‘And that is why you must help us to prove it,’ affirmed Fidelma.
‘Now, if you are up to it, tell us what happened here,’ Eadulf coaxed.
The girl hesitated and then seemed to gather an inner strength. ‘As Marban has told you, we came here yesterday and Corradáin gave us hospitality. He was so much like my uncle – full of the joy of life, in love with the forests that he tended. He was a fine carver of wood. He asked no questions and made no condemnation of us.’ A great sorrow was upon her, but she bravely continued to speak.
‘This morning, Corradáin was up at first light because he wanted to mark some trees for felling. We had barely awoken and broken our fast, when he came back, out of breath and looking worried. In the valley below runs one of the main tracks along the south side of the hill; it then swings north through a valley.’
Enda spoke for the first time. ‘We crossed it. It seemed to be more of a ro-shét than just a track.’
A ro-shét was a class of road which, as defined by law, accommodated the passage of many horses and carriages and hence was called a ‘great-way’.
‘And so?’ prompted Fidelma.
‘Corradáin had been near the track when he heard the sound of approaching horses. Thinking that they might be searching for us, he hid. He counted about forty horses passing by. The riders were fighting men but he said they did not have the look of professional warriors.
‘At their head rode a young man with barely the stubble of a beard on him. Corradáin described him as having cruel, wolf-like features, and the starved look of someone in need of a meal. In spite of his youth, he carried himself with an air of great self-importance.’
‘Gláed!’ Eadulf almost shouted, recognising the description.
Aibell nodded. ‘Gormán and I realised at once who it was. I had seen Gláed many times when I was his father’s bond-servant.’
‘If they followed the track below this hill to the east, would that bring them to Prince Donennach’s fortress?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Corrdáin told us that the main track swings around the hill and goes northwards through a valley, but a small track does branch due east to the great river.’
‘Then what happened here?’ Fidelma pressed.
‘Gormán was agitated. He told me to wait here with Corradáin, and he would follow them for a while to see which track they took. He felt he owed allegiance to Cashel to prevent any uprising.’ Her voice broke. ‘I fear for my husband.’
‘So Gormán went off to follow Gláed and his men …’ Fidelma prompted.
The girl pulled herself together. ‘Time went by and we began to grow nervous, but then I heard a horse ascending the track. Naturally, I thought it was Gormán returning. I ran from the cabin to greet him … and at once, I saw it was not he.’
She paused and licked her dry lips. Without asking, Eadulf went to get more water from the spring. The girl took the mug and drank.
‘I presume it was one of Gláed’s men?’ Fidelma said.
‘Not only that, but the man was one of those who had served Fidaig when he was alive. He was a brutal fellow. He saw me, and recognised me as the escaped bond-servant who used to work in Fidaig’s household. Giving a roar, he jumped from his horse, grabbing me by the hair as I turned to run. He threw me to the ground, striking me a couple of times.’
‘How did you escape?’
‘I heard him say something about taking me to Fidaig’s son for punishment – but that first I would have to amuse him. I know I lay helpless with the man bending over me and then I heard him squeal, a terrible animal-like squeal ending in a grunt as you hear when a wild boar is slaughtered. His body was heavy on me and then I felt it being dragged off. There was Corradáin trying to help me to my feet. I saw my attacker lying on the ground with one of Corradáin’s great wood axes embedded in his head.’
She shuddered and took another swallow of water, her shaking hands making her spill some of. Then she tried to continue in a more controlled fashion.
‘Corradáin was anxious. He said that there might be comrades of the man about as he could hear the movement of horses below. I was dizzy from my injuries and scarce knew what I was doing. He led me around the back of the cabin, opened the wooden hatch door into the fotholl and told me to hide inside. He said he would try to disguise the entrance.’
‘That he did,’ muttered Enda. ‘He spread gorse over the trap door.’
