Chalice of Blood by Peter Tremayne Read Free Book Online

bed. I will go to the stables to look at your animal. We have several horses that can replace it if it is not suitable.’

    They rose together and Fidelma went to the door and opened it. She paused and suddenly turned with a quick smile.
    ‘I am glad that you are coming with me,’ she said softly.
     
    For the first time in weeks Eadulf felt happy. He realised that he felt comfortable, at ease, being back in the familiar apartments they had shared for so long. He had a momentary feeling of having come home. That was stupid, he reminded himself. Cashel was not his home. Yet there was no denying how he felt. He regretted the argument that he had had with Fidelma, which had developed out of proportion to what he had wanted to say to her. Yet once heated words were exchanged, matters seemed to be out of his control. In the years he had been with Fidelma he had come to realise that she would never do what she did not want to do, what she thought was wrong. He regretted his attempt to make her do so. He had felt contrition for his action almost from the moment he left Cashel.
    What had it all been about?
    Pride, he supposed. He had never fully accepted that he was not considered equal in law with Fidelma in her own land. He had once been an hereditary gerefa , son of a magistrate of his own people, the Angles, and Fidelma would not have been considered his equal in the land of the South Folk, had they settled there. He had known this long before he entered into a relationship with her and had been happy to make the decision that they would settle in her brother’s kingdom. But that pride, that resentment, had become a small quibbling voice at the back of his mind. He had begun to think that if they retreated into some religious community where all were regarded as equal, this would resolve matters.
    Of course it would not. He should have known that better than anyone. Fidelma was not a person to be constrained in any community with rules and regulations. How many times had
he seen her chaff against such confines when she encountered them? And he had been trying to confine her. That was stupid. He just hoped it was not too late to make amends.
    He turned towards the door that led to little Alchú’s room with a lighter heart than he had felt for a long time. He was looking forward to seeing his son again – their son.

CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    T he white light that heralded dawn had only just begun to spread over the jagged tops of the eastern hills when Fidelma and Eadulf came into the courtyard at Cashel. The stable lads were patiently waiting with their horses, already saddled for the journey. They were surprised, however, to find the young warrior, Gormán, also there, with his horse saddled and obviously prepared for a long journey. Gormán was a warrior of the Nasc Niadh, the warriors of the golden collar, élite bodyguards to the kings of Muman. He was also the son of Fidelma’s friend, Della, a former be taide, or prostitute, who lived in the township beneath the Rock of Cashel on which the palace of the Eóghanacht rulers was situated. Fidelma had successfully defended both Della and Gormán from accusations of murder. Gormán had become one of Cashel’s most trusted warriors and had shared several adventures with Fidelma and Eadulf.
    ‘Where are you off to?’ Eadulf asked after they had greeted one another.
    ‘Off to Lios Mór with you,’ grinned Gormán before turning to Fidelma. ‘The King, your brother, lady, has instructed me to accompany you and put myself at your service,’ he explained.
    For a moment, a frown crossed her face. Then she dismissed
the objection that had sprung to her mind, realising that Gormán was never intrusive and often helpful in their quests.
    ‘Very well, we have a long ride ahead and I would like to be in the abbey of Lios Mór before nightfall.’
    ‘Shall we go directly by way of the Rian Bó Phádraig, the old highway that takes us across the mountains?’ queried the