The Subtle Serpent by Peter Tremayne Page B

have known this.’
    Brother Febal’s eyes darted quickly to Fidelma.
    ‘We see a sample of your deductive powers, sister,’ he said in a warm tone. ‘All my lords ask is that you use your talent fairly in finding the culprit. Res in cardine est.’
    Fidelma had begun to feel very irritated at what she saw was the patronising tone of the brother. She was also irked by his questionable Latin tags. To say that ‘the matter is on a door hinge’ was to imply that Fidelma would work out the truth soon enough. But he had prefaced his remark with a deliberate insult and she decided to take issue with Brother Febal’s suggestion that she would not undertake the investigation fairly.
    ‘The validity of my oath as an advocate of the courts of the five kingdoms has never been questioned before,’ she replied waspishly.
    Olcán immediately reached forward and laid a consoling hand on her arm.

    ‘My dear sister, I think Brother Febal badly phrased his words. I believe that he merely wishes to express concern at this matter. Indeed, Adnár and I are very concerned. After all, the murder happened in the territory of Adnár, so you will agree that it is right for him, as magistrate, to show disquietude. Adnár’s allegiance is to my father, Gulban, whose interests I am forced to represent. Therefore, I also share his apprehension.’
    Fidelma sighed inwardly. She knew that sometimes she could give way too easily to her prickly ire.
    ‘Of course,’ she responded, forcing herself to smile briefly. ‘Yet I am merely jealous of my reputation when it comes to judgments and the law.’
    ‘We are happy to leave the matter in your capable hands,’ Olcán agreed. ‘I am sure Brother Febal regrets if his words were ill-chosen … ?’
    Brother Febal smiled ingratiatingly.
    ‘ Peccavi ,’ he said, placing his hand on his heart, expressing in Latin that he had sinned. Fidelma did not bother to answer him.
    Olcán glossed the awkward moment.
    ‘Now, let us to other matters. Is this your first visit to this land of Beara?’
    Fidelma confessed it was, for she had never been to the peninsula before.
    ‘It is a beautiful place, even in the throes of winter. It is a land of the primal beginnings of our people,’ enthused Olcan. ‘Did you know that this is the shore where the sons of Mil, the first of the Gaels, landed? Where Amairgen the Druid promised the three goddesses of the Dé Danaan, Banba, Fodhla and Eire, that the country would forever bear their names?’
    Fidelma was suddenly amused at the young man’s enthusiasm for his native territory.
    ‘Perhaps when I am finished here I shall be able to see something more of this land of yours,’ she replied solemnly.
    ‘Then I will be delighted to accompany you,’ offered Olcán. ‘Why, from the side of the mountain behind us, I can point out the distant island where the god of death, Donn, gathered the souls of the departed to transport them in his great black ship to the west, to the Otherworld. Adnár also has much knowledge of the local history. Isn’t that so, Adnár?’
    The chieftain bowed his head in stiff acknowledgment.
    ‘As Olcán says, should you wish to see the ancient sites of this land, we would be pleased to offer you our company as guides.’
    ‘I shall look forward to that,’ agreed Fidelma, for she did have a great fascination for the ancient legends of her land. ‘But now I should be returning to the abbey to continue my investigation.’
    She rose from the table and they reluctantly rose with her.
    Olcán placed his hand familiarly under Fidelma’s elbow and guided her from the feasting hall. Brother Febal seemed content to reseat himself and continue his meal without a gesture of farewell while Adnár quickly followed them.
    ‘It has been good to meet with you, Fidelma,’ Olcán said, as they came out on to the steps, pausing for a moment. ‘It is sad, however, that this meeting has been precipitated by such a terrible event.’ The view of the