‘Find anything?’ Enda asked after a while.
Eadulf shook his head. ‘Nothing that makes sense. I would say that most of these bodies were of the religious: I see remains of wooden beads, some crucifixes and the fragments of robes rather than pieces of armour. There are some partially tanned burnt hide sandals as well. However, there are a couple of interesting bodies. There is the one you found with the búatais, the warrior’s boot – by the way, I found its companion. However …’
‘However?’ queried Fidelma.
‘There is something even more significant than Saxon boots.’
‘Significant? In what way?’
‘This one had the remains of a crossbow bolt in the chest, so deep that the fire hardly touched it.’
‘A bolt?’ queried Enda. ‘Do you mean like those used by Aescwine’s men?’
‘Hard to tell who fired a crossbow by the finding of a bolt,’ said Eadulf.
‘Well, it is not a weapon of choice among the warriors of Muman,’ Enda countered.
‘But, again, is not unknown,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘It seems likely that the Saxons are involved, because they use the weapon. But it is not evidence. It’s a distasteful task, Eadulf, but would you see whether there are any other such bolts?’
Using the stick to move the burnt remains, Eadulf spent a little time in closer examination. He surveyed the blackened skulls with a critical eye. Fidelma motioned to Enda and they left Eadulf to his inspection. Enda looked after the horses while Fidelma did some exploring but there was hardly anything left in the deserted buildings; most of them were in a dilapidated state anyway, and it was easy to see that there was nothing worth examining there. There were signs that some buildings had been recently used, but nothing to connect the use of the buildings with the mound of destroyed humanity in the courtyard.
Enda spent some time studying the tracks around the buildings.
‘Anything?’ asked Fidelma shortly.
‘Plenty of horses were here. There are, of course, the remains of the coach’ – he nodded to the burnt-out vehicle with the remains of the Red Hand emblem on it – ‘doubtless that coach came here and halted before the gates. I saw some wood on the gates splashed with blood that had dried. I would go so far as to say that there were several horses that were already here and when they left, some of the horses were carrying more weight than they had brought. You can see that by the deeper indentation of their hooves.’
Enda had a deserved reputation as an expert tracker among the warriors of King Colgú’s bodyguard.
‘The addition of the weight would be caused by …?’ queried Fidelma, knowing full well the answer.
‘Some of the horses could have been double mounted or have been carrying extra baggage,’ Enda confirmed. ‘I would say that the horses carrying the extra weight were only two or three at most, so I would hazard a guess and say they were carrying an extra rider and baggage.’
Fidelma grimaced. ‘You mean the occupant of the burnt-out coach and her baggage?’ she said, thinking of Grella.
‘More than likely.’
‘It does seem a logical deduction, especially as she was seen alive subsequently,’ she agreed.
Eadulf called to them and they returned to the pile of burnt corpses. He was a little white faced and stood leaning on the stick that Enda had provided.
‘I now realise that I should be thankful that I spent that time in Tuaim Brecain studying the healing arts,’ he said, ‘for it has given me an eye for the clues that a human leaves behind after death.’
‘Which are … in this case?’ prompted Fidelma.
‘To summarise, most of the bodies, some twelve in all, were clad in religious robes. The remains of their clothes and sandals and a few other items all confirm that. What is more, they were all dead before those who had killed them started this immolation.’
‘How do you know that?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘Easy enough when one looks closely. When a body shows signs of a smashed skull, or a sword thrust into the neck, for which the bone is often the witness, and these wound patterns are repeated, then one can say that they were all killed with sword thrusts to the neck or the head.’
Fidelma regarded the remains sombrely. ‘So the majority of corpses were dressed in religious robes and all were murdered? Is that what you are saying?’
‘I am also saying that our friend, the shepherd, was probably right. They were all young, muscular from what I could see. A few of those bodies better preserved from the fire showed old wounds, healed wounds. Unusual, if they were religious. There were only two exceptions.’
‘What exceptions?’
