Peter Tremayne - The Seventh Trumpet

Colgú’s smile seemed more of a painful grimace. ‘I did not think it merely a prurient enquiry.’ He paused for a few moments and then sighed deeply. ‘She will remain at Gabrán. There will be no wedding at Cashel, if that is what you mean.’

Fidelma regarded her brother sadly. His shoulders were slightly hunched as if a great weight had descended on him.

‘Is it because her mother was Lady Étain that you felt you could not go through with the marriage?’ she asked. ‘The madness that she was possessed of is not necessarily something that would be inherited.’

Her brother regarded her for a moment as if trying to peer into her innermost thoughts. Then he said, ‘It is not her relationship with Étain of An Dún that was the problem.’

‘Not that? Then what? From what we have discovered, it seems that she was not in the conspiracy with Ailill.’

‘We shall never know for certain,’ Colgú replied. ‘However, it was in your mind, wasn’t it? When Eadulf told us Étain’s last words — “my daughter” — she was expressing her fear for her daughter and not of her daughter … I think you knew.’

‘But I said it meant Étain feared for her daughter’s safety if Ailill’s ambition was fulfilled.’

‘That was said to spare my feelings,’ Colgú said. ‘I am not as stupid as you think, Fidelma. Étain was afraid because she knew Dúnliath was in love with Ailill.’

Fidelma had suspected this; however, she had hoped, for the sake of her brother’s happiness, that Colgú was unaware of it. Fidelma had wanted to spare him more hurt and bitterness.

‘We shall never know,’ she said now. ‘You are rejecting her merely on the basis of suspicion.’

‘A suspicion I could live with. But I would not be able to ignore the fact that she is bearing Ailill’s child.’ The words were spoken flatly.

For the first time in her life Fidelma felt a sense of utter shock. She swallowed hard. ‘I had no idea,’ she whispered.

‘Now you do surprise me,’ Colgú commented, trying to regain a sense of grim humour but sounding only more bitter. ‘My astute, sagacious sister, I thought you knew everything. I thought that you were infallible. How could you, so shrewd, have missed that point? Remember this, sister, that the child she gives birth to will also be an Eóghanacht. Ailill’s father was Mánach, King of Cashel, after our father died. One day, who knows, we may have to watch Gabrán for gathering stormclouds if ambition stirs in the child.’

Fidelma felt a wave of sadness for her brother and did not rise to the taunts he made. He was like a small child, striking out from his hurt emotions.

‘Were you that much in love with her?’ she asked softly. When her brother did not answer, she said: ‘I thought so. Then out of that love, could nothing be repaired?’

‘And the child?’ His voice was harsh.

‘Fosterage is the tradition of our people,’ she pointed out. ‘A child’s love and affiliation is nurtured.’

Colgú answered her with a bark of angry laughter. ‘Truly, sister, you are known for finding a saying to match every occasion. I’ll give you one. Don’t our hunters say — what do you expect from a pregnant wolf but its cub ?’