Free The Leper's Bell by Peter Tremayne

and attend to them. But my grandfather will take care of your wants. Will you be staying? I can look after your horses, if so?’
    Fidelma glanced at the sky, just as a lightning flash lit it. She blinkedand silently counted, reaching four before the thunder reverberated in the air.
    ‘It is near enough,’ she observed in resignation. ‘We will wait out the storm.’ With a smile, she added: ‘How long do you think that will be, Adag?’
    The boy tilted his head to one side with a serious expression as he surveyed the sky.
    ‘It will be gone before the hour is up, but there is time enough to take a bowl of stew and a mug of my grandfather’s corma. I will feed and rub down the horses.’
    Capa, who had been silent during this exchange, frowned.
    ‘My men are capable of tending to their own mounts…’
    Fidelma raised a hand. ‘Adag can take care of all our mounts, Capa. He is capable enough. Come inside and leave him to do his job.’
    She turned and pushed into the interior of the tavern. It was dark inside but a dancing fire provided a curious light, where flames ate hungrily into a pile of crackling logs. There was an aroma of mutton stew simmering in its large pot from a hook above the fire.
    An elderly man was placing drinking vessels on the table. He turned as they entered and opened his mouth to welcome them, then halted as he recognised them.
    ‘Hello, Aona. Are you well?’
    ‘I am the better for seeing you, my lady. And with our good Saxon friend, Eadulf. Life has been quiet in my tavern since last you visited us.’
    ‘Ah, I pray that it may continue to be so, Aona,’ replied Fidelma in solemn humour. ‘Better peace than conflict, eh?’
    Capa looked irritated at being excluded from this friendly exchange. His handsome features seemed disdainful of the intimacy between Fidelma and the innkeeper.
    ‘Landlord, fetch us food and drink,’ he said officiously.
    Fidelma turned to him and only Eadulf saw the swift look of annoyance cross her features before it was gone.
    ‘Aona, let me present Capa. Capa now holds the position that you once held.’
    Capa frowned, not understanding, colouring at the implied rebuke. Then he peered at the old innkeeper with an expression of surprise as memory came to him.
    ‘Are you Aona who was commander of the guard of Cashel in the days of my grandfather? Aona whose deeds and combats are still spoken of?’
    Behind Capa, Caol and Gorman were regarding the old innkeeper with something approaching awe. They were both young men, full of pride at being chosen to wear the golden necklet of the élite bodyguard of Cashel. But over their fires, at night, they had also heard of the deeds and valour of the great warriors who had gone before them and whose image they wanted to live up to.
    The old innkeeper chuckled at their expressions.
    ‘I am Aona who once served as commander of the guard,’ he replied. ‘But you make me sound positively ancient, my young warrior.’ His grey eyes glinted like steel as he regarded the younger man. ‘So you are now commander of the guard, eh? Well, command is not merely in the strength of one’s muscles, young friend. Let us hope your mind is as agile as your body.’
    Capa’s chin came up defensively.
    ‘I pride myself that Colgú has no cause to complain of me,’ he retorted.
    I am glad to hear it,’ Aona assured him calmly. Then he glanced swiftly to Fidelma and winked. ‘You are fond of quoting Publilius Syrus, lady. Didn’t he say that there is but a step between a proud man’s glory and his disgrace?’
    He gave the quotation in the original Latin and Capa apparently did not understand it. Fidelma restrained a smile for she knew that Aona had also spotted what she felt was Capa’s weakness - his arrogance. She turned and indicated that Capa and his men should seat themselves and order something to drink. She and Eadulf moved towards the fire while Aona, in answer to their request, placed a jug of reddish-coloured ale called