Then, from the blackened timbers, a sooty spectre rose. It was a man in torn and dirty religious robes, his face and hair covered in soot. He raised a hand as if to fend off Caol’s sword.
‘Do not kill me! Let me go in peace! I have done you no hurt.’
The voice was a despairing wail. Caol regarded the vision in some astonishment.
‘Come forward and identify yourself,’ he instructed.
The dishevelled man took a step or two and then he caught sight of Fidelma and Eadulf. A look of hope transformed his features.
‘Are you of the Faith?’ he demanded eagerly. ‘Do you acknowledge the Christ?’
‘Of course,’ Eadulf said irritably. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Brother Manchán. I am … I was … one of the community here.’ He gestured beyond the trees.
‘Where is here, Brother Manchán?’ asked Fidelma gently. ‘We are strangers in this land.’
‘Just beyond is the abbey of Baile Fobhair, the homestead of the spring. It was founded by the Blessed Feicin who, alas, died from the Yellow Plague a few years ago.’
‘I have heard of that holy man,’ Fidelma reflected after a pause for thought. ‘I am sorry to hear that the plague took him.’
The dishevelled religious sighed deeply. ‘Better to be taken by the Yellow Plague than witness what has happened to his little abbey. Burned and destroyed.’
‘When did it happen?’ Caol wanted to know. ‘Who did it?’
‘Dibergach — raiders. They came riding down with their godless battle standard a few days ago and began to slaughter the brethren. I managed to escape and hide in the forest until they had gone. I did not know what to do — whom to trust. Five of the brethren were slaughtered and I am the only survivor.’
‘Delbna Mór is the next biggest abbey I know of. Why did you not go there?’
‘Does Delbna Mór still stand?’ queried the man, hopefully.
‘It did when we left it this morning.’
‘While I hid, I heard some of the raiders talking about it. I thought they were going to attack it.’
‘Which way did these raiders go?’
Brother Manchán shook his head. ‘I don’t know where they went immediately afterwards. I only know they came back this morning.’
They stared at the man.
‘They came back?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Where are they now?’
‘They are resting just over the rise,’ Brother Manchán replied. ‘That’s why I was hiding in the ruins of the mill.’
Eadulf looked at Fidelma. ‘We’d better move and find cover somewhere.’
‘In which direction did you say they were encamped?’ Fidelma remained calm.
The man indicated with his hand.
Fidelma turned to Caol. ‘Go to the top of the rise, carefully now, and see what the situation is.’
Caol nodded. When he returned, he had an agitated look on his face. He indicated over his shoulder to the woods.
‘This man is right, lady. The ground rises steeply as you see, but suddenly drops into a small defile. There is another track that leads through it. I could see the ruins of what must have been the abbey at one end.’
‘And these raiders?’
‘Twenty riders. Warriors, heavily armed. They have an assortment of clothing and weapons. They looked as though they were making ready to depart. From what I saw, they had been watering their horses.’
Fidelma turned to the woebegone religieux. ‘And these were definitely the same raiders who attacked your abbey earlier?’ she asked.
The man nodded quickly.
‘They were leading a couple of pack horses on which some bags were tied,’ added Caol. ‘Poking out of one of them was a golden crucifix, and I doubt that these are pious religious on their way to donate some goods to an abbey out of charity.’
‘Twenty, you say?’ mused Fidelma with a frown.
‘Twenty it was, lady,’ replied Caol.
Fidelma was silent for a moment more.
‘We need to know which direction they take. Caol, will you go back to observe them?’
‘Of course,’ he replied immediately, adding with a smile, ‘If I am discovered, I will contrive to blow my horn in warning to alert you. If you hear it, mount, ride hard and do not tarry.’
‘If that is all you have to suggest, you had better try not to be discovered,’ replied Fidelma grimly.
Caol grinned and slipped away.
‘What do you have in mind?’ Eadulf asked when he had gone.
‘It depends which way they go. If towards Delbna Mór, then I think we should try to warn Brother Céin. Also, we should warn Irél and bring the Fianna to capture them. They are pressing close to Tara now and need to have their raiding curbed. Let’s pack up and get ready to ride as soon as Caol gives us the word.’
In fact, it was not long at all before they heard movement through the undergrowth. Gormán sprang forward with drawn sword in a defensive position. Then came Caol’s voice.
‘It’s me,’ he called softly. ‘They have mounted and headed off.’
‘Which way?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘In the same direction as we are taking … towards the north-west.’
‘Towards the country of the Cinél Cairpre?’ Eadulf asked.
‘It would be logical if they were men who held allegiance to Dubh Duin,’ Caol suggested.
‘In that case,’ Fidelma made up her mind quickly, ‘we must follow them and see if they are, indeed, of the Cinél Cairpre.’
‘But I thought … ’began Eadulf.
She turned to him. ‘I do not like to split up but I fear that you must carry the news back. Take Brother Manchán behind you on your horse and leave him at Delbna Mór for Brother Céin to look after. Tell Brother Céin what we have found. Then ride straightway to Tara and tell Irél.’
‘Why me?’ Eadulf demanded a little petulantly at being asked to go back.
‘Because, if these are dibergach, I will need Caol and Gormán with me. Can you remember the path back?’
‘I remember,’ asserted Eadulf, suppressing his irritation.
‘I am counting on you, Eadulf. I need warriors with me so you are the logical choice to go back. Bring Irél and his warriors here and we will leave signs along the track to show you where we have gone.’
Hiding his disapproval of her plan but accepting the logic of it, Eadulf watched Fidelma and the others ride away with some anxiety. He wished that they had accepted Irél’s initial offer to accompany them with his warriors, but it was pointless to lament the fact now. Hindsight was always a good philosopher. He turned to Brother Manchán.
‘Well, Brother, we must be away then. The sooner we set out, the sooner we can reach Delbna Mór and I can continue with my task.’
The religieux nodded unhappily.
Eadulf swung up onto his horse and, using one of the stone slabs as a mounting block, Brother Manchán clambered on the horse behind him. Eadulf turned the animal along the forest in the direction they had originally come. He disliked cantering because he was not an accomplished horseman but he felt it best to keep a quick pace. He held on firmly as the horse loped along the forest path. The soot-begrimed religious was clinging tightly around his waist behind him. Now and then he felt the beast begin to flex its powerful muscles as if changing the pace into a gallop but Eadulf tugged firmly on the reins to check it. He had already decided that it was going to be an exhausting journey.
Both Caol and Gormán were competent trackers and Caol decided to send Gormán on a little way ahead. There were two tasks: one was to follow the tracks and the other, to ensure that they would not be led into any ambush.
Waiting until he was out of sight, Caol and Fidelma then followed. The track they were following swung around the wooded hills and then they came to the blackened ruins of what must have been the little abbey that had been built a generation or so ago by the Blessed Feicin who had established many Christian communities in the country.