The Seventh Trumpet by Peter Tremayne Read Free Book Online

identity before the burial – especially as he seems to belong to the nobility,’ Eadulf observed.
    ‘But that will take time, and we cannot leave him unburied,’ Fidelma argued. ‘It is a practical matter.’
    Eadulf acknowledged that she was right. He bent to rearrange the clothing on the corpse. Suddenly, he withdrew his hand, uttering an exclamation, and put his fingers to his mouth.
    ‘What is it?’ Fidelma demanded.
    ‘Something sharp,’ he replied. ‘A prick from a splinter, probably.’ He knelt to find out what it was that had hurt him. Something was protruding from the sword sheath. ‘Curious,’ he muttered. ‘It’s a broken piece of wood in its own little leather sheath, tied to the sword belt.’
    Fidelma carefully unhooked the small leather sheath and removed the broken piece of wood. It was a short wand of white wood – rowan, she thought. The top had been snapped off but there was some evidence of gold binding on the lower part.
    She breathed out sharply as she recognised it.
    ‘Does that mean something to you?’ Eadulf queried, seeing her expression.
    ‘It means that this man was an envoy or of equivalent rank,’ she said. ‘Not only was he wearing a brooch with the emblem of the Uí Máil, the Kings of Laigin, but he was carrying the wand of office of an envoy. Sometimes even chieftains of high rank carry such wands to proclaim their office.’
    Eadulf knew that this was the custom of Fidelma’s people. He also knew that, under the law, the life of a herald or an ambassador was inviolate, even during warfare. Neither harm nor injury could be visited on such an official for, if harm was done, blood feuds could carry from one generation to another until reparation was made. It was a heinous crime, and the punishment for the perpetrator was great.
    Gormán, who had been standing a short distance away with Enda holding their horses, now took a step forward, having overheard the conversation.
    ‘But what would an envoy from the King of Laigin be doing alone and on foot in this place?’
    ‘That’s a good question, Gormán’, Fidelma said. ‘One that needs an answer, and very soon. It seems inconceivable that such a noble or an ambassador was travelling alone here on foot in the darkness. That is why I was looking at the muddy banks of this stream. I am afraid our horses must have obliterated any signs of tracks at this point. So, if this ambassador came here on horseback, which way would he have come?’
    The question was addressed to Tóla. The farmer immediately pointed to the west.
    ‘This stream flows into the great river, the Suir, not far from here. As you know, lady, this crossing is usually used only by local people who travel on the track along the east bank of the river and then turn inland along this stream to cross at this ford and continue their journey to Cashel. From the east, there would be no reason to come in this direction since there is a good highway there which leads all the way to Cashel.’
    ‘So if this man came from the Suir, he could have ridden down along the eastern bank to turn along this stream to cross here on his way to Cashel?’ asked Eadulf.
    ‘That presents other questions,’ interposed Gormán after Tóla had agreed. ‘A man of this elevated rank would surely have an entourage or a companion and, as such, would have taken the main highway where there are hostels for such travellers. So he would have followed the road to the east of here, not the west.’
    ‘Whichever way he came, lady,’ Tóla said, ‘the paths to this point from both west and east are on my farmlands, and my livestock wander freely. The mud is always turned, as you see. I doubt whether you could trace any individual horses along it. And as you said, lady, why would an ambassador, on his own or with an entourage, be coming through this place after nightfall?’
    Fidelma suddenly let out an exclamation which caused everyone to start. ‘What a fool I am!’ She turned to Tóla.