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attention. Taller and sturdier than the other horse, it was a well-muscled hunter that a warrior might ride, grey in colour but with white legs above the hocks.
    ‘I presume that is not your horse?’ Fidelma said.
    Della made a face. ‘Would that it were, lady. That animal would fetch a good price. Or my son might have a pride in riding it.’
    Gormán shifted his weight impatiently. ‘The truth is that my mother found it in our paddock this morning and in view of what has happened …’
    Fidelma had already moved to the paddock gate; she swung up and over it with impressive agility, and went towards the animal. It stood docile enough, although its ears went back and its nostrils inflated as she approached. Eadulf had followed her to the gate, concern showing on his face. He was not a good horseman.
    Catching his anxiety, Gormán said quietly, ‘Do not concern yourself, friend Eadulf. That breed is usually quiet and intelligent, and the lady Fidelma is a good horsewoman. She will not disturb it.’
    Fidelma came to the animal, reached forward without hesitation and petted its muzzle, allowing it to smell her hand while examining her with its large soulful eyes. She spoke softly to it. Eadulf was too far away to hear the words – if, indeed, they were words and not just the musical rise and fall of her voice. Then, still speaking, Fidelma began to move around the beast, patting its strong shoulders, but being careful not to go near its hindquarters, where many a nervous kick had injured the unwary. It stood patiently. When she turned and began to walk back to the paddock gate, the horse ambled after her.
    ‘Do you have an apple, Della?’ she called.
    Della nodded and hurried back to her house where, on the porch, there was a small barrel. She withdrew an apple, went back to the gate and handed it to Fidelma. The horse gently took it from her outstretched palm.
    ‘There is nothing to identify the beast,’ Gormán commented. ‘I could see no marks of ownership.’
    ‘There is certainly nothing that I can see,’ affirmed Fidelma.
    ‘If that is the horse that the assassin arrived on, and he abandoned it here, then he must have found a dry place to store the saddle and his clothes and change them before making his way to the palace,’ Eadulf suggested.
    Della was shaking her head. ‘We looked through the outbuildings and found nothing.’
    ‘Did you hear anything last evening? No sound of restless horses? The paddock is near your house. No barking of your dog?’
    ‘Nothing at all.’
    ‘And you were here yesterday afternoon and evening?’
    ‘I was. My son had left during the afternoon. He had guard duties at the palace last night for the feast in honour of the Blessed Colmán. He told me he would not return until very late last night.’
    ‘As you know, that is correct,’ Gormán said.
    ‘And so what did you do last evening?’ queried Fidelma.
    ‘I ate my evening meal alone,’ Della said. ‘When I had finished, I made sure the lamps were lit, including the one over the door because it would be very dark when Gormán returned here. I spent some time darning and mending, then I grew tired and went to my bed.’
    ‘You really heard nothing all this time?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Even when you went to bed?’
    ‘I sleep soundly these days, lady,’ Della smiled sadly. ‘Ah, but I did stir when Gormán returned from the palace. I merely turned over when I recognised his step crossing to his bed. Then I must have slept until dawn. The dog was awake and I went to take oats to my horse – that was when I saw the other horse. I returned to the house and woke Gormán. When I told him about the horse, he became excited and related what had happened to your poor brother last night.’
    Fidelma turned to Gormán. ‘Did you come straight back here when you left the palace?’
    ‘I stopped at Rumann’s tavern on the square,’ Gormán admitted sheepishly. ‘But I had only one beaker of his ale before I returned