Atonement of Blood (8 page)

‘When you put it that way, it does throw up several questions,’ Eadulf said. ‘They could be answered by the fact that perhaps he had been here before and thus was no stranger to this area. Could that be why he was able to feed the dog with the tainted meat without the animal causing an outcry?’

‘But why go to all that bother? Why not just take his horse into the woods and leave it there?’

‘Perhaps the man cared about his animal and didn’t want any harm to befall it. There are wolves and boars that roam the woods around here,’ Eadulf replied.

Fidelma shook her head. ‘There are too many oddities that need answers.’

‘I think it is more than mere coincidence that we found the girl in the same hut the assassin chose,’ Eadulf said firmly.

‘Yet she has told us enough to find proof how she came there. We will have to ride out to Ordan’s place and question him, and we must make enquiries about the man she encountered who told her where the hut was. There will not be too many men on their way to the fields at that hour at this time of year.’

‘Perhaps she thought that we would simply take her word for that?’ Eadulf said.

‘Perhaps, but I do not think she is so naïve – not if her experience of life is as she says. We will take her up to the palace and keep her in safe custody while this investigation is going on.’

‘Do you really think that her story has merit? I mean, can you believe that her own father would sell her to this chieftain …’

‘Fidaig of Sliabh Luachra? Such things, while against the law, are not unknown, I’m afraid. Sliabh Luachra is a strange, brooding place. It’s the Mountains of Rushes – a marshy area among the mountains for it is not just one mountain. You may have seen the twin peaks from a distance on your journeys to the west. Those peaks mark the southern extremities of Luachra territory. They are called the Breasts of Danu, she who was the ancient mother goddess of our people before the new Faith came to us.’

Eadulf suppressed a slight shiver.

‘I have seen them when I passed near those mountains tracking down Uaman, Lord of the Passes of Sliabh Mis, when he kidnapped little Alchú. I remember how a local inn-keeper told me that the ancient gods and goddesses still dwell among the marshes up there.’

‘Indeed. I have passed through the territory only once and had to spend a night in a small glen called the Glen of Ravens, where it was said the ancient goddesses of death and battle dwelled. It is not a place to stay if one is of a nervous disposition.’

‘We certainly seem to have avoided it in our travels,’ observed Eadulf, ‘and we have been to most other places in this kingdom. What of this chieftain, Fidaig?’

‘I know of him as a profane and evil man. He once came to Cashel to pay his respects to the King at the time of our wedding feast. You probably don’t remember him.’

‘As I recall, there was a great deal happening at the time,’ replied Eadulf dryly. ‘Among other distractions there was the murder of Abbot Ultán. However, when Colgú defeated the Uí Fidgente at Cnoc Áine, I presume that Fidaig was their ally?’

‘Curiously, he was not, although I heard that the Luachra had a small band that fought there, commanded by a son of Fidaig. Fidaig claimed that they had mustered without his consent and therefore he was not responsible.’

‘To my mind, it seems that the girl is connected in this,’ Eadulf repeated.

‘But would she have been that forthcoming about being a bondservant in the household of the Luachra chieftain if there was such a conspiracy and she was part of it?’

‘It is the only explanation I can see. But that reminds me – what did she mean when she said that her father was like Oenghus Tuirbech? You seemed to understand, but I do not think Gormán or Della did. I certainly did not.’

Fidelma’s expression was serious. ‘Oenghus Tuirbech was supposed to be an ancient King descended from the race of Eremon. He was called Oenghus the Shameful because he forced his own daughter to go to bed with him and begat a son called Fiachaidh Fear Mara. Oenghus had him put into a canoe and pushed out to sea because he could then claim that his son’s blood was not on his hands.’

For a few moments Eadulf stood frowning at her and then he realised what she was saying.

‘So she meant that her father … ?’

Fidelma sighed deeply, cutting him off and saying, ‘Let us get back to the others. We will have to keep the girl at the palace while we go to see Ordan and check out her story. Perhaps we can also verify the matter of the man going to the fields who told her where the hut is.’

Eadulf suddenly looked nervous. ‘We did promise little Alchú to take him riding.’

Fidelma was about to make an exasperated retort when she suddenly relaxed, saying, ‘The rath of Ordan is not so far distant. Our son can ride with us when we go to see the merchant.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ replied Eadulf with relief. ‘I would not like him to be disappointed again.’

Fidelma glanced sharply at him: was there a hidden criticism in his tone? Then she decided to let the matter pass. Eadulf was touching a tender spot because the life the couple had led since little Alchú had been born was such that the boy had been well-nigh neglected by them. Had it not been for Muirgen, whom Fidelma had appointed as nurse to the boy and, indeed, foster-mother, she did not know how they would have managed.

Fidelma led the way back into Della’s cabin. Gormán looked up in relief as they entered. The girl was sitting in brooding silence while Della was washing dishes. It turned out that she had tried to engage the girl in conversation a few times but without success.

‘What now, lady?’ asked the young warrior, rising from his seat.

‘Now we shall return to the palace. I must learn if there is further word of my brother’s condition and then we will continue our enquiries. Thank you, Della, for your hospitality. I will ask our
táisech scuir
, our master of the stables, to send one of his lads to remove the horse and the responsibility of feeding it from you.’

‘Thank you, lady. Did you find the answer to what it was that you sought?’

As Fidelma shook her head, Eadulf added: ‘We are as much in the dark about the identity of Liamuin as we were before.’

The reaction was unexpected.

‘Liamuin?’ The cry came from the girl. She had sprung from her seat, arms akimbo, body tense, and was staring at them with wide-eyed hatred. Her voice rose to the edge of hysteria. ‘Then you knew? All along, you have known. How did you know?
How did you know?
’

T
hey stood astounded at the girl’s outburst. Then Fidelma took charge.

