Fidelma thanked him and offered her best wishes that his search for his missing sister and brother-in-law would prove successful and that all would be well with them. He nodded thoughtfully and stood by the cabin door watching her as she led her horse back down the path to the main track. It was difficult, as the snowfall of the previous night had completely covered any recognisable signs of where it lay. It was only when she reached a flat area of snow that ran in both directions that she realized she had reached the main track. She mounted Aonbharr before glancing back. It was as if the man had not moved, for he still stood watching her. She raised a hand in acknowledgement and set off at a quick walking pace northward on her journey.
It was only sometime later that she realized what had been causing an irritation in the back of her mind. As she had led Aonbharr from the cabin down the path to the main track, the path had been completely covered in snow, so that she had to feel her way down. It had been completely covered in the snowfall, smooth and white, except where a single set of tracks followed it. They could have been the tracks of a dog but Fidelma knew that they had doubtless been made by one of the wolves that had been howling near the cabin during the night. But that was not what was causing the growing unease. It was the question, how had a man called Fáelur come to the cabin? Surely he would have left tracks in the snow? And there were none.
***
“We were worried about you, Fidelma. We were afraid that you were lost in the snowstorm. Eadulf was very concerned.” It was Fidelma’s cousin Scoth, the daughter of Prince Gilcach of the Eóghanacht Airthir Chliach, who chided her as she ushered her into the hall of her father’s hunting lodge.
Fidelma had reached the settlement at Béal Átha Gabhann by mid-afternoon, when the sky had already begun to darken again. There she had found not only Eadulf, waiting anxiously for her, but also her cousin. Prince Gilcach kept a small hunting lodge at the settlement and Scoth was currently in residence, insisting that Eadulf and Fidelma stay with her. Soon Fidelma was relaxing in a chair before a crackling log fire with a glass of mulled wine. Seated by her were Eadulf and Scoth.
Scoth was younger than Fidelma by five or six years; an attractive girl with golden-red hair who seemed to treat everything and everyone with an intense curiosity. Her family shared a common descent with the Eóghanacht of Cashel from Óengus – the first Christian King of Muman. Scoth was always lively and loved nothing more than to gossip.
“Scoth suggested that we should form a search party for you,” admitted Eadulf, Fidelma’s stoic partner, “for there were violent snowstorms across the peaks last night.”
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf with a quick, reassuring smile.
“There was no need to worry on my account. I found shelter for the night.”
“Where did you find hospitality?” demanded Scoth in surprise. “These mountains are sparsely populated and the tracks are few and far between.” When Fidelma explained the route she had taken, a worried expression formed on the face of her cousin. “I know where you went wrong. You must have left the main track in the valley and headed through the high pass between Sliabh Coimeálta and An Cnoc Fionn. You should have remained in the valley and followed the track to the east of An Cnoc Fionn.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door and one of the female attendants entered.
“Excuse me, my lady,” she said, speaking directly to Scoth. “A messenger has arrived and needs a private word.”
Scoth looked irritable. “I am with my cousin. Can’t they wait?”
“They told me to tell you that it is news of Rechtabra.”
Scoth rose quickly with an apologetic expression. “Rechtabra is my wayward cousin,” she said to Fidelma. “You may remember him? I will be but a moment.”
She was, indeed, back before hardly any time had passed. “What were we talking about? You said that you missed the valley track east of An Cnoc Fionn.”
“It was in the blizzard that I lost the path. There was no track to follow,” countered Fidelma.
Scoth looked serious. “But no one lives up along that high pass. There is scarcely a track you can follow on foot, let alone one to ride.”
Fidelma smiled thinly. “I found that out for myself.”
Scoth seemed clearly worried. “So where did you find shelter? It is said that there are caves in those mountains but they are thought to be the lairs of wolves that haunt that area. Surely you didn’t shelter in a cave?”
Seated before the roaring fire with Scoth and Eadulf, and the warming mug of mulled wine in her hand, Fidelma felt rather embarrassed by some of the fears that had passed through her mind during the previous night. She relaxed and told her story with a smile.
“A curious tale,” Scoth commented reflectively.
“The place being so deserted, I am wondering if we could raise some people and ride back to the valley tomorrow to see if we can help with the search. I was considering passing back that way on my return to Cashel. Of course, with this weather it may well be bodies that we would be searching for, if the woman’s relative has not found them before.”
“There is no need for you to be troubled in that matter,” Scoth insisted. “A trip back through the high pass will take both you and Eadulf out of your way. It is not the best route back to Cashel.” She glanced through the window. “Nightfall will be on us soon otherwise I would suggest my warriors should go to help the search for this missing couple. Who did you say these hill-farmers were, Fidelma? Ciarnat and …?”
“Ciarnat and Cuilind,” repeated Fidelma. “And the man who was the brother of the woman said his name was Fáelur.”
Scoth started nervously. The involuntary movement was not lost on Fidelma.
“Do you know these people?” she asked with interest.
