see it, like a tree, cutting through the decks. Murchad was standing at the head of the table, balanced with his legs wide apart. Behind him, young Wenbrit was bent over a side table, cutting bread.
Murchad smiled as she entered and waved her forward, indicating a seat on his right. The seating consisted of two long benches on either
side of the long pinewood table. Those already present glanced up at the newcomer in curiosity.
Fidelma moved to her seat and found that she was placed opposite Cian. She hastily turned to her enquiring companions with a brief smile of greeting. Cian rose with a proprietorial smile to introduce her.
‘As you do not know anyone here, Fidelma,’ he began, ignoring the protocol for it should have been Murchad’s place to perform the introductions. He had reckoned without Murchad’s strong personality however.
‘If you please, Brother Cian,’ the captain interrupted irritably. ‘Sister Fidelma of Cashel, allow me to introduce you to your fellow travellers. These are Sisters Ainder, Crella and Gormán.’ He indicated three religieuses swiftly in turn sitting opposite to her and next to Cian. ‘This is Brother Cian, while next to you are Brothers Adamrae, Dathal and Tola.’
Fidelma inclined her head to them, acknowledging them all in one gesture. Their names and faces would come to mean something later. At the moment, the introduction was just a formality. Cian had reseated himself with an expression of annoyance on his face.
One of the women seated directly next to Cian, a religieuse who looked extremely young to be on a pilgrimage, smiled sweetly at her.
‘It seems that you already know Brother Cian?’
It was Cian who answered her hurriedly.
‘I knew Fidelma many years ago in Tara.’
Fidelma felt their gazes of curiosity on her and she turned towards Murchad to hide her embarrassment.
‘I see that this pilgrims’ party is only eight in all. I thought there were more?’ Then she remembered. ‘Ah, there is a Sister Muirgel, isn’t there? Is she still confined to her cabin?’
Murchad smiled grimly but it was the elderly, sharp-featured religieuse seated at the end of the table who answered her question.
‘I fear Sister Muirgel as well as two others, Brother Guss and Brother Bairne, are still indisposed, being overcome with the fatigues of the voyage, and are unable to join us for the time being. Do you know Sister Muirgel as well?’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘I met her when I came aboard although it was not in the best circumstances. I noticed that she was unwell,’ she added by way of explanation.
A pale, elderly monk with dirty grey hair sniffed audibly in disapproval.
‘Say that they are seasick and have done with it, Sister Ainder.
People should not come on voyages if they have no stomach for it.’
The third religieuse whose name Fidelma had registered as being Sister Crella, a small, young woman with broad features that somehow marred the attractiveness that she would otherwise have possessed, looked disapproving. She appeared to be of a nervous disposition for she kept glancing quickly around as if she expected someone to appear. It was she who made a sound of reproach with her tongue and shook her head.
‘A little charity, please, Brother Tola. It is a terrible thing, this sickness of being at sea.’
‘There is a sailor’s cure for seasickness,’ intervened Murchad with grim humour, ‘but I would not recommend it. The best way to avoid sickness is to stay on deck and focus your eyes on the horizon. Breathe plenty of fresh sea air. The worst thing you can do in the circumstances is to remain below, confined to your cabin. I would advise you to pass that on to your fellow travellers.’
Fidelma felt a satisfaction that her earlier prescription for sickness had been an accurate one.
‘Captain!’ It was the sharp-faced Sister Ainder again. ‘Must we stir up images of the sick and dead when we are about to eat? Perhaps Brother Cian will say the
Murchad smiled as she entered and waved her forward, indicating a seat on his right. The seating consisted of two long benches on either
side of the long pinewood table. Those already present glanced up at the newcomer in curiosity.
Fidelma moved to her seat and found that she was placed opposite Cian. She hastily turned to her enquiring companions with a brief smile of greeting. Cian rose with a proprietorial smile to introduce her.
‘As you do not know anyone here, Fidelma,’ he began, ignoring the protocol for it should have been Murchad’s place to perform the introductions. He had reckoned without Murchad’s strong personality however.
‘If you please, Brother Cian,’ the captain interrupted irritably. ‘Sister Fidelma of Cashel, allow me to introduce you to your fellow travellers. These are Sisters Ainder, Crella and Gormán.’ He indicated three religieuses swiftly in turn sitting opposite to her and next to Cian. ‘This is Brother Cian, while next to you are Brothers Adamrae, Dathal and Tola.’
Fidelma inclined her head to them, acknowledging them all in one gesture. Their names and faces would come to mean something later. At the moment, the introduction was just a formality. Cian had reseated himself with an expression of annoyance on his face.
One of the women seated directly next to Cian, a religieuse who looked extremely young to be on a pilgrimage, smiled sweetly at her.
‘It seems that you already know Brother Cian?’
It was Cian who answered her hurriedly.
‘I knew Fidelma many years ago in Tara.’
Fidelma felt their gazes of curiosity on her and she turned towards Murchad to hide her embarrassment.
‘I see that this pilgrims’ party is only eight in all. I thought there were more?’ Then she remembered. ‘Ah, there is a Sister Muirgel, isn’t there? Is she still confined to her cabin?’
Murchad smiled grimly but it was the elderly, sharp-featured religieuse seated at the end of the table who answered her question.
‘I fear Sister Muirgel as well as two others, Brother Guss and Brother Bairne, are still indisposed, being overcome with the fatigues of the voyage, and are unable to join us for the time being. Do you know Sister Muirgel as well?’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘I met her when I came aboard although it was not in the best circumstances. I noticed that she was unwell,’ she added by way of explanation.
A pale, elderly monk with dirty grey hair sniffed audibly in disapproval.
‘Say that they are seasick and have done with it, Sister Ainder.
People should not come on voyages if they have no stomach for it.’
The third religieuse whose name Fidelma had registered as being Sister Crella, a small, young woman with broad features that somehow marred the attractiveness that she would otherwise have possessed, looked disapproving. She appeared to be of a nervous disposition for she kept glancing quickly around as if she expected someone to appear. It was she who made a sound of reproach with her tongue and shook her head.
‘A little charity, please, Brother Tola. It is a terrible thing, this sickness of being at sea.’
‘There is a sailor’s cure for seasickness,’ intervened Murchad with grim humour, ‘but I would not recommend it. The best way to avoid sickness is to stay on deck and focus your eyes on the horizon. Breathe plenty of fresh sea air. The worst thing you can do in the circumstances is to remain below, confined to your cabin. I would advise you to pass that on to your fellow travellers.’
Fidelma felt a satisfaction that her earlier prescription for sickness had been an accurate one.
‘Captain!’ It was the sharp-faced Sister Ainder again. ‘Must we stir up images of the sick and dead when we are about to eat? Perhaps Brother Cian will say the
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