‘After I hid I could hear a lot of shouting. I heard horses and excited movement – and then I heard the sound of crackling flames. I could feel the heat even down in the fotholl but, of course, thanks to my uncle, I was well protected from the flames. I have no idea how long I was there. I kept feeling dizzy from the blows the man gave to my head. Perhaps I passed out. Then I heard horses again. I was frightened. Suddenly the hatch was wrenched open, and … and you were standing there.’
Fidelma was nodding slowly. ‘We can only guess at what happened after Corradáin hid you. Once he had attempted to disguise the entrance to your hiding place, he must have run back to the front of the cabin. Unfortunately, he did not have the chance to find another weapon by the time your attacker’s companions arrived. One of them, perhaps two, shot him with two arrows in the chest and he was killed instantly. Having found their companion dead with the woodsman’s axe in his head, they decided to wreak their revenge by setting the cabin alight. We saw it burning from a distance and by the time we reached here it was smouldering and destroyed.’
‘That seems to be the truth of it,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘What concerns me is that Gormán left here early this morning. It is now nearly twilight and he has not returned.’
‘Could he have come back while you were hiding and you did not hear him?’ Fidelma asked the girl.
‘I heard your horses so I think I would have heard his returning,’ Aibell replied in a troubled voice.
‘Maybe not,’ intervened Enda. ‘If he returned at the height of the fire, the crack of the flames would have been deafening.’
‘Yet, if he did, then he would have encountered the attackers whom we can safely identify as Gláed’s men,’ Fidelma said.
‘Were they stragglers following Gláed, or were they part of his main band?’ Eadulf wanted to know. ‘There are too many things unknown to start forming conclusions. The main question is: what has happened to Gormán?’
Enda pointed to the darkening sky. ‘Perhaps an even more pressing question is: where should we camp for this night? It will soon be too dark to see anything and, if these marauders are still about, we daren’t light a fire.’
‘But if we don’t light a fire, and Gormán is seeking to return, he will miss us,’ Aibell protested.
‘I am afraid it seems inevitable that something has already delayed him,’ Eadulf told her gently.
‘We must accept the realities of the current situation,’ Fidelma stated. ‘We can do nothing until first light. The only place we can pass the night is here. We can utilise the smouldering cabin for warmth by sleeping near it – we could even light a fire behind the remaining walls. I don’t think it would be seen from below this hill, but I would not advise it since it is not necessary. It won’t hurt us for one night to drink water and eat something cold.’
‘Well,’ Enda suddenly rose, ‘before I cannot see a hand in front of me, I’ll check out Corradáin’s fotholl, in case he has stored something edible there that we could use.’
‘We should also attend to the horses,’ Fidelma said, looking around. ‘I suppose they made off with your horse, Aibell?’
‘It appears so. Corradáin had an ass but kept his other animals at his son’s farmstead on the northern side of this hill.’
Eadulf had nearly forgotten that Marban had mentioned a farmstead run by Corradáin’s son.
‘Have you been there?’
The girl shook her head. ‘Corradáin told us about it. His wife is long dead and his son and daughter-in-law look after a farmstead down on the plain. Corradáin preferred to dwell in the
forest. His love was trees and the wild game of the woods.’
Enda reappeared, carrying some items. ‘Corradáin was storing jugs of cold apple cider down there and there are apples a-plenty. Oh, and I found a jar of dried hazelnuts, some already-roasted acorns and a good supply of sweet chestnuts. We shall not starve.’
‘You are sure that they are sweet chestnuts?’ Eadulf was particular. As a child, he had once mistakenly thought all chestnuts were the same and ate an inedible horse chestnut. He was sick for a day.
Enda’s voice was pained. ‘Friend Eadulf, I would hope you thought better of my knowledge.’
‘We will have to share what covering we can,’ Fidelma said, changing the subject. ‘While the days are warm, the nights can be cold, so I suggest that as soon as we have the horses tethered safely, you find a suitable spot near the remains of the cabin to bed down. Tomorrow we shall have a lot to do.’
‘A lot to do?’ queried Eadulf.
‘There are two bodies to be buried,’ she replied. ‘And in the light we must find forage for the horses. Then, of course, we must decide what to do next before we move on.’