The girl shook her head. “In truth, I have never heard of Ciarnat and Cuilind before … except …”
“Except?” pressed Fidelma when she hesitated.
The girl regarded her with an odd expression.
“You know the meaning of the name Fáelur, surely?”
Fidelma shrugged. It had not occurred to her to think of its meaning. “It means …” she paused. A frown crossed her features as she realized what was passing through Scoth’s mind. “It means ‘wolfman’.”
“What of it?” asked Eadulf, curiously. “Our son is called Alchú – little hound. It’s common enough to use such names, surely? I knew a man called Onchú, which means fierce hound.”
Scoth was still serious. “We do not couple the name of a wolf with a personal name. Not in these mountains. There is a legend …”
“Ah! A legend,” Fidelma smiled, trying to lighten her cousin’s ominous tone.
Eadulf shook his head in rebuke at her, missing the point. “Didn’t you once say that legend is but half-remembered history?”
Fidelma shrugged and asked: “What is the legend?”
“The old ones say that there is an evil wolf-pack in the mountains that is led by a being who is half-wolf and half-man. A being called Fáelur – the wolfman.” There was suppressed awe and excitement in Scoth’s voice.
Fidelma leant back and chuckled. “Are you suggesting that the man I met was no man but a werewolf? Come Scoth! I thought better of you than to give credence to ancient legends.”
The girl remained serious. “It is no ancient legend. People here have been talking about such things during the last week or two.”
“The last week? Why?”
“They say the Fáelur attacks the unwary and carries them off to the lair of his were-folk. About this time, so the locals say, there is a particular full of the moon that they call ‘the night of the snow wolf’. This is when the were-folk are most active.”
Fidelma smiled mischievously. “Well, he didn’t carry me off to his lair, which must prove that this Fáelur wasn’t the wolfman of the legend. Besides, this encounter was in broad daylight. Come, Scoth, these ancient stories …”
“I told you that they were not so ancie
nt. Why, only last week …” she paused and her lips compressed.
“Last week?” Fidelma pressed with interest. “What happened?”
“The people here say that one of their number was carried off by the Fáelur and has not been seen since.”
Fidelma’s expression showed ill-concealed sarcasm.
“And did anyone witness this wolf-man carrying off this person?”
Scoth raised her shoulder and let it fall in negative fashion.
“All I know is that he went up into the Sliabh na Airgid, the Silver Mountains, and was never seen again. He came from a settlement near here.”
“There are several reasons, apart from phantom wolves, why a man going alone into the mountains in winter might not return,” Fidelma observed shrewdly. “Was a search made for him?”
“It was but no sign was found of him. People said they heard wolves howling.”
“Not unusual,” Fidelma replied. “But I did not come here to talk about Otherworld creatures.” She dismissed her fears of the previous night and thought about the mystery of the disappearance of the occupants of the cabin in the high pass. She did not believe in such things as phantoms. They did not exist. But the couple were missing. “Eadulf and I can start back to Cashel early tomorrow and go through the high pass to find out whether the farmer and his wife have been found or not. It is not such a great detour.”
“Tomorrow?” Scoth was frowning. Clearly there was something worrying her which she was finding difficult to articulate.
“What brings you here, Scoth?” Fidelma tried to change the subject. “I expected you to be at your father’s fortress, An tAonach, during this inclement weather.”
The girl pursed her lips. “These days I prefer to spend time under the shadows of the mountains than out on the plain at the Place of Assembly. I was surprised when Eadulf arrived here and told me that he was due to meet you.” She hesitated and glanced at the blackening sky through the window. “You still intend to travel back to Cashel tomorrow?”
“If the weather clears,” confirmed Fidelma.
Her cousin hesitated for a moment or two and then sighed. “I confess that your coming here is rather fortuitous. I need your knowledge.”
“You have a legal problem, Scoth?” Fidelma was surprised.
Her cousin nodded solemnly.
“My father and his Brehon are absent, giving judgements at the abbey of Brendán in Biorra. They are not expected back before the Feast of Brigit. So you may be the very person to consult while you are here.”
“What advice do you need that it cannot await the return of your father and his Brehon?”
“I mentioned our cousin Rechtabra earlier. Do you remember him?”
Fidelma frowned, trying to recollect. “A dirty, uncouth little boy who threw mud at me when I came visiting here with my uncle many years ago? I was only thirteen summers and was very sensitive about my appearance, as I recall.”
Scoth grimaced. “He is still uncouth and dirty, but you remember him as a child. Now he is full grown to manhood. He has not improved his personality. He maintains his vicious temper and is even more arrogant.”
“So there is a problem between you? The messenger that just arrived brought you word of him. Something serious?”
“For me, it is serious,” confirmed the girl. “I inherited some land near here from my mother. The land contains a silver mine. Rechtabra has occupied it and claims that I should not inherit.”
Fidelma was surprised. “On what basis does he make that claim?”
“That he believes a woman could not inherit a silver mine.”
“You have the necessary evidence that it was left to you as a banchomarba, a female heir? Such inheritance is within the law.”