‘Firstly, the warrior wearing the Saxon-style búatais. He also wore items made of hard material: belt buckles, a knife, jewellery and …’ Eadulf paused and turned to Enda. ‘Although the bodyguard of the kings of Muman are called Warriors of the Golden Collar, the Nasc Niadh, is it the custom of all warriors to wear distinctive torcs of gold?’
‘Of course,’ Enda said immediately. ‘Each torc is of a different pattern, depicting which group the warrior belongs to. The High King’s men, the Fianna, usually have roundels on the ends of their collars where they fit, whereas, as you well know, we carry the heads of wolves on our torcs. The torc has a magical significance …’ He glanced at Fidelma, seeming suddenly awkward. ‘At least, so it was said in the days of the old religion.’
‘Are you saying that you found such a torc?’ asked Fidelma quickly.
‘No, but I found a mark on the neck of one of the bodies that could only have been made by wearing such an item over a long period. The torc had been removed. Thankfully, the neck was not entirely burnt and the mark was clear. This body also wore untanned leather boots.’
‘So what you are saying is that among the bodies you could identify at least one professional warrior?’
‘That would be my deduction,’ Eadulf affirmed. ‘And, of course, there was the body of the coachman.’
He indicated another body that had been burnt almost down to the skeleton but, oddly, the lower arms had been left almost intact due to the way the body had lain in the pyre.
Fidelma’s eyebrows were raised. ‘How do you identify that as the body of a coachman? By what power do you deduce that?’
Eadulf actually smiled complacently. ‘What does a coachman, one who drives a team of horses, wear around his wrists?’
‘Jewellery?’ volunteered Enda curiously.
Eadulf shook his head and his smile broadened a little. ‘The driver has to hold the leather reins. Sometimes, for better control, they wrap the reins around their wrists. To protect the flesh on their wrists, they often wear cuffs of stiff leather, often pieces of semi-tanned hide. I think they are called muinchille. They go around the wrist so that drivers can turn the reins without injury to themselves. If you look, this corpse had such cuffs on both wrists and, because of the nature of the material, they were singed but not burnt, so protecting the lower arms. Thus this poor man was obviously the driver of that coach.’ He nodded towards the remains of the vehicle.
Fidelma shot Eadulf one of her rare looks of admiration.
‘So,’ she said, ‘we are putting together a picture. Grella came here in her coach. She was driven by a coachman and accompanied, it seems, by at least one bodyguard … If we ever catch up with Cairenn, she can confirm the details of who remained in the party when she left them to go on to the abbey. Were they all killed?’
‘I found the bolts in the remains of the warrior and the coachman,’ replied Eadulf. ‘I would say that they were.’
‘So all the party, except for Grella herself, were killed. The bodies were put with these others, who were dressed as religious, and burnt. We know that Grella was later seen alive with Glaisne of Eochaill. So was Glaisne the assassin or did he rescue her?’
Eadulf was thoughtful. ‘The questions arises: why were those men killed? If Grella was abducted, then the reason for her coachmen and escort being killed is obvious. But wh
at about the men dressed as religious? We know that the man Antrí claimed to be an abbot, falsely it seems, and some men came here with him supposedly to reopen this abbey. So what was their real purpose and what had it to do with Grella? Who were they and why were they here and why were they killed?’
‘And, more important,’ Fidelma sighed heavily, ‘what bearing does all this have on the conspiracy to kill the High King, Cenn Fáelad?’
They fell silent for a while before Eadulf brought them back to the reality of their current position. ‘There is a stream passing not far away. I feel I should go and clean the touch and odours of the dead from my body even though the winter temperature is not conducive to bathing.’
‘Very well,’ acknowledged Fidelma, glancing up at the sky. It was now heavy with grey winter clouds, edged in white. ‘I would say it is well past the sun’s zenith, if we could ever see the sun. We should also be thinking of a meal, but in a more conducive atmosphere.’
‘I could agree to that,’ Enda smiled. ‘But I suggest that we bathe first, as friend Eadulf suggests.’
Eadulf looked slightly pale. ‘I can’t see how one can contemplate eating a meal after … after that.’
