Atonement of Blood (32 page)

‘Why all these questions?’ the woman muttered impatiently. ‘Who are you, lady?’

‘I told you, I am a
dálaigh
and I want to know what happened at Menma’s rath.’

The woman sniffed. ‘A bit late for that isn’t it, when all these years have passed.’

‘And you say no one survived?’

A cunning look spread across her features. ‘Did I say that?’

‘Then someone did survive?’ Fidelma pressed.

‘Old Suanach survived. She had worked for the family ever since she was a young girl.’

‘Suanach? Where would we find her?’

‘You just carry on beyond the ruined rath. The track leads into a forest. She took refuge there afterwards and still lives there. My man and my son found her more dead than alive and brought her here at first. We nursed her as best we could, with the help of the local apothecary, until she eventually said she would go to live across the hill. Old Menma had a cabin in the forest where he once employed a woodsman, for the forest was partially his.’

‘Thank you. That is very helpful. Did she ever tell you what happened?’

‘That the Eóghanacht horsemen attacked the rath for no reason. Cadan, my husband, was able to confirm that.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘My man is a good woodsman. He saw the signs of several horses. Most people had been killed by sword blows. The woman who was staying with them had been shot with arrows and so had one of the servants. Old Suanach would have been dead too from a hefty blow to the back of her skull from a sword but, thanks be, it merely knocked her unconscious but left such a bloody mess that they thought she was dead.’

‘You’ve been very helpful,’ Fidelma repeated. ‘What is your name?’

‘Flannait is my name.’

‘Then my thanks, Flannait.’ Fidelma turned and led the way along to the track across the hillside.

It was not long before they came across a large site of overgrown scrubland. Half-hidden amidst it were the remains of stone and burned wooden constructions; the stones were scarred and blackened by fire. Already nature was beginning to claim the site for grass, shrubs and trees were spreading across it. A quick glance assured them that it had once been a substantial rath, a large house with many outbuildings. They paused only momentarily before moving on along the track towards the forest beyond. It was a large area of evergreen, holly, mixing with blackthorns. The many-branched trees rose to contest the hardy grey alders with their pointed leaves and smooth grey bark. Even rowans spread towards the ridge of the hill. Moss, fern and lichen all clustered among them giving the impression of a dark, impenetrable forest.

Yet the forest was alive. A snipe suddenly flitted from a tree, arrowing down to the mud banks of the water-courses below. This set off some alarmed chattering from a couple of red grouse who had sought sanctuary here from the open moorland behind. However, their flight had been noted and followed by a small dark object rising rapidly skywards, with fast shallow wingbeats. The tiny merlin was an unforgiving bird of prey.

Led by Fidelma, the three travellers walked their horses along the path and entered the darker space of the woodland. It was not long before they saw the shadowy shape of a hut; it was well-hidden in the gloom and could easily have been missed, had they not been specifically looking for it. Even so, Fidelma and Eadulf had to leave their mounts, under the care of Gormán, on the main path and push through the ferns and bracken that grew almost to their own height, presumably in their search for the sun, as if reaching up towards the top of the forest canopy.

To their surprise, they found themselves in a cultivated space in front of the wooden cabin, a place where a few hardy root vegetables had been planted.

Fidelma paused and called: ‘Suanach! Don’t be alarmed. We wish to talk with you.’

There was a movement inside the hut and then the door creaked open.

A woman stood there with wild grey hair and a pale skin, creased with wrinkles. Her eyes were bright but the flesh seemed aged by weather as much as time. She was wrapped in a thick woollen shawl which covered an equally thick dress of wool.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

Fidelma reflected that suspicion seemed a natural reaction in this territory.

‘Flannait the farmer’s wife told us where we would find you,’ she began.

‘For what purpose?’ came the uncompromising response.

‘I am a
dálaigh
,’ Fidelma went on, unperturbed. ‘I understand you are a survivor of the attack on Menma’s rath some years ago.’

If anything, the woman’s eyes narrowed with increased suspicion. She looked from Fidelma to Eadulf – a disapproving expression on her face as she regarded him. Then she turned back.

‘It was a long time ago.’

