Chalice of Blood by Peter Tremayne Read Free Book Online Page A

warrior.
    ‘We shall,’ affirmed Fidelma.
    Eadulf noted that his horse had been exchanged for a roan-coloured cob with a luxuriant mane and tail. It was a powerful and muscular animal, well-proportioned and with a proud head. But at least the breed was known for its docile and willing nature, Eadulf thought thankfully. As they mounted, Colgú suddenly appeared with Caol, the commander of his bodyguard, at his side to wish them good fortune.
    ‘Remember that this is an important matter.’ Colgú’s tone was soft but serious as he addressed his sister. ‘Brother Donnchad was recently back from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and his brethren stood in awe of him, regarding him almost as a saint. That he should be killed in this mysterious manner is likely to cause alarm and dissension throughout the entire kingdom, if not beyond.’
    ‘You know me well enough, brother. I treat all matters involving unnatural death as important,’ Fidelma replied quietly, looking down at him.
    ‘I do not doubt it,’ returned Colgú, ‘but truly, Brother Donnchad was no ordinary scholar. He has walked on the ground where the Christ has stepped and preached. That makes him venerated throughout the kingdom.’
    ‘I understand, brother,’ Fidelma assured him. With a quick lifting of her hand, she set off through the gates of the palace. Eadulf and Gormán urged their horses after her.
    They trotted down the slope that led into the township nestling
in the shadow of the grey walls that rose on the great limestone outcrop. For a while, until they were well beyond the township, they did not travel at more than a walking pace, nor did they engage in any conversation. Then on the open road beyond, Fidelma urged her grey into a quick trot. She was riding her favourite horse, a gift from her brother bought from a Gaulish horse trader. She called it Aonbharr, ‘the supreme one’, after the magical horse of Manannán mac Lir, the ocean god, which could run across sea or land and could not be killed by man or god. It was an ancient breed, short neck, upright shoulders and body, slight hindquarters with a long mane and tail. The Gauls and even the Romans had bred the type for battle. It had a calm temperament, displayed intelligence and, more importantly, had agility and stamina. It could easily outrun the cobs rode by Eadulf and Gormán.
    Fidelma and Eadulf had not talked further of their quarrel or the matter that had led to it since the previous day and both felt, in their own ways, grateful for Gormán’s presence, which restricted a return to any such conversation. Eadulf was happy to examine the countryside as they took the main highway running south towards the distant mountain ranges, which stood as a barrier between the plain of Cashel and the abbey of Lios Mór. They passed several disused fortresses that had once guarded the ancient highway; each of them had names, such as the rath of blackthorns or Aongus’ rath . The most impressive of these forts, in Eadulf’s opinion, rose on a great mound called the Hill of Rafon. Fidelma had pointed it out on several previous occasions when they had passed it. She did so with an air of pride because, she had told him, it was the former seat of the Eóghanacht kings of Muman, a place where they had been inaugurated and took the oath of kingship in ancient times, before they transferred their capital to Cashel.
    By trotting and cantering over the flat plain they made good
time in reaching the banks of the broad River Siúr where a settlement had risen around the ancient fortress appropriately named Cathair, the stone fort. Just south of here, Eadulf recalled, were caves in the limestone cliffs overlooking the river, in which he and Fidelma had sheltered on a journey back from the far west. It was there that he had been worried about Fidelma’s depressive moods following the birth of Alchú. And here the old road turned slightly to the south-east, following the banks of the Siúr towards the