Fidelma laid a hand on his arm in sympathy. ‘Yet it is no use making ourselves ill because of it. We have seen much death, you and I, Eadulf. This is just more evil, but we have to be strong enough to overcome it. We owe it to those people who lie here to find out why they met their end in this manner. To do this, we must maintain our strength.’
Eadulf knew that she was right.
‘We might find a place on the other side of the stream, towards the valley entrance, where there are more trees and undergrowth. Along there where I saw the entrances to those caves.’ Enda pointed. ‘That would be a good place to bathe, rest and discuss what next we should do.’
They left the putrid smells of the former abbey stockade and followed Enda to the spot he had indicated. It did not take long to reach a suitable spot, by a small protective entrance to one of the limestones caves on a stone-covered knoll overlooking the stream. Fidelma suggested that she take the horses to water and feed them while the men had a bathe in the stream. Then she would bathe while Enda went in search of some food.
While Eadulf and Enda went off to the stream, Fidelma also found reasonably dry wood, to use as kindling with dry grasses. She dug a small pit in the soil with the blade of her knife. In it, she was able to kindle a good fire. Neither Eadulf nor Enda prolonged their immersion in the stream because it was icy cold, and while Eadulf understood the importance of washing after his search of the bodies, it was far too chilly to take a long time over it. He had even found a piece of sléic, soap, in his firbolg and, with it, he thoroughly scrubbed his hands and arms where he had picked up pieces of the bodies to examine them. Now he felt better, although he was still made uncomfortable and almost nauseous by the memories.
Eadulf went to help Fidelma while Enda went off to hunt. They collected water from where it cascaded down the rocky hillside before feeding the stream below. Soon Enda rejoined them, with a woebegone expression. He carried a sack.
Eadulf tried to regain his usual humorous attitude.
‘That’s a small sack, friend,’ he said with forced joviality. ‘Do I presume that you have brought no deer for our meal? Not even a well-fatted hind? Even the fawn of the fallow deer should have been an easy task for a hunter with your reputation.’
Enda screwed up his face in mock anger. ‘Let us see how well you could hunt in these woods bereft of deer. Why, even the wolves huddled together for warmth and are clearly starving. I thought I might relent my prejudice against them and invite them to join our fire.’
‘So what have you got for the fire?’ Fidelma asked, interrupting their banter.
‘Just a couple of gráineóg,’ Enda said, dropping his sack.
Eadulf sniffed in disgust. ‘Hedgehog? How do you expect us to eat those creatures with all their yellow-tipped spines? Anyway, I thought they hibernated in the winter.’ He was secretly pleased, for he certainly had no appetite to eat anything substantial, in spite of Fidelma’s admonition.
‘Do you say that you don’t know how to roast hedgehog?’ Enda scoffed.
Actually, that part was true. Eadulf had never prepared and cooked the meat but had only eaten it when it had been prepared by others.
‘I leave such things to mighty hunters such as yourself,’ he replied solemnly.
‘Eadulf does have a point,’ Fidelma remarked. ‘The creatures do hibernate during this period. So how did you find them?’
‘Finding not even a hare or rabbit in the vicinity, I was looking for some birds’ eggs in case there was nothing else. I did find some wild garlic, and lus bhríd, dandelions. I was passing a small cave behind some bushes where there might be birds’ nests. I glanced in and saw that some hedgehogs had made their burrow there for the winter days. So I …’
Fidelma raised a hand. ‘I don’t want to know how you despatched the creatures. So let’s get to the other question that Eadulf raised: how are you going to cook them – because I have no experience of doing so.’
Enda shook his head at them. ‘It is a sad day when people cannot cook a simple meal. Very well. I will teach you how to prepare baked hedgehog. Can you make that fire base deeper into the soil and get it really hot with more wood? Do we have a pan to boil the lus cainnen in and meacon? It is better if they are boiled.’
‘Where are you expecting to get those from?’ demanded Eadulf in astonishment, for these were onions and parsnip.
Enda chuckled and produced them from his bag, along with the wild garlic and dandelions.
