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on a leather thong about his neck. The wood and the leather denoted that the wearer was not of a wealthy Order. His head was like that of a baby, plump and fleshy with red cheeks, but whether the lack of hair was due to baldness or due to his choice of tonsure was difficult to discern. The lips were so thick and red that the mouth could be described as ugly. Only the eyes were striking by being tiny pinpoints of black almost hidden in the folds of flesh around them.
    ‘Come forward, Brother Ailgesach,’ invited Fidelma. ‘We would speak with you about God’s work.’
    The rotund religieux stopped, his fat features screwed into an expression as if he were trying to recall something.
    ‘I am …’ Fidelma began.
    But the man suddenly raised an accusing finger at her.
    ‘I know you. I know you! You are the Whore of Babylon.’ His voice was rasping and breathless. ‘The Whore of Babylon – mother of harlots and the abomination of the earth!’

CHAPTER FIVE

    T here was a shocked silence in the tavern, broken a second later by the thud of the woman’s ladle falling to the floor. Enda sprang to his feet with a suppressed oath and took a threatening step towards the rotund religieux. But even before he had finished that step, the man swayed before him, staggered sideways and collapsed on to the floor. Enda was on his knee beside him in a moment, turning him over to examine him. The others had risen to their feet and were gazing at the recumbent form with incredulity. Enda stood up with a sour, disapproving expression.
    ‘The man is drunk, lady.’
    Fidelma looked at Fedach Glas with raised brows. The man understood the silent question and shrugged. ‘Brother Ailgesach has been known to indulge his taste for corma ,’ he muttered defensively.
    ‘And is he also known for his insults? Insults to the King’s sister ?’ snapped Enda.
    Fidelma frowned, but it was too late to warn him. She had not wanted her rank to be known, other than her being a lawyer. The tavern-keeper stepped back a pace and they heard a gasp from the woman at the cauldron.
    ‘Forgive us, lady. I did not recognise you. You should have announced yourself. P-please …’ the tavern-keeper stammered.
    Fidelma made an impatient gesture. ‘Intoxication to this degree,’ she indicated the prone form of Brother Ailgesach, ‘is reprehensible in one who aspires to be a religieux.’
    The tavern-keeper looked nervous. ‘I am afraid Brother Ailgesach has been here since midday. He asked for a jug of corma and sat in the corner there. To be honest, I had almost forgotten that he was here until you asked for him, lady.’ Then, remembering she was both a dálaigh and the King’s sister, he asked: ‘Why were you looking for him?’
    ‘We came to ask him to perform a burial.’
    Fedach Glas was surprised. ‘A burial, lady? Who is it that is dead? I have no knowledge of anyone from our local community who—’
    ‘A body has been found near here and we have left it in the chapel. We were told by a carpenter called Saer that Brother Ailgesach administers at the chapel and simply came here to ask him to make the arrangements.’
    ‘But, surely the Brother that you travel with,’ he indicated Eadulf, ‘could perform the necessary ceremonies?’
    ‘If needs must, then my husband will say the offices for the dead. But it is not our intention to linger here.’
    Fedach Glas’s eyes widened a little; he glanced at Eadulf then back to Fidelma. ‘I had heard it said that you are married to a Saxon Brother,’ he murmured.
    Eadulf sighed. ‘I am an Angle from the land of the East Angles,’ he told the man, knowing that to all the people of the Five Kingdoms he would be classed as a Saxon whether he was Saxon, Angle or Jute.
    ‘Is there a place where this man may sleep off his intoxication?’ asked Fidelma, as the Brother lay snoring loudly from his prone position on the tavern floor.
    ‘He can do so in one of the guest cabins. May I ask for someone to