‘Tell us what you know of Liamuin,’ she instructed.

Aibell was trembling uncontrollably so Della went to get a beaker of
corma
and motioned her to sit down again. She cast a reproving look at Fidelma before turning back to the girl. It was some time before Aibell was calm.

‘There, my dear, take your own time and answer lady Fidelma’s question,’ Della said comfortingly. ‘No harm is going to come to you.’

‘Tell us what you know of Liamuin,’ Fidelma said again.

‘If you know the name of Liamuin, then you will know that she was my mother,’ Aibell replied tightly.

Fidelma and Eadulf exchanged a surprised glance. Fidelma lowered herself onto a chair opposite the girl.

‘Liamuin was the wife of Escmug, your father?’

The girl sniffed sourly. ‘What do you know of my mother?’ she grunted.

‘Nothing unless you tell us,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Does she still live?’

For a moment Aibell hesitated before saying: ‘I do not know.’

‘That needs an explanation,’ Fidelma commented, surprised by the girl’s answer.

Aibell gave a sharp laugh. ‘You mean, how do I not know whether she is alive or dead? The answer is simple. It was just after I reached the age of choice. I had been working in the fields and came home to find that my mother had vanished. Later, when my father returned from his fishing, she still had not returned. She never returned.’

‘And from that day to this, you do not know what happened to her?’

‘I think she could no longer stand the beatings my father gave her when he was drunk. I think she ran away.’

‘And left you behind?’ Fidelma’s tone was slightly incredulous. ‘She left you behind without protection and knowing the man he was?’

Aibell shrugged but made no reply.

‘You say this was just after you reached the age of choice?’

‘I remember the very day, for it was on the next day that we heard the news of the great defeat of Prince Eoganán at Cnoc Áine.’

‘The victory of King Colgú over the Uí Fidgente uprising,’ muttered Gormán in correction.

‘Was any search made for your mother? What about her relatives?’ asked Fidelma hurriedly, before the girl could respond to Gormán.

‘My father was angry that she was gone. He went to
bó-aire
, the local magistrate, but nothing was done. I think my mother had a brother but no one was allowed to speak about him because my father hated him. I do not even know his name. There was also another relative who owned a mill some distance from us. One day, my father came home and told me to get my things together. He said that we were going to see my mother.’

‘So what happened? You told us that you had not seen her again after she left.’

‘My father lied. We travelled south for a while, towards the mountains of Sliabh Luachra. Then we met a band of people and my father handed me over to them. They gave him money … he sold me!’

The girl’s voice had faltered.

‘And you were forced to go with these people?’ Fidelma asked in a gentle tone.

‘They were Luachra. I remained a bondservant with them until a week or so ago, when I was able to seize the opportunity to escape.’

‘Where were you heading?’

‘Anywhere to the east, as far away as I could get. I now suspect that my father killed my mother on the day she disappeared and that his anger was merely a sham.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Eadulf.

‘When I was packing my things, I went to get something I had left in one of the outhouses and found some bloodstained clothes. The significance of them did not strike me until the long years when I brooded over my mother’s disappearance.’

‘What motive would your father have to kill his own wife?’ Eadulf asked.

‘Motive enough. I have told you that my father was
colach
,’ she spat the word. Eadulf had to search his acquired vocabulary before realising it meant an act of sexual corruption; a term for abuse. ‘My mother had realised what he was doing to me. She tried to protect me when she was there, but he beat her. I think she finally ran away and abandoned me to him. Or, as I now believe, he had found her and killed her.’

‘Tell me, Aibell, did your mother have any links with Cashel?’

The girl frowned. ‘I do not understand what you mean.’

‘Did she ever say anything to you about my brother, King Colgú?’

‘Why should she? I have told you that we were a poor family. My mother’s father went into an abbey when his wife died. My father was, as I have said, a fisherman. We had nothing to do with nobles.’

‘But you dwelled not far from the fortress of the princes of the Uí Fidgente. Did your father take part in the uprising led by Prince Eoganán?’

‘My father was too much of a coward to do that. No, he stayed safe on the river.’

Fidelma paused for a moment in thought. ‘Answer me this, then, Aibell. Why would the man who attempted to assassinate my brother cry out, as the knife descended, “Remember Liamuin!”’

‘I have no idea,’ the girl said dully. ‘Why do you suppose this Liamuin would be my mother?’

‘It is not a common name,’ Gormán interposed harshly. ‘And it seems extraordinary for you to appear in Cashel on the same night as someone attempts to assassinate the King, shouting that name. Further, we find you in the very same hut where the assassin had left his clothes and saddle.’

‘So far as I know, my mother ran away from my father four years ago and I was sold to the Luachra. I have nothing to do with Cashel.’

Fidelma let out a soft breath of resignation. ‘You will have to come to the palace and view the body of the assassin. Perhaps you will be able to recognise him.’

Fidelma watched the girl’s features carefully as Eadulf removed the covering sheet from the corpse. There was no sign of any recognition at all, and after Aibell had shaken her head to the unasked question, Fidelma accompanied her from the chapel.

‘I am afraid you must stay as our guest until we find out a little more about your arrival in Cashel at this particular time,’ Fidelma advised Aibell. To her surprise, the girl made no protest but was looking intently at the great buildings of the palace, obviously impressed. Fidelma led her across the courtyard in search of the matronly Dar Luga who served as the
airnbertach
or housekeeper of the palace. Her role, of course, was different from that of the steward, Beccan, for she attended to the more domestic chores of the King’s household, and saw to the comfort of the guests as well as the King’s family.

Fidelma caught sight of Caol emerging from a side door and hailed him, saying, ‘Have you seen Dar Luga?’