‘I found them near where the hedgehogs were. I suspect that the old religious community there,’ he nodded back along the valley towards the deserted abbey, ‘once kept a herb garden and these plants escaped after it was deserted and started to seed themselves. They were growing wild.’
Fidelma meanwhile had begun expanding the little pit she had made the fire in and was adding more wood to get it really hot.
Enda left the vegetables and herbs with her and then took his bag down to the bank of the stream. Eadulf watched him closely and was surprised to see him place the carcasses in the mud and proceed to spread a thick covering all over the spiky coats. Enda brought the mud-encased carcasses back to the fire, which he examined approvingly. He put the creatures into the base of the fire, spreading the glowing embers all over them and piling more wood on top so that they were fully covered by the hot ashes.
‘It will take a little while but soon we will have good meat,’ he remarked with satisfaction.
‘But you have not removed the spikes or the skin,’ Eadulf protested. ‘All you have done is enclose them in mud.’
‘When the mud bakes, it will harden, and then we can break it open in such a way that it will tear off the spikes and coat, revealing the meat underneath,’ the warrior explained, almost condescendingly. ‘Then you can eat it. Unfortunately, this method precludes seasoning the meat, but if Lady Fidelma will prepare the vegetables and season them with the wild garlic, they will give an added flavour. You can heat the tin of water on top of the fire.’
Eadulf shook his head. ‘Where did you learn such methods?’ he asked curiously.
The young warrior chuckled. ‘Easy to explain, friend Eadulf. You learn this means of cooking while out on campaign, when there is often no time to get a hare or rabbit, let alone shoot a deer. Many a battle has been won on the cooked carcass of a mole, badger or even a vole. More often than not, a battle is won on such small carcasses as the hedgehog.’
Fidelma screwed up her nose with an expression of distaste. ‘Probably many a battle has been lost for the same reasons,’ she said. Cooking was not one of her accomplishments and, while she enjoyed food, she certainly did not admit to any interest in the fine art of preparing it.
The cooking took a while but eventually Enda portioned out the meal onto broad leaves that he gathered from nearby plants. It w
as true what he had said, for when he broke open the mud, which ripped away the spikes and skin, there was succulent white meat underneath. It was not as white as chicken but nowhere as dark as rabbit or other such creatures.
Eadulf found it quite sweet and certainly very edible. Once the vegetables and herbs were added, he found himself thinking that no dish had ever tasted as tender and luscious. The warrior showed his companions that by crushing the edible flakes of meat into manageable pieces and mixing them with the blanched wild garlic the flavour was enormously enhanced. Fidelma seemed to relent her concerns about the crude meal and even voiced her appreciation of Enda’s cooking.
After they had eaten, Eadulf collected some ice-cold water from the small waterfall that fed the stream for them to drink. An uneasy silence fell between them. It seemed that each of them was occupied by their own thoughts. Certainly, Fidelma was trying to understand the mystery. She felt relieved that she had cast aside any guilt about breaking the geis that had bound her at the outset. She felt that Cenn Fáelad would have absolved her oath, if he knew the difficulties she would encounter. But try as she might she could find no logical path to follow. What disturbed her most was the curious connection with Aescwine the Saxon. Was it by chance that his ship lurked in the coastal waters here and that he seemed to be in pursuit of Grella? Yet anything else seemed too ridiculous to contemplate.
There were so many questions. Why had Antrí’s men been slaughtered at Cluain? Who by? Glaisne? But Antrí was surely Glaisne’s man? Why had Grella been kidnapped, when the conspiracy was against her husband? He was in Tara and surely well guarded. Why had the attack on his wife happened in the territory of her family? And what was the role of her companion, Cairenn? Was there really a plot being organised by a member of the Eóganacht? That was truly unimaginable.
‘We are going to have to find Grella and Cairenn,’ she announced. She had meant to say it to herself as her thoughts resolved into the only conclusion for action, but it came out aloud without her realising it. Her companions glanced quickly at her.
‘We thought that was exactly what we were doing,’ Eadulf pointed out with a frown. ‘The problem is … how are we going to find them?’
Bloodmoon Page 27
