They saw Brother Lugna facing a band of men, whom they immediately recognised as the builders. Among them was Saor. Brother Lugna was standing in a belligerent posture that seemed curiously grotesque for a man of the Faith. Even as they looked, the builders turned their backs on him and walked through the gates. As they did so, Gormán rode into the abbey courtyard and swung off his horse. Fidelma and Eadulf went to join him. The steward had not moved from his position, standing staring after the disappearing builders. ‘Is all well, Gormán?’ Fidelma greeted the warrior. ‘Everything is as you instructed, lady.’ Gormán smiled. ‘The conditions are agreed. Both chiefs await your message.’ Fidelma glanced across to Brother Lugna. Anger had made his countenance fierce. Suddenly aware of their presence, he tried to relax his features. ‘There seems to be some trouble with Glassán’s men,’ Fidelma observed. ‘True enough,’ replied the steward through between clenched teeth.
