Peter Tremayne - Valley of the Shadow

A tall, fair-haired warrior, standing by the gate, held up his hand in respectful greeting.

‘You have returned without your escort but with two strangers, Orla. Is anything amiss?’

‘I am escorting the emissary from Cashel to my brother, Rudgal. Artgal and the others will follow soon. There was … was a matter they had to investigate.’

The fair warrior’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as his glance fell first on Fidelma and then on Eadulf. But he stood aside respectfully while Orla led the way through the gates into a large flagged courtyard surrounded by a large complex of buildings. The square was traditional with a large oak tree growing in its centre. Eadulf was now observant enough about custom to know that the tree was the crann betha, the tree of life, or totem of the clan. Eadulf knew that the tree symbolised the moral and material well-being of the people. If disputes arose between opposing clans that one of the worst things that could happen was that the rival clan raided the other clan’s territory to cut down or burn their rival’s sacred tree. Such an act demoralised the clan and caused their rivals to claim victory over them.

Two young boys came running forward as Orla slid from her horse.

‘The stable lads will take your horses,’ Orla announced as Fidelma and Eadulf followed her example and dismounted. The boys took the reins from them while they unstrapped their saddle bags.

‘I presume you will want to refresh yourselves from the arduous journey before you meet my brother and the others?’ the wife of the tanist continued. ‘I will show you to our guests’ hostel. After you have bathed and eaten, my brother Laisre will doubtless want to greet you in the council chamber.’

Fidelma indicated that arrangement suited them well. One or two people crossing the courtyard of the ráth greeted Orla and thenturned their gaze on Fidelma and Eadulf with undisguised interest. Orla made no attempt to explain who they were. A young girl came running forward.

‘What brings you back so early, Mother?’ she demanded. ‘Who are these strangers?’

Fidelma could see the likeness between Orla and the girl immediately. The girl was about fourteen, not much more. Her manner of dress and jewellery showed that she was past the age of choice in that she was regarded as an adult. She had her mother’s dark, abundantly curly hair and flashing eyes. In spite of her youth she was attractive and aware of her allure for she carried herself with a coquettish self-aware attitude.

Orla greeted her daughter with absent-minded distance.

‘Who are these Christians, Mother?’ insisted the girl, obviously recognising their manner of dress. ‘Are they prisoners?’

Orla frowned slightly and shook her head.

‘They are emissaries from Cashel, Esnad. Guests of your uncle. Now be off with you. Plenty of time to greet them later.’

The young girl, Esnad, turned an openly speculative gaze on Eadulf.

‘That one is foreign but quite handsome for a foreigner,’ she ventured with a flirtatious expression.

Fidelma tried to hide her amusement while Eadulf blushed furiously.

‘Esnad!’ snapped her mother in irritation. ‘Be off!’

The girl turned with a backward smile at Eadulf and walked slowly across the courtyard, her hips swaying slightly suggestively. Orla heaved a sigh of exasperation.

‘Your daughter is at the age of choice?’ observed Fidelma.

Orla nodded.

‘It is hard to find a husband for her. I fear that she has her own ideas. She is a trial, that one.’

She continued on, leading them to a large two-storey building set against one of the outer walls of the ráth. Orla opened the door and stood aside.

‘I will send the hostel keeper to you and, when you are refreshed, she will bring you to Laisre’s chamber.’

She inclined her head briefly to Fidelma and then left them to their own devices.

In the security of the main room of the guests’ hostel, a room where the guests obviously ate and where meals were prepared, Fidelma threw her saddle bags on to the table and sank into the nearest chair, giving a deep sigh of exhaustion.

‘I have spent too long on horseback, Eadulf,’ she remarked. ‘I have forgotten what it is to relax in a chair.’

Eadulf glanced around at the accommodation. It was a comfortably decorated room with a fire already lit above which a cooking pot was steaming and emitting pleasant aromas.

‘At least Laisre’s guests seem well provided for,’ he muttered. The room stretched the entire length of the building and there was a long table with benches on either side and a couple of more elaborate wooden chairs. This was obviously the dining area. At the far end, by the fire, were all the accoutrements for cooking. There were four doors leading to other rooms on the lower level. Eadulf put down his saddle bags and crossed to them, taking a quick look inside.

‘Two bathing rooms,’ he announced. He opened the other doors, grunted in disgust and crossed himself. ‘The others are the fialtech. ’ The Irish term came easily to him for the ‘veil house’ was a colloquialism for a privy and had been picked up from the Roman concept. Many religious believed that the Devil dwelt within the privy and it had become the custom to make the sign of the cross before entering it.

A wooden staircase led to the upper level. Here Eadulf found there were four small rooms, cell-like affairs. He peered into each one in turn, noticing the wooden cots already laid out with their straw mattresses, woollen blankets and linen sheets. After a moment or so he retraced his steps downstairs to where Fidelma was still stretched in her chair.

‘There seems to be two other guests,’ he observed. ‘Rich guests by the look of their baggage in the cubicles. And one is obviously a cleric.’

Fidelma looked up in surprise.

‘I was not told to expect anyone else at this meeting. Who could it be?’

‘Perhaps Bishop Ségdae has sent some other cleric to represent him and the abbey?’ hazarded Eadulf.

‘Hardly likely since he concurred with Colgú’s delegation of me. No, no cleric from Imleach would come here.’

Eadulf gave a shrug.

‘Didn’t the woman, Orla, say that Ultan of Armagh had sent an emissary to them? Well, we shall know soon enough who the cleric is and who his companion is. We …’

He was cut short when the door of the hostel burst open and a portly, elderly woman bustled in. She wore a beaming smile and walked with a rapid gait, hands folded in front of her. Shebobbed swiftly towards Fidelma and then made a similar obeisance to Eadulf. Her eyes twinkled from beneath deep folds of flesh. She seemed almost spherical in girth.

‘Are you the hostel keeper?’ asked Eadulf, regarding her with slight awe, for she seemed to fill the room with her presence.

‘That I am, stranger. I bid you welcome. Tell me how may I serve you?’

‘A bath,’ Fidelma requested immediately. ‘And then …’

‘Food,’ interposed Eadulf, in case she neglected his order of preference.

The wreaths of flesh quivered.

‘A bath you shall have and that immediately, lady. Since we already have guests, the water is even now heated. And there is food ready to be served.’

Fidelma rose and indicated her satisfaction.

‘Then proceed to draw a bath for me … what is your name?’

The hostel keeper bobbed again towards her.

‘I am called Cruinn, lady.’

Fidelma tried hard to keep a straight face for the name implied one who was round and the name certainly fitted the circular shape of the hostel keeper. The woman stood smiling, apparently unaware of the struggle taking place to mask her features.

‘Tell me, Cruinn,’ Eadulf intervened, catching Fidelma’s eye and distracting the woman in case Fidelma lost her struggle, ‘who is staying in the hostel with us?’