‘No more than four years, so I am told.’

‘A long time,’ Suanach repeated as if she had not heard her.

‘Can we speak inside your cabin?’

The woman sniffed and actually stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her.

‘No, we cannot. There is scant room for myself and none for strangers. If you must talk, there is a seat on that log. I shall sit on the porch.’

Fidelma glanced at Eadulf with a smile of resignation and went to sit on the log that the woman had indicated. Eadulf preferred to stand.

‘I merely want you to tell me the details of the attack on Menma’s rath,’ Fidelma said quietly.

‘Details?’ The woman gave a hoarse laugh. Suddenly she turned her head away and raised her long hair from the back of her neck, revealing a livid white scar. ‘Is that detail enough? Menma and all his family were all killed. I was the only survivor. A curse on the strangers from Cashel!’

Fidelma shot a warning look at Eadulf before continuing. ‘Tell me what happened. Who was at the rath that day?’

Suanach shrugged indifferently. ‘What good does it do to speak of them now? They are all dead.’

‘It may help to bring the guilty to punishment,’ Fidelma replied.

‘After all these years? I doubt it. And who will punish the Eóghanacht? Still, I shall not go to my grave without passing on the truth.’ She paused and seemed to gather herself before continuing. ‘It was a normal day. The sun was up and the warrior had gone …’

‘The warrior?’

‘It was after our defeat by the Eóghanacht. Part of our punishment was that we had bands of warriors from Cashel set to watch over us until we agreed the terms of the peace. One warrior who commanded them demanded the hospitality of the rath.’

Fidelma leaned forward eagerly. ‘Do you know his name?’

Suanach frowned. ‘It is so long ago, I forget. All I remember was that he wore a golden collar, a gold torque around his neck, and boasted that he was of the warrior élite of Cashel come to maintain order over us. He was tall and slender.’

‘Perhaps his name will come back to you as we speak,’ Fidelma replied, disappointed. ‘Let us continue. How long was he here?’

‘A long while, I think. Months, but not years. Long enough for him to pretend to be in love.’

Fidelma ran her tongue over lips that had gone dry with excitement.

‘With whom was he supposed to be in love?’

‘A woman from Dún Eochair Mháigh who was under Menma’s protection. She had come to be with us some months before. She was an attractive woman, with dark hair the colour of black night. When the sun shone on it, it danced with a blue light.’

‘What was her name? Do you remember that?’

‘Oh yes, her name I
do
remember. It was Liamuin. I think she had been newly widowed, but she had come here under Menma’s protection. Menma was a
bó-aire
, a cow lord, and influential in these parts.’

‘And this warrior from Cashel, you say that he fell in love with her?’

‘Pretended to be in love with her,’ she corrected. ‘Liamuin certainly fell in love with his deceitful looks and lying tongue.’

‘Very well. What then?’

‘On the day it happened, Menma and his sons were shearing some sheep. Menma’s wife was preparing the meal with Comnait, a young girl serving the household. Liamuin was outside with the
muide
churning the butter.’

Seeing that Eadulf looked puzzled, Fidelma quickly explained: ‘A
muide
is a small hand-churn.’ The popular word that Eadulf knew was a
cuinneóg
but this seemed to be a local term known to Fidelma.

Suanach had not noticed the interruption for she was continuing. ‘I had gone down to the boundary wall to look after the pigs and was—’

‘And did you say that the warrior with the golden collar was not here?’ interrupted Fidelma.

‘He was not. He was in the habit of leaving every few days. He would vanish on his horse and then return. I suppose he went to meet with his men who were encamped elsewhere in the territory.’

‘So, what happened?’

‘Everything was peaceful that morning and then … Then he appeared with a dozen of his men. They jumped their horses across the border fence and made straight for Menma and his sons. They struck them down with their swords. Burning torches were flung into the house. I saw Liamuin, her black hair flashing in the flames. She grabbed a sickle and rushed to defend Menma’s wife and little Comnait. She actually wounded the leader of the attack – yes, her former lover with the golden collar.’

‘You say that she wounded him?’