“Of course. My father’s Brehon has the evidence and my father knows the story well. But they are not here. It was not by chance that Rechtabra waited until my father and his Brehon had left for the tour of judgements before he occupied the mine and started to work it. By the time they return, he will have denuded the mine of most of its wealth.”
“Then what of your father’s tanist, his heir apparent? Surely he has the authority to stop Rechtabra?”
Scoth’s lips compressed sourly. “Rechtabra is my father’s tanist. And that is my problem.”
Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at her for a moment. “So, what you are saying is that he has moved on to your land and claimed it in defiance of the law? But he must know of the consequences when your father and his Brehon return?”
“He probably means to extract as much as he can before they return. With such riches, I am told that he could buy protection, even travel where retribution is of no consequence. I was wondering what I could do. I do not have enough warriors loyal to me to overthrow him.”
“Well the answer is simple in law. According to the Din Techtugad, if he remains in defiance then you can institute the procedure of bantellach, a legal means of pursuing a claim for female rights of land-ownership. You do not have to resort to force. It would be best, however, if your father’s Brehon gave the judgement. But is it certain that Rechtabra is fully aware that he will have to pay you compensation and fines for his presumption?”
“I do not know,” Scoth replied with a shrug. Then her eyes lightened. “Would it not be possible for you to give him a warning before you leave?”
“We mean to start back first thing in the morning,” she glanced at Eadulf, who shrugged.
“A word from you might stop him,” Scoth went on persuasively. “Tomorrow we could ride to the mine. It is not far to the west of here and you could warn him so that he understands the consequences of what he is doing … Please?”
Fidelma sighed with resignation. “I suppose that I could explain the law to him, if that is all that is needed.”
Scoth relaxed with a smile. “I would appreciate it. Rechtabra might give this matter more serious thought if he knows that the King’s sister is watching his actions.”
“I presume Rechtabra has men working at the mine with him? If I remember that evil little boy, he might not like his cousin lecturing him on the law. Alas, silver seems to turn people’s minds.”
“Are there are many silver mines in this district?” asked Eadulf.
“Those mountains you have to pass through to Cashel are called Sliabh an Argid, the Silver Mountains,” Scoth replied quickly. “The mountains are rich in silver and thus my father is able to pay the gabal na rígh, the king’s tribute, in unga weights, grams of silver rather than cattle as some princes do.”
“And do many people here work in the silver mines?” asked Eadulf, who was always interested in learning about people and places.
“That is why this settlement is called the Mouth of the Ford of the Smith,” replied Scoth. “The smiths, however, that work here are silversmiths. This is where most of the silver in the mines is worked.”
Fidelma suddenly stretched, yawned and rose. “Forgive me, Scoth. I have had a hard journey these last few days and no bath last night. Let me rest before the evening bath and meal and, I promise you, first thing in the morning, we will ride out to find our wayward cousin. We will delay our journey a further day.”
“It is good of you, Fidelma,” Scoth reached forward and placed a hand on Fidelma’s arm. “I am sure Rechtabra will take notice of you. Eadulf knows where the guestroom is. I will order water to be heated for your bath after you have rested.”
Eadulf led the way to the door. As she reached it, Fidelma hesitated with a slight frown and glanced back to her cousin.
“As a matter of interest, that man who disappeared … you said he was local man? Did you know him?”
Scoth shook her head. “I did not. But I heard that he worked for Rechtabra.”
“In what capacity?”
“He was a cerd, an expert silver-worker.”
***
They awoke the next morning to find the snowstorm had returned with a vengeance. From a short time after midnight, the wind was howling out
side, hurling the snow this way and that with an intense fury, and daylight brought no respite.
Eadulf regarded Fidelma with a wry expression as they sat at the early morning meal. Of Scoth there was not yet any sign.
“I hope your cousin does not expect us to go tracking through the snowstorm to meet this wayward cousin Rechtarbra.”
Fidelma smiled. “I think not. We will wait until it abates.”
“It seems a curious business.”
Fidelma raised her eyes from her plate and looked at him with interest. “What does?” she asked.
“I heard Scoth talking to one of her attendants this morning. You recall the messenger that arrived yesterday with news of Rechtabra? Apparently, he was sent away immediately, even though the wind was already getting up then. He was sent back to the silver mine. I presume the man was spying for her.”
Fidelma sniffed. “No harm in that. If Rechtabra is flouting the law then it is wise for someone to watch him.”
There was a sudden noise outside and the door was opened abruptly. Scoth came quickly through, slamming it shut behind her. Her eyes were wide as if in fearful anticipation.
“It’s Rechtabra!” she gasped, glancing quickly over her shoulder as if the man was behind her. “He and his bodyguard have just arrived.”
Fidelma looked up without surprise at her apparent trepidation.
“I presume that he comes seeking shelter from the snowstorm? After all, this is your father’s hunting lodge and, presumably, as tanist, he has rights to shelter here?”
The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fiction Page 14
