The old man looked troubled. ‘I’d rather he did not exert himself. The wound is deep and he needs stillness and tranquillity.’

‘One question,’ Fidelma pressed, after a moment. ‘That’s all I’ll ask and then no more.’

Brother Conchobhar had known both Fidelma and her brother Colgú since they were babies. Even before they were born, he had served their father Failbhe Flann when the latter had ruled Muman. He had been with King Failbhe when he died. The elderly physician realised that Fidelma would not insist unless the question was absolutely necessary.