‘Yes. I saw him drop his sword as blood gushed from his hand. Then two of his men released their arrows and shot her down.’

‘And what of Menma’s wife and Comnait?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Both cut down. God forgive me, I turned and fled. I heard one of the warriors riding after me. I was trying to run into the forest to hide, but before I got there I felt a blow on the back of my head and everything went dark. I don’t really remember any more. I am told that I was over a week in fever until I came to my senses in the cabin of Flannait and her man. Cadan and his son had found me and taken me there. May they be blessed. They managed to get the local apothecary to come and tend me. It was from Lachtine that I learned that everyone had been killed and the rath burned to a cinder.’

‘Lachtine!’ exclaimed Eadulf, glancing excitedly at Fidelma.

‘He was the apothecary here. He waived his fees for he had also been in love with Liamuin. Of course, he was not alone in that. She was that sort of woman – men fell easily in love with her. God’s curse that she fell in love with the Eóghanacht warrior!’

‘You said Lachtine
was
the apothecary here?’ Fidelma picked up on the tense.

‘He left some time later. I do not know where he went.’

‘And you say that the attackers were led by this warrior wearing a golden collar, the one whose name you cannot remember?’

‘That is correct.’

‘And you recognised him – face to face?’

‘Not exactly – I was some distance away.’

‘How did you recognise him then?’

‘He wore a golden collar.’

Fidelma breathed out softly. ‘So you recognised him simply because he wore a golden collar at his neck. Was there anything else?’

‘I know he had a stag rampant on his shield. It was picked out with jewels.’

Fidelma started, a hand came up to her throat. ‘A stag rampant with jewels?’ she repeated faintly. ‘Do you know what that symbolises?’

‘No. I know nothing of shield emblems, nor do I wish to. I only know that he wore the hated symbol of the golden collar.’

Fidelma paused for a moment to collect herself before asking: ‘Did Liamuin, so far as you saw, make any form of recognition as she swung at him with the sickle?’

Suanach frowned and shook her head. ‘I was too far away to see what was on her face.’

‘Why would this attack have taken place? Do you know of any reason why this warrior, having lived with Menma for so long, would suddenly turn and order his men to attack and destroy the rath and its people?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘It is not for me to give reasons. I only know what happened that day and will forever bear the scar.’

‘So, as far as you are concerned, there was no reason?’

‘He was an Eóghanacht warrior. Did he need a reason? They spread death and destruction wherever they go.’

Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment. Eadulf had noticed that she had been tense since the woman had mentioned the shield. Now she seemed to allow herself to relax a little.

‘Did anyone come to investigate this matter?’ she asked.

‘None to my knowledge. Oh, I did hear that someone had been asking questions about the attack some time afterwards. But no one knew who it was. I was still confined at Flannait’s cabin and in no fit state to answer questions. I am told that after that, there was no sign of the warrior who led the attack or anyone else. Of course, by then a peace was agreed between our people and the Eóghanacht. Much good did it do us.’

To their surprise the old woman suddenly spat at her feet.

‘I say this to the Eóghanacht of Cashel – may they melt off the face of this land like snow melts off a hedge when the sun appears. May guinea fowl cry at each new birth from the loins of their women. May the old ones die roaring. May they have only ashes in their hearth through the coldest winter. And may they sustain no comfort in this world nor the other one.’

Fidelma shivered suddenly at the chill intensity of her voice. Eadulf looked angry.

‘Christ forgive you, woman. It is against the Faith to make such a curse. It is bad and penance should be made,’ he admonished.

‘Bad was its inspiration,’ muttered the old woman, ‘and the bad seed only produces a bad harvest. I have already served my penance and now it is the turn of others to serve their due.’

Fidelma gave a warning glance at Eadulf when he would pursue the moral rebuke. She rose to her feet and reluctantly Eadulf followed.

‘I thank you for telling your story, Suanach. It was bad, what happened to you – but you cannot curse a whole people for what one person has done. It is wrong to live with such bitterness in old age.’

‘It is that bitterness which sustains me in what is left of my life,
dálaigh
,’ she replied emphatically.

Fidelma led the way back through the fern-covered path to the main track.