Atonement of Blood (39 page)

M
arban turned pale with apprehension. It was Gormán who sprang into action and snapped at the miller: ‘Are our horses under cover? Will they be spotted? Quick, man!’

The miller seemed in a panic. ‘No, they are standing outside in clear sight. They will be seen before we can run them to the stables.’

Eadulf was glancing up the stairway to the room where they had successfully hidden before, but Fidelma, reading his intention, said: ‘It won’t work twice, Eadulf.’

They could hear the approach of a band of horses and any initiative seemed to drain from them as they realised how close the riders were. Gormán put his hand on his sword in a futile gesture – but Fidelma reached over to stop him.

‘Resistance will only bring about your death more quickly. Our only defence is in my rank and office – not that Gláed seems to be concerned about that. As we cannot hide, let us go and confront him.’

Eadulf would have preferred to have made a run for it rather than be faced with the wayward son of Fidaig, but Fidelma was already moving towards the door with Marban behind her, wringing his hands.

As they exited from the mill a band of thirty horsemen swept up to the mill buildings. Among the first of the horsemen was the man they had spotted previously from the mill room and whom Fidelma had identified as Gláed or rather Brother Adamrae.

Then they halted in surprise, for next to Gláed rode the familiar figure of the warlord of the Uí Fidgente, Conrí, with Socht on the other side of him.

The men reined in their horses before Fidelma and her companions, with Conrí clearly astonished at seeing them.

‘Lady!’ greeted the Uí Fidgente warlord. ‘What are
you
doing here?’

Fidelma recovered her poise. ‘I would ask you the same question, Conrí … and riding in such company.’

She turned towards Gláed and only then noticed his sullen features and the fact that his hands grasped the reins at an odd angle, the wrists having been tied tightly together with rawhide. She turned back to Conrí with a puzzled look.

Conrí was dismounting with a grin.

‘You were right in your suspicion, lady. There
is
a plot to overthrow Prince Donennach. But I thought you would have left the hospitality of Marban long ago. The girl at the fortress, Ciarnat, told me where you had gone. If Marban will extend his hospitality so that my men and I can water our horses in the stream here and rest before we take our prisoners back to Dún Eochair Mháigh, I will tell you what we have been about.’

Marban hobbled forward quickly, almost sobbing in relief.

‘By all means, Lord Conrí.’ He looked nervously at Gláed, who sat impassively on his horse, looking neither to right nor left, his mouth set in a firm line.

‘Have no fear, miller,’ Socht assured him. ‘He won’t hurt you. This man is our prisoner. Have you somewhere safe where I might put him? Preferably a well-used pigsty?’

‘Still amazed?’ smiled the warlord as they settled themselves back in the warmth of the mill. ‘You may not have recognised him, but that is actually our missing Brother Adamrae, and Adamrae is—’

‘Gláed, son of Fidaig of Sliabh Luachra,’ finished Fidelma. ‘We spent last night with Fidaig.’

Conrí looked disappointed for a moment. Then he continued his explanation. ‘We took Gláed as a prisoner. He had a few men with him who put up a fight, neglecting to notice I had a couple of good bowmen with me. Gláed finally preferred discretion to valour. Now he will answer for Lachtine’s death and for what he did to Brother Cronan.’

‘He will have to answer for much more than that,’ Fidelma replied grimly. ‘How did you find him? And what happened to confirm my idea of a plot to overthrow Donennach?’

The warlord ran his hand through his hair. ‘It was pure luck,’ he confessed. ‘After you left us at Dún Eochair Mháigh, a messenger came to the fortress. We had decided to stay on for a day or two as Cúana used to be an old friend of mine.’

Eadulf picked up the past tense and looked hard at the man.

Conrí interpreted the question. ‘I am afraid he came off the worst in an attack on me.’

‘What happened?’

‘It was as simple as being in the right place at the right time. Night had fallen and I could not sleep. I was still wondering what the purpose of Adamrae, or Gláed as I now know him, was in the Ford of Oaks. I heard a messenger arrive at the fortress and curiosity brought me from my chamber. The messenger was speaking with Cúana in the antechamber. I was about to enter when I heard him say that the moment to strike was at hand. That made me pause.