Eadulf had almost forgotten about the two bodies, and with the moon now rising, he suggested that he and Enda move them to the farthest side of the smoking ruins from where they intended to sleep. Night had fallen but the crisp white glow of the moon was such that their gruesome task was made easy. The only thing the moonlight could not do was differentiate the colour of the vegetation to identify any good forage for their horses and so they tethered them near the lower end of the brook so that at least the beasts had water enough.
Although they settled themselves, and ate sparsely of the nuts and apples, sharing in turn the apple cider, it was clear that they were not ready to sleep. They sat with ears tuned for any sound among the trees that might alert them to danger. Finally, it was Eadulf who made a suggestion. ‘We might as well discuss our next step now since sleep is not forthcoming yet.’
‘We must find out what has happened to Gormán,’ Aibell declared at once. ‘I am not going back to Dún Eochair Mháigh until I know.’
‘I would support that,’ Enda said. ‘Gormán was not only my commander, he was my friend. I am duty bound to find him.’
‘We set out from Dún Eochair Mháigh to find Gormán and I think that task should be fulfilled,’ Eadulf said. ‘The only decision to make is: where do we start? Gormán went to follow Gláed and the brigands. He promised to return as soon as he found out in which direction they were heading, but he hasn’t done so. The only course open to us is to set out in the same direction and hope to pick up his trail. Enda here is said to be a good tracker. If he cannot follow the brigands’ tracks then no one can.’
‘You make it sound easy.’ Fidelma felt more caution was needed.
‘Often when things appear hard, they can be rendered down into manageable stages. Everything is achievable if one is not afraid to take the first step.’ Eadulf paused and they heard him chuckle in the gloom. Then he added: ‘That philosophy was once taught to me by a talented young dálaigh some years ago. I learned much from her.’
‘You have convinced me,’ Fidelma said, smiling in the darkness at his compliment.
‘Then we are agreed?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Tomorrow, when we have interred Corradáin and the nameless brigand, and checked the area, we shall set off to follow Gláed’s marauders.’
‘And while we do so,’ added Aibell’s soft, slightly reproving, tone, ‘we should find the farmhouse of Corradáin’s son, to inform him of his father’s death.’
As it was dark she could not see the guilty expressions on her companions’ faces because they had forgotten all about Corradáin’s son.
They woke up, cold and shivering, just after first light to the raucous sound of birdsong and the curious cry of a solitary fox. In spite of the still smouldering ruins of Corradáin’s cabin, it had been an unusually cold night for the time of year and they found themselves stamping their feet and waving their arms to regain some degree of warmth. The first task was the burial of Corradáin and the other body. It was done in a respectful silence, with Eadulf ending the ritual with a murmured prayer.
He and Fidelma went to check the horses while Enda scavenged from the fotholl. He managed to get a small fire going from some of the embers of the hut and, with this means, he was able to prepare a passable meal. By this time the sun was now warming the air and, so far as they could see, looking up between the surrounding trees, there were few clouds in the sky. When they had finished the tasks, Fidelma made a final examination of the area, in case there was anything salvageable that they were overlooking. The attackers had taken not only Corradáin’s ass but Aibell’s horse with her setan, the saddlebags, as well. There was nothing else left.
‘You’ll have to ride double with one of us, Aibell, until we catch up with Gormán.’ Fidelma phrased it purely as a means of comforting the girl. Privately, she had come to the conclusion that Gormán must be dead. He would not have abandoned his wife, therefore if he had been unable to get back to Corradáin’s cabin, some ill fate had clearly befallen him during his tracking of the Sliabh Luachra men.
‘Aibell can ride behind me, lady,’ Enda offered. Then, lowering his voice: ‘Friend Eadulf is not so good a horseman as to cope and …’
Although Eadulf’s horsemanship had improved greatly – out of necessity – and these days he could even take their young son Alchú riding, he was still not completely at ease on horseback. Aware of his limitations, Eadulf offered no protest.
‘No – I’ll need your eyes as a tracker, Enda,’ Fidelma told the warrior. ‘Aibell can ride with me.’
