Night of the Lightbringer by Peter Tremayne

Author:Peter Tremayne [Peter Tremayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2018-02-21T16:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

There was a distant sound of a voice calling and a muffled banging noise. Fidelma stirred in the warmth of the bed and opened her eyes. She became aware that it was daylight. Beside her, Eadulf was yawning in protest, still unwilling to wake. It took several moments for her to realise that it was well past dawn. It was the first day of the New Year. The Samhain festival had passed. It had passed and she had not been visited by any vengeful beings from the Otherworld! She breathed out in a long sigh of relief and began to smile.

But someone was still hammering on the door of their chamber.

‘What is it?’ she managed to mumble.

The door opened and Muirgen the nurse came in, looking anxious.

‘Forgive me, lady. That young warrior, Aidan, is outside. He demands to speak to you immediately.’

Fidelma blinked a moment. Eadulf was still half awake.

Muirgen repeated herself. ‘It is beyond first light and the warrior Aidan wants to speak with you both – urgently.’

Fidelma now came to her full senses and reached out to clutch her robe, swinging out of bed to draw it on. ‘All right, Muirgen; let him come in.’ Saying this, she went to a water jug and poured herself a drink. As she swallowed, Eadulf sat up and was massaging his forehead, groaning quietly now and then.

‘Why is it that we are continually pestered by people wanting to speak with us before we can finish a decent night’s sleep?’ he grumbled, in between attempts to massage away his discomfort.

‘Too much corma?’ reproved Fidelma, without sympathy. She returned to a little jug, removed its cork and poured some of the liquid into another cup before handing it to Eadulf. ‘Better take that to get rid of your headache. It’s Brother Conchobhar’s remedy; a distillation from willow leaves.’

‘It would have been insulting to refuse to drink the many toasts that your kindred kept proposing last night,’ Eadulf grunted between swallows of the liquid and screwing up his face as he did so at the taste. ‘Intoxicating liquor is always part of these wretched celebrations but I had to follow custom.’

‘You did not have to try to follow the example of my brother,’ she said. ‘His behaviour was unseemly for a leader of his people.’

‘I have never seen him in such a mood as last night,’ Eadulf admitted. ‘I almost think that he really believed in that woman with her prophecies and was expecting the worst and so drank to shut out the spiritual visitations.’

Fidelma gave a snort. ‘And I suppose your rendition of that pagan Saxon song was also to keep evil spirits at bay?’

Eadulf frowned. He seemed to recall singing something. ‘It would have been a song of the East Angles,’ he protested automatically, trying to remember what it had been.

‘It was a song about some goddess of your people called Eostre,’ sniffed Fidelma, ‘and something about fertility and the New Year.’

‘The New Year?’ Eadulf stared at the light coming through the window.

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