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be following their exchange.
    ‘I only meant that we are a long way from Canterbury,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘It is vexing that the captain did not have time to wait.’
    ‘The wood will renew the foliage it sheds,’ Fidelma reassured him, quoting an old proverb.
    Eadulf shrugged reluctantly. ‘We are not so well endowed with money that we can afford to lose any,’ he admonished. ‘We have to find a new ship and will have to pay more for the journey to Canterbury.’
    Fidelma made a dismissive gesture. ‘What we have to do now,’ she corrected him with emphasis, ‘is for you to rest and regain your strength, Eadulf. Remember the saying that there is always another tide in the sea.’ She made to rise.
    ‘Stay awhile,’ Eadulf urged. ‘I am not sleepy.’
    Fidelma glanced at Brother Rhodri, who was lighting a lamp, for the dusk had crept up while they had been talking.
    ‘It is time for the evening meal,’ he said. ‘Shall I bring some food to you here on a tray, Sister?’
    ‘Thank you, Brother. It would be most kind of you.’
    The monk smiled briefly and turned to Eadulf. ‘You seem well enough to take a little more broth, Brother. I shall see to it.’
    When he had gone, Eadulf grinned sheepishly at Fidelma. ‘I am sorry that I have precipitated you into this predicament.’
    ‘Predicament?’ She paused and shook her head. ‘It is always fascinating to see a new land, even when it is done without intention.’
    Eadulf’s features dissolved into a glum expression. ‘The land of the Britons may be fascinating for you but not for me.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Saxons are not exactly welcome among Britons in spite of Brother Rhodri’s Christian charity.’
    ‘Do Britons have a reason to dislike Saxons?’
    Eadulf glanced at her sharply. Was she mocking him? She was well acquainted with the recent history of these islands.
    ‘You know that nothing happens without reason, Fidelma. And you know your history as well as anyone I know. You will be aware that the Britons once lived all over this land but two centuries ago the ancestors of my people came from beyond the eastern sea to conquer and colonise - the Jutes, Angles and Saxons. They began to push the Britons westward and northwards and take over their lands. I can understand the feelings of the dispossessed. My people are a warrior people who have only just accepted Christian values. I think, behind their professed acceptance of the new faith, they continue to fear Woden, the old god of war. They still believe that the true way to immortality is to die with a sword in their hand and Woden’s name on their lips. Only along that path do they think they have a chance to pass into the Hall of Heroes, where all the immortals live.’
    Fidelma was puzzled at the intensity in his voice. ‘You sound as if you also believe this, Eadulf?’
    Eadulf regarded her with a sour expression. ‘I was a young man when I was converted to the new faith by missionaries from Éireann, Fidelma. I went to study it in your lands before I went on to Rome. You know that before my conversion I was the hereditary gerefa of Seaxmund’s Ham. It is hard to forget the culture in which one has been brought up. Within living memory did King Eadbald of Kent revert to the worship of Woden. People are alive today who can remember when the East Saxons killed or chased into exile all Christian missionaries there.’
    ‘That’s true,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But most of the Saxon kingdoms are now firmly converted to the Faith.’
    Eadulf sighed and shook his head.
    ‘There are still many kingdoms where the Christian faith is only tolerated. Mercia, for example, is still not entirely Christian. Even with the acceptance of the Faith there has been a constant war between my people and the Britons. Since we carved out our kingdoms with the sword there has always been such warfare. Christian Briton against Christian Saxon. It is also within living memory how Athelfrith of the Saxons