Atonement of Blood (38 page)

‘Did you find out what you wanted?’ he asked Fidelma as he handed the drinks to them.

‘I found out what I was able,’ she countered. ‘Now I think you could add to that knowledge.’

Marban frowned. ‘I will answer if I can.’

‘I would like you to tell me the real reason why Liamuin ran away from her husband, Escmug.’

Marban looked astonished at the abruptness of the question. ‘He was a bully and an evil man,’ he said defensively.

‘Then why did she not leave him before?’

‘Her daughter was the reason. I told you.’

‘Yet what happened this time that she fled and abandoned her daughter? She had put up with Escmug’s beatings for fourteen years. Why choose this moment to run away?’

Marban could not meet her eye.

‘Come!’ snapped Fidelma, suddenly becoming angry. ‘Are there no Brehons here? Women are equal to men in their right to divorce or to separation. Women who have been ill-used or beaten can be divorced with full compensation – especially if blemishes have been raised on the skin by such ill-treatment. Why did Liamuin not have recourse to the law? Instead she flees – and the law states that a woman who flees from her marital contact without sufficient cause is classed in the same manner as a fugitive thief.’

The miller raised his hands, spread slightly outwards. ‘Liamuin is dead, lady. Surely the dead should be allowed to rest in peace?’

‘Not if their resurrection goes to explaining their death and exonerating their reputation. And not if their resurrection will save lives.’

‘I cannot help, lady,’ the miller replied stubbornly.

Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘Would you ask Gormán to bring the … the object in here.’

Eadulf rose and went off to fulfil his task. He knew that Fidelma had an idea but he was not sure what it was. He was back with Gormán within moments.

‘Gormán, unwrap the sacking and show the miller what you have there.’

As Gormán obeyed, Fidelma watched the miller’s face turn pale. A number of expressions chased across his features. He reached forward and ran his trembling hands over the golden wolf.

‘It is the same, yet it has been expertly repaired,’ he breathed at last.

‘Repaired?’ Fidelma asked sharply.

‘When I last saw it, one of its legs and its tail had been broken off. I think, perhaps, by sword blows. This has been repaired and by a smith with much experience and talent in the art of working with this metal.’

‘So you are sure this is the
Cathach
of Fiachu Fidgenid and the one which Liamuin brought here when she fled from Escmug?’

‘I am sure—’ began the miller before he halted and stared at her in astonishment. ‘How did you know?’

‘Is it the same?’ repeated Fidelma.

The miller sighed and pointed to the object. ‘There is a special incision on the metal in Ogham, the ancient script, just under the belly of the animal.’

Fidelma reached forward and felt for the incised letters. ‘Buaidh!’ she read aloud. ‘Victory!’ She sat back and looked at Marban, her silence inviting him to speak.

‘Very well,’ he said finally. ‘I will tell you the story as Liamuin told me and will subtract nothing.’ He paused to refill the beakers of
corma
, taking a large swallow of his own before beginning to speak.

‘When Liamuin came to me for help, not knowing where to turn, it was not that she was merely fleeing from her husband and abandoning her child, Aibell. You were right. You have already learned that her father was old Ledbán and that her brother was Lennán, who had trained as a physician and entered the Abbey of Mungairit.’

Fidelma waited without commenting.

‘Lennán had decided to join Prince Eoganán’s warriors when they marched against your brother’s army. Not that he supported the Prince but he was sworn to follow his calling as a physician. So he went to care for the sick and wounded.’

‘We have heard as much,’ Eadulf muttered. ‘He was killed on the slopes of Cnoc Áine by Eóghanacht warriors.’

The miller glanced at him. ‘That is not exactly so,’ he said quietly.

It was Fidelma’s turn to be surprised. ‘What are you saying? That he was not killed by Eóghanacht warriors or that he was not killed on the slopes of Cnoc Áine?’

‘He was mortally wounded but did not die there.’

‘You’d best continue the story then.’

‘It happened on the very day of the battle. As Liamuin told me, it was, thankfully, one of those evenings when Escmug was away drinking. And yet the battle was raging on a hill less than twenty kilometres away. Liamuin was mending her husband’s nets when a wounded rider arrived at her cabin. It was her own brother Lennán. He was dying. He had strength enough to tell her of the defeat of the Uí Fidgente army at the hands of Colgú. He had, indeed, been nursing the wounded on the field of slaughter.

‘One of those mortally wounded was the standard-bearer of Prince Eoganán. He was lying with the
Cathach
of Fiachu Fidgenid almost hidden beneath him. As Lennán turned him over to assess his wounds, he saw the golden wolf and its broken haft. He was about to treat the standard-bearer when he felt a sharp pain in his side. He turned to see a warrior bending over him, sword still in his hand. The warrior’s face was a mask of maniacal desire as he stared at the
Cathach
. He was screaming, “It’s mine! It’s mine! I will have the power.” He made another lunge towards the
Cathach
. Realising that this warrior had stabbed him with his sword, Lennán grabbed the remaining haft of the
Cathach
and swung it at him, catching him on the forehead. The warrior fell down and lay still.

‘Lennán knew what the
Cathach
symbolised. He knew that if the warrior seized the
Cathach
it would mean more bloodshed and destruction for the Uí Fidgente as well as the Eóghanacht. And this fear caused him to flee to his sister. The fear of that warrior on the battlefield who had struck the fatal blow at him …’

‘Some Eóghanacht warrior, no doubt?’ Gormán’s voice was almost a sneer.

To their surprise, Marban shook his head.

‘Not so. The warrior was Lorcán, son of Eoganán. Everyone knew and feared Lorcán’s ruthlessness. The man was killed not long afterwards and few among the Uí Fidgente mourned his passing. But at the time, he was a man to fear. Lennán realised that he was badly wounded, but he derived an extraordinary strength of purpose from the knowledge of what might happen if Lorcán got possession of the sacred totem. He managed to stagger from the battlefield with it, mount a horse and, wounded as he was, he rode that agonising distance to his sister Liamuin. He entrusted the emblem to her, telling her to take it and hide it somewhere safe.’

‘And then he died?’

‘While knowing full well that death was at hand, he remounted his horse and rode back towards the battlefield. It seemed that he did not make it, but he was close enough for the others to think he had been killed on the field of battle or died trying to leave it. At any rate, his visit to his sister was not known.’

‘Except to you. This is the story that Liamuin told you?’

‘He had impressed his fear into the poor girl. She took the metal wolf of the
Cathach
, placed it in a sack, and realising she could not wait for her daughter to return from the fields, she left Dún Eochair Mháigh and so headed upriver to me.’

‘So you weren’t simply concerned with Escmug chasing after her?’

The miller shook his head. ‘Not just Escmug, although I knew he would guess where she had fled. As I told you, Menma, the
bó-aire
, was one of the most moral people I knew. That is why I sent her to his rath. I suggested that we take the
Cathach
and have him hide it.’

‘And what of her daughter, Aibell?’

‘The plan was for her to be told where her mother was later. Escmug believed that Liamuin had simply run away from him and for no other reason than she was tired of him. In revenge, he decided to do something that would wound Liamuin. That was when he sold Aibell to Fidaig as a bondservant. As I have already told you, I had no regrets in killing that animal.’

‘So Liamuin hid with Menma and nothing was done about her daughter?’

‘What could we do? The child had become a slave – to Fidaig of all people. As I told you before, she was as good as dead.’

‘Yet she did not die. I have spoken with Fidaig and he accepts that he has done wrong in law by taking the girl from Escmug knowing she was at the age of choice.’

The miller’s expression was one of incredulity.

‘Lady, you have seen that we are not far from the great fastness of the Luachra, where Fidaig and his sons rule. His power extends even over the hills where my friend Menma used to dwell. I swear that I gave up all hope of Aibell being rescued when I heard that Escmug had given her to the Luachra.’

‘Let us speak of Gláed first,’ Fidelma said. ‘I am told he played a role at Cnoc Áine – even against the wishes of his father. His ambition lay with the Uí Fidgente.’

Marban’s mouth tightened. ‘That is true, lady. Fidaig was not really interested in Eoganán’s claims to the kingship of Cashel nor, indeed, in the Uí Fidgente at all. He was concerned in building up his own fiefdom within the fastness of the Sliabh Luachra. There is a natural fortress with its great mountain barriers.’

Eadulf rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘How well known is Gláed among the Uí Fidgente? Surely he would be recognised by all the Uí Fidgente nobles? Conrí, for example.’

Fidelma saw what Eadulf was driving at but Marban was shaking his head.

‘Outside of these borderlands, I doubt many know him at all. Although he is ambitious, don’t forget he was from Sliabh Luachra and joined Eoganán with only a small band of followers – against his father’s wishes. After Eoganán’s defeat, he was not considered of any importance to the Uí Fidgente. The war was four years ago.’

‘Would Gláed know the worth of the
Cathach
?’

‘It would not mean much to him personally, but he might know that any dissident prince of the Uí Fidgente would do anything to have it returned to Dún Eochair Mháigh. In the hands of our nobles it is a powerful symbol; a symbol of our past and a promise of our future – a symbol that we are not a defeated people.’

Gormán stirred uneasily but Fidelma shot him a warning glance.

‘As you say, the war is long over, Marban. Hopefully, the Uí Fidgente no longer have any ambition to fight to assert their superiority,’ she said firmly. ‘Too many have died for that ambition. Too many mothers have lost sons.’

Eadulf added softly: ‘
Bella detesta matribus
– wars, the horror of mothers.’

‘I believe in peace as well as the next man,’ Marban stated. ‘I pray Prince Donennach will last long enough to ensure that this peace, a peace we have known for the last four years, continues. But it is a fact that the only outcome of war is hatred and more war. And I fear it will be so. War will come again out of resentment. Don’t forget, lady, in a conquered land, the defeat of its army leaves three armies in its place. An army of wounded and cripples; an army of mourners and haters; and an army of thieves and opportunists. Out of those three comes the growing resentment to seek atonement from the conquerors. An atonement in blood.’

Fidelma said sadly, ‘You sound like a philosopher, Marban. All I know is, Cashel had to defend itself once attacked. But I agree that victory in war does not determine who is right, only who was the strongest. The victory is not a solution and that is why my brother engaged in finding a solution with Prince Donennach. At least, he seemed to understand the path to peace between Cashel and Dún Eochair Maigh.’

‘Well, let us hope he has time to establish that peace. There is much resentment here.’

‘And there are people who will attempt to overthrow him and end the peace?’ queried Eadulf.

‘Isn’t that the nature of things?’ The miller looked sad. ‘Anyway, now you have heard the full story of Liamuin. She was a lovely girl, albeit a foolish one. Many loved her, but she chose the wrong man and suffered for it. Beaten, forced to abandon her own daughter, fleeing to a place where she was killed along with the family of my dear friend who gave her shelter. That is the tragedy of her life.’

Fidelma sighed. ‘I am not sure it is the full story of Liamuin as yet. At least, Marban, I can confirm some good news to alleviate the tragedy. Aibell is, at this moment, safe in Cashel, having escaped from Sliabh Luachra. Furthermore, when I challenged Fidaig he was forced to admit that he acted illegally, as I have already said, and he has agreed to pay a fine and compensation for doing so.’

The miller stared at her in disbelief. ‘Liamuin’s daughter is alive and well?’

‘Your niece is safe, Marban.’

Tears sprang into the eyes of the big man. Then he tried to pull himself together. ‘Liamuin would be overjoyed. The old saying is truly spoken – that dark stormclouds are sent to prove there is such a thing as sunshine. The impossible
can
happen.’

‘I am sure she will want to meet with you and hear the real story of why her mother had to abandon her,’ Fidelma said kindly. ‘Even more, my friend, I believe that soon we will find out exactly what happened at the rath of Menma – and who is responsible for it.’

As the words left her lips, one of Marban’s men came banging at the mill door and burst in before he could respond. ‘Horses are approaching,’ gasped the man. ‘It is Gláed and his men.’