Free Valley of the Shadow by Peter Tremayne

was not told to expect anyone else at this meeting. Who could it be?’
    ‘Perhaps Bishop Ségdae has sent some other cleric to represent him and the abbey?’ hazarded Eadulf.
    ‘Hardly likely since he concurred with Colgú’s delegation of me. No, no cleric from Imleach would come here.’
    Eadulf gave a shrug.
    ‘Didn’t the woman, Orla, say that Ultan of Armagh had sent an emissary to them? Well, we shall know soon enough who the cleric is and who his companion is. We …’
    He was cut short when the door of the hostel burst open and a portly, elderly woman bustled in. She wore a beaming smile and walked with a rapid gait, hands folded in front of her. She
bobbed swiftly towards Fidelma and then made a similar obeisance to Eadulf. Her eyes twinkled from beneath deep folds of flesh. She seemed almost spherical in girth.
    ‘Are you the hostel keeper?’ asked Eadulf, regarding her with slight awe, for she seemed to fill the room with her presence.
    ‘That I am, stranger. I bid you welcome. Tell me how may I serve you?’
    ‘A bath,’ Fidelma requested immediately. ‘And then …’
    ‘Food,’ interposed Eadulf, in case she neglected his order of preference.
    The wreaths of flesh quivered.
    ‘A bath you shall have and that immediately, lady. Since we already have guests, the water is even now heated. And there is food ready to be served.’
    Fidelma rose and indicated her satisfaction.
    ‘Then proceed to draw a bath for me … what is your name?’
    The hostel keeper bobbed again towards her.
    ‘I am called Cruinn, lady.’
    Fidelma tried hard to keep a straight face for the name implied one who was round and the name certainly fitted the circular shape of the hostel keeper. The woman stood smiling, apparently unaware of the struggle taking place to mask her features.
    ‘Tell me, Cruinn,’ Eadulf intervened, catching Fidelma’s eye and distracting the woman in case Fidelma lost her struggle, ‘who is staying in the hostel with us?’
    The fat woman turned to him.
    ‘Why, someone who believes in your God. A noble from the north, I think he is.’
    ‘A noble from the north?’ Fidelma intervened, abruptly serious.
    ‘Well, he is richly dressed and with much fine jewellery on him.’
    ‘Do you know his name?’
    ‘No. That I don’t. But the other, his companion, is called Brother Dianach and is his servant, so I believe.’
    ‘They are from the north, you say?’ repeated Fidelma as if to make sure there was no mistake.
    ‘From the distant kingdom of Ulaidh, I am told.’
    Fidelma stood thoughtfully.
    ‘If this is Ultan’s emissary, I wonder what Armagh seeks in this …’ She nearly said ‘godforsaken place’ but it seemed, as the populace did not believe in God, it was not the best of descriptions. Orla had said that Ultan of Armagh had sent gifts to Laisre the chieftain. Gifts from Armagh. But that didn’t make any sense. Why
would Armagh send gifts to a pagan chieftain in a kingdom where it had no jurisdiction and where the people did not even follow the Faith? The rotund hostel keeper interrupted her thoughts.
    ‘I have little idea who they are or what they want. I only know that people come and stay and then I must work. Better people stay where they belonged than travelled from one place to another.’ Cruinn sighed deeply, a curious wheezy sound and an action which caused her figure to wobble dangerously. ‘Well, it is not my place to complain but that is my view. Come, lady, I will draw your bath first.’
    ‘I will wait here,’ Eadulf offered, ‘and perhaps there is mead that I might refresh myself with while I am waiting?’
    ‘You will find it in the cask there,’ indicated Cruinn, speaking over her shoulder as she propelled Fidelma to one of the bathing chambers. ‘But the second bathing tub is ready should you wish to take your bath now.’
    Eadulf caught Fidelma’s eye and bit his lip.
    ‘In that case, it will save time if I bathed now.’ He gave in reluctantly.
    As a