With Enda leading, Fidelma and Aibell came next with Eadulf following behind. They left the clearing that had once been Corradáin’s home, and made their way down the hill, between the dense trees to the broad track that skirted the elongated hill. Fidelma rode cautiously, eyes and ears alert. The raiders from Sliabh Luachra might well have passed through on the previous morning, but that did not mean they had gone for good. As broad as the track was, it wound through a forest and there could be many hidden dangers.
Eadulf eased his cob forward until he rode alongside Fidelma’s sturdy mount, Aonbharr.
‘This raiding party seems a long way from Sliabh Luachra, if I recall the geography,’ he commented.
‘Your memory is correct,’ she nodded.
‘If Gláed is serving as a mercenary to some Uí Fidgente noble with the intention of overthrowing Prince Donennach …’
‘It bodes ill,’ Fidelma cut in.
‘Then you believe he is part of this mystery at Donennach’s fortress?’
‘He has appeared at an opportune time. If his band is following this track eastward, he must be moving directly towards the River Máigh. I think that might have been what Gormán feared – and he followed just to make sure.’
They rode onwards. Every now and again, Enda would stop to examine the ground.
‘Still signs of a large number of horses passing here,’ he would call out, to assure everyone that they were following the right path. In this manner, they continued to move along the wide track for a considerable distance. In different circumstances it would have been a pleasant ride through the forest, with the warmth of a summer’s sun falling on them through the canopy of branches and leaves. Now and again they heard the howl of a she-wolf warning her cubs, and once there was a scuttling sound as a wild boar suddenly burst through on the track ahead of them. The animal paused, grunted – and then, to their relief – trotted off back into the cover of the forest. Birds kept up a constant exchange of calls. Even Eadulf almost found the ride relaxing.
Then the track suddenly came to a fork. One branch led straight on to the east while the other turned north through a small valley. They halted while Enda dismounted and surveyed the earth. Finally he announced: ‘The horsemen have turned north.’
‘So they are not going to Prince Donennach’s fortress.’ Eadulf was puzzled.
‘Why go north?’
‘I passed along this road a few times as a child,’ Aibell said. ‘That was before … before …’ They did not have to be reminded again of the bitterness of her childhood and how her own father had sold her as a bond-servant to Fidaig, then chief of the brigands of Sliabh Luachra.
‘Do you have any idea where the northern road leads to?’ Fidelma asked.
‘If you swung more easterly then you could reach the Ford of the Oaks.’
‘That would mean going back towards the river – or is it that the river turns to flow more to the west there? Can you remember any other important place on that northern road if you were not heading as far as Conrí’s fortress?’
The girl searched her memory and revealed: ‘There is another fortress and township at Cromadh, the bend of the river on An Mháigh. It belongs to an important Uí Fidgente chieftain named Donnabháin.’
Fidelma was immediately interested. ‘Do you know what sort of person he is?’
Aibell gave a whimsical smile. ‘I cannot remember very much, as I was taken to Sliabh Luachra when I was just a child, but Ciarnat told me once that you have already met his son.’
‘His son?’ Fidelma repeated, baffled. ‘How would Ciarnat have known that – and where did I meet his son?’
‘He is Ceit, the commander of Prince Donennach’s guard at the fortress.’
Fidelma exchanged a surprised glance with Eadulf.
‘It is tenuous link,’ he pointed out. ‘Gláed and his cut-throats might not even be going to Cromadh.’
‘True enough,’ Fidelma said. ‘Although Ceit would know of all our comings and goings from the fortress. I agree that his father might be a fragile connection but we should not discount it.’ She paused. ‘Let us remember this fact. By increasing our information we can make better speculations. Don’t the scriptures say – Vir sapiens et fortis est vir doctus robustus et validus?’
‘A wise man is strong, a man of knowledge increases his strength,’ Eadulf translated.
Fidelma turned to Aibell. ‘Is there nothing else of importance lying in that direction that you know of, and to which these raiders might be heading?’
Penance of the Damned (Sister Fidelma) Page 22
