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Abbot Ségdae.
    She was perplexed. ‘I see no logic for a council. But there is an interesting point. You said Abbess Líoch was asked to attend?’
    ‘I did. That also seemed curious to me, although Abbot Ségdae seemed to think it was because she had been in Northumbria for some time.’
    ‘Líoch told me that two religieux called at her abbey several days ago. One of them was the Saxon religious you mentioned, called Brother Cerdic. The other was someone from the Abbey of Fearna. She said it was Brother Cerdic who told her that she should attend. Rather, her words were that he said it was “in her interest” to attend. I had the impression that she was troubled by his request.’
    ‘In her interest to attend? That is surely a strange phraseology.’
    ‘Those are the words she used. Do you know this Brother Cerdic?’
    ‘No,’ Eadulf said. ‘I only know what I have just been told.’
    ‘Where is he now? Here in Cashel?’
    ‘He accompanied Abbot Ségdae and his steward, Brother Madagan, to Cashel. In fact, I was just on my way to find him in order to see if I could discover anything further about this strange deputation.’
    ‘And Brother Rónán?’
    ‘He has already returned to Fearna, having accomplished his role as guide. Abbot Ségdae says that Brother Cerdic maintains he acts merely as a messenger to announce the coming of the deputation.’
    Fidelma’s features bore a sceptical expression. ‘Did Abbot Ségdae believe him?’
    ‘I doubt it,’ Eadulf replied cynically. ‘It is a long journey to make across the sea to a strange land without knowing something of the intention of the group in which you are travelling. And if he suggested to Abbess Líoch that it was in her interest to attend, then he must surely know more of the matter.’
    ‘I agree,’ said Fidelma. ‘She seems to be nervous of Brother Cerdic. That surely means she knows him or, at least, he has told her why she should come here.’
    ‘I shall contrive to speak with this Brother Cerdic alone,’ Eadulf decided. ‘He might be more forthcoming to a fellow countryman.’
    ‘But first you must keep your promise to Alchú,’ Fidelma said sternly. ‘He wants to tell his father about the adventures he had on his ride. You do that, and I will go and see my brother as I want to hear his thoughts about this strange deputation.’
    A short time later, Eadulf re-emerged in the courtyard on the way to fulfil his errand. He passed Beccan, the steward, crossing the courtyard and asked if he had seen Brother Cerdic. The solemn-faced steward indicated the chapel behind him.
    ‘I think I saw the Saxon entering the chapel,’ he replied. ‘A very unfriendly man,’ he added with a sniff of disdain.
    Eadulf was almost resigned to the fact that whether one was an Angle, a Saxon or even Jute, in the minds of the people of the Five Kingdoms of Éireann, they were all regarded as Saxons. Eadulf entered the chapel discreetly, waited a moment for his eyes to adjust, then peered about in the gloomy interior.
    A figure was kneeling before the altar in a position of supplication.
    Eadulf coughed softly to draw attention to himself. The figure made no motion. It seemed so still: knees and legs drawn up beneath the bent body, the forehead resting on the cold stone floor. Something glinted on the ground beside the figure, and it took some moments before Eadulf realised it was the flickering light of the candle reflecting in a pool of liquid. It was blood!
    With a suppressed exclamation, he went hurrying over and knelt beside the body. He reached out a hand to touch the shoulder of the figure, and no sooner had he exerted a slight pressure than it rolled onto its side. The face was white, the dead eyes wide and staring.
    There was no sign of a weapon but it was clear from the blood both on the floor and across the man’s throat how he had come by his death. The fact that there was no weapon to hand also indicated that he had not died of his own