‘The messenger then said that Gláed and his men were waiting at a certain place – a small ford north-west of here. The merchant had been told to take his wagon there, and then Gláed would escort him to Mungairit. The merchant would bring “the object” with him. I never learned what that referred to. Cúana was instructed to take those loyal to him and join Gláed in Mungairit, where he would be given further instructions. All I could gather from this was that there was some kind of plot afoot.

‘The messenger left and I was going to withdraw quietly but unfortunately, I slipped on the stone floor and Cúana found me. He knew that I must have overheard what had been said, even though I could make no sense of it except that it promised intrigue and danger for our people.

‘Cúana drew his sword and said, “I am afraid you must die for what you have heard”. I tried to protest but the sword was descending …’ Conrí flinched at the memory, ‘and then Socht’s dagger caught him in the throat. Had that not happened, I would not have been here to tell the story. It was fortunate that Socht, being a light sleeper, had followed me.’

‘There is much to learn here,’ Eadulf said with satisfaction. ‘Ordan was bringing a wagonload of weapons obviously to Gláed – swords, spears and shields from the best smithies of Magh Méine. He also had this …’ He pointed to the standard that Gormán had placed in a corner.

Conrí observed it for the first time in the dark corner of the mill. His mouth opened in silent astonishment as he recognised it.

‘So you bested Gláed at the ford?’ Fidelma said hurriedly before Conrí could speak. ‘What has he said since then?’

Conrí turned reluctantly away from the standard. ‘Said?’ he repeated. ‘He has said nothing.’

‘Nothing at all?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘Well, merely that all would be revealed if he was taken to Mungairit. I think it sounds like a threat.’

‘Then we should avoid Mungairit,’ Eadulf shrugged.

‘I think not. It is at Mungairit that this mystery will conclude,’ Fidelma contradicted firmly. ‘Let us go and have a word with Gláed.’

‘But, lady, you know what that emblem means,’ protested Conrí.

‘I know full well. You must keep it a secret until we have resolved the mystery of how it was meant to be used and by whom.’

Socht had tied the son of Fidaig to a metal horse ring in one of the barns. Gláed watched their coming with a faint smile of derision on his features.

‘Well, Gláed son of Fidaig,’ Fidelma greeted him coldly, ‘you already know who I am.’

He did not respond.

‘You will wish to know that Ordan’s supply of weapons for your followers has now fallen into safe hands.’

There was only a tiny narrowing of the eyes to indicate that he understood.

‘That also means that the
Cathach
of Fiachu is no longer available to arouse the Uí Fidgente to rise against Cashel again.’

Gláed continued to remain silent.

‘
Cum tacent clamant
,’ snapped Eadulf in frustration, using the words of Cicero. When they remain silent, they cry out.

At this Gláed turned and actually spoke: ‘There is an old saying of my people that a silent mouth sounds most melodious. I will say nothing to you, nor will I tell you anything.’

‘A pity. I would have liked to know what a petty chieftain of the Luachra would be wanting with the sacred battle emblem of the Uí Fidgente,’ Conrí intervened.

‘You will learn nothing from me,’ the young man sneered.

Fidelma saw the determined look in the prisoner’s eye and gave a silent sigh. She was a good judge of character and knew resolution when confronted with it. ‘It will not add to our knowledge to question him further,’ she said quietly.

Eadulf and Conrí followed her back to the mill.

‘I don’t understand,’ Conrí said in frustration. ‘The plot has been revealed – so why does he remain silent?’

‘Because all is
not
revealed. He remains silent because he is only one of the conspirators. He is protecting the others. There is someone at the heart of this who is more powerful than Gláed.’

‘More powerful? You can’t mean Cúana? He is dead now. Anyway, he was only the steward of Prince Donennach’s house.’

‘How many trustworthy men do you have, Conrí?’ she asked abruptly.

‘As you see, lady, about twenty-five warriors. The number that accompanied us from the Ford of the Oaks.’

‘Who did you leave to secure Dún Eochair Mháigh?’

‘I found a few good men there who were unaware of what Cúana had been planning. I also sent a messenger to my own fortress to raise a dozen more men to join us.’

‘It would be better if we had a hundred warriors or more,’ muttered Fidelma. ‘Still, with luck, it might not come to a confrontation.’

Conrí was still puzzled. ‘Confrontation? A battle?’

‘What would be the effect of raising the
Cathach
Fiachu among your people and calling on them to rise up against Cashel again?’

‘No effect at all – unless it was raised by a prince of the blood,’ Conrí told her. ‘Certainly no effect if it had been raised by Gláed, as he is not even of the Uí Fidgente.’

‘Gláed will not raise it. The person who will do so is to be found in Mungairit,’ she replied confidently.

Three blasts on a hunting horn cut into the air. A moment later, Socht burst in.

‘More horsemen are coming! I’ve told our men to stand to their arms.’

Fidelma sprang up. ‘The fact they have given us warning of their approach may mean there is no hostile intention,’ she pointed out as the warlord clasped his sword. ‘Let your men stand ready, but don’t provoke anything until we know who they are and what their intentions are.’

It was not long before they knew the answers as they gathered in a nervous group outside the mill building.

Fidaig, lord of Luachra, came trotting into the mill complex with a score of his warriors. He halted a little distance away from them and slid from his saddle, handing the reins of his horse to Artgal, who rode beside him. He then walked towards them, his face serious. His keen eyes swept the company before they alighted on Fidelma.

‘I did not expect to see you again so soon, lady,’ he said.

‘Nor I you, Fidaig,’ she replied. ‘What does this mean? I thought you were chasing the man who killed Ordan the merchant to Barr an Bheithe?’

‘That was my intention, lady,’ he said heavily.

‘And now?’

‘My son, Gláed, was not at Barr an Bheithe. I was told that he was attacked and taken prisoner by Conrí of the Uí Fidgente. I am come to find and to claim my son.’

‘If I remember correctly, Fidaig, the purpose of you going to his fortress at Barr an Bheithe was to ask an account of him and to punish him if there was wrongdoing,’ Fidelma stated evenly. ‘There
has
been wrongdoing and the Uí Fidgente have a prior claim on your son.’

‘It is a father’s right to punish a son.’

‘What your son has done is no longer a matter of discipline from a father or, indeed, the chieftain of his clan,’ Fidelma said.

‘What then?’ demanded Fidaig. ‘Is he to be tried by strangers? The Uí Fidgente?’

‘He is involved in a plot against the rightful Uí Fidgente Prince and probably against the King of Cashel,’ Fidelma said. ‘Therefore, if it comes to trial, he will be tried by a Brehon of Muman.’

Fidaig snorted. ‘I say that my son is of the Luachra and he will answer to the Luachra. I allow no one to interfere in my family or the people of Sliabh Luachra.’ The lord of the Luachra glanced towards his warrior escort.

Fidelma caught the implied threat and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

‘What you allow is of no consequence to me, Fidaig. I am a
dálaigh
, qualified to the level of
anruth
. Even the High King has accepted my legal advice. Further, I speak with the authority of my brother, Colgú, rightful King of Muman. Now, do you deny the law I represent and your King? Deny me by force and there is nothing I can do. But should you do so, you will know that the consequences will be severe, for it will not be just a defiance of those authorities that I have spoken of but of the Chief Brehon of the Five Kingdoms and therefore the High King himself. Are you ready to accept those consequences?’

Fidaig stood defiant for a while. Then he seemed to acquiesce with a gesture of his shoulder.

‘You make your point with your usual eloquence, lady,’ he said softly. ‘Where will you take my son?’

‘We leave here for the Abbey of Mungairit. It is your right to accompany us, to see that your son is properly treated.’

Fidaig was still looking at Fidelma. ‘I would like to have a word with my son before he is taken to Mungairit.’

Fidelma inclined her head towards the barn. ‘He is being held there.’

Fidaig hesitated. ‘I would like a word alone with him. Perhaps I have been a bad parent and could have prevented this. But I would like one chance to speak to the boy before it is too late.’

‘Boy?’ It was Eadulf who cut in. ‘The boy is now a man, Fidaig. It is too late to treat him as a boy still. The damage is done.’

Fidaig swung round to him, anger on his face. ‘Damage?’

‘
Ego enim sum Dominus Deus tuus Deus aemulator reddens iniquitatem patrum super filios in tertiam et quartam generationem
,’ intoned Eadulf unctuously.

‘I have no understanding of what you say, Saxon!’ snapped the lord of the Luachra.

‘It is from Deuteronomy, one of the Holy Scriptures. For I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, and in the third or the fourth generation … And by the way, I am an Angle, not a Saxon.’