Free Act of Mercy by Peter Tremayne

for him later. He told me that he would see me again when I had something to give him. So far, I have not seen him again.’
    There was a contemplative silence in the cabin.
    ‘What if there had been pilgrims aboard?’ asked Sister Gormán fearfully.
    Murchad did not bother to reply. Finally Sister Ainder said: ‘God be praised it was not a question that had to be answered.’
    There came the sound of a cry from on deck. It made them all start nervously.
    ‘Ah.’ Murchad rose abruptly. ‘Have no fear. It is only a warning that the wind is changing. You will forgive me – I must return to my duties. If you have any questions about the running of this ship and the rules which you must obey, ask them of young Wenbrit here. The lad has spent most of his life on shipboard and he is my right hand in the care of passengers.’
    He clapped the boy on the shoulder and young Wenbrit ventured a slightly self-conscious smile as the captain left to go on deck.
    Fidelma, to avoid the inevitable conversation with Cian until she had time to think about matters, turned to the young religieux seated next to her.
    ‘And are you all come from the same abbey?’ she opened conversationally.
    The one introduced as Brother Dathal, a slim, fair-haired youth, swallowed his cupful of wine before replying.
    ‘Brother Adamrae,’ he gestured to his equally young companion, ‘and I are from the Abbey of Bangor. But most of our companions are from the Abbey of Moville, which lies not far from Bangor.’

    ‘They are both in the Kingdom of Ulaidh, I believe,’ Fidelma observed.
    ‘That is so. In the sub-kingdom of the Dál Fiatach,’ replied Brother Adamrae, who had red hair and was covered in freckles. His cold blue eyes sparkled like water on a hot summer’s day. He was as quiet as his companion was effervescent in spirit.
    ‘What attracts you to the Holy Shrine of St James?’ she continued, fully aware that Cian was awaiting an opportunity to engage her in conversation.
    ‘We are scriptores, ’ explained Brother Adamrae in his mournful voice.
    Brother Dathal, who in contrast spoke in a high-pitched, rather squeaky tone, added, ‘We are compiling a history of our people in ancient times. That is why we go to Iberia.’
    Fidelma was listening distractedly. ‘I am not sure that I understand the connection,’ she said politely. At that moment she was concentrating on how she was going to deal with Cian and was not giving the matter of what Dathal was saying much thought.
    Brother Dathal leaned towards her and waggled his knife before her in mock admonition.
    ‘Surely, Sister Fidelma, you must be aware of the origin of our people?’
    Fidelma brought her gaze abruptly back to him and thought hard, suddenly realising what he meant.
    ‘Oh yes – you were talking about Bregon’s Tower to the captain. Are you interested in the old legend about the origin of our people?’
    ‘Old legend?’ snapped Dathal’s ruddy-faced companion. ‘It is history!’ He raised his mournful voice and intoned:

    ‘Eight sons had Golamh of the Shouts,
Who was also called Mile of Spain …’

    Fidelma interrupted before he could continue.
    ‘I do know the story, Brother Adamrae. It does not tell me why you go to the Holy Shrine of St James. Surely that has nothing to do with Golamh and the origin of the Children of the Gael?’
    Brother Dathal was indulgent yet still enthusiastic.
    ‘We go because we are seeking knowledge. It might well be that our ancestors left ancient books in this land called Iberia where the children of Bregon, son of Bratha, grew and prospered and resolved to extend their sway beyond the seas. That is why Bregon built his tower from where he spied Ireland, and it was then that Ith, son of
Bregon, equipped a ship and manned it with thrice fifty warriors; they then put out to sea, sailing north until they reached the shores of the land which became our beloved Éireann.’
    ‘These young men,’ interrupted